I took a sip of my third Appletini and allowed the warm alcohol to course through my body as I swayed to the beat of the music, feeling tipsy and carefree - a dynamic pairing for a horny guy on the prowl for his next one-night stand. I knew their eyes were watching as I gyrated my hips on the dancefloor, each trying to muster up enough courage to come over and say hello. And I was just drunk enough that I might let them.

I wasn't the most gorgeous person in the club. Not by any means. I was relatively ordinary- dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, alabaster skin. A pretty generic white girl. But that didn't matter when you were standing beneath the dim lighting of a nightclub. Everyone looked a little more beautiful after a few shots of liquid courage, some stiletto heels, and a short dress that showed off your curves just enough to make you feel sexy. 

Before any of the guys could step in and make their move, my boyfriend, Marco, came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I giggled drunkenly as the other boys shrank back into their turtle shells, their pursuit thwarted. Marco was a self-proclaimed badass, a gangster wannabe with rippling muscles and an Italian temper to back it up. Even the bouncer was too scared to ask me for my ID when we arrived. None of the other guys would dare approach me now that they knew I was Marco's girl.

"It should be a crime to look so hot in that dress," he murmured in my ear, swaying his hips in rhythm to mine, and pulling my ass discretely against his groin. His crotch gave a little nudge of agreement at the contact.

I grinned appreciatively and turned to face him. The alcohol making me feel bolder than normal, I pulled the strap of my blush-colored dress loose from my shoulder, allowing the top of my breasts to peek out from the top of my lacey bra. Marco's eyes widened.

I leaned in close to his ear. "If my dress offends you, I can always take it off," I murmured, nibbling brazenly on his earlobe.

When I pulled away, his eyes were on fire, the dark irises dancing with desire. I held his gaze as I finished the last of my drink and gave him a knowing smile.

Marco wrapped his arm around my waist and held me so tightly I could hardly move. He looked away just long enough to order an Uber, then his lusting eyes were back on mine. Without another word, we interlocked hands and made our way through the crowded dance floor to the exit. 

The air outside the club was so humid it was hard to breathe. It had been an unbearably hot August, the kind that caused moisture to cling to your skin the moment you stepped outdoors. Most people despised summers in New York. It was tourist season, and as if that wasn't irritating enough, the weather was unrelenting. They hated how, despite the buildings towering high overhead, the sun still somehow found a way to beat down on you; how the subway reeked of body odor so potently that you'd rather just stay home than succumb to the smell.

But I loved summers in the city. I had ever since I was a little girl. I loved the heat and the sidewalks crowded with families visiting from out of town. I loved the way New Yorkers flocked to Coney Island for Nathan's Hotdogs and a swim, or crammed onto ferries just to catch a breeze, seeking any form of relief from the warmth that they could find. Mostly, I loved the nightlife because- heatwave or not- New York truly was the city that never slept.

Though the island of concrete and blacktop reflected the sweltering heat in an unforgiving manner, there was a sense of freedom that came with the steamy summer months. School was out for the year, so I didn't have the normal drag of sitting through boring lectors and seminars, of spending my evenings studying and doing research papers. I was able to party all night and sleep all day, my only responsibility to drag myself to my part-time job the following the morning while nursing a hangover.

Just like the grueling sun, summer was my time to shine.

When the Uber arrived, Marco and I climbed drunkenly into the backseat. The car ride was quiet, but the anticipation of the night to come was nearly tangible. I pressed my thighs together impatiently. Drunk sex was my favorite.

Marco must've echoed my sentiments because I had to smack his hands away from the hem of my dress on more than one occasion, my face heating as I silently eyed the Uber driver.

"He won't even notice," Marco murmured in my ear, leaning down to kiss the nape of my neck.

"Hasn't anyone told you that patience is a virtue?" I asked, leaning away. Pleased to see the frustrated desire in his eyes, I ran my finger along his pouting lower lip. "Don't worry. We'll be home soon enough." 

As promised, ten minutes later we were climbing the stairs to our fourth-floor unit. The place wasn't much- most affordable places in the city weren't- just a small, studio apartment with the tiniest of kitchens, and a designated toilet area that barely qualified as a bathroom. It wasn't glamorous, but as broke college students, the small space was was all we could afford. Even with Marco paying half the rent, we barely made ends meet each month. It was hard living on part-time wages in New York.

But the size of our apartment was the least of my concerns because, in that moment, the only thing on my mind was the burning desire reflected in Marco's eyes, the fiery passion that he could no longer contain. He eyed me slowly, his gaze lingering on my thighs, my waist, my breasts. He wanted me just as badly as I wanted him. One of my favorite things about Marco was his insatiable passion, the sexual yearning that kept my libido satisfied. He always knew the right places to touch, the parts of my body that filled me with desire under his skilled fingers. 

Without a word, Marco lifted me effortlessly into his burly arms. I wrapped my legs around his muscular frame as our lips met in a rough kiss, pulled together like two magnets drawn to one another. I wove my hands through his hair, tugging gently as he groaned against my mouth, causing my groin to tighten.

Within seconds of walking through the front door, we were stripping off our clothes and climbing naked beneath the sheets. I raked my nails across Marco's bare back, pulling him closer until he filled me with his fullness, fulfilling my need as only he could. 

                ********************

The next morning, I was woken by someone banging impatiently against the apartment door. The noise resounded inside my head, amplified by my hangover until the pounding against my skull felt like a jackhammer digging into concrete.

I rolled onto my stomach and put a pillow over my head, trying to tune out the sound that was amplifying my headache. But the visitor was persistent, and despite my attempts to ignore it, the knocking continued until I begrudgingly sat up, squinting as the midday sun streamed into the room.

With a groan, I clambered out of bed, grabbed Marco's oversized t-shirt, and flung it over my naked body, the hem barely coming to the top of my thighs. My stomach lurched angrily, and I immediately regretted having that extra drink.

"Coming," I grunted bitterly, making my way slowly toward the door, still feeling the effects of the alcohol.

With as much aggression as I could muster, I yanked open the apartment door, ready to tell whoever it was to go away before they woke Marco and really regretted their life choices, but the sight of a police officer standing in my threshold brought me up short.

I cleared my throat nervously. "Can I help you, officer?" I mumbled, keeping my lips as constricted as possible so he couldn't smell the alcohol on my breath. The last thing I needed was another fine for underage drinking; I was broke enough as it was.

The man's eyes landed on my bare legs, Marco's shirt short enough that my naked ass cheeks were hanging out. A small blush formed on his cheeks and he quickly averted his gaze. I fought the urge to pull at the bottom of the shirt.

"Are you Madison Miller?" he asked, his eyes still on the floor.

"Yes?" I answered in a small voice.

The man handed me a manila envelope with my name scrawled in delicate cursive. My brows pulling together in confusion.

"This is from a lawyer down south. We were told to give it to you directly." The man's eyes filled with compassion. "I'm sorry to have to tell you, but your father passed away last night."