Status: Done!
Changes
06
My phone buzzed loudly in the pocket of my shorts that were discarded on the other side of the room. I looked down at Allie, whose cheek was pressed against my bare chest and legs were tangled with mine. Soft snores escaped from her slightly parted lips and her brown hair was splayed across her purple pillowcase.
After determining that she was actually in a deep sleep, I peeled my body away from hers and climbed out of the bed. I snatched my shorts up from the floor and quickly slipped them on, not bothering to look for my misplaced shirt. I ducked out of the bedroom quietly and reached into my pocket, pulling out my vibrating phone.
“Hello?” I answered; making my way out to Allie’s porch that overlooked the city.
“Man, where are you?” Jon’s voice spoke through the receiver.
“Allie’s,” I stated casually, running a hand through disheveled hair and hoping that Jon wouldn’t jump on my case. I had completely forgotten I had promised the team that I would meet them for a hangover breakfast at one of our favorite diners.
Suddenly, I heard someone gasp on the other side of the line. After a series of bangs and grumbles, Andrew Shaw’s voice flowed through the phone. “KANER,” he breathed, “Did you get a piece of that mighty fine ass?”
Jon muttered something angrily in the background. “Shut up, Shawzy,” I mumbled.
“I knew it!” Shaw cheered excitedly.
I sighed annoyed, “It’s not like that, Shaw.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” Shaw ignored my statement, “You’re missing out on a hellova team breakfast.” After mumbling him some sort of goodbye, I hung up my phone and looked out to the view in front of me.
Although most of last night’s events were merely blurred memories, one of my actions stood out crystal clear among the rest.
I had kissed Allie.
Sure, Allie and I have had our fair share of drunken hook-ups, but this one seemed different. We admitted that we needed each other desperately in our lives. Even though we had been friends for over a decade, we had never admitted such feelings. We enjoyed our time together in the summer and simply parted ways when our time was up. We never went out of our way to visit each other during our separation time and sporadically kept in contact via texts and the occasional phone call.
But something had changed. Maybe it was the fact that Allie had recently experienced a nasty break-up. Or maybe it was the fact that my “different night, different girl” motto was proving less than satisfactory recently. Or maybe it was that we finally realized that we were too old to play the “best friend” card.
♢♢♢♢
A large bang sounded from my kitchen. I quickly sat up in my bed before immediately regretting it and allowing my head to fall back into my pillow. My head pounded intensely and my stomach churned at the smell of alcohol that floated around my room.
After recollecting myself, I sat up slowly and rested against my headboard. The blinds on my wide windows were shut and, as a result, the room was dim. However, my eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness of the room and I was able to look around, piecing together whatever had happened the night before.
Across the room, a pair of sneakers had been kicked under my desk; and on the back of its matching chair, a plain white t-shirt had been sloppily hung. The owner of these articles of clothing was nowhere to be seen, but I assumed that they belonged to Pat. I usually wasn’t one to bring home stranger and Pat obviously wouldn’t allow me to go home with any of his teammates.
My own clothes were strewn about the room. My denim shorts were flung on top of my bedside table; my Blackhawks t-shirt hung from my bedpost; and my bra covered a lampshade. I shook my head at the mess and told myself that I would clean it up as soon as my killer headache subsided.
I reached for my phone that rested on my bedside table and slid my finger across the screen, opening up my photos and scrolling through the new ones that I had been added to my camera roll the previous night. I chuckled at the events that apparently took place.
The newest picture was a selfie of Duncan Keith and myself, each bearing multiple shot glasses in our hands.
The next was of Pat clad in a unicorn mask, pouring beer through the mouth hole of the ridiculous mask.
As I continued to scroll through the newly discovered evidence of my drunken actions, another bang sounded from my kitchen. I closed out of the pictures, set my phone back down, and climbed out of bed. I padded quietly down the hallway towards the kitchen, peering my head into the archway.
A shirtless Pat stood in front of my stove, trying to flip pancakes without using a spatula—even though one rested right next to him on the counter top. He tossed one of the pancakes in the air and attempted to catch it on the plate he held in his other hand—failing miserably and allowing the fresh pancake to land on the floor.
“You know for a pro-hockey player,” I stepped into the kitchen, “Your hand-eye coordination really sucks.”
Pat whipped around from his position facing the stove and shot me a playful glare, “Oh. Great, you’re awake.”
