"I feel so ashamed." My voice trembled as I said this as all the lewd things I did and said came back like a wave in my mind.
Thoughts of his cock grinding so deep that I screamed, the way he sucked on my nipples until it looked like I was actually lactating, the way I wouldn't stop moaning, the way he kept milking me until there was nothing left to spill down there... and all the while his big cock was inside and he didn't stop moving.
I had cum so many times that I lost count, my body giving in over and over while Mike just kept going, coaxing everything out of me like I was his personal toy. It was a taste I didn't know I liked.
By the end, I felt drained, emptied of strength and yet… full. Full of him, his warmth, his voice whispering filth into my ear while kissing me like I mattered.
I buried my face in the pillow, groaning and mumbling words that didn't make sense as warmth filled my heart.
Oh my God. If this was how real sex felt like then I'm afraid I might get addicted soon.
But... Something told me that I would never be able to feel as full as I felt with Mike with anyone else.
He had magical hands, haha.
But then, a sharp ache shot through me from my waist to my back, like I had been snapped.
I mean, yeah, he did bend me over in positions I didn't even know I could bend into and now I'm seeing the consequences.
I felt like my hips had been wrecked, my whole body heavy and boneless.
I crouched on the bed, holding my shoulder, my face pressed to the bed and my body trembling.
Maybe we went a little bit too far, haha.
I raised my head. It was clean everywhere.
Even after all that mess we made, my body was clean, the sheets were clean, and the floors were clean despite me remembering I had spilled quite a lot on the floor.
My face flushed.
And in all this, Mike was nowhere in sight.
Only the faint smell of him lingered in the sheets, making me realize he slept on the bed to an extent before leaving.
Did he hold me in his arms as we slept?
I don't know, but images of something like that popped into my head. My frail, clean body sprawled next to his, his hand holding mine, and my head positioned on his broad chest...
My face flushed even more.
In a position like that, it would seem like we were lovers. But... I shook my head.
That probably didn't happen. It was just me trying to make something out of a situation that shouldn't have meant anything more than the intimacy I received.
And then, I caught sight of a folded slip of paper on the nightstand just barely underneath the lamp.
I managed to crawl over to pick it up, each movement of my muscles reminding me that I was never cut out for physical sports.
I finally picked up the note, and a small smile suddenly played on my lips as I saw his messy handwriting.
Guess we can't all have what we want.
It would definitely be so unfair if such a handsome man were perfect in everything. His handwriting looked like jargon.
In Mike's messy handwriting, it simply read:
["Last night was fun. If you want to hit it up again, text me on the app. I'll be more than happy to feast. —M"]
I stared at the little note for a few seconds, my breath lightly caught as I pursed my lips and my heart singing a rhythm I couldn't understand.
It shouldn't have mattered.
We didn't even know each other's real names.
To him, I was just 'Bunny.' And to me, he was just 'Mike.'
Nothing more, nothing less.
So why… why did every part of me still feel scorched by his touch?
I sat there on the edge of the bed for what felt like forever, the note clenched tight in my hand and my legs spread across the bed.
My body throbbed with soreness all over, my throat felt sore as well, but beneath all that ache was something worse. You could say it was a lingering heat left by the blazing flame.
Everywhere his mouth had been burned with flames. My nipples still tingled through the soreness, my neck stung with the marks he'd left, and deep inside, my body clenched helplessly, aching for the fullness I'd felt the night before.
It wasn't fair. It was just sex. It was supposed to be just sex. So why? Why was the aftermath more than I could handle?
I covered my face, thinking this was a rather rough decision. If I knew it was going to be like this... If I knew... My body trembled... Ah, who am I kidding? I'd go for it over and over again because once you taste the forbidden fruit once, your body starts craving more of it.
But that's what I'm scared of. The thought that I wouldn't be able to control my urges. The thought that I would never be satisfied or filled with anyone else.
It... Frightened me.
And I can't to a decision. I would have to put all of this behind me if I wanted to go back to my peaceful daily life.
After a while, I was finally able to get out of bed.
I got a call from the receptionist office, asking if I wanted to renew the room 'again' and that was when I realized Mike had renewed it that morning to let me sleep more.
He was so thoughtful. So kind, so generous. And so freaking hot.
How was a man like that still single? I wondered.
If he had a partner, he would probably spoil his partner to bits.
But maybe that's the thing. Maybe love was the issue. He was good at all this but being committed... Maybe that was something he couldn't handle.
I sighed and looked at my thoroughly marked body in the mirror. My hands roamed over them and I pursed my lips.
These marks... Would they ever disappear?
Surely they would but... They would take a bit of time.
And while they healed, each time I would take a look at my body, I would be reminded of this night. This splendid night where it felt like my body didn't belong to me anymore but to him, entirely.