Page 2 of Crash & Burn

Dakota starts coughing frantically and I look over at her to see she’s holding her throat like she’s about to die. I reach for her arm, not knowing what to do. And suddenly she pulls me down to the ground.

“What the hell?” I demand.

“Shush.” She pulls a finger up to her lips. “I think you need to let tall, dark, and handsome over there drink you up tonight,” she whispers as she pretends to be cleaning up invisible liquid. Sure, we’re ducked behind the counter, but I’m fairly sure what’s-his-face can still see us.

“I really don’t know if that’s a great idea,” I whisper back.

“C’mon, Sterling. You haven’t gotten laid in like a year and it might relieve some frustration from…ya know...” Dakota points to my shirt drying with coffee stains.

She’s right. It’s been a while, but I’ve not had the best experience with one night stands or dating, sex, and relationships in general.

I roll my eyes at her before I pull myself up from the floor and Dakota follows.

“She gets off in an hour,” she speaks for me, not even giving me a second to think.

“I’ll just wait outside then.” Tom turns on his heel and leaves the way he came. Leaving me shockedandwet. Wet from the drink that was thrown at me, of course.

We get to his place. I follow him into a garage and pull in behind him. It feels awkward to get out of my car, not really knowing why I agreed to this.Living on the wild side, as Dakota would say.

Once we’re inside, he hurries me into his room and his jeans are practically already on the floor. Everything is so rushed. Stripping. Kissing. The foreplay. No foreplay, actually. If one didn’t know better, they’d think that we have been teasing each other all day and couldn’t wait to sleep with each other. But the truth is, it’s just a rushed one-night stand. Just like the rest.

He struggles to unclip my bra;must I do everything myself?I reach behind me to unhook it and he grips his erection before moving his head toward mine. He goes in for a kiss, but I avoid it by asking a question.

“Do you have a condom?” I’m on birth control – for no good reason other than to control the cramps – but I’m not taking any chances.

He nods and pulls it out from the side table. We hit the bed, heads bumping awkwardly as we do. It hurts a little, but neither of us care because the heat of the moment is hot.Is it really hot though? Or am I being desperate?

Dakota was right. It has been a while.

I don’t do this much. I hate admitting that every one of my sexual encounters have been one-night stands. Yet here I am about to give it up to some random dude; someone who came into my job and announced that he wanted todrinkme. Whatever the heck that means.

I try to study his facial features a bit, though it’s dark and he’s moving around so much. We’re both down to nothing but our underwear. He takes off his boxers and my eyes are immediately gifted with… well, it’sdecent. I take my turn taking mine down and now I’m exposed.

“Fuck yeah,” he says as he flips me over onto my back. And the way he says it kind of turns me off, like he just finished first place in aGrand Theft Autorace.

He doesn’t waste any time before throwing himself into me. It’s big, but not too big to hurt. He thrusts and I join making the bed rock back and forth. He tries to lean in for another shot at a kiss, but I lean my head back and pretend to moan instead because I’ve decided that I don’t want to give this man the intimacy of kissing me – not that sex isn’t intimate already.

We rock back and forth for a few more seconds, and unexpectedly, he starts shaking. Silently. He buries his face in my neck and shivers into my body. Then he pauses.

He finished?

Not theGrand Theft Autorace.

In me.

He’s done?

Are you fucking kidding me?

It’s been…all of two freaking seconds.

I push him off of me with a frustrated huff. I can’t believe I just let this guy take spot number four on my list. Not that I’m keeping any sort of physical list, of course. But the thought is embarrassing and I hate myself for allowing this to happen the way it has.

I find my clothes and pull them on quickly, avoiding eye contact with the loser still recovering on the bed beside me.

“I’m so sorry. I just- you’re so hot and...” But I don’t let the asshole finish, throwing my hand up to silence his lame excuses.

Why am I even mad? Because I thought this might feel good for a night. Though it might take my mind off all the bad luck that’s been following me around the past three years. And honestly, I’ve never had an orgasm before. I definitely thought hot-café-guy might do the trick. But damn if this isn’t embarrassing, for him, sure, but for me the most. Because at least he got to finish.