I don’t get a chance to answer, because his lips are suddenly on mine, and I melt into the feeling of kissing that beautiful mouth of his as if it’s been years between kisses instead of mere minutes. I position myself on top of him, my knees on either side of his hips, as he pulls some pillows off the couch and throws them to the floor in order to give us some more room.
I don’t know how it happens, but I am suddenly stripped down to my panties and Trip is only wearing his jeans. I don’t even remember pulling his shirt off him, but it seems I rip that boy’s clothes off at every opportunity, an involuntary reaction. It is dusk outside, and the dim orange light is filtering in through my mini-blinds, tossing a cinematic radiance to the room, highlighting the dust motes in the air, striping Trip’s body in a hazy amber glow. It makes him look even more other-worldly than usual, this golden god between my legs, and I find myself in awe, yet again, that this man is mine for the taking. I sit up, bracing my hands against his chest, and slide my body back against his jeans. And then I slide back again. And again.
He is biting his lip and arching his hips to mine, his hands gripping my thighs, pulling me tighter against his hardening body. I quickly unbutton his pants, make fast work of the zipper, and shove his jeans and boxers down to his knees. Trip rips my panties off as I rise up just enough for him to position himself accordingly, and suddenly, I am sliding my body down on top of his.
Oh my God.
The shock of how well he fills me, the feeling of that beautiful piece of machinery sliding inside my body, that amazing achy throb as the two of us join together… it renders me speechless.
It flips the yammer switch on for Trip, however. “Oh, God,” he says, causing a current to race along my spine. “Oh, babe. You feel so good. It feels so good to fuck you.”
I am stunned by his words, this naughty, dirty-talking side of his personality. But it only serves to turn me on more. I pound against him brutally, smashing myself against that smooth, rock-hard chest, my tongue licking at his bottom lip, tasting it, biting, brushing my mouth against his. His hands are gripping my ass, forcing me up and then down, impaling me on his fifth limb.
It is surreal, the effect his body has on me. The racing electrical charges run along every nerve ending, the look on Trip’s face driving me closer to the edge. I am going to lose it. And soon.
He moves a hand to my front and holds a thumb against me as I rock against him. Oh God… I am so close. I moan; he growls. I arch backwards without inhibition, giving him an all-access view as he watches me, completely naked and vulnerable and his, his expression turning pained as he grits out, “Oh, God, babe, you are so beautiful when you’re on top of me.”
That’s it. I’m gone.
I spiral completely out of control, washed away as wave after wave crashes against me, registering somewhere in the back of my mind that Trip is coming, too.
I collapse against him, elated and exhausted, sweaty and spent.
And happy.
I know I felt happy.
But when I woke up, and reached an arm across the empty side of my bed, I didn’t know what I felt.
Confused, certainly. And sweaty. A little achy between the thighs. And very, very much alone.
I dragged my overheated body from my bed and gave a whack to the air conditioner, hearing as it whirred back to life. I truly loved my modest apartment, and I really, really loved living in New York City, but there were cons to living in a “classic” building. Like unreliable wiring.
I didn’t know what the deal was with the explicit Trip dream. Logically, I was fully aware that he was away on location for a shoot, but it sure felt like he was right there in my apartment just a few short moments prior.
I took a look at the “Class of ’91: Save-The-Date!” postcard that had come in the mail the day before, and swiped it off my nightstand to check it over. I was stunned yet again at the thought that a few more months would mark ten solid years since we’d graduated high school. I hadn’t spoken to anyone yet about it and wondered if we were going to bother showing up for the party, which apparently was being planned a year in advance for the following fall. The reunion announcement brought some pretty vivid memories back to the surface; all the fun times spent back then with my friends, and of course, Trip.
I tossed the postcard back onto my nightstand and started getting ready for work. For once, I wasn’t rushing around in order to do so. My graphic dream had woken me up before the alarm had even gone off, so I had plenty of time for a leisurely cup of coffee before my shower. I wandered from my bedroom to the kitchen before settling myself down in my too-quiet living room, twiddling my left hand against the coffee mug, hearing the clack of my new diamond ring tapping against the porcelain.
The apartment seemed so empty now that Trip wasn’t there. It was strange. I knew I missed him, but I didn’t realize I was missing him so much.
Chapter 2
RULES OF ENGAGEMENT