“I can't,” she whispered back. She was scared to move, scared it would hurt more.
“Just relax and let your body feel everything,” he insisted, and one of his hands moved to her front, passing over her breasts and heading straight between her legs. She was still wet from the sex they'd had, so his fingers moved with ease. She took deep breaths and was shocked when she felt her body react. Felt warmth spread from his fingers to her nipples to her lips to every limb. When he started moving his hips against her, it wasn't exactly enjoyable, but it wasn't as painful as it had been, either.
“Touch yourself,” he said it again, this time as a command. She did as she was told, replacing his fingers with her own. His hands gripped onto her hips, holding her still while he slowly moved in and out.
“Oh my god, Liam,” she whispered.
“Told you so.”
It took some time to adjust to his size, it felt like he was splitting her in half at first. Every time he plunged back in, fresh tears filled her eyes. But after a while, her fingers were moving faster than his thrusts, and her panting was staving off an orgasm, not pain. Before she fully clued into what was happening to her body, he was fully fucking her, his hips thrusting hard and fast against her ass, and even more shocking, she was pushing back into him. Wanting it harder, wanting it faster. Wanting more, period.
“Oh god, I'm gonna come,” she cried out, something she'd never said during sex before, to anyone.
“Fuck, yes, me too. Come with me, Katya, please, baby, come again,” he begged.
This time, she really didn't hold back, crying out as her orgasm rocked her world. She had three of her own fingers inside herself and she held them still when she started shaking again. Then Liam's hips locked in tight against her and as she felt his hands on her back, he let out a long growl, coming and coming till she didn't think he could possibly have anything left to give her.
“Holy shit, what did we just do,” she gasped for air when she could finally talk. He laid down on top of her, forcing her flat against the bench again.
“Something amazing,” he replied, kissing along her shoulder blade. She managed to move her arm and she reached back, combing her fingers through his hair.
“Liam?”
“Yeah?”
“I'd like to reassess something.”
“What?”
“I think I'm more like a six – not black-out drunk yet, but beyond tipsy.”
He burst out laughing, then went back to kissing her skin.
“Don't tell me that, I want to believe it was my cunning sexual prowess that just gave you that monster orgasm,” he teased.
“It totally was, and if you get me something to drink, maybe you can show me some more of your 'prowess' before we go home.”
“I think I'm falling in love, angel cake. You are more fun than I ever would've thought possible.”
“See? Never judge a book by its cover.”
4
Katya woke up with a start, sitting bolt upright.
Where the fuck am I?
She winced at thinking such a bad word, and at the pounding headache that was raging between her ears.
She pressed a hand against her forehead and looked around. She was in an apartment, but it wasn't hers. This one was nice, with high ceilings and ornate crown molding. A glance over her shoulder showed her big bay windows and pale yellow wallpaper.
She was stretched out on a long white leather couch. She cringed as she looked down at herself. She had her bra on and her blouse, though it wasn't buttoned. She wasn't wearing her pants, and her panties were hooked around one ankle. Classy. She felt around her head and could tell that half her hair was still up in a bun, though it had gotten yanked around and was hanging askew off the side of her head. The rest of her hair was in a rats nest on the opposite side.
Jesus, how drunk did I get last night!?
She swung her legs off the couch so she could sit upright, and the soreness radiating out from her backside reminded her exactly what she'd gotten up to last night. All the blood in her body rushed to her cheeks. She'd gone out on a date. To a sex club. Where she'd had sex. Anal sex. With the club's owner. Liam Edenwieselhoff-whatever.
I don't even know his last name, and I must be in his apartment. Please, dear god, let this be his apartment.
Katya refused to think about anything. If she stopped to think, she'd literally die of embarrassment, and she didn't have time to die. A glance at a huge clock on the wall showed her it was eleven in the morning. She was two hours late for work.
She got to her feet and pushed away the rush of nausea that rolled over her. She hopped around, struggling to pull on her underwear. Once the satin was in place, she searched for her pants. She managed to track down her shoes and her purse, but the pants were simply gone. Shit, she didn't even remember coming to the apartment – how could she remember where her clothing was?
Oh god, oh god, did I come back here only half-clothed!? Did we take a cab? An Uber? Oh god, oh god, oh god.
“I can practically hear your thoughts, angel cake. Keep it down, I'm hungover as fuck.”
She'd been crawling around on her hands and knees, but at the sound of Liam's voice, she knelt upright. She hadn't realized it, but the whole apartment was like a giant studio, or a loft. There didn't seem to be any real walls, though there was tons of space. A huge platform bed sat on the other side of the room, and underneath a single flat sheet, Liam was completely stretched out on top of the mattress.
“I need to go,” she hissed, knee-walking over to the bed.
“Shouldn't that be my line?” he chuckled, not bothering to open his eyes. She lowered herself again and looked under the bed. Still no pants.
“It would be, if we were at my place. I'm beyond late for work. Shit, did we drink more? Shit, where are my pants,” she grumbled. Before she could move any farther, she felt his arm wrap around her waist from behind, yanking her till she was being dragged onto the bed.
“We drank lots more. Forget work, lets spoon,” he suggested, pulling her into his chest.
“No, I have responsibilities, I have to go to work,” she insisted, struggling with his arm.
“Fine. But I can't help you on the pants,” he sighed, letting her go. She turned so she was facing him.
“Did I come home naked?” she was almost yelling. He smiled at her, though his eyes were still closed.
“I tried to talk you into it, but alas, you insisted on getting dressed. We got honey all over your pants, I think they're soaking in my bathtub,” he explained.
“Honey!?”
“Yeah, don't you remember? God, you're an animal. The things you did with those cherries – I will never forget last night.”
“Oh god!” she groaned, dropping her head into her hands.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, and she felt him curl around her. “Don't start that self-hate crap. Last night was amazing. Awesome and fun and all that shit. You were beautiful.”
“I was drunk.”