⇾ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 | 𝐏𝐚𝐮𝐥 𝐌𝐜𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐈

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 ➪ 𝙇𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙎𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙂𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙗𝙮𝙚?

ꕥ May 3, 1966 ꕥ

The sun was shining right in my face. It seemed unusually bright this morning and it was practically blinding me. I whimpered slightly when I felt the intense pounding in my skull. It felt like there were a million tiny lumberjacks taking a whack at my skull, and let me tell you, it didn't feel good.

It didn't take me much longer to realize where exactly I was. I blinked a few times to make sure that it was real. I was very much sober now, and was having horrible flashbacks to something I'd done last night. Something I definitely should not have done last night.

I turned my head to see whom I'd done the dirty deed with and nearly choked on my own spit.

Paul fucking McCartney?

Paul slammed me down onto the bed, attacking me with kisses up and down my neck as I moaned his name loudly, over and over again...

Holy shit. What had I just done?

It appeared that in the midst of my drunken state last night, I hadn't realized that the man who had brought me home was a world-famous musician. I couldn't even believe myself. How had I been so incredibly stupid?

I went to look around to find my clothes, but Paul stirred and his eyes popped open. He immediately winced.

"Holy fuck, I need to stop getting drunk," he groaned, then smirked at me. "You look shocked."

I was at a total loss for words. I couldn't believe I was sitting here, in Paul McCartney's bedroom, in his bed, completely naked. Whatever happened to no sex until marriage?

"You're famous," I blurted stupidly and he snorted.

"It took sleeping with me for you to realize that?"

My look of complete shock immediately turned into an intense frown. "Hey, no fair! I was drunk!"

"Well, you have to admit it wasn't the best you've ever had."

"Paul—," I began. I was still in denial of what had even happened. "It's the only I've ever had!" I said angrily and his face twisted into a look of complete terror.

I reached next to the bed and began to fish for my clothes. Slowly, I had found my bra, then my underwear, my dress. I struggled to put it on and keep myself covered at the same time, then stood up and headed for the door, slipping my shoes onto my feet.

Paul's POV

"Leaving without saying goodbye?" I asked her as she went towards the door. Maybe I didn't want to admit it since she'd just told me that she had been a virgin, but God, it had been a good fucking night.

But, wait! I couldn't remember her name!

I jumped up quickly and pulled some clothes onto my body before following after her. John, who had apparently stayed over last night without me realizing, was in my kitchen making something.

I caught her before she had made it to the staircase. I wasn't letting her slip away. I wanted to see her again. The fact was almost hard to come to terms with.

"What's your name?" I shouted and she didn't turn around. I ran on, catching up with her, but she continued on.

She was pissed.

"Let me take you to breakfast!" I suggested. I was really trying to make things better. I mean, who wouldn't want to lose their virginity to me? I'm Paul McCartney.