I laughed at his failed attempt at a death glare and took a seat on one of my barstools, “So…do you make pancakes for all girls in the morning or should I feel special?”
“Only for the ones I feel bad for,” he retorted quickly.
“Ouch,” I placed a hand to my chest, “That one really hurt, Pat.”
He stuck his tongue out at me before sliding over a plate of pancakes. I mumbled a quick thanks before digging into the large pile of food.
After a few minutes, Pat joined me at the counter and began working on his own stack of breakfast food. We ate in silence, the only sounds being that of silverware and dishes meeting briefly.
“So want to talk about what happened last night?” I questioned finally.
Pat turned in his seat and looked at me. A look of panic briefly crossed his features, “What do you mean?”
I ignored his weird action, “Like, did I do anything stupid?”
“You really don’t remember anything?” he asked, taking a large mouthful of pancake.
“Shit. That means I did something bad,” I put down my silverware and turned towards him, “Spill.”
He hesitated for a moment, swallowing his mouthful slowly before turning to look at me, “A, you did nothing bad. We just had a kickass time.”
“Yeah, well, I wish I could remember at least part of it,” I grumbled, leaning back in my seat.
“Such a lightweight,” he shook his head disapprovingly, “We need to get you back in shape for this summer.”
“Too bad I’m not going to Buffalo,” I said, “But my liver’s very thankful.”
Pat pouted, looking down at his unfinished pile of breakfast. I knew he was sad about me decision to stay in Chicago for the summer, but I believed that it was for the best. I could finally become acquainted with my new home and meet some friends of my own.
Going back to Buffalo would require me to stay with my parents for the entirety of the summer—and that sure as hell wouldn’t end very well. Plus, if Eric was still looking around for me, he could easily find me back home—as I had told him about my annual summer vacations in Buffalo and he had even been to my parents’ house once before.
♢♢♢♢
After a series of somewhat awkward conversations at her kitchen counter, I made up some lame excuse about going to the United Center and shuffled out of Allie’s apartment. I just couldn’t bear to look at her for much longer.
She had absolutely no memory of the kiss we shared the night before. And while the thought of her lips pressed against mine whirled around in my mind, she simply sat in the barstool and swung her feet back and forth nonchalantly.
I felt as though I should’ve told her, but it would be difficult to explain to someone who had no memory of it. We kissed briefly, tangled our limbs together, and passed out in her sheets—something we’ve done countless times before. How would I explain that this was different than all the others? She’d probably send me a heartbreaking grin and make some playful joke about being one of the girls I take home.
I trudged through the crowded streets of Chicago with my baseball cap pulled over my eyes. I didn’t need any wandering eyes recognizing me. I pulled out my phone and quickly punched in Jon’s familiar number.
“Hey, Kaner,” he answered, “What’s up?”
“I don’t—I don’t really know,” I replied, trying to get a hold of my thoughts, “I just need someone to set me straight.”
Jon quickly understood that I was being serious—something that didn’t happen very often around my teammates. “United Center in 30,” he stated simply before hanging up.
I stuffed my phone back into my pocket and hurriedly made my way to my apartment, grabbing my hockey equipment and cramming it into the trunk of my Ranger Rover.
After a few minutes of driving through Chicago traffic, I pushed through the doors of the UC and headed towards the locker room. I slipped on my gear and shoved my feet into my skates before heading out to the ice. A large bag of pucks and the empty net kept my mind from wandering too much.
As I shot a puck and missed the goal by what seemed like a mile, I heard a low chuckle from the team bench.
“And here’s Patrick Kane—MVP and Stanley Cup winner. He carries the puck up, he shoots, and…he misses the goal completely,” Jon’s voiced boomed throughout the arena.
I whipped around and skated towards him, making sure to spray him with a coat of ice as I stopped in front of him.
“Hey, Taze,” I greeted.
He slipped his foot into one of the skates that were placed at his feet, “So what’s up?”
The simple question started what seemed like a never-ending string of word vomit. I told Jon about everything that had happened the night before—specifically about our confessions and the kiss that shortly followed—and how Allie had no recollection about our exchange.
After a few minutes of telling Jon about every miniscule detail, my thoughts finally slowed some and Jon took this opportunity to get a few words in.
