“Yes,” he says. “But don’t worry. It’s late. Everyone will be too drunk to notice.”
We slip back to the tent and walk around the perimeter, in the shadows away from the bar, and call an Uber.
“Couldn’t take it anymore,” I text Dezzie and Alyssa as we pull away. And that’s kind of a lie, but kind of the truth.
I can’t take any more sexual tension.
We make out all the way back to town.
CHAPTER 8Seth
It will come as no surprise to you that I enjoymaking love.
Give me some tender eye gazing, some Sade in the background, some massage oils, and I am a happy and sexually aroused man. (Just kidding about the Sade part. Let’s be honest; I prefer the more intimate soundtrack of the breath.)
I’m sentimental, I know, but it’s also a taste borne of practicality. The ability to have slow, present sex with someone without bursting out laughing is a good litmus test for whether you might fall in love.
But I don’t want tomake lovewith Molly Marks.
Tonight, I have more of a horny teenager energy.
I have two-virgins-desperate-to-finally-have-the-privacy-to-do-itenergy.
Which is where we left off fifteen years ago, the night she broke up with me.
But let’s not think about that. Heartbreak isn’t great for virility.
So no.
I do not want to light candles.
I do not want to indulge in leisurely foreplay. My cock straining against my pants in that fucking endless Uber ride back to our hotel was the foreplay.
Now I want to fuck this girl fucking senseless.
I pull up her dress and pull down her panties. She’s so fucking wet.
“You okay?” I ask, because consent is sexy even when you are reliving your sixteen-year-old desperation lust.
“Get it in,” she replies, producing a condom.
Reader, I get it in.
And it is good.
More than good.
It is more than good three times before we pass out.
I awaken in Molly Marks’s hotel room, which smells like her perfume and the incredible scent of whatever she puts in her hair.
Molly is lightly snoring, which I find adorable.
This whole thing would be idyllic except for my shattering,phantasmagoricalhangover.
I get out of Molly’s bed (Molly’s bed!), call room service, and order the works, charging it to my room. I pilfer around in the minibar and find one of those $18 packets with four tabs of Tylenol. I take two for myself and put two out for Molly, along with a glass of cold water.
She doesn’t stir.
