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Get That Feeling	By : fitzsns Category: Individual Celebrities > Orlando Bloom Views: 2016 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Orlando Bloom. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Get That Feeling
- 1
This was written for Man in the Mirror’s Spring Break Challenge back in 2003. I'm just now getting around to posting my stories here. After writing this, I decided I had too much fun with this OFC to stop, so there is a sequel; a longer story called "Better Days" that I'll start posting when I'm done here.
The rules of this challenge were:
Orli is on vacation in a spring break spot and ...

1) A fellowship actor must attend said vacation

2) The story must include a food fight, I don't care how small or large just a food fight. Hell, it can consist of some mild fry-flinging for all I care.

3) The story must contain an actual Oscar Wilde quote (just humor me).
Original A/N (circa 2003 hehe): This is kinda a PWP, but for those of you who’ve been on Spring Break, you know that the entire experience is a PWP, sexual escapades notwithstanding. I used it as kind of a writing exercise more than anything so I just wrote and wrote and wrote until there was somewhere to end it. This is kinda of an experiment- trying to use more inner dialogue in my writing instead of conversation which my writing is usually replete with. I’m sure you care… *sigh*, anyway, I hope you like it… I haven’t written one of these in a while.
DISCLAIMER: I do not know Orlando Bloom or, I'm sure, anyone who has ever come into contact with him. Nothing reflected in this story is based in reality. It's fiction. Any mention of other creative property, ie Lord of the Rings, Pirates of the Caribbean, is done with respect to owners of said property. All people and places are either fictitious or used fictitiously. All original characters and ideas belong to me. Consider yourself disclaimed.
*~*~*~*~*
South Padre Island, Texas

Wednesday, March 19, 2003
If I’d known where they were taking me, I never would have let them drag me out of the cozy little den of misery that has been my apartment in the three months since Danny and I broke up. I’ve been spending my time in between school and… well… school, weeding through my ever-so humble two-room abode, looking for traces of him that’d survived the move from his apartment. Letters and photos were destroyed. Jewelry and other tokens of affection hocked- paying for a very expensive Prada bag that went with nothing I owned.
Spring Break… that’s whatcha call it. I haven’t been on a real Spring Break since my freshman year- Cancun and an entirely different story. Sitting up in the balcony of Club Rio, I fail to care about much of anything, being on my sixth Watermelon Martini and fifteenth cigarette. I certainly don’t care about what’s happening on the dance floor, a world that seems so far below me all the happy little freaks dancing resemble nothing but insects. I’m pretty sure after my seventh Watermelon Martini, I’ll no longer be absolutely sure they’re not insects.
I hear an indistinguishable racket above the music that could be the DJ… by the time the voice reaches our seats, the thump of the base has taken it and made it into something resembling a few vague vowel sounds. Somehow Katherine understands it because she takes the liberty of screaming her approval of whatever it was that was said. If this place is anything like Cancun, it was probably something like, “What happens in South Padre stays in South Padre”.
“Owww! Brody! I wanna have your baby!”
I shy away from the sound of Kat squealing in my ear as best I can, tossing my cigarette to the concrete at my feet, foregoing the perfectly good ashtray, and rolling my eyes. “Woohoo.” I am less than ecstatic. I hate club scenes. Katherine loves them. Sidney is up for anything where she can get guys to buy her drinks.
“That’s Brody Daniels down there,” Katherine explains, ignoring my funk, “from that old boy band Structure. Very cute. He just went solo. Must be here doing stuff for MTV or something. I wonder if anyone else famous is here!” I haven’t seen this look on her face since we saw the New Kids on the Block at the Garden in ‘89.
“Cute,” I nod, glancing down at the blur she’s been referring to. None of what she’s just said is of any interest to me. I have only one thought in my fuzzy brain. “Where is that waitress?”
“I think you’ve had enough, Faye,” Sidney speaks up on the other side of me, pushing the plate of chicken quesadillas she ordered about an hour and half ago in my direction. They’d looked foul when they were hot and now they looked downright rancid. What exactly does she want me to do with these? Oh she wants me to throw them at her. Gotcha. I finger the disgusting bits of fried grossness and pick one up. She really should know I’d never eat this crap and so I’ve decided it’s her own fault when one lands squarely in her lap.
“Jesus Christ, Faye!”