He ran a gloved hand over his freshly cut hair and sighed heavily, “Man, Allie’s your best friend, right?” I nodded. “Then, you should just let it go. I mean, you definitely don’t want to lose her over this.” I nodded again. “If she doesn’t remember it, you can’t really make her feel anything about it. To her, it’s like it never even happened and there’s really nothing you can do to change that.”
I took a hard shot towards the goal, listening to the small swoosh of the net, as I contemplated his words. It made sense, but I still couldn’t get the feeling of her lips off of mine.
After a few more minutes of silently going over his words, I reluctantly agreed with him and we ran through a couple of basic shooting drills. Pucks were scattered across the ice as we made our exit towards the locker room, where Jon bid me a quiet goodbye and took off towards the parking lot.
I, on the other hand, took my time peeling off my sweaty equipment and making my way back home.
♢♢♢♢
After Pat’s awkward departure from my apartment, I cleaned up the small mess we had made the previous night before calling Livvy—who I had become friendly with over the week. I invited her over to talk about the weird exchange Pat and I had shared, but she simply told me to ignore it and continue getting to know Grant.
She was convinced that Pat was just feeling uneasy about my being so involved in his Chicago life; she claimed that it was new territory for us and that we were bound to encounter some rough patches. I agreed with her. Pat and I had been doing the same thing for as long as I could remember. Our group of friends back home hadn’t changed since we left high school; our friendship status had remained mostly constant, as we rarely got into arguments with each other and had never moved past the barrier of friendship; and our activities over the summer never really changed. This was the first major change in our relationship—besides separating shortly after our high school graduation.
Livvy’s explanation seemed probable, so I simply took her advice and ignored Pat’s odd behavior. During the following week, we mostly avoided each other and only occasionally shared a few texts here and there. I spent most of my time with Livvy at my apartment, snacking on unhealthy junk food and simply talking about everything and anything. In addition, Grant had asked me out on a few more dates, which I gladly accepted and genuinely enjoyed.
Grant was different. He was actually interested in what I had to say about certain topics and conversations seemed to flow effortlessly between us. It was nice to spend time with someone, with whom I could both be comfortable with and see our relationship progressing.
“You ready to head out?” Grant rested his hand lightly on mine, “I can walk you home.” It was our fifth date since we had met and we were seated at a local burger place.
A simple nod of my head served as my response, “Sounds good to me.” I gave him a tiny smile as he threw down a fifty-dollar bill on the small table and pushed himself out of his seat. I followed his action and started towards the door and out into the night, enveloping my small hand in his large one.
The walk home was full of mindless chatter and chuckles until we arrived at the door of my apartment. As Grant made a playful joke about the elderly couple that lived across the hall, a loud giggle slipped past my lips.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he stated as soon as my giggles subsided, latching both of his hands onto my waist.
I removed my gaze from his, feeling a small blush creep up my ears, “Thanks, Grant.”
He gently cupped my cheek with one of his hands, keeping the other firmly placed on my hip, before he lifted my chin so that my eyes met his. I stood on my tiptoes and smoothly weaved my arms around his neck, bringing our lips together.
Grant pulled me closer, slipping his tongue along my bottom lip eagerly and intensifying the kiss. My mouth dropped open mechanically, granting him access. His hand left my cheek and quickly occupied my other hip, rubbing circles on my newly exposed waist.
His lips pulled away from mine for a second, but continued hovering a mere inch away, “I really like you, Allie.”
“Good,” I smirked at him before bringing his lips back to mine and with one hand, throwing open the door to my apartment. We stumbled inside, our limbs and clothes suddenly becoming huge obstacles. My fingers gripped the light material of his jacket as I pushed it off his shoulders.
A trail of clothing followed us as we made our way down the hall, still engaging in quick fiery kisses. And soon enough, all that was left were my undergarments and Grant’s jeans, which I hastily reached for as we entered my bedroom. His jeans popped open easily and his zipper followed seconds after.
I scooted back on the bed and rested against the headboard as he shimmed out of the denim fabric. With a playful smirk, he jumped excitedly onto the bed and crawled up towards me, hovering over me.
“Hi,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my lips.
I giggled, “Hey.”
“So, what’s up?” A smirk played across his plump lips.
“Oh, shut up,” I growled jokingly before placing eager kisses along his neck. He quickly responded, fumbling with the clasp at the back of my bra. With a click and a quick tug on the fabric, the flimsy material was tossed aside into our ever-growing pile of clothes.
