I seem to have found the perfect Band-Aid.
Those words have chased themselves around my head, and finally I can admit that they spark relief in me. They free me. Because they show me that he is indeed using me as a crutch. On the rebound while he gets over Sienna. And that means I can relax. This isn’t serious for him.
Which means this is okay.
It’s okay that I am waiting for him.
That I am in his hotel room and that he knows I am here, that he has promised to hurry back. That he told me he’d be counting the minutes.
Because I’m just a Band-Aid. And he’s just hot sex. It’s simple. Easy. I’m in control. Our boundaries are established and we are staying firmly within them.
Anticipation rolls through me. I look around his suite, checking all the details with a small smile. Candles. Music. Dinner.
Me in a slinky black negligee and nothing underneath.
I curl up on the sofa, dragging my finger down my phone obsessively, refreshing my feed as though my life depends on it.
And finally the concert is over.
It can’t be long now, right?
How long?
I stare at my phone, contemplate messaging him but decide not to. I know that I’m desperate to see him; he doesn’t need to.
It’s almost an hour later when I hear noises outside the hotel room. And with the moment upon me I am nervous suddenly! I stand up uneasily, running my hands down the front of my lingerie, my eyes fixed to the door. I fan my hair from my face quickly, just to give it body, and then I wait.
Seconds.
Just seconds.
But long enough for my heart to flutter and my stomach to twist and my brow to sweat and my mouth to dry out.
I wait, and I stare, and finally he pushes the door inwards.
I’m not sure what I’m expecting. For him to step inside, shut the door, and look around?
He doesn’t. He opens the door and looks right at me. As though he knew exactly where I’d be, exactly how I’d be standing, waiting. Our eyes lock and time ceases to exist. There is a void. A black hole with just us at its cosmic heart.
Who moves first? I can’t say. I know only that we are both moving, and we are both urgent, our arms wrapping around one another, our mouths seeking, our bodies melding. His shirt is wet with perspiration. I wrap my arms around him and seek his mouth. I kiss him and he kisses me, pushing me through the room while his hands roam my back.
I grip his shirt, lifting it, finding his beautiful flesh, his chest, and I drop kisses along the ridge of his neck, down to his pecs. I taste his salty perfection and he laughs, lifting his hands to my wrists and holding me still, holding me back.
My eyes fly to his; hunger must be visible in them. It is almost burning me alive.
‘Not like this.’
‘Like what?’
‘I need to shower. I’m all sweaty.’
I laugh. ‘I don’t care.’ I push his pants down, finding his ass and cupping it in the palms of my hands.
He swears, fisting my hair and pressing his forehead to mine. His eyes are shut, his face scrunched up.
‘Fuck, Alicia.’
‘Shower later.’
I tilt my head, chasing his lips with mine, kissing him, inviting him. Begging him. I drag my mouth lower, nipping his shoulder with my teeth, laughing when he growls in reply.
‘Fuck me now.’
I bite him again and he makes a guttural noise.
He acquiesces, stepping backwards, pulling me with him, so that we are kissing, walking in a tangle of limbs and lust and discarded clothes towards the bedroom.
‘This is nice,’ he grunts, pushing my negligee down, sliding it over my body quickly, desperately. The silk slides across my skin like liquid as it reaches my hips and then falls to the floor. I step out of it at the same time as he pulls me to the bed.
He is on top of me and I don’t question it. I don’t question the fact that he is making love to me and I am not in control. I don’t question the fact that I’m staring up at him, my heart thumping, my body alive with needs that only he can address.
He remembers protection—thank God. It’s nowhere near my mind. He slides it down his cock and then his hands are on my inner thighs, separating my legs, his eyes hooked to mine as he pushes into me.
The ownership is immediate and intense.
He is just Ethan. My Ethan. And he is fucking fantastic.