Great Expectations

By Wednesday morning, Ash was still avoiding me. It was pretty clear that she had not had the talk with Steve, and I was thisclose to giving up completely. However, my supremely stubborn nature kept sending her an annoying text roughly once every four hours. 

The work day passed slowly, which may or may not have had something (read: everything) to do with how excited I was for my date with Bray that night. I had already mentally picked out my outfit, and I had spent an extra ten minutes that morning perfecting my hair. As soon as the clock hit 6 p.m., I hightailed it out of work like there was a lululemon sale happening downtown.

At home I helped myself to a glass of vino while attempting to perfect the winged eyeliner look. The end result just made me look like I was about to put a hex on some popular girls, so I wiped it off and decided to stick with what I knew: mascara and an eyelash curler. Before I left I debated throwing a toothbrush in my bag in case I ended up staying the night, but decided I didn’t want to jinx it. 

Bray lived in one of those fancy apartments with a doorman and everything, the kind of place I always lusted after on CraigsList before my bank account would politely tell me to calm the F down. Apparently, Bray was one heck of a graphic designer. His building even had an elevator - ah how the other half live - which swept me up to the 8th floor, and I knocked tentatively on apartment 8F. 

He opened the door barefoot, wearing faded jeans and a white tshirt. “Hey, gorgeous” he said, pulling me in for a kiss. 

“Hello,” I replied after I regained my breath from the very warm greeting. “That smells amazing.” 

“Thanks, I remembered you saying you studied abroad in Spain, so I thought I would treat you to my household-famous paella,” he said. 

“Household famous? I wasn’t aware you had made it so big!” I joked. I shrugged off my coat and hung it over the back of a barstool, subtly taking in my surroundings. His apartment was at least three times the size of my studio, and every surface was adorned in shades of black and gray. The whole place screamed bachelor pad, and I couldn't help but wonder how many other girls he had cooked dinner for. 

“Is your roommate home?” I asked, praying the answer would be no. Even though it would be nice to meet one of Bray’s friends, I’m a firm believer in the phrase ‘you can tell everything about a person by who their friends are’. 

“No, he’s out of town on business. He actually travels a lot for his job,” he answered, while adding more ingredients to the pot that was emitting heavenly smells. “Do you want a beer or wine or anything?” 

“A glass of wine would be perfect," I said. 

We enjoyed the absolutely delicious paella while sitting at his kitchen counter, and he promised to teach me how to make it sometime. I silently cheered myself for already scoring a 4th date. After we ate, he placed the dishes in the sink and pulled me onto the couch to watch the end of the Phillies game. 

“Can I get you more wine? I’m going to grab another one of these,” he offered, shaking his empty beer. 

“Sure,” I said, smiling back at him. While he was in the kitchen, I did a quick fluff of my hair and breath check. If he wasn’t going to make a move soon, I was going to have to take matters into my own hands. Two innings has passed and he hadn't made so much as a flinch in my direction.

Bray returned and handed me a full glass of wine. I took a long swallow and set it down on the coffee table. He relaxed back down next to me and praise the lord placed his muscular arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him. I snuggled closer and lifted my face upwards, letting him know it was absolutely okay to kiss me. 

He leaned down and met his mouth to mine. The kiss started off slowly, and got hotter and hotter until the next thing I knew, I was pinned underneath him on the couch. I ran my hands up the sides of his body and under his shirt, tugging at the sides, gesturing for him to remove it. He pulled from the back of the neck and yanked it over his head, and my eyes ravenously took in his body. All I could hear in my head was Emma Stone’s voice in Crazy Stupid Love screaming “It’s like you’re photoshopped!” He unbuttoned my blouse and pulled off my jeans. I spread my legs, wrapping them around his waist using them to pull him closer to me. There was nothing but his briefs and my thong between us now, and I could feel how hard he was growing. 

I pushed up, placing my hands on his chest until he was sitting up and I was straddling him. I shifted my weight forward and then slowly slid down so that I was pressing on his cock. He groaned my name, and I smiled. He grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me towards him again, his mouth next to my ear “I want to fuck you so badly.” 

I gave him a lascivious smile, “So do it,” I challenged.

He grabbed my ass and lifted me up as if I weighed ten pounds (PSA: I do not), and carried me down the hall and into what I presumed to be his bedroom. I was too turned on to even attempt to analyze every bit of the room. He threw me onto the bed and climbed on top of me, dragging my thong off with one hand. He pulled down his briefs and in an instant was inside of me. I arched my back as he pushed in, savoring how good it felt. We stayed in missionary for a minute before he flipped me on my back - I’m one of the few girls I know who actually thoroughly enjoys doggy style. His hands were grabbing my ass and I knew I’d have bruises tomorrow, but that just turned me on even more. After only a few minutes I was shaking with orgasm, and fell forward onto the pillows. He pulled out, put on a condom and pushed back into me, causing me to gasp. Within seconds, he finished with a loud groan pushing into me one last time. After we had cleaned up, we laid side by side on his bed. 

“Not bad,” I joked breathlessly. He laughed, pulling me onto my side and kissed my head. Within minutes we were both fast asleep.