ADORA – 20 DAYS AGO

My driver and I wait in front of Eric's apartment as I pace back and forth. Robert never asks anything; he doesn't point out this isn't my boyfriend's apartment or that I've lied to Mark on the phone and told him I'm home.

Robert is getting a raise.

The only thing he asks is, "Do you need me to pick you up later, Miss Adora?"

"No, Robert." I shake my head. "Go home, it's late."

I come up with dozens of excuses, including that I don't want to piss off Robert so I have to make up my mind and come inside, until I eventually push the building entrance open and climb up to Eric's apartment.

Maybe he's not home. I glance at my phone, 1AM.

I knock.

A few seconds pass, my heart is trashing against my chest, my nerves turn prickly, everything else is forgotten.

The door cracks open and Eric peeks through. When he sees it's me, he opens the door wide. His eyes immediately fall to my dress and he takes in a sharp breath. The way his gaze slides over my skin, halts on the swell of my boobs and trails up to my lips is making me blush. He does it shamelessly, like I'm not even there.

Then he meets my eyes and grins, "That's a dangerous dress to wear."

I push past him into the apartment, "Well, it didn't work on my boyfriend. Do you have something to drink?"

"Always." Eric closes the door behind me. "What happened?"

I shouldn't talk to him about this. I shouldn't even be here. But there's a need to get away from everything that's clawing at me. And his apartment, at the edge of the town, is a place no one would ever look for me. It feels like I can stop existing for a moment.

"I realised I have no friends." I feel too at home as I drop on his couch. The leather glues to my skin, my dress slightly lifts up.

"You have plenty of friends." Eric comments while he searches for a drink. "I've whiskey and gin."

"Gin." I murmur. "I don't have any real friends. None that I can talk to about this. So, I came here in the middle of the night because I'm the ultimate idiot."

Eric puts the glass on the wooden coffee table and his dark eyes meet mine, "You can talk to me."

Unable to help myself, I glance over him. The grey sweatpants he's wearing do little to hide his form. He's walking over to the couch. I wish he would sit on the opposite side, I wish he wouldn't be this close to me because he's setting my whole body on fire.

I let out a strained laugh, "Not the best idea."

"Because I'm a guy?" Eric leans against the backrest, his knee is bumping into mine. The touch of cotton on my naked skin is distracting. "Because I'm Mark's friend? Or because I want to fuck you?"

Gin gets stuck in my throat and I cough out. Eric snickers.

"All of the above." I quickly swallow another gulp to push down the terrible, bitter taste. It doesn't help much.

I'm taken straight back to The Druid, I remember the feel of Eric's lips on mine, his hands on my body.

He spreads out his hand and takes the strand of my hair between his fingers, "Talk to me."

But I don't want to talk at all. I want to drown in him.

A shaky breath leaves my mouth, "It's like he doesn't even see me as a woman. It's like I'm this cuddly, mushy thing that needs to be coddled and protected. I'm tired and I'm horny, and he's not listening to me."

Eric squints, "Maybe he's-"

"Don't even say it." I cut in. "He's not gay."

"He does spend a lot of time in the gym."

My eyes narrow to slits.

"Maybe his libido is low." Eric suggests.

I sigh, "I think he thinks sex is too dirty. For me, at least. Like I'm not supposed to be seen as a sexual object."

A throaty laugh escapes Eric's lips, "A woman should be treated like a goddess."

"I agree, but-"

"She should also be treated like a whore in the bedroom."

My whole body shudders. Eric's smile disappears and something serious flashes in his eyes, something heavier, more determined. Every fibre of my being feels alert, enhanced, sensitive.

Eric brushes my hair to the side, revealing my neck. Heat climbs up my spine.

"You know what I regret the most?" He leans in, his lips brush my neck. My heart is pounding and I bet he can feel it through my skin.

He grabs my waist and pulls me closer, until I'm leaned against his strong body.

"What?" His fingers drop to the hem of my dress and he presses his thumbs into my thighs.

"Stopping you that day, five years ago." He whispers in my ear.

My stomach flips upside down. I'm unable to think straight. His hands trail under the white hem.

