“Are you ready?” He calls out, “If we have to go we should at least be on time.”
He jingles his keys in his pocket, irritated by how long she’s taking. He checks himself out in the hall mirror.
Unbuttons a second button, decides against it, buttons it back up. He checks his watch, rolls his eyes, takes her coat from the closet.
“Traffic is going to be murder …” his sentence slows to a stop as she skips down the stairs, barefoot, heels tucked under her arm, adjusting an earring.
She drops the shoes and shuffles into them.
“You look amazing.”
Traffic is suddenly the last thing on his mind.
“Thanks, you look great too.” She flashes him a smile.
She crosses the room to him and he holds out her coat. She turns and slips into it. He catches her as she turns back towards him.
“What if we just stayed home? I’d definitely make it worth your while.” His hand slides up her thigh. She laughs and kisses him.
“Nope, we are already late. Try to keep your mind out of the gutter.”
“It’s not my mind you should be worried about.”
“So whose party is this?” He pulls into a long driveway. She’s fishing for lipstick in her purse.
“A guy from work, he just got a massive promotion and got some kind of inheritance from a long lost uncle and bought this new house.”
“Must have been quite the uncle. There’s valet parking.”
He relinquishes his keys to the staff and takes her hand.
“Anyone I should watch out for?” he teases.
“Just be nice to my boss.”
“The new one? You’ll have to introduce me.”
They walk into the party, met with a massive crowd, music pumping and drinks flowing. She is immediately pulled into a group of people she knows, introductions are made and he shakes countless hands. His left hand remains occupied by hers. Feeling slightly like an accessory he catches her attention.
“Drink?” he mimes. She nods. He winks in reply and enjoys how she quickly flushes and smiles. He leaves her with her friends and makes his way to the bar.
“What’ll you have?”
“A bourbon, a beer and a vodka soda.”
“Kentucky, okay?”
“Is there any other kind?”
The shot is poured, the bartender turns to complete his order. He downs the liquor and before the glass clinks back against the bar he hears a voice beside him.
“Such a waste seeing a handsome man drink alone.”
The stranger brushes against his arm as she joins him at the bar.
He smiles.
“Thank you, but I’m not alone.” He gestures at the two drinks that have just been set in front of him.
“Ahhhhh, of course. That would be too good to be true.” Her eyes are dark and penetrating. “Have a good night.” Her tone is coy. He nods and turns back into the crowd. He can feel her eyes on his back.
As he approaches he watches her familiar form; so animated and lively, her girlish laughter tinkling in the atmosphere. She clearly has the attention of the small crowd she’s sitting with. He joins her, she clinks glasses with him and kisses his cheek. The conversation rolls on. He makes boring conversation with a few people, feigns interest and watches his beer disappear.
“I’m gonna grab another one of these.” She hardly notices, just smiles and returns to the story she’s listening to.
He approaches the bar and the bartender sees him coming.
“You look like you’re having a great time.”
“Yeah man, a blast.”
They exchange knowing smiles and the cold bottle slides across the bar to him. He takes a walk. The house is amazing with an equally impressive back yard. Acres of lawn backing onto dense woods, an enormous pool all manicured within an inch of its life.
“Must be nice, huh? Living like this?” The same smoky voice and dark eyes. He swallows hard.
“Yeah, it’s impressive.”
She leans onto the balcony railing beside him.
“For someone who is here with someone, you’re certainly spending a lot of time alone. Let me guess, she knows everyone here and you’re on drinks duty?” She laughs.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“I’m in the same boat, I’m also the trophy for the night, he knows the host, who sounds like a colossal asshole, by the way. I’m just here to make him look good.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re doing a good job.”
She doesn’t bat an eye at the compliment just watches him with huge dark eyes, tilts her head.
“If we’re being ignored there’s no reason we can’t make our own fun …” Her voice has dropped to a dusky whisper.
He downs the last of his drink and steps back.
“Thanks, but that would be short term gain for long term pain.”
She moves closer, her hand slides up his chest. He watches her lips. She speaks softly, slowly.
“There’s nothing wrong with instant gratification.”
He pauses, her fingertip tracing slow circles on his shirt.
