Rylyn | Stay the Night

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* b r o o k l y n *

I woke up with pounding head and a sharp pain in my ass.

"Shit." I muttered, throwing my head back against the pillow. I'd done it again. Why did I have to be such a hoe when I was drunk?

I fumbled a hand around my nightstand, searching for the water bottle Andy had started leaving out for me on weekends. My hands closed around the steel flask, still cold. Bless Andy. I hurriedly chugged it down to alleviate my thumping headache. 

Easing myself up as gently as I could, hissing at the pressure in my ass, I scanned my bedroom. Naturally, I was alone, though the sheets on the opposite side of the bed were mussed, the only evidence besides the aforementioned ass pain that someone else had been here last night. I sighed. It had been too long since I'd gone to bed alone on a Saturday night, and a pitifully longer time since I'd woken up with someone next to me.

Everybody always left.

I always got a little dramatic and existential when I was hungover. Today would be worse than usual, because the guy last night had actually seemed different than the others- I'd even allowed myself a slither of hope that he might be more than a one night stand. But of course, I was a sucker for my self destructive cycle, and Mr Potential was never going to escape it. We'd exchanged orgasms, and he had left.

As my memory slowly unfogged, a clearer picture of exactly what I'd fucked up was unveiled. He had been the dark and brooding leather jacket-wearing type, messy brown hair, unfairly handsome in an effortless kind of way. But it had been the warm smile when our eyes met that really drew me to him.

I remembered tripping over myself to buy him a drink, which made him laugh. I remembered dancing goofily with him, making fun of other couples on the dance floor. And then talking. A LOT of talking.

I remembered getting butterflies when he laced his fingers with mine and sat up close to me. I remembered actually shivering when he whispered in my ear. I remembered feeling like the only guy in the room when his deep brown eyed gaze had burned into me.

I had practically begged him to come home with me. 

I remembered him fucking me- good. I had bit down on the pillow as his strong hands sunk into my hips, my body going into sensory overload as he destroyed me in the best way possible. I remembered him calling me beautiful, praising me for how good I was, how tight I was. It felt good to please him. I remembered crying out his name.

Rye. His name was Rye.

The weirdest thing was, I also remembered the part I didn't usually remember. The part after the sex. I remembered him gently rubbing at my hips to soothe the bruising marks he had made. I remembered his breathless laugh as he turned me over onto my back so he could look in my eyes and share in the moment with me as if to say, that was some great fucking sex, wasn't it? I remembered him kissing my nose and calling me adorable, and letting me trace my finger over the freckles on his cheek before wrapping his strong arms around my waist as I fell asleep. I never remembered that kind of thing.

Remembering it all now kind of sucked. Because just like all the forgettable ones before him, he was gone.

My phone dinged from somewhere in the room. Grunting in pain, I dragged my sluggish body over to the pile where I'd left my clothes, fishing the phone out of one of my jean pockets. The text on the screen was from Andy.

Fovvs: there is an EXTREMELY, i repeat EXTREMELY hot guy in our kitchen and you have exactly 5 minutes to get your ass out here before he becomes fair game and i seduce him. your choice brooky.

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