The Bar Stool

"Relationship"

WARNING: TO ALL Y'ALL PEOPLE WHO ARE FRIENDS OR FAMILY READING THIS. THERE IS DIRT DIRT IN THIS CHAPTER. JUST A FAIR WARNING. LOVE YOU:)

You can't necessarily say this was the morning after. We weren't drunk, we didn't go any further than the casual dry hump with a side of make out. Mostly to the point where my lips couldn't take it anymore.

I wasn't planning on staying the night, I wasn't planning on falling asleep in the same bed as him, cuddle up into his retracting, slow breathing chest. But I did and I loved every damn minute of it.

Aside from him being the walking whiplash of my so called altering life, I am enjoying where we stand. We aren't dating I don't think, but we're something right?

Yes, I might have gave in a little to easy, but can you fucking blame me. For crying out loud he took me to dinner unlike the last fuck tard I got myself into a mess with.

As the morning Indiana sun peeks through his bed sheet spread across his window I lay here with my hands tucked against my chest and my eyes roaming his glorious features. I'm sure I look like a school girl lost in memorization because of her crush, but he's asleep no harm done here.

Everything about Tanner is perfect, all down to the cute a little dimple that pops out when he smiles which has become often. Part of me loves that his tanned skin has gone untouched by ink, but the the other wonders why?

I mean I have tattoos, but they all relate to what I do for a living. Most men in the army get the logo tattooed on their body or if you really want to go out of the ball park get your last name in bold cursive lettering inked across the middle of your shoulder blades. But not Tanner, its untouched and free to be marked with the claw marks I hope to leave on his back.

"You seem to be thinking hard about that."

"God damn it." I must have zoned out. "Did I say something out loud again?"

"No," he laughs, "but I wouldn't mind knowing what you were thinking." He wiggles his prominent brows at me; his arm snakes up my thigh, shivers cast through my body in a surge. "Are you thinking about last night?"

"What about it. I tackled you to the bed and won the fight because you gave in. Its not my fault I discovered you were ticklish." I move my hand down over his and bring it up to cup my breast.

"Are you trying to distract me?"

"I don't know is it working?"

"Very much so." He breathes out. He then breaths back in, deeply. His palm closing more around my breast causing me to close my eyes and feel the burn he's creating.

We still haven't broke our tension, but how fucking far until it bursts into oblivion?

"Am I taking you home?" He asks. I nod, because if I speak who knows what will come out. His words seem to fade back and his hand moves back down my stomach stopping at the elastic hem of my panties. "Just give me five minutes." I nod again.

Edging his fingers in, he slips past my waistband, slithering to where the moisture is building. "God," he breathes. My head hides into his neck, my lips connecting with his skin.

My hips press forward wanting his fingers to finally touch me where I need him.

As his fingers move, my legs open more. I am soon on my back. He has propped himself up on his elbow, working his fingers over my clit.