“I think I’m a 22-year-old adult who wants another drink,” I tell her, lighting a new cigarette. I ignore the dirty look my friend tosses in my direction as she tosses the quesadilla back on the table, knowing she’ll forgive me. I’m getting over a breakup. I have every right to be testy… and drunk for that matter. I ignore the lime slice that sails past my head. If she wants a reaction out of me, she really should work on her aim.
Three months ago, I was happy. It wasn’t a Julie-Andrews-on-top-of-a-hill happy but it was as happy as I ever had been. I may have just come off one of the worst semesters I’d ever had. I may have had a relationship with my mother that consisted of her leaving random, long-ass messages on my machine twice a week and me returning one in ten of those calls. But at least I had a handful of really good friends and I was in love. I still have the crappy grades on my transcript. I keep on missing important phone calls because my tapes are always full. I still have my incredible friends. But I’m missing him.
Sidney is looking at me. She has that look on her face that tells me she going to make get up and dance or some shit. She grabs my hand and pulls me to the outer balcony. The cool night air feels good on my skin and clears a small amount of the drunken haze I’m in.
“Faye, this is the last Spring Break we’ll ever have. I wanted you to be here because next year when we have to actually be grown-ups we’re not going to get to be kids like this very often.”
“Sid, we’re going to be goofing off in the nursing home asking each other when it’s time for our banana. Nothing is dependent on this one week,” I tell her, hoping I made some kind of sense. I’m really not into this. I still want to wallow. The past few months, trying to graduate I haven’t had a lot of time to wallow. Finally I get one full week- no school, no family obligations, just the big mud pit that is my home in which to wallow.
“I know, babes, we just wanted you to have fun, unwind. Maybe flirt with a few guys, do some smoochin’ on the dance floor.”
“I really don’t wan-“
I would have finished telling Sidney that I really didn’t want any of that but Katherine is pulling me inside and I only have enough time to grab my drink and bag before we’re heading down stairs. I should ask her where the hell we’re going but I don’t really care. Then I see where we’re going. The object of Katherine’s obsession, Elijah Wood, is bellied up to the bar. Great. The last time Kat dragged me on one of her star-seeking expeditions, it resulted in a restraining order.
Luckily, Sidney has followed us. I know she’ll referee. I can go back to not caring.
I notice that he has a friend with him. A tall, dark, kinda friend. He is a good-looking man. Wait, where did that come from?
“Mr. Wood!” Katherine shouts as we near the pair, effectively getting his attention. He turns around at his name, as does his friend who is laughing at something that was just said. Oh, the smile. It’s not too, toothy. His lips are perfectly proportional to the rest of his face. It makes me think of Danny. I always thought his bottom lip was far too thick. Kat’s still talking, isn’t she? “Sorry, um… I’m a huge fan I just wanted to say I really loved Lord of the Rings and um…”
“We were wondering if you could sign an autograph for Kat here,” Sidney steps in, saving Katherine from embarrassing herself, or worse- creating another Josh Hartnett fiasco. Kat really has to stick to computer science because if she ever made the transition to any profession requiring talking to other people, I’m fairly certain her head would implode.
I stand off to the side, propping myself up against the bar, uninterested and unimpressed. Then I light another cigarette. Sure he was cute when he was North, and all, but I really am not prepared to admit this kid is my age. As Elijah, a bit taken aback by the sudden outburst of adoration, signs a cocktail napkin for Kat (To Katherine, Good Luck to you, Elijah Wood) I catch his friend out of the corner of my eye watching the scene, thoroughly amused. My, but he is pretty. I need another drink.
“Watermelon Martini,” I tell the bartender.
“I got this one,” I hear a voice say from a little bit further down the bar. It’s British. I turn to see my benefactor. Tall, dark friend is British. He has a British accent: the only characteristic that could possibly get me to flirt or maybe more on this trip. Did Sidney set this up? Was she so determined to get me laid this week, she went out and found a tall, dark, Brit with eyes I could get lost in for the better part of my life, and inspires me to think lame things like “eyes I could get lost in”?
“Thanks,” I tell him, giving him a smile. I can’t gauge what kind of smile I gave him. It could be anywhere from coy and girlish to sly and devilish. Gimme a break, I’m on my seventh martini. May as well do this. I walk towards him. I’m trying to display some sort of confidence, here, and add a little sway to my hips. It doesn’t enter my mind until I reach the man that my drunkenness may make my sway appear to be the stagger of a wino.
