Chapter 7: The Morning After
Dawn crept through the crooked blinds like a thief, pale orange light slicing across the rumpled sheets. I woke slowly, my body heavy with the kind of deep, boneless sleep I hadn't felt in years. For a moment I didn't know where I was. The ceiling was low and stained with water marks, the walls a sickly yellow that gleamed in the early light. Then the arm around my waist tightened, and I remembered.
Hugo. His apartment. His bed.
I stayed very still, breathing shallow. His body was pressed against my back, curved around me like he was protecting something. His chest was warm against my spine, his breath a slow, even rhythm against the nape of my neck. And there, pressing into the cleft of my ass, was his morning erection. Hard and insistent, twitching against my skin even in his sleep.
I felt heat flood through me, pooling low in my belly. I'd been so tired last night. The sex had been fierce and consuming, and afterward I'd fallen into a sleep so deep it had swallowed me whole. But now I was awake. Now I could feel every inch of him.
I kept my eyes closed, my breathing even. I wanted to see what he'd do when he woke. Wanted to know if this, too, would feel like a dream.
Minutes passed. The light grew stronger. Then Hugo stirred behind me, a low sound rumbling in his chest. His arm loosened, and I heard him shift. The mattress dipped as he pushed himself up on one elbow. I could feel his gaze on me, a weight that made my skin prickle.
"You still here," he said softly, almost to himself.
I didn't answer. Let him think I was asleep.
He leaned over me, and his lips brushed my shoulder. Barely a kiss, more a brush of warm skin. Then I heard him get out of bed, the springs groaning. His footsteps were quiet, unhurried, crossing the creaking floorboards toward the bathroom. The door swung open, and I heard the click of the light switch, followed by the hiss of the shower head running.
No. Not the shower. The toilet. The stream of his urine hitting the water was unmistakable, a steady, powerful sound that went on and on. I lay there, listening, heat curling through me at the obscene intimacy of it. He was standing in his bathroom, taking a piss, and I was in his bed, smelling his sheets, and there was nothing between us anymore.
The toilet flushed, the pipes groaning in the walls. The bathroom door creaked open, and his footsteps returned. The mattress dipped again as he climbed back in, and this time he didn't settle behind me. This time he moved, shifting lower on the bed.
I felt his breath first. Warm and steady against the inside of my thigh. Then his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my hip bone. Then his hands on my thighs, easing them apart.
I kept my eyes closed, my body trembling with anticipation. He was going to eat me out. He was going to put his mouth on me, and I was supposed to be asleep.
His hands spread my legs wider, and he shifted between them. His breath ghosted over my pussy, warm and teasing, and I felt my clit throb in response. He kissed me there, a light, almost innocent press of lips. Then his tongue slid out, flat and broad, and dragged up the length of my slit.
A shiver rippled through me. I couldn't hold it back. My hips twitched, rising toward his mouth.
He let out a low chuckle, the vibration of it against my skin nearly undoing me. "Awake after all, princess?"
I opened my eyes, looking down at him. He was lying between my thighs, his dark hair falling across his forehead, his hazel eyes bright with lazy satisfaction. He looked like sin made flesh, a man who'd woken up hungry and knew exactly what he wanted.
"Didn't want to interrupt you," I said, my voice hoarse from sleep.
"You missed the show." He grinned, then lowered his head again. This time he didn't tease. He opened his mouth and took me in, his tongue laving against my clit with long, slow strokes that made my back arch off the bed.
I moaned, my hands flying to his hair. It was still damp from some time last night, soft and thick between my fingers. He worked me with a patience that was almost cruel, circling my clit, flattening his tongue, dipping lower to tease my entrance before returning to that sensitive bundle of nerves.
"You taste even better in the morning," he muttered against me, the words a low rumble that vibrated through my whole body.
I gasped and bucked against his mouth. He wrapped his arms around my thighs, holding me open for him, and went back to work. He was thorough, relentless. His tongue danced over me until my hips were rocking against his face, chasing the pressure, the pleasure.
"God, Hugo, please," I whimpered.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his chin glistening. "Please what?"
"Please. I need you inside me."
He smiled, slow and wicked. "That's my good girl."
He shifted up the bed, his body covering mine. I felt the head of his cock slide against my slick folds, teasing, hot and hard. He held himself above me with one arm, the other hand gripping my hip. His eyes were dark, blown wide with want.
"You stayed," he said, and there was something in his voice beneath the bravado. Something almost tender.
"I stayed."
He kissed me then, his mouth crashing against mine. I tasted myself on his lips, salty and sweet. He pushed into me in one smooth thrust, and I gasped into his mouth as he filled me completely. He was thick, stretching me, and I felt every inch as he slid deeper.
"Fuck," I breathed.
He pulled back, almost all the way out, then drove into me again. The bed frame knocked against the wall, a steady, rhythmic beat. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he let out a groan that was pure animal satisfaction.
"Like that," he muttered, his forehead pressed to mine. "I love this. Waking up with you. Feeling you around me."
I couldn't answer. I could only hold on as he fucked me, his strokes long and deep and relentless. My nails raked down his back, and he grunted, his rhythm becoming faster, harder. The headboard banged against the wall with every thrust, and I didn't care who heard.
"Harder," I gasped. "Please, Hugo."
He hooked his arm under my knee, hitching my leg higher. The new angle made him hit deeper, and I cried out as the pleasure spiraled through me. I was close, so close, my entire body wound tight as a wire.
"Come for me," he said, his voice ragged. "Let me feel you."
I came apart. My back bowed off the bed, my inner walls clenching around him as the orgasm ripped through me. He watched me, his eyes hungry, then buried his face in my neck and drove into me three more times before he followed, his cock pulsing inside me as he came with a long, shuddering groan.
We lay there, tangled and slick with sweat, our breath ragged and mingling. I could feel his heartbeat against my chest, or maybe it was mine. After a long moment, he raised his head and kissed me softly, a gentle brush of lips.
"You have to go soon," he said quietly. "Your parents will notice you're gone."
I nodded, dreading the thought of leaving his bed. But he was right. I had to face the world, had to go back to playing the good girl.
He slipped out of me, and I felt the loss like a physical ache. He rolled over and pulled me against his chest, his arms wrapped around me.
"Tonight," he said. "Come back tonight."