We were alone. Finally. Just me and her.
But it seemed as everything got quiet, my mind got so loud. My eyes kept getting pulled into her. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop my sight from running up and down her–all her curves, her skin, her hair. I couldn’t stop the urge to want to touch her; see how she felt against me.
“Am I out of my head? Am I out of my mind? If you only knew the bad things I like. Don’t think that I can explain it. What can I say, it’s complicated.”
-Camila Cabello, Bad Things
She looked to me. Our eyes locked and my breath held. Felt like she could hear my thoughts, they were so loud. She smiled and I tried to smile back. A conversation began, but all I could think about were her parted lips, the way she kept playing with her hair, and how badly I just wanted to touch her. The way she kept looking at me made me think she had the same thoughts. The conversation stopped but our eyes never parted. Her eyes slipped to my lips. Some tension in the air. Suffocating. A heat rose inside as my pulse began to race. Between us was a pull. Strong. She got close; I got closer. It was quick. Dangerous. The scent of her wrapped itself around me like a leash and pulled me in.
Our lips met like two worlds colliding. Such thirst couldn’t be controlled. Such lust couldn’t be tamed. We were at the mercy of it, and I was at the mercy of her.
My hand slid from her neck to her chest then down to her waist. I pulled her shirt off and she pulled off mine. She kissed my neck. Bit. Licked. She tugged at my belt like she couldn’t breathe with it on. I shoved her back onto the bed and pulled off her pants. Her breathing climbed as I moved up her body with my tongue. With my lips and teeth. Everywhere I went, all the places I touched; places I wasn’t supposed to be. How could something so wrong feel so right?
Her wrists tied overhead. A fold over her eyes.
“No matter what you say, no matter what you do, I only want to do bad things to you. So good that you can’t explain it. What can I say, it’s complicated.”
Long, slow. Faster. Harder. Sweating in the tousled sheets, we rocked the bed till it squeaked. Till it knocked against the wall. Till my heart raced and her moans threatened to hit screams. Untying her was like releasing a starved animal. She flipped me over and climbed on top. Her hips thrust as she rode, holding me down at my wrists and grinding her body against mine. From the bed, we went to the floor, against the wall, to the dresser. We went from the couch to the kitchen and to the desk. Surface to surface, room to room…
Her nails into my back. Her lips against mine. A hunger so bad, we stayed up all night.