it’s not all that I imagined it would be? What if I’m not all he thinks I am? I thought about how he looks at me when I’m singing when I sometimes glance over at him on stage—the look. The one he gave me just tonight before the end of our set. He stares at me, his mouth open, tongue between his teeth, sweat in his eyes and on his hands as they glide over the guitar strings and now those hands have been all over me, those beautiful hands just last weekend were nudging my legs apart so he could position himself in between them.
“Emmy,” he said, his voice hoarse because it was so late and things were so intense. The sound of my name when he said it then lodged itself in the happiest part of my mind and decided to settle down for good and it’s still there, vivid as it was a week ago. He slid his length over me where I was so, so wet and kissed this spot I never noticed before just under and behind my ear as I raked my nails over his back, urging him to keep going. “Are you ready?” he whispered.
“Yeah,” I said, but my voice cracked because I was near giddy with the feel of his cock against me. “So ready.”
He took a breath, locked his eyes on mine and slid slowly into me, this very sweet and total occupation. Then he covered my mouth with a deep, heartfelt kiss.
And it wasn’t everything I ever fantasized about with him. It wasn’t my dream come true.
It was so much better than that.
It was a warm fire branding its light onto a cold darkness. It was an experience, is what I’m saying. I’m no virgin, I’ve had sex before but somehow the feel of Travis inside of me was something I’ve never felt, something I never knew I could feel. I never knew anything could feel so good in so many ways at once.
We both made this sound together, somewhere between breathing and groaning, and then I said his name and he kissed me again, hard, and pushed again until he was finally all the way in. I shook with the feeling of it, there was so much feeling there and he tried so hard to be careful, to not move too fast or push too hard so he wouldn’t hurt me but I didn’t care if he hurt me, I just wanted him to move. I wanted him to lose it with me. I wanted him to fuck me, and I asked him—no, he’s right—I begged him.
“God, Travis, fuck me. Please, please fuck me,” I said and bit down on his shoulder and sucked a mark into it, digging my nails in his back. And then he did because I moved my hips and he couldn’t help it. He tried to go slow at first but as I moved beneath him, he started to really pound me and he was swearing, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Emmy, you feel so fucking good,” and I was so gone with the feel of him I wanted to disappear forever inside that moment. I wanted to keep him there with me and never come back.
“I’m going to go check on the gear,” Travis says, finishing his beer.
But I know he’s going to go find Millie. I know it.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I say. “Go check on the gear.”
He gives me a hearty eye-roll, drops a few bucks on the bar to tip Greg, and then walks off without saying anything else.
Fucking hell God damn it.
I look down the bar and Mickey is now talking to someone else, someone I don’t know. He lights a cigarette and looks up and sees me looking his way, so I smile and he winks and gives me the thumbs-up. I have no idea what that even means, so I just sit where I am and let this frat brother in a Flyers jersey breathe all over the side of my head as he’s yelling shit into my ear about Monster Magnet and Slayer and Long Branch. Greg puts a shot in front of me and I take it down without even wondering who it’s from or if it’s a good idea. As soon as I do I feel lightheaded and I know it wasn’t. I look back over to where Mickey is and he’s not looking my way. Travis, Joey, and Cole aren’t anywhere to be seen,