Craving Constellations
Page 37
I just barely kept myself from collapsing on top of Dragon after I came. Both of our chests were heaving, and I just knew his ribs had to be killing him. When I looked down at him though, his eyes were closed. At first, I didn’t realize anything was wrong; my eyes had been closed just seconds ago. When I called his name though, I got no response. I was embarrassed that it took me a couple of minutes of staring at him before I comprehended that he’d passed out on me during sex. Seriously? That had to be some kind of record. I mean, I knew that dudes fell asleep after sex all the time, but this was mortifying. I didn’t know if he’d even finished. Ugh, how romantic.
I climbed gently off the bed, so I didn’t disturb him, but it probably wouldn’t have mattered. As I stood up to go to the bathroom and clean up, I felt the mess we’d made between my legs. Yep, he’d finished. And we hadn’t used a condom. Fan-freaking-tastic. I didn’t know how I hadn’t thought about it beforehand. No, that was a lie. I knew why I hadn’t questioned it. As stupid as it was, this was Dragon. The minute he touched me, I was out of my mind for him. He’d always had that effect on me. Unfortunately. Did all thoughts completely leave my mind? No. However, when he was touching me, all other things seemed inconsequential in comparison. No condom? Eh, no biggie. Not sure of your relationship? Eh, no biggie. Not sure how long you’ll be living here? Eh, no biggie. He might have an old lady still? Eh, no biggie. I was an idiot when it came to him.
With all of those thoughts running through my head, I tossed on my nightshirt and shorts and grabbed a pair of panties. I wasn’t going to put them on until I cleaned up. I didn’t need to keep all those sperm that close to me for any longer than necessary. Plus, wet panties? Gross.
I quietly made my way to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. One glance at the mirror above the sink had me stopping and staring. I hardly recognized myself. My hair was a rat’s nest all over my head, my lips looked like they’d been injected with collagen, and my cheeks and chin were beet red with a severe case of whisker burn. But I looked happy, sated. It freaked me out. I didn’t know that person anymore—the person who got whisker burn, the one who had curly hair and shining eyes. I hadn’t been that person in five years.
Suddenly, a panic attack started, and I did the only thing I could do. I turned the shower on as hot as I could stand it and stepped in. I needed to look like me again. Things were getting too confusing. I had all of these old clothes to wear, Trix had started leaving toys around instead of putting them away, and Dragon was throwing his cut over the back of the couch because we didn’t have a coat closet. I was having incredible sex with a guy so injured that he passed out as soon as we were finished. This wasn’t my life. Was I happy here? Yes. Did it feel real or lasting? No.
By the time I finished my shower, the panic attack had subsided, but my skin was red from scrubbing. I hadn’t realized how vigorous I was while my mind raced. I dried off quickly, wrapped a towel around my body, and went to check on Trix to make sure I hadn’t woken her up. Thankfully, she was still curled into a ball in the middle of the bed. Since I was already tiptoeing around in a towel, I decided to check on Dragon to make sure I hadn’t killed him with my sexing. I swung open the door and cringed. Shit! I’d been in such a hurry to leave earlier I’d left him laid out on the bed completely naked. I hadn’t even covered him with a blanket or sheet. The odds of Trix trying to climb into bed with me were pretty high, so I knew I needed to get him at least partially covered up.
Dragon was sexy. And built. I could look at him for hours and never get tired of it. However, he was also heavy as hell. I found some of his boxer briefs in his bag, but after looking at the underwear, then back at him, then back at the underwear about fifteen times, I knew there was no way I was going to be able to get them on him. They were too snug and tight and delicious. I needed to stop handling his underwear and freaking focus. I finally decided to put him in a pair of boxers I used to sleep in. I liked to wear them with the waist rolled up, so I’d bought them big. I was still a little miffed that he’d passed out on me, so I grabbed a pair that was covered in candy hearts. The satisfaction of my joke was pretty much lost when I tried to get the shorts on him.
Dressing an adult that was asleep was nothing like dressing a child. For one, an adult was a lot heavier. For two, they were a lot bigger. You couldn’t just move an adult around to get a better angle; you were the one who had to move. I had to climb all over the bed, pulling up a little here, a little there. By the time I reached his ass, I was sweaty, and I could feel my hair starting to curl around my head. I knelt, straddling his upper thighs, and reached my arms around his waist, then slid my hands from the small of his back and over his ass cheeks until I could feel the waistband of the shorts. My face was as close to his abs as I could get without actually touching the bruises. As I started to slide the shorts up, the dumbass started getting hard. So, while I was grunting quietly, trying to pull the boxers up, so he didn’t flash our four-year-old daughter, his dick was thumping against my collarbone with every movement. Pull, thump. Wiggle, thump. Sigh, thump. I checked to see if he was fucking with me, but when I glanced at him, he was still out cold. Eventually, I got the shorts on.
I threw the comforter over him and crept out of the bedroom to get dressed. Once I was in the bathroom, I shut the door quietly behind me and got out my hair products. I needed my hair straight again. It took me a good forty minutes of blow drying and ironing, but I finally looked like me again. My hair was back in the sleek style that I’d been wearing since I got back to school five years ago. There was no sign of the wild uninhibited Brenna, which was exactly what I wanted. I’d been trying for the last few weeks to slowly let go of the woman Tony made me—the perfect housekeeper, the classy stay-at-home mom. I let Trix leave her toys out and come back later to play with them. I didn’t wear my former regimen of makeup with precisely drawn eyeliner and lipstick. I wore peasant tops with flowing skirts and flip-flops, like a hippie. But tonight, I needed a little of the control I’d given up. I needed some of the control I’d given to Dragon. So, when I went back to bed, my hair was perfectly styled, and I’d changed into a nightgown I’d brought with me from Tony’s.