He hungrily grabbed at my breasts, evoking a small moan from my throat that vibrated against the skin of his neck. I returned my lips to his as his hands snaked down my side, reaching for the band of my lacy underwear. He quickly ran his fingers across the rough material before he hooked his thumbs below the elastic band, my skin becoming warm under his touch.
My fingers played with the ends of his short hair as I pushed my lips harder against his. He took this as his cue, tugging my underwear down my legs before discarding it on top of my bra. One of his hands returned to my breasts while the other stayed on my inner thigh, his thumb rubbing different patterns. He teasingly inched his hand closer to my core, smirking at me knowingly as I shifted my position and tried to cater to my need for friction. He pressed a long kiss to my pouted lips before spreading my legs further apart with his thick fingers and quickly rubbing on my clit.
Moans escaped my mouth in gasps and I shifted again to satisfy the burning sensation within my core. With one hand, he tugged on his boxers and kicked them off his legs.
His lips brushed against mine softly as he positioned himself between my spread-out legs, “You sure about this?”
I quickly connected my lips to his before breaking away, “Positive.” And with that, Grant pushed into me. I shifted slightly, adjusting to his large size, before he pulled out slowly. Without giving me a chance to react, Grant slammed into me again and began a chain of quick, deep thrusts. His large hands cupped my butt as he lifted me up from the mattress, allowing me to wrap my legs around his waist and pulling him even closer. Our sweaty skin slapped against each other and a series of moans and groans filled the otherwise silent room. After a few adjusting thrusts, he finally hit the correct bundle of nerves.
“Ohmygod,” I managed out between groans as Grant busied one of his hands with my clit, rubbing it frantically. He slammed into the same spot a mere few times before my stomach began to flutter and my walls began to contract around him. He groaned at the new pressure and pushed in harder than the last. With one final drill into my body, we rode out our orgasms together and flopped back on the mattress.
Grant leaned up against my headboard as he mindlessly played with my hair, “Allie?”
“Yeah?”
He slid down the dark wood of my headboard and lay on his side, facing me. His quickly placed a hand on my waist and brought me closer. “Will you be my girlfriend?”
I smiled at him cheekily, “Of course.” He returned my smile with an even larger one and placed a sweet kiss against my lips. As he broke away, he pulled my head to his chest and wrapped his arms securely around my waist, “Sleep tight, angel.”
After determining that she was actually in a deep sleep, I peeled my body away from hers and climbed out of the bed. I snatched my shorts up from the floor and quickly slipped them on, not bothering to look for my misplaced shirt. I ducked out of the bedroom quietly and reached into my pocket, pulling out my vibrating phone.
“Hello?” I answered; making my way out to Allie’s porch that overlooked the city.
“Man, where are you?” Jon’s voice spoke through the receiver.
“Allie’s,” I stated casually, running a hand through disheveled hair and hoping that Jon wouldn’t jump on my case. I had completely forgotten I had promised the team that I would meet them for a hangover breakfast at one of our favorite diners.
Suddenly, I heard someone gasp on the other side of the line. After a series of bangs and grumbles, Andrew Shaw’s voice flowed through the phone. “KANER,” he breathed, “Did you get a piece of that mighty fine ass?”
Jon muttered something angrily in the background. “Shut up, Shawzy,” I mumbled.
“I knew it!” Shaw cheered excitedly.
I sighed annoyed, “It’s not like that, Shaw.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” Shaw ignored my statement, “You’re missing out on a hellova team breakfast.” After mumbling him some sort of goodbye, I hung up my phone and looked out to the view in front of me.
Although most of last night’s events were merely blurred memories, one of my actions stood out crystal clear among the rest.
I had kissed Allie.
Sure, Allie and I have had our fair share of drunken hook-ups, but this one seemed different. We admitted that we needed each other desperately in our lives. Even though we had been friends for over a decade, we had never admitted such feelings. We enjoyed our time together in the summer and simply parted ways when our time was up. We never went out of our way to visit each other during our separation time and sporadically kept in contact via texts and the occasional phone call.
But something had changed. Maybe it was the fact that Allie had recently experienced a nasty break-up. Or maybe it was the fact that my “different night, different girl” motto was proving less than satisfactory recently. Or maybe it was that we finally realized that we were too old to play the “best friend” card.