"I didn't want to pressure you that day." He adds, sending goose bumps all the way down my neck through the rest of my body. "I didn't want you to regret it."

"I thought you didn't want me." My hand moves on its own, it slides up and down his strong leg.

Eric's hands linger on my thighs for a moment, "I wanted you then and I want you now."

I've worn this dress for Mark tonight, I've worn the skimpy, lacy thong for Mark, but it's Eric's fingers that hook the lacy band and pull the panties down. He doesn't touch me yet, he leaves me half-naked, my panties pulled almost to my knees. I lean against his chest; my head drops on his shoulder.

His lips capture mine, eliciting a moan deep in my throat. His hands leave my thighs and glide up my body until he grabs both my boobs. My dress is too revealing, too loose, and when my nipples harden, scratching against the fabric, I know he can see them.

"You really shouldn't have worn this dress." His breath is hot against my lips. He doesn't let me finish, his mouth devours mine and shushes my moans. A hand trails up to my neck, while the other keeps gripping my boobs.

I'm lost. My heartbeat soars through the roof. Eric's teeth scratch my lower lip. I'm afraid I'm dripping through my dress, on the couch.

"Eric," I manage to grunt. I need his touch, I need it more than I need air. "Please."

"Please, what?" Eric smiles against my lips.

A small husky laugh rolls over my tongue, "I'm going to stain my dress. And your couch."

His hands leave my boobs and immediately grab the underside of my thighs. He pulls me up on his lap aggressively, my heart leaps, my dress gathers around my waist.

His thigh is now between my legs, his cotton sweatpants lean against my bare flesh, I can feel his erection pressing against my butt.

"Now I'm going to stain your sweatpants." I whisper, but my head is already falling on his shoulder, I bury my face in his neck as his hands rest on my thighs.

"Do your worst, sugar."

Anticipation builds between my legs as his fingers slowly make their way up my thighs. This is a bad idea. This is the worst idea I've ever had.

Eric barely touches me, his voice drops to a slight grunt, "Do you promise to always be this wet for me?"

"Yes." I whimper as his fingers graze my flesh.

His touch is deliberate, gentle and painfully slow. My body is impatient, I push against his erection, the fabric of his sweatpants providing friction I so desperately need.

Eric lets out a small, smug laugh and dips his finger inside of me.

My soul turns to mush, I forget where I am and how loud I am. I push against his thighs, wanting more and more.

Eric's breathing shortens and I meet his eyes. He looks at me with desire, need, worship. I'm a goddess and a whore in his arms. I feel powerless and powerful at the same time. I'm his to do whatever he wants with me. Yet what he wants to do is please me.

His fingers work their way in and out of me, his other hand slips inside my dress and flicks my hardened nipple. My breaths turn shorter and shallower, my eyelids flutter, the world doesn't exist anymore.

I'm addicted to this exhilaration.

I come undone under his touch and scream into his neck. My entire body shakes from somewhere deep inside, from a place that hasn't been touched in so long. Eric's thumb presses against the nub between my legs, his lips crash against mine, his hand entangles in my hair.

The orgasm lasts impossibly long and when it finally subsides, I'm both sated and still ravenous, like an animal going for another meal because it doesn't know when it's going to get a chance to eat again.

Eric's fingers slip out of me and I use his thighs for support as I turn around and straddle him. I'm pulsating all over as I lean in and kiss him deeply, passionately. Urgency takes over. Somewhere in the back of my mind a small, shushed whisper is telling me this can never happen again and I better take it all while I still can.

A loud, obnoxious cell phone ring bursts through the apartment.

Eric stills underneath me, his eyes widen for a moment, "Fuck."

He grabs my waist and lifts me off himself.

"What?" I fall butt-first on the couch while Eric rushes through the apartment. "What just happened?"

He digs through the drawers and answers a burner phone, "What?"

The sound is so loud I hear the person, "Dude, the police just went through my fucking place! They're in front of your apartment now! Hide your shit!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Eric shouts down the line.

"They didn't leave until their fucking buddies reached your apartment. They were scared I'd call you and you'd run. Hide. Your. Shit."

The burner drops from Eric's hands, "Fuck."