I climbed gently off the bed, so I didn’t disturb him, but it probably wouldn’t have mattered. As I stood up to go to the bathroom and clean up, I felt the mess we’d made between my legs. Yep, he’d finished. And we hadn’t used a condom. Fan-freaking-tastic. I didn’t know how I hadn’t thought about it beforehand. No, that was a lie. I knew why I hadn’t questioned it. As stupid as it was, this was Dragon. The minute he touched me, I was out of my mind for him. He’d always had that effect on me. Unfortunately. Did all thoughts completely leave my mind? No. However, when he was touching me, all other things seemed inconsequential in comparison. No condom? Eh, no biggie. Not sure of your relationship? Eh, no biggie. Not sure how long you’ll be living here? Eh, no biggie. He might have an old lady still? Eh, no biggie. I was an idiot when it came to him.
With all of those thoughts running through my head, I tossed on my nightshirt and shorts and grabbed a pair of panties. I wasn’t going to put them on until I cleaned up. I didn’t need to keep all those sperm that close to me for any longer than necessary. Plus, wet panties? Gross.
I quietly made my way to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. One glance at the mirror above the sink had me stopping and staring. I hardly recognized myself. My hair was a rat’s nest all over my head, my lips looked like they’d been injected with collagen, and my cheeks and chin were beet red with a severe case of whisker burn. But I looked happy, sated. It freaked me out. I didn’t know that person anymore—the person who got whisker burn, the one who had curly hair and shining eyes. I hadn’t been that person in five years.
Suddenly, a panic attack started, and I did the only thing I could do. I turned the shower on as hot as I could stand it and stepped in. I needed to look like me again. Things were getting too confusing. I had all of these old clothes to wear, Trix had started leaving toys around instead of putting them away, and Dragon was throwing his cut over the back of the couch because we didn’t have a coat closet. I was having incredible sex with a guy so injured that he passed out as soon as we were finished. This wasn’t my life. Was I happy here? Yes. Did it feel real or lasting? No.
By the time I finished my shower, the panic attack had subsided, but my skin was red from scrubbing. I hadn’t realized how vigorous I was while my mind raced. I dried off quickly, wrapped a towel around my body, and went to check on Trix to make sure I hadn’t woken her up. Thankfully, she was still curled into a ball in the middle of the bed. Since I was already tiptoeing around in a towel, I decided to check on Dragon to make sure I hadn’t killed him with my sexing. I swung open the door and cringed. Shit! I’d been in such a hurry to leave earlier I’d left him laid out on the bed completely naked. I hadn’t even covered him with a blanket or sheet. The odds of Trix trying to climb into bed with me were pretty high, so I knew I needed to get him at least partially covered up.
Dragon was sexy. And built. I could look at him for hours and never get tired of it. However, he was also heavy as hell. I found some of his boxer briefs in his bag, but after looking at the underwear, then back at him, then back at the underwear about fifteen times, I knew there was no way I was going to be able to get them on him. They were too snug and tight and delicious. I needed to stop handling his underwear and freaking focus. I finally decided to put him in a pair of boxers I used to sleep in. I liked to wear them with the waist rolled up, so I’d bought them big. I was still a little miffed that he’d passed out on me, so I grabbed a pair that was covered in candy hearts. The satisfaction of my joke was pretty much lost when I tried to get the shorts on him.
Dressing an adult that was asleep was nothing like dressing a child. For one, an adult was a lot heavier. For two, they were a lot bigger. You couldn’t just move an adult around to get a better angle; you were the one who had to move. I had to climb all over the bed, pulling up a little here, a little there. By the time I reached his ass, I was sweaty, and I could feel my hair starting to curl around my head. I knelt, straddling his upper thighs, and reached my arms around his waist, then slid my hands from the small of his back and over his ass cheeks until I could feel the waistband of the shorts. My face was as close to his abs as I could get without actually touching the bruises. As I started to slide the shorts up, the dumbass started getting hard. So, while I was grunting quietly, trying to pull the boxers up, so he didn’t flash our four-year-old daughter, his dick was thumping against my collarbone with every movement. Pull, thump. Wiggle, thump. Sigh, thump. I checked to see if he was fucking with me, but when I glanced at him, he was still out cold. Eventually, I got the shorts on.
I threw the comforter over him and crept out of the bedroom to get dressed. Once I was in the bathroom, I shut the door quietly behind me and got out my hair products. I needed my hair straight again. It took me a good forty minutes of blow drying and ironing, but I finally looked like me again. My hair was back in the sleek style that I’d been wearing since I got back to school five years ago. There was no sign of the wild uninhibited Brenna, which was exactly what I wanted. I’d been trying for the last few weeks to slowly let go of the woman Tony made me—the perfect housekeeper, the classy stay-at-home mom. I let Trix leave her toys out and come back later to play with them. I didn’t wear my former regimen of makeup with precisely drawn eyeliner and lipstick. I wore peasant tops with flowing skirts and flip-flops, like a hippie. But tonight, I needed a little of the control I’d given up. I needed some of the control I’d given to Dragon. So, when I went back to bed, my hair was perfectly styled, and I’d changed into a nightgown I’d brought with me from Tony’s.
