I like eating and sharing food with other people. I like dancing and finding a partner to vibe with which only makes it more exciting. And I love sex in the same way. When I find a man I’m attracted to, and he ticks the boxes like Mitchell does, I don’t see the point in waiting around for love. Love is complicated and takes long-term focus. I’m happiest existing and enjoying the present, and that’s where me and Mitchell are right now. The future is a distant ethereal thing that never solidifies in my vision.
Mitchell only lets me lead him for a few paces before he scoops me into his arms. My bag trails in my hand and I giggle like an idiot, swaying as he strides forward. "Number?"
"Twelve," I gasp as he almost passes the door to my room in his enthusiastic haste.
"Where’s the key?"
I drag my bag onto my belly, searching frantically to find it. My hands shake with anticipation as I unlock the door and twist the handle. We’re inside the dark room in a flash, and Mitchell tosses me onto the bed unceremoniously. I bounce and laugh some more, staring up at his smiling face. In the low light, with his hair flopping over his forehead, he suddenly seems much younger.
"You’re kind of a caveman, Mr. Mitchell," I say, patting the bed next to me. "I think I like it."
Even though the room is an unfamiliar space, he doesn’t take time to familiarize himself with his surroundings. In fact, as he removes his shoes, his eyes cling to my face and then my body, feasting in a way that sends a shiver over my scalp.
Now, this is me living my best life. Living in the moment. Living each day like it could be my last. My body feels alive with energy, thrumming with blood and vibrating with excitement. Only yesterday, I wondered if I’d made a mistake coming to Australia, and now, it’s as though I’m stepping into a new era of excellent possibilities.
"When you spilled all those drinks over me, I never thought we’d end up here," he says. He folds in his lips to moisten them, and I can’t wait anymore. I rise to hook my hand around his neck and draw him so that he’s propped over me, resting on one very nicely toned arm.
"Maybe you should kiss me."
His grin is smoking hot. "Maybe you give Lachlan a run for his money when it comes to bossiness."
I guess my demanding attitude doesn’t put him off because he does slant his lips over mine, and he does explore my mouth with the hot, sexy slide of his tongue. His hands roam my body in a perfect way, focused on discovering new territory. My mind goes to a hilarious place where Mitchell is an explorer and I’m a wild new country.
I like the idea of being untamed.
Drawing away from my mouth, his lips trail a soft path down my jaw and my neck, finding the dip at the bottom of my throat.
"Dawn Mitchell," he whispers against my skin. "You taste like heaven."
"You haven’t got to the best part yet," I say with a grin.
"Oh, don’t worry. I will, but I’m going to take my time."
He doesn’t lie.
He explores me inch by inch, and I’ve never felt so worshiped. He does things with his lips and tongue that I’m sure are illegal in half the countries of the world. And I lap it all up, because who doesn’t want to feel like a queen? When we’re both naked and I’m trembling, he groans that he didn’t bring protection.
It’s cute that he doesn’t have a condom with him and even cuter that he assumes I also don’t have one. When I reach into the nightstand and pull out a packet, he cocks an eyebrow. "A girl scout has to be prepared," I say, handing him the shiny square.
"You’re a little old to be a girl scout, and I’m not sure condoms are on the official kit list."
We both laugh, but the atmosphere in the room changes when he tears the packet open with his teeth and begins to roll the latex down his very long, very thick, very hard cock. My mouth waters at the sight of him; gorgeous tan skin with a dusting of light brown hair across his chest and a happy trail leading to all the good stuff. He’s got the physique of a man who lives his life and eats and drinks what he likes but also loves outdoor exercise and construction tasks. A man built on both hard work and enjoyment.
"What’s your favorite position?" he asks, and I’m immediately intrigued. Not many men ask that. They’re usually more interested in heading straight into their preference.
"Doggy," I say, even though it’s not strictly true. There have been times when I’ve let a man fuck me in missionary and it’s been awesome, but it also ends with me catching feels. The eye contact makes sex deeper and more meaningful, and what I’m looking for is fun and frivolity.
"Seriously?"
"I’m a freak. What can I say?"
I roll and push up on my hands and knees, lining my ass up with Mitchell’s cock, desperate for the stretch that I know he will be able to provide. His hands stroke over my back and hips lazily, appreciatively, and I stifle the moan that fights to bubble to the surface. It’s not that I don’t want him to know how good he is. It’s just that I always feel like I need to keep something back. A little fleck of control. An ounce of restraint.
But when his finger begins to trace the line of my YOLO tattoo, I tense.
"You get this when you were drunk?"
"Nope," I say, twisting to look at him.
It’s on the tip of his tongue to say something along the lines of ‘interesting’ because I can tell he’s trying to figure me out. It’s funny, but in my experience, the less you give away to people, the more they want to discover.
When he bends to kiss the top of the Y, my heart does a weird little skittery thing in my chest. And when he braces himself on top of me, with one hand next to mine on the bed and the other wrapped around my waist, I almost swoon.
Be still my heart, I think.
Mitchell really is a man who understands what a woman needs.
Or is it just what I need?
Kyla always tells me that I don’t think in the same way as most women do. She couldn’t hack it when sex with her men was just about pleasure and enjoying each other's company, and that is the only kind of sex I enjoy. So, maybe Mitchell is more about fitting my needs and expectations rather than womankind in general.
The press of his cock at my entrance brings me welcome relief from my churning mind. As he nudges forward, stretching me open, I focus only on the physical feelings, the beauty of our bodies joining, the sweet relief of being filled. We move together like lovers do when they understand the other totally, and that’s another surprise to me. I don’t need to teach him how fast to move or how deep. I don’t need to communicate the angle or the way he can use his hands to make everything between my legs feel so much more urgent and good.
This is a rare experience. A one-night stand which feels like amazing relationship sex but without the commitment.
If I didn’t know better, I could get addicted to Mitchell; his smile and his laughter and his perfectly sized cock.
"Fuck, you feel good," he says, his voice so close to my ear that it’s like the rumble of a storm.
"I’m close," I gasp, and he hums his approval, keeping the same rhythm and depth, understanding that my body is building towards release inch by slow inch.
There’s no painful switch to mindless pounding or shift to focus on his epic finish. He simply fucks me until I break apart, then eases me down onto the bed so that I can enjoy the ride.