“Orlando,” he says holding out his hand. “Orli.”
“Faye,” I answer. He is cute. Huh. The wheels in my head are spinning. Wait, no. That’s the room. I take his hand and plan to be as cavalier as possible.
“Nice to meet you, Faye,” he smiles. “Don’t you want to chat up the movie star, too?” he asks with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow.
“Not so much,” I tell him. “Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t mind meeting him. He’s still talking to Kat, which means he has the patience of a saint. That or Sidney is buffering really well. I’m just not up on my celebrity flattery jargon.”
“Can’t ask for an autograph without that,” Orli laughs. Orli. Strange name but it definitely fits the man next to me. A moment later he asks if he can bum a cigarette.
“Sure,” I shrug, digging into my Prada purse that especially doesn’t go with the jeans and oversized “Welcome to New Jersey, Now Leave” t-shirt I’m sporting. Of course, my ensemble doesn’t really go with much of anything in this den of writhing half-naked bodies. “They’re in here somewhere,” I mumble. My fingers grasp at things I can’t even identify. I really should clean this thing out. “Here we go.” I pull out my pack of Parliament Menthol Lights, ignoring whatever’s fallen out with it. Sid’s pretty sober. She’ll pick it up for me.
I give him a cigarette and he pulls out his own lighter. Okay, at this moment I’ve had it up to here with the whining about the cancer and the emphysema and the heart disease. This boy makes smoking look damn sexy and I don’t give a shit.
I hear Kat squeal again and she’s coming our way. “Oh my God, you’re Orlando Bloom!”
Wait, this kid’s famous too?
“I wouldn’t have even recognized you if Lij hadn’t pointed it out.”
Lij. She’s calling him Lij now. Orli gives “Lij” a thanks-a-lot look that suggests he would have rather remained anonymous. Elijah gives him a look that tells me he was just trying to get Kat off his back. Can’t blame the kid. He held out as long as humanly possible.
“Can I have you’re autograph, too?”
“Of course, love,” Orli smiles, casting a sideways glance at me. It’s subtle but I don’t miss it.
A few minutes of small talk and Elijah begins to make their excuses. I thank Orli for the drink and then they’re gone. Kat’s tongue is flapping at a mile a minute. “I can’t believe we met Elijah Wood and Orlando Bloom! I can’t believe he bought you a drink, Faye! What did you guys talk about? Is he nice? I bet they’re here with MTV.” This goes on for another half hour. Let’s skip it.
*~*~*~*~*
Sid and Kat have been asleep for a few hours now. My buzz has worn off but astonishingly enough I’m really not tired. I slip out onto the balcony of our hotel suite. It’s fairly large but I would expect nothing less. Sidney’s father is paying for this little excursion and he’d have nothing but the best. I pull out my cell phone and call my machine to check my messages. My mother is due and I feel a slight amount of guilt for not telling her I went away. I should at the very least listen to the Gettysburg-Address-of-a-message I’m sure she left me.
There’s a ten-minute message from the woman. I didn’t even know my machine could hold ten minutes but there it is. Did I get the shampoo she sent me? Did I call Nana this week? Granddad got new seat covers for his Chevy Caprice Classic. Daddy chipped a tooth on a chicken bone at Montello’s— they’re never going there again. Liz McGuire’s son just graduated from Wharton and he’s had that thing on his face removed… would I consider—
Note to self: get a new fangled answering machine that cuts off after thirty seconds. I refuse to call her back any time soon. She’ll have me meeting Liz McGuire’s son at some Manhattan restaurant that charges ten bucks for mineral water. Besides, even if he did have that thing removed from his face, there’s still that thing on his back.
Everyone wants me to just get over Danny. They don’t understand. Danny is always in the back of my head, hovering nearby but never taking form. It’s as though I’ve tied a ribbon to my finger and I can’t get it off. Remember me. Don’t forget. Each day is twice or three times its normal length. Twice as many hours. Twice as many minutes. Each one ticks by as slowly as possible. In the middle of a full-blown pity party, I hear a “psst” come from the balcony over.
Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and a camel. If it isn’t Orlando Bloom.
“What are you still doing up?” he asks with a grin.
