The Morning After – Chapter 3 – Two Condoms and Three Orgasm

Have you ever kissed someone and immediately realized you’d made a very good decision?

That was me.

In the elevator.

With a man whose last name I didn’t know.

To be fair, I knew his first name, his taste in whiskey, and that he had an excellent mouth.

At the time, that seemed like sufficient background information.

The elevator stopped.

We separated so quickly you’d think we’d been caught stealing something.

An older couple stepped in.

“Good evening,” Liam said.

Perfectly polite.

Perfectly composed.

Asshole.

I was standing beside him, trying to remember how breathing worked.

The woman smiled at us.

“Lovely conference, isn’t it?”

“Wonderful,” I said.

Liam made a suspicious noise beside me.

I stepped on his foot.

Accidentally, obviously.

The couple got off two floors later.

The doors closed.

Liam looked at me.

“Wonderful?”

“Shut up.”

He laughed.

I kissed him again.

By the time we reached his floor, I was beginning to understand why people made terrible decisions in elevators.

His room was at the end of the hallway.

Naturally.

Because apparently the hotel had decided we needed a scenic walking tour before getting there.

He opened the door.

I stepped inside.

Nice room.

Large bed. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Expensive furniture.

I noticed all of that in approximately two seconds.

Then Liam closed the door, and I stopped caring about the interior design.

He kissed me.

I kissed him back.

My purse landed somewhere near the entrance.

His jacket followed.

“Wait,” I said.

He stopped immediately.

I looked down at my shoes.

“These things have been trying to kill me since eight this morning.”

I kicked off one heel.

Then the other.

“Oh, thank fuck.”

Liam laughed.

“Better?”

“Significantly.”

“Anything else I can help with?”

I looked at his shirt.

“Actually, yes.”

He glanced down.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Too many buttons.”

He grinned.

“That’s a serious problem.”

“I’m in sales. I identify problems.”

“And offer solutions?”

“Exactly.”

He reached for the first button.

I caught his hands.

“Jesus, Liam. At this rate, we’ll be here until breakfast.”

I pulled him closer.

He laughed against my mouth.

And that was pretty much the end of our intelligent conversation.

At some point, we made it to the bed.

At some point, my dress disappeared.

I remember him asking if I was sure.

I