♢♢♢♢
A large bang sounded from my kitchen. I quickly sat up in my bed before immediately regretting it and allowing my head to fall back into my pillow. My head pounded intensely and my stomach churned at the smell of alcohol that floated around my room.
After recollecting myself, I sat up slowly and rested against my headboard. The blinds on my wide windows were shut and, as a result, the room was dim. However, my eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness of the room and I was able to look around, piecing together whatever had happened the night before.
Across the room, a pair of sneakers had been kicked under my desk; and on the back of its matching chair, a plain white t-shirt had been sloppily hung. The owner of these articles of clothing was nowhere to be seen, but I assumed that they belonged to Pat. I usually wasn’t one to bring home stranger and Pat obviously wouldn’t allow me to go home with any of his teammates.
My own clothes were strewn about the room. My denim shorts were flung on top of my bedside table; my Blackhawks t-shirt hung from my bedpost; and my bra covered a lampshade. I shook my head at the mess and told myself that I would clean it up as soon as my killer headache subsided.
I reached for my phone that rested on my bedside table and slid my finger across the screen, opening up my photos and scrolling through the new ones that I had been added to my camera roll the previous night. I chuckled at the events that apparently took place.
The newest picture was a selfie of Duncan Keith and myself, each bearing multiple shot glasses in our hands.
The next was of Pat clad in a unicorn mask, pouring beer through the mouth hole of the ridiculous mask.
As I continued to scroll through the newly discovered evidence of my drunken actions, another bang sounded from my kitchen. I closed out of the pictures, set my phone back down, and climbed out of bed. I padded quietly down the hallway towards the kitchen, peering my head into the archway.
A shirtless Pat stood in front of my stove, trying to flip pancakes without using a spatula—even though one rested right next to him on the counter top. He tossed one of the pancakes in the air and attempted to catch it on the plate he held in his other hand—failing miserably and allowing the fresh pancake to land on the floor.
“You know for a pro-hockey player,” I stepped into the kitchen, “Your hand-eye coordination really sucks.”
Pat whipped around from his position facing the stove and shot me a playful glare, “Oh. Great, you’re awake.”
I laughed at his failed attempt at a death glare and took a seat on one of my barstools, “So…do you make pancakes for all girls in the morning or should I feel special?”
“Only for the ones I feel bad for,” he retorted quickly.
“Ouch,” I placed a hand to my chest, “That one really hurt, Pat.”
He stuck his tongue out at me before sliding over a plate of pancakes. I mumbled a quick thanks before digging into the large pile of food.
After a few minutes, Pat joined me at the counter and began working on his own stack of breakfast food. We ate in silence, the only sounds being that of silverware and dishes meeting briefly.
“So want to talk about what happened last night?” I questioned finally.
Pat turned in his seat and looked at me. A look of panic briefly crossed his features, “What do you mean?”
I ignored his weird action, “Like, did I do anything stupid?”
“You really don’t remember anything?” he asked, taking a large mouthful of pancake.
“Shit. That means I did something bad,” I put down my silverware and turned towards him, “Spill.”
He hesitated for a moment, swallowing his mouthful slowly before turning to look at me, “A, you did nothing bad. We just had a kickass time.”
“Yeah, well, I wish I could remember at least part of it,” I grumbled, leaning back in my seat.
“Such a lightweight,” he shook his head disapprovingly, “We need to get you back in shape for this summer.”
“Too bad I’m not going to Buffalo,” I said, “But my liver’s very thankful.”
Pat pouted, looking down at his unfinished pile of breakfast. I knew he was sad about me decision to stay in Chicago for the summer, but I believed that it was for the best. I could finally become acquainted with my new home and meet some friends of my own.
Going back to Buffalo would require me to stay with my parents for the entirety of the summer—and that sure as hell wouldn’t end very well. Plus, if Eric was still looking around for me, he could easily find me back home—as I had told him about my annual summer vacations in Buffalo and he had even been to my parents’ house once before.
♢♢♢♢
After a series of somewhat awkward conversations at her kitchen counter, I made up some lame excuse about going to the United Center and shuffled out of Allie’s apartment. I just couldn’t bear to look at her for much longer.
She had absolutely no memory of the kiss we shared the night before. And while the thought of her lips pressed against mine whirled around in my mind, she simply sat in the barstool and swung her feet back and forth nonchalantly.
