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She grips the coat pile under her as I ride her hard, pushing her into the fabric, and when I move my hand away, she moves from biting my skin to biting the hood of her coat at my harsh fucking. If anyone is standing outside the door, they may not hear our moans, but they’ll definitely hear my thighs smacking against Savannah’s skin.
Gripping her hips, I whisper something unintelligible and release into the condom. When I’m spent, I lean forward, running my hands up her back under her shirt. “We need to get dressed. We can cuddle at home.”
She reaches back and tousles my hair. “I’ve never done anything like this before. Do you think anyone heard?”
I laugh. “If they did, that’s on you. By the way, I didn’t peg you as a biter.”
“Only when someone makes me feel that good while their hand covers my mouth.”
I smile and remove the condom, wrapping it in a tissue and placing it in a small trashcan with the wrapper I found stuck to a plaid poncho’s fringe. If Melissa looks in the trash, she’ll see the wrapper, but I don’t think she’ll care.
Savannah stands, still trembling from her orgasm, and pulls her pants up before straightening the coats and checking for signs of sex on them as well as she can in the moonlight.
Once she’s sure we didn’t get anything on anyone’s coat but her own, which has a small line of wetness down the back of it, we creep to the door, giggling like teens that have snuck off to a room mid-party. I quietly open the door and stick my head out, squinting in the light and looking left and right to make sure we didn’t have an audience.
Not a person in sight.
We go back to the bed, grab our coats, and run out of Melissa’s house as Savannah fires off a text to Melissa, thanking her for the party and telling her to enjoy the meatballs. We laugh the entire way to the car and close the doors, laughing so hard that Savannah doubles over. Her cheeks are red with happiness or fresh orgasm, maybe both, and I can’t help but lean across the console and grip her face.
“Thanks for a fun party,” I say, placing a kiss on her lips.
We kiss for a moment as the car warms up around us, and she smiles against my mouth. “Thanks for coming with me.”
I sit back in my seat and pull the seat belt over me, smiling as I think about how much we’re adapting around each other. I have her fucking in a coat pile while she has me wearing a seatbelt without being prompted.
“Actually, you came first. I followed.”
Savannah puts the car in drive and pulls away from Melissa’s house. “Funny, Wilder.”
January 15– Savannah
“Just leave me to die,” I moan, pulling the blanket over my face. I can’t even imagine what he thinks of my greasy hair, bad breath, and wan skin, and I can’t let him see me like this. He’ll be disgusted and won’t touch me again.
“I brought you some water and ibuprofen,” he murmurs kindly, and my heart melts. He sets the bottle of fever reducer and the glass of water on the bedside table before tenderly stroking a tendril of lank hair back from my face. “You need to get some fluids in you. I’m going to the pharmacy. Want anything?”
“Death. Bring me the angel of death.”
“Electrolyte drink, throat lollipops, and vapor rub cream. Got it. Be right back.”
His footsteps out of the room sound far away in my flu-induced haze. I close my eyes and see the spots dance in front of my eyes that any high fever has given me since childhood. It’s an indicator that I’m sick, and I’m certainly more ill than I can remember being since I had mono my freshman year of high school.
It’s the first week of the new school semester and inventory at work. Not a good time to realize I forgot to get my annual flu shot in the most virulent flu season in over a decade. My entire body hurts, I can’t breathe through my nose, and I’m so weak that I can barely crawl to the bathroom.
Even worse, I spend a lot of time avoiding Wilder. I don’t want him to see me like this. We’ve had such a good time together lately. No bickering. No misunderstandings. Just cohesive living and good sex. Well, good sex until I came down with something akin to the black plague, banishing him back to the guest room.
I’m surprised he hasn’t come down with it yet. He must have had the flu shot this year or have an immune system of the gods. Probably the latter.
Time blends together, and he’s in front of me again before I know he left. Covering my sour mouth as best I can, I accept the Gatorade bottle he holds up to my face, drinking the fruit punch in small sips until I collapse back to the pillow. “Go,” I groan like an old woman on her death bed, telling her granddaughter to live a full life for her. “Save yourself.”
Wilder laughs, pulls the blanket back up to my chin, and holds the thermometer against my head. I flutter my eyes until the beeping sounds. “Am I going to die?”
“It’s coming down a bit,” he says, blinking at the screen. “You’ll likely make it to Valentine’s Day.”
“How can you even think about Valentine’s Day with me? I’m disgusting. I’ve never felt so gross or smelled so bad.”
He sits on the edge of my bed, and I push him away with what strength I have left. It isn’t enough to move him. He captures my legs and leans over my body. His weight is like a weighted blanket on me, and my body relaxes into my mattress. “Do you think cuffing season is all about kittens and rainbows?” he asks.
“Isn’t it supposed to be?”