He takes her hand from his chest.
“I’m flattered. You’re gorgeous but … ” his voice trails off as he is distracted by something in the yard below. A familiar laugh floats up over the crowd. He looks down and sees her. An impromptu dance party has broken out. She’s visibly tipsy, her drink lifted skyward as she dances, a tall dark stranger right behind her, arms around her waist, his face dangerously close to hers.
“Excuse me …” He pushes past the dark eyed temptress and moves downstairs through the crowd. As he gets closer, he can tell she’s wasted which seems impossible in the short time he’s been away.
His hand lands on the dancing guy’s shoulder.
“I’ll take it from here, bud.”
The guy shrugs him off. “Fuck you, man.”
He feels his hands tense into fists.
She turns and sees him, she squeals and breaks away from her dance partner to hug him. He smiles over her head at the other guy.
“Where did you go?” She’s grinning and out of breath, swaying slightly in his arms. “We were having shots! You missed it! Let’s do more!”
“Looks like you’ve had a few already. Want to sit down for a minute?”
“No! I want to dance!”
“We can dance more in a minute, let’s get you some water.”
“Nooooo! Dance with me!”
“She said she wants to dance, man, back off.” He’s back, all half unbuttoned shirt and arrogant smile.
“Seriously, I got this.” he tells his new competitor.
“Then back off and let her dance.”
“How about you back off and mind your own business?”
In a typical antagonistic gesture the guy moves towards him, a quick jab at both shoulders, pushing him back.
His blood runs cold then hot and he returns the gesture. The guy swings and he dodges him. He’s back up and ready to finish what just started when there’s a shrill scream and a loud splash. He turns to the sound and without hesitation he is in the water after her. Sputtering and flailing, she clings to him as he comes up under her.
“I got you, just relax, Baby. Relax.”
He emerges from the pool and guides her, dripping, through the silent watching crowd. He sits her down, someone hands him towels. He wraps her up.
“Time to go, I think.”
She nods.
The ride home is silent. As his adrenaline fades, it’s replaced by agitation. He’s cold and wet and not feeling very sympathetic. She leans her head against the window and says nothing.
They arrive home and she waves him off as he tries to help her out of the truck. He unlocks the front door prepared to let her find her own way in but turns back to her in time to see her double over and vomit into a bush. He sighs and goes to her.
“Let’s get you to bed.”
She is limp and weepy as he takes her upstairs. He sits her on the bed and slips off her top. She flops back, groaning.
“Everything is spinny.”
“That’s because you’re drunk, sweetheart.”
“I only had 5.” She shows him her palm, fingers and thumb spread.
“Five what?”
He laughs, a bit endeared by her antics.
“You’re gonna hurt tomorrow.”
He slips her skirt and panties off her hips and pulls her back up to sitting. He unclasps her wet bra and peels it off of her. She shivers. He helps her into a tshirt and directs her head and shoulders to the pillow.
“Why are you being so nice?”
“What? I’m just getting you to bed.”
“I’m sorry …” she whispers.
“Let’s talk in the morning. Sleep now.”
He turns out the light as she passes out.
He discards his wet clothes and shuffles downstairs in pajamas. He lets the dogs out and back in. The blue light of the tv flickers as he stretches put on the couch and promptly falls asleep.
He wakes up stiff and uncomfortable. He is momentarily confused by his location until the evening’s memories rush back. He hears her moving around upstairs and climbs the stairs. He pauses at the bathroom door. She is brushing her teeth. Their eyes meet in the mirror.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Sounds about right.”
She scowls, spits in the sink and pushes past him.
“You’re mad at ME?” He hears his voice raise.
She slams a dresser drawer, steps into pajamas.
“Not mad. Just disappointed.”
“You’re disappointed in me? How is that even possible?”
“What the hell were you thinking starting a fight?”
“I did NOT start that! That asshole was all over you and you were clearly not in any shape to make him stop”
“That asshole is my new boss.”
“Even better! Get wasted with him and dance like it’s your first frat party. That’s a great idea!”
“At least I wasn’t eye-fucking his wife all night!”
“What? Who the hell are you talking about?”
“The blue dress – at the bar? On the balcony? It was impossible to miss.”