“Can’t sleep,” I shrug. My system is running low on liquid courage and I want to tell him to hang on a second while I hit the mini bar. I mean, I’m not an idiot. I know what I can and can’t deal with. I’m not sure I can deal with this man’s accent and the things it makes me want to do to him. Not sober, anyway.
“I figured with the buzz you were working before, you’d be asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.”
“You gave thought to when I’d fall asleep?” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. I was wrong. I am an idiot.
He laughs, scratching the back of his neck, “Maybe a little.”
“Why?” Why is right. Why can I not shut up?
“I dunno, really. Who knows where thoughts come from? They just do,” he replies. We’re silent for a moment, neither of us really looking at each other. “Faye?”
“Hmm?”
“What are you up to tomorrow night?”
“Probably more of the same Spring Break crap. My friends are desperate to get me into this, but I don’t think it’s going to work.”
“Why are you here, then?”
Why are we still talking? What could you possible want from me? I’m just some Jersey girl whose boyfriend thought she was replaceable. Obviously I am. Obviously I have nothing to offer the opposite sex. Obviously I need to concentrate on the conversation at hand and not go off on mental tirades. “I was kidnapped. I’ve been kinda down lately and they thought this would cheer me up. I tried to tell them I wanted to just feel down for a while but they can’t comprehend that.”
“Ah,” he says as if he understands. “I understand. Sometimes you just wanna stay in the funk.”
“Yes! See, Orlando Bloom gets it, why can’t they get it?” I say this mostly to myself and then try to pretend I was just being zany and not, in fact, talking to myself. “Besides, I hate scenes like that one tonight. I swear, if one more grubby hand touched my butt, someone was getting castrated.”
“Ouch,” he winces. He looks at me for a moment. “Well, how about this,” he begins and I’m all ears. “You join me tomorrow night- no big clubs, no need to castrate anyone. Just me, you, a bar with a pool table, and we’ll take it from there.”
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. His voice is low and there’s something behind it I can’t quite identify. I don’t know what to do here. “Um, no, I'm not sure I don't want to join you." What was that? I sound like some… some… person who can speak well. I loathe myself.
"Is that a yes or a no?" His eyes are crinkled with amusement and the corners of his lips twitch as though holding back a laugh. He doesn’t laugh, though. He looks so fucking hot right now.
Okay, so I may have proved myself to be the most inarticulate person in America- which says a whole fucking lot- but damn if he doesn’t look like sex personified. I’m willing to risk all kinds of humiliation just to be near him again. “Uh, depends, I guess,” I answer, my mouth dry. Does he know how much I want him right now? Does he know how much I want to forget about Danny or just get a little of my pride back? He can’t know, but here he is with his bedroom eyes and British accent. “I’d have to get past to social nostra in there.”
“I see,” he says and he’s smiling at me. It’s an innocent kind of smile but I’m not thinking very innocent thoughts so it really doesn’t matter. “I could bribe Lij into taking your friends out. I’m sure you’d get little argument.”
Obviously he has no idea who he’s dealing with. Sid and Kat do not not argue. “If you can swing that, you’ve got yourself a date.” I move to go inside and stop. I have to know. “Orli?”
“Yeah, love?”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
I give him a look that plainly says I’m not satisfied with such an easy answer.
He smiles at me again, this time not so innocently, and moves towards his own door. “Let’s just say I’m tempted. And I can resist anything but temptation.”
With that he was gone. Leave it to English-man to end a late-night interlude on a balcony with a fucking Oscar Wilde quote.

*~*~*~*~*
Thursday, March 20, 2003
At this moment, we have passed two hours in a haze of alcohol and mindless chatter. We’re sitting at a table in the corner of Crowley’s, possibly the only laid back establishment on this island. Orli was right. Kat and Sid didn’t put up a fight, especially when Elijah offered to get them into Exit, a club they’d tried to drag me to several times this week but always had a line wrapped around the block. I absentmindedly wonder how much Orli owes his friend for this. I’d ask but I don’t really care.
I have found the person behind the accent. He makes bad jokes and talks about movies like it’s his job or something… wait… oh yeah. Kat was right. He and Elijah were here to tape Spring Break spots for MTV and decided to make a week of it. He’s spent his vacation here learning how to kiteboard. He’s a nice guy. He loves his mother. He has a dog. I like him. This is good. This makes it easier to sit here and wonder what his lips feel like and think about the moment when I can get them pressed up against mine.
