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26

I can feel his breath fanning against my lips. Just as his lips are about to touch mine, he stops. Opening my eyes, I look at him. He slips his hand up my neck to my jaw. He brushes my lower lip.

"This is just a one-time thing, right?" He wants a confirmation, that we're on the same page.

I can't seem to get out any words to give him an answer, so I nod.

The next thing I feel is his lips touching mine, his hand threading through my hair, the other hand slipping down the curve of my back to my ass.

I close my eyes at the sensation, slipping my hand to the back of his neck and threading the other one through his hair. His hair is so soft. I don't think I've ever touched hair as soft as his.

At first, his lips move gently against mine but then get rougher—more urgent.

The feeling of his hands roaming my body, makes me moan against his mouth. I can feel his hands everywhere.

"Fuck. You're so hot." He groans like he's in pain.

When he pulls away, I open my eyes only to see him staring at me with lust-filled eyes. I feel his hands moving to the back of my shirt and pulling the zipper down. The moment the shirt leaves my body, I shiver, goosebumps spreading across my skin. It's not from the cold. The room is at the perfect temperature. It's because my chest is completely bare to him.

I didn't wear a bra today.

His eyes are transfixed on my chest. His hands are gripping my waist, but his left hand slowly moves up my body—to my chest.

The feeling of his slightly cold hand on my chest does not bring the discomfort I thought it would. The coldness of his hand seemed to bring me more pleasure, than any warm hand, that was ever there.

His thumb brushes over my hardened nipple, making sparks shoot inside my body.

He leans down and claims my lips with his, while his hand continues to massage my breast.

I almost whimper when his hand leaves my chest.

Both of his hands move down my body. He bends down a little—his lips still on mine—and slips his hands under my thighs, picking me up. He presses my body against his and I wrap my legs around his waist. I wrap my arms around his neck.

His cock brushes against my wet pussy, making me moan at the feel.

"You want my cock, baby?" He asks, his voice dripping with lust. "Hmm, you want me to fill you up?" He grabs a hold of his cock and brushes the head through my folds, teasing my clit. I whimper. "Words," he orders.

"Yes. Please," the last words come out as a whimper.

He pushes his dick all the way in at once, making me gasp.

Oh, God. He feels bigger than he looks.

His thumb runs circles on my clit, as he fucks me against the wall.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he looks down between, watching his cock slide in and out of me. His hair is slightly wet, hanging on his forehead. "You take my cock so good, such a perfect girl," he whispers into my ear, then bites my earlobes, tugging at it.

I throw my head back against the wall, moaning.

• • •

Suddenly, I'm in my bedroom. All alone.

I look around, confused.

Fuck. It was a dream.

I didn't even get to finish.

I'm still aroused.

I slide my hand under the covers, into my panties, which are wet from my dream. My fingers are slightly cold, but that makes it all the more better.

My breath catches as I touch my clit. I draw soft circles, before sliding my fingers down and into me. I moan at the fullness.

My other hand slides down and starts to work on my clit.

I move my fingers inside me faster, rubbing against my G-spot. Throwing my head back into the pillows, a moan slips my lips as I cum all over my fingers.

I relax on the bed, slipping my hands out of my panties.

After that, it hit me. I've had a sex dream about Alexandre. The guy I supposedly hate. Also, the guy I've let finger me not once, but twice.

I mean, he hasn't been that bad lately, but I don't know how long that'll last.

My sex life hasn't been the best lately. The last guy I slept with was my ex, with whom I hadn't slept since 4 months prior to the breakup. I didn't think much of it, though. Brushing it off at the fact, that he's probably busy. Busy fucking others, apparently.

Alexandre is not the worst looking. Actually, he's quite the opposite. He's the most beautiful man I've seen in my life. If he wasn't such a good singer, he could've easily become a model. His emerald green eyes in contrast to his dark hair make him look god-like, with his sharp jaw, prominent cheekbones, and, probably, the most beautiful pair of brows. Everything about him is perfect. Well, except for his personality.

I lay there, contemplating his suggestion. It won't hurt to have sex with him, right? It's just sex. I really need sex, and I'm not in a place to start a new relationship.

Posting a second time a day. Yey!! Might post a third time