“She propositioned me! And had I known you were in such “good hands” with that douche bag at the pool I might have gone for it!”
As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets them.
She pushes past him and down the stairs.  He throws a pillow and sulks onto the bed.
The day carries on like most hung-over Saturdays go: coffee, pizza and movies. They give each other plenty of space, both hurt, both too prideful to apologize first. There is no conversation, none of the usual flirtations and laughter.
She watches him at the other end of the couch, unnaturally far away. Finally, she reaches for his hand. He doesn’t bite so she slips into his lap, facing him.
“You don’t have to do this.” he mutters. He’s looking past her, not at her.
She takes his face in her hands and makes their eyes meet. His eyes are hurt and angry and she’s awash with regret.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. You were great last night and I was a total bitch. You can talk to anyone you want, flirt with anyone you want. I know you were only being protective of me. I shouldn’t have gone so far that I needed you to save me.”
“I didn’t mean that I would have done anything with ….” His sentence is cut short as she kisses him.
“I know.”
“And as for your boss, he deserved everything he got and more.”
“I know.” She kisses him again, softly.
“Are we still fighting?”
She smiles and presses into him.
His hands travel up the back of her shirt. She kisses him deeply and slides his shirt off.
“Oh, I see what’s happening …” he chuckles.
He does the same to hers and pulls her down to him kissing her neck and throat eagerly.
“You know I’d kill anyone who hurt you … With my bare hands.”
“I know.”
“Fuck, I want you.”
“I know.” She smiles. “I want you too.”
She wriggles away from his lap and drops her pajama pants, kicking them away. She turns, naked, and faces away from him, bending over slowly. He watches as her legs and cheeks spread slightly, just enough to show her deep pink petals. He stands and discards his pants. His hands move to her hips and he thrusts into her. No preamble, no words. All the confusion, anger and frustration channels into his pelvis and he fucks her hard with complete abandon. She pants and moans hoarsely.
“Harder …. More.” she provokes him.
“Yeah? Baby, I’m gonna fuck you til you scream my name and beg me to stop.”
“Don’t ever stop…” she moans.
He feels something in him lurch and resists the explosion his body aches for.
Harder and harder, he pulls her back onto his cock. His fingers are reddening the flesh of her hips. She squeals and pulls away. He pulls her back. The game grows more intense. His right hand slides up her back into her hair. He tightens his fist and pulls her head back.
“Don’t make me cum yet. Do you understand?”
She looks back over her shoulder and sends him a taunting smile.
“Like this?” She licks her lips and tightens around him, squeezing and pulsing as he thrusts. He yanks her head back, pulling her back up against his chest.
“So naughty. Why do you test my patience?” he growls into her ear.
She laughs.
“Say it ….”
“Say what?” she asks innocently.
“Say my name.”
She whispers it and pants it with each thrust.
“Fuck me harder and  I’ll say it louder. If you can …”
“If I can? Don’t challenge me.”
He bends her forward again and slaps her ass so hard that his palm stings.
She complies obediently and squeals his name loudly.
His brain floods with manic pleasure and he takes a few last thrusts as she screams for him and he erupts inside of her. Shaking, he slows and pulls out, turning her around. His hand slides between her legs, his fingers enter her. He pulls his hand back and smears his cum on her mouth before he kisses her forcefully. He pulls her onto him as they fall back into the couch. She curls up in his lap and he lays his head back, eyes closed, to catch his breath. She kisses his face and lips, nuzzling into his chest. He strokes her hip absent-mindedly, coming down from his high. She winces. He stops.
“Oh fuck. Baby, I’m sorry … “
She looks to where his hand is.
“I bruised you!”
He gently pushes her back so she’s laying along the length of the couch. He bends to kiss her red and growing-purple hips. She strokes the back of his neck and he rests his chin on her stomach.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know. I didn’t mean to hurt you either”
He closes his eyes and feels her hand on the back of his neck.
The last of the tension in him flows away.

Violet Fawkes

Violet Fawkes (she/her) is a freelance writer and sex blogger focusing on pleasure education, erotic fiction, and the intersection of identity, kink and mental health.