Then, somehow, the distance between us has started to shrink. He gets up to fetch us another drink and sits down just a little closer. I get up to go to the bathroom and sit down right beside him. He puts an arm around me; I cross my legs and let my foot brush his calf. We are talking about soccer— he keeps saying “football” and it annoys me to no end— and not thinking about soccer at all.
When he wets his lips and looks at me I begin to wonder if I am just as much the hunted as I am the hunter. I make a note to lay off Wild Kingdom.
"Faye?"
"Yeah?" I am not drunk, but I am not sober, either.
My hand is in his and I don’t remember how it got there, but there it is. He’s toying with my fingers. "I didn't set out to make this more than just a couple of friends hanging out but I am afraid I’m going to have to anyway."
"Okay..." I lean a little closer. I smell cigarettes and tequila. It's in his hair and on his skin. I smell deodorant and whatever's left of his cologne. I may also smell cookies, but I think I'm just hungry.
I want to kiss him but I'm not quite done talking my moral half into whatever it is we're about to do. I can tell he is doing the same thing. We’re are probably the only two people on this entire island having second thoughts about a casual sexual encounter with an attractive and willing member of the opposite sex. I suppose this isn’t something he does often. How cute is that? Wait does that make me cute, too? No, because he probably thinks this is something I do often. Whatever. I refuse to feel bad. I need something that isn’t Danny right now and if it’s only for a moment, so be it. That’s all I need.
He’s staring off into space and I turn my head to see what he’s looking at. It could be the clock. It also could be the disgustingly intimate couple making out at the end of the bar. It could be the damn bartender for all I can tell, so I turn back to him. Before I fully grasp the fact that he’s even moving closer I feel the soft tip of his nose trail from my shoulder to my ear. And then he kisses me. It’s soft and light and I can tell it won’t be much more in the middle of this bar. So, who will say it first? Who will break and say the “let’s get out of here” line first? It’s him. I win.
*~*~*~*~*
When we get to the hotel, it truly hits me for the first time tonight just what I’m about to do. He takes my hand and leads me out of the elevator, and down the hallway, as “Do Not Disturb” signs dance in my head. Could I feel like more of a whore? I have to shake it off, or I won’t go through with this. I’m 22 and on spring break. I’ve had my heart broken and I deserve this.
We’re not in his room two seconds before he turns me and pushes me back against the door. From the look in his eyes I can tell that what will happen next will make me ignore every thought that entered my head in the past ten minutes.
This is the kiss I’ve been dreaming about. Oh my God, it's like fire and water. He cradles my face in his hands and pushes against me until there is nothing to us but two sets of lips and tongues. This is the kiss I imagined all these years. Perhaps Danny and I knew each other too well to ever kiss with so much passion and so little restraint. Perhaps we were just too comfortable as a couple. Perhaps too young and frightened when it was new. The room is deathly quiet except for the sounds of us… and a slight creak underneath the carpeting. Five-star hotel, my ass.
I begin to think maybe he’s not such a nice guy. Nice guys don’t kiss like this. Of course, nice guys don’t cheat on their girlfriends either so I suppose I don’t have a frame of reference anyway.
He presses me into the door and yet somehow at the same time pulling me against him intimately. At this point I think to myself that I’ll have sex with him right here up against his hotel room door if he asks me nice enough. His hands cup my face before one slides down the length of my body to wrap around my hip. He pulls me forward until we’re connected as solidly as we can be with clothes on. He’s hot and hard. I can feel his arousal against my lower abdomen. My craving for him fills me like a balloon and it takes every once of willpower I can muster to keep from screaming. I’m pretty certain, considering what I’m feeling against my stomach, that it’s a futile attempt.
His hands shift until I feel his fingers grip my ass. He lifts me easily and I wrap my legs around his waist. We’re moving, I assume but, really, all I can feel is his body against mine. My arms are around his neck and I can’t wait to feel his skin against mine. We tumble onto his bed and I don’t think I can prolong this much longer. I know I can’t when I feel his nimble fingers undo the buttons of my jeans and slip inside. I have never felt anything like this before. He strokes me gently before rolling us until he completely covers me. Then his other hand slips into my jeans and they both work to pull them off along with my panties. That done, he makes quick work of my t-shirt and bra. “You’re beautiful.” His voice is husky and I think that damn accent will be the death of me. He seems to be thoroughly enjoying the fact that he’s fully clothed and I’m completely naked. Must be a power thing but I know he won’t be satisfied with that for long.
