dance party in the living room of the house we’re in, and hang out with the bassist, drummer, and guitarist of the band until the wee hours.
I make ten more friends and Grant makes fun of me for every one of them.
And we drink more beers.
Did I mention we drink too many beers?
This is an important detail, because when Grant and I get back with every intention of finalizing our hook-up, what we actually end up doing is changing into PJs, ordering late night pizza and falling asleep on the couches in the lounge.
Which I’m not exactly mad about.
18
Maya
I wake up in the lounge the next morning with a throbbing headache and a ravenous hunger. We might have had the best night of our lives last night, but we’re most definitely going to pay for it today.
It’s a good hurt though, knowing how amazing everything was. Well, as good as hangover hurt can be. I’m slightly sadistic and don’t mind pain, in general, but those Red Lemon groupies definitely know how to drink.
I peel my head away from the couch, but can’t lift my body any farther.
Did Grant go down on me in the shower last week? Or did I just dream that?
I’ve been dreaming about it for so long that I have a hard time distinguishing fantasy from reality.
And right now, Grant isn’t even on the other couch like I think I remember he was as I was falling asleep, so who knows what’s real and what’s not anymore?
As I rub my eyes, I see Grant’s roommate Chris walk out of his room into the lounge “Morning, Sunshine!” he says to me.
“Up early?”
“Early? It’s ten a.m.” He laughs. “You two have a good night?”
“From what I remember of it, yeah.”
Chris heads out, and I sit up and chug a bottle of water, but the hunger persists.
I drift in and out of consciousness for ten minutes or so.
I shake my head. I swear that we ordered a pizza at three a.m. when we got back in the suite? How is it even possible I’m this hungry?
I get up and brush my teeth and go in search of food. I glance in the communal fridge but there is nothing aside from condiments.
The suite is empty and quiet. Alex and April aren’t even in my room.
Unable to sleep, I decide to try the doorknob to Grant’s room and see if he’s asleep in there.
When I open his door, the sight of him reminds me of everything that almost happened between us. His kisses are damn good, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t dying to see what going all the way with him would feel like. Last night on the couches I thought something might happen…and then, we passed out.
With every breath he takes, I can see his abs rise toward his ribs and it’s a damn pretty sight.
He grumbles a throaty growl through his slumber, and I feel warmth pooling between my legs.
Seriously, Maya? You’re getting turned on that easily? Those are sleep noises, you perv.
All I have on right now is a t-shirt and pajama pants…no panties.
All Grant has on is a pair of black sweatpants.
My chest swells with nervousness as a mischievous idea pops into my head to give him a wakeup he’ll never forget.
We’ve been playing this game for so long. Our kiss before I left for Italy. Spin the bottle. And now we had a wonderful last weekend, and one morning last week, but we didn’t even finish the job?
Well, I didn’t finish any sort of ‘job’ for him. I definitely got mine. I’ve never been with a guy who is as obsessed with tasting me as Grant is, even though it’s only happened two times. It’s not like he’s going down on me, or giving me pleasure with the hope of something reciprocal. He just loves the way I taste. And that’s what’s going to make this next little adventure all the more fun.
I kneel next to his bed, and slowly peel his sweatpants down, revealing him inch by inch, and I’m reminded that the man is truly blessed.
My pulse races as I grip his base delicately and kiss the tip. Grant’s right. I am a giver. And I like being a giver.
I especially like giving to someone like Grant who gives freely to me.
I lick the sides of his cock and it flinches. My eyes flash to him and I can’t tell if he’s awake or just has his eyes closed.