I felt as though I should’ve told her, but it would be difficult to explain to someone who had no memory of it. We kissed briefly, tangled our limbs together, and passed out in her sheets—something we’ve done countless times before. How would I explain that this was different than all the others? She’d probably send me a heartbreaking grin and make some playful joke about being one of the girls I take home.
I trudged through the crowded streets of Chicago with my baseball cap pulled over my eyes. I didn’t need any wandering eyes recognizing me. I pulled out my phone and quickly punched in Jon’s familiar number.
“Hey, Kaner,” he answered, “What’s up?”
“I don’t—I don’t really know,” I replied, trying to get a hold of my thoughts, “I just need someone to set me straight.”
Jon quickly understood that I was being serious—something that didn’t happen very often around my teammates. “United Center in 30,” he stated simply before hanging up.
I stuffed my phone back into my pocket and hurriedly made my way to my apartment, grabbing my hockey equipment and cramming it into the trunk of my Ranger Rover.
After a few minutes of driving through Chicago traffic, I pushed through the doors of the UC and headed towards the locker room. I slipped on my gear and shoved my feet into my skates before heading out to the ice. A large bag of pucks and the empty net kept my mind from wandering too much.
As I shot a puck and missed the goal by what seemed like a mile, I heard a low chuckle from the team bench.
“And here’s Patrick Kane—MVP and Stanley Cup winner. He carries the puck up, he shoots, and…he misses the goal completely,” Jon’s voiced boomed throughout the arena.
I whipped around and skated towards him, making sure to spray him with a coat of ice as I stopped in front of him.
“Hey, Taze,” I greeted.
He slipped his foot into one of the skates that were placed at his feet, “So what’s up?”
The simple question started what seemed like a never-ending string of word vomit. I told Jon about everything that had happened the night before—specifically about our confessions and the kiss that shortly followed—and how Allie had no recollection about our exchange.
After a few minutes of telling Jon about every miniscule detail, my thoughts finally slowed some and Jon took this opportunity to get a few words in.
He ran a gloved hand over his freshly cut hair and sighed heavily, “Man, Allie’s your best friend, right?” I nodded. “Then, you should just let it go. I mean, you definitely don’t want to lose her over this.” I nodded again. “If she doesn’t remember it, you can’t really make her feel anything about it. To her, it’s like it never even happened and there’s really nothing you can do to change that.”
I took a hard shot towards the goal, listening to the small swoosh of the net, as I contemplated his words. It made sense, but I still couldn’t get the feeling of her lips off of mine.
After a few more minutes of silently going over his words, I reluctantly agreed with him and we ran through a couple of basic shooting drills. Pucks were scattered across the ice as we made our exit towards the locker room, where Jon bid me a quiet goodbye and took off towards the parking lot.
I, on the other hand, took my time peeling off my sweaty equipment and making my way back home.
♢♢♢♢
After Pat’s awkward departure from my apartment, I cleaned up the small mess we had made the previous night before calling Livvy—who I had become friendly with over the week. I invited her over to talk about the weird exchange Pat and I had shared, but she simply told me to ignore it and continue getting to know Grant.
She was convinced that Pat was just feeling uneasy about my being so involved in his Chicago life; she claimed that it was new territory for us and that we were bound to encounter some rough patches. I agreed with her. Pat and I had been doing the same thing for as long as I could remember. Our group of friends back home hadn’t changed since we left high school; our friendship status had remained mostly constant, as we rarely got into arguments with each other and had never moved past the barrier of friendship; and our activities over the summer never really changed. This was the first major change in our relationship—besides separating shortly after our high school graduation.
Livvy’s explanation seemed probable, so I simply took her advice and ignored Pat’s odd behavior. During the following week, we mostly avoided each other and only occasionally shared a few texts here and there. I spent most of my time with Livvy at my apartment, snacking on unhealthy junk food and simply talking about everything and anything. In addition, Grant had asked me out on a few more dates, which I gladly accepted and genuinely enjoyed.
Grant was different. He was actually interested in what I had to say about certain topics and conversations seemed to flow effortlessly between us. It was nice to spend time with someone, with whom I could both be comfortable with and see our relationship progressing.
“You ready to head out?” Grant rested his hand lightly on mine, “I can walk you home.” It was our fifth date since we had met and we were seated at a local burger place.
A simple nod of my head served as my response, “Sounds good to me.” I gave him a tiny smile as he threw down a fifty-dollar bill on the small table and pushed himself out of his seat. I followed his action and started towards the door and out into the night, enveloping my small hand in his large one.
The walk home was full of mindless chatter and chuckles until we arrived at the door of my apartment. As Grant made a playful joke about the elderly couple that lived across the hall, a loud giggle slipped past my lips.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he stated as soon as my giggles subsided, latching both of his hands onto my waist.
I removed my gaze from his, feeling a small blush creep up my ears, “Thanks, Grant.”
He gently cupped my cheek with one of his hands, keeping the other firmly placed on my hip, before he lifted my chin so that my eyes met his. I stood on my tiptoes and smoothly weaved my arms around his neck, bringing our lips together.
Grant pulled me closer, slipping his tongue along my bottom lip eagerly and intensifying the kiss. My mouth dropped open mechanically, granting him access. His hand left my cheek and quickly occupied my other hip, rubbing circles on my newly exposed waist.
His lips pulled away from mine for a second, but continued hovering a mere inch away, “I really like you, Allie.”
“Good,” I smirked at him before bringing his lips back to mine and with one hand, throwing open the door to my apartment. We stumbled inside, our limbs and clothes suddenly becoming huge obstacles. My fingers gripped the light material of his jacket as I pushed it off his shoulders.
A trail of clothing followed us as we made our way down the hall, still engaging in quick fiery kisses. And soon enough, all that was left were my undergarments and Grant’s jeans, which I hastily reached for as we entered my bedroom. His jeans popped open easily and his zipper followed seconds after.
I scooted back on the bed and rested against the headboard as he shimmed out of the denim fabric. With a playful smirk, he jumped excitedly onto the bed and crawled up towards me, hovering over me.
“Hi,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my lips.
I giggled, “Hey.”
“So, what’s up?” A smirk played across his plump lips.
“Oh, shut up,” I growled jokingly before placing eager kisses along his neck. He quickly responded, fumbling with the clasp at the back of my bra. With a click and a quick tug on the fabric, the flimsy material was tossed aside into our ever-growing pile of clothes.
He hungrily grabbed at my breasts, evoking a small moan from my throat that vibrated against the skin of his neck. I returned my lips to his as his hands snaked down my side, reaching for the band of my lacy underwear. He quickly ran his fingers across the rough material before he hooked his thumbs below the elastic band, my skin becoming warm under his touch.
My fingers played with the ends of his short hair as I pushed my lips harder against his. He took this as his cue, tugging my underwear down my legs before discarding it on top of my bra. One of his hands returned to my breasts while the other stayed on my inner thigh, his thumb rubbing different patterns. He teasingly inched his hand closer to my core, smirking at me knowingly as I shifted my position and tried to cater to my need for friction. He pressed a long kiss to my pouted lips before spreading my legs further apart with his thick fingers and quickly rubbing on my clit.
Moans escaped my mouth in gasps and I shifted again to satisfy the burning sensation within my core. With one hand, he tugged on his boxers and kicked them off his legs.
His lips brushed against mine softly as he positioned himself between my spread-out legs, “You sure about this?”
I quickly connected my lips to his before breaking away, “Positive.” And with that, Grant pushed into me. I shifted slightly, adjusting to his large size, before he pulled out slowly. Without giving me a chance to react, Grant slammed into me again and began a chain of quick, deep thrusts. His large hands cupped my butt as he lifted me up from the mattress, allowing me to wrap my legs around his waist and pulling him even closer. Our sweaty skin slapped against each other and a series of moans and groans filled the otherwise silent room. After a few adjusting thrusts, he finally hit the correct bundle of nerves.
“Ohmygod,” I managed out between groans as Grant busied one of his hands with my clit, rubbing it frantically. He slammed into the same spot a mere few times before my stomach began to flutter and my walls began to contract around him. He groaned at the new pressure and pushed in harder than the last. With one final drill into my body, we rode out our orgasms together and flopped back on the mattress.
Grant leaned up against my headboard as he mindlessly played with my hair, “Allie?”
“Yeah?”
He slid down the dark wood of my headboard and lay on his side, facing me. His quickly placed a hand on my waist and brought me closer. “Will you be my girlfriend?”
I smiled at him cheekily, “Of course.” He returned my smile with an even larger one and placed a sweet kiss against my lips. As he broke away, he pulled my head to his chest and wrapped his arms securely around my waist, “Sleep tight, angel.”