He stares down at me with a gaze so intense I can actually feel it on my skin. Then he smiles as I reach for the buttons on his jeans, tugging at them until they come undone one at a time. I feel like I have to say something. Why? I can’t answer that. I can’t determine just what it is that makes me speak when I know I shouldn’t. I just do. “You sure you want to do this? We are a little drunk.” Of course I would pick that to say. Of all the things-
"Do I look drunk to you?"
Admittedly, no. He does not. In fact he looks like he’s in complete control. Not just of himself, but of the situation and to tell the truth, he’s probably more in control of me than I am. I blush a bit and advert my eyes but he cups my cheek, bringing my eyes back to him. Saying nothing, he slides backward off the bed, shucks off one shoe and then another before completely ridding himself of his clothes. For the first time in a long time, I love my life.
“Lay back,” he commands and I don’t even want to think about refusing. He climbs back onto the bed and crawls over me covering me like a blanket. His lips are on mine before I know what’s happening. I have never been kissed so thoroughly in my life and I think I may past out from lack of oxygen before he’s done. His hands glide over my face and down my body until he finds my hands. His long fingers wrap around my wrists and bring both hands up over my head, pressing them firmly into the pillow my head never quite made it to. I look up into his eyes and his look is so passionate I think my heart may burst clear through my chest, it’s pumping so hard. Wouldn’t that be cute?
His lips leave mine and begin to leave a hot trail of tingling skin down my body. Soon, he’s moved too far down to keep hold of my hands but his gives them a squeeze that tells me he likes them right where they are. I want to touch him so badly but who am I to argue?
His tongue dips into my belly button and I shutter. My body has never been played like this before. I’m not sure I’ll be able to take it when he stops teasing and gets serious. He begins to move lower, placing my right knee over his shoulder, and I feel his breath on my most intimate place when he chuckles at my gasp of anticipation. He is going to do what I think he is going to do and if his kisses are any proof of his capabilities, I’ll need another vacation to recover.
It isn’t his tongue I feel first but a single finger he slides into me. My hips arch on instinct and he laughs again softly. “You’re so wet,” he whispers, almost to himself. Then I feel it. His tongue dips into my center and the sensation has me writhing immediately. His ministrations are tentative at first but then he pushes passed my lips, hitting crevices and hot spots that I never knew I had. I cry out as he begins to suck on my hardened nub, but it’s when he softly bites down on it that my body goes completely tense underneath him, flatting the foot that’s hoisted over his shoulder on the small of his back.
He nibbles and sucks and, "Oh…oh my god…Orli…" I cannot breath. I cannot think. All I feel are his lips and his tongue delving deeper and long soft caresses across my swollen clit. And then my world explodes.
Did I die? Am I dead? I feel his lips kissing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh gently. My legs have fallen to either side and I can feel the cool air of the air-conditioned room passing over my heat. I’m completely exposed to him but I’m too far-gone to care about modesty.
“Orli,” I breath and he knows exactly what I’m asking for. He presses one more kiss into my thigh before climbing up my body. He slides completely into my still pulsating body with no overtures. My eyes roll into the back of my head but I force them forward so I can look at him. I didn’t expect to crash into his gaze and I whimper as the power of it causes my muscles to contract around him. I won’t be long and I can tell by his own moans that he won’t be either.
His body presses into mine so deeply I swear to god he’s trying to climb totally inside. Then I realize that I’m telling him to. Deeper. Harder. I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. I’ve never been so vocal in bed but then again I’ve never experienced the same sensations before either. I never knew it could be like this.
His face is now buried in my shoulder, his lips sucking and nipping at what ever they can find. “Come with me,” he whispers into my ear. I want nothing but that at this moment. He speeds up, his hand sneaking between our bodies to find my clit. I come and it’s the single most intense thing I’ve ever experienced. My body clings to his as my muscles contract around him and with a feral growl he slams into me one last time before collapsing on top of me.
After a long moment, he slides out of me and rolls off. I moan at the loss but he turns my limp body to its side, spooning me and it’s the perfect ending to the most perfect event of my life. I know I’ll probably never see him again after this week. What happens on in South Padre stays in South Padre. But I’ll never forget it.

The End...

Continued in "Better Days"
- 1
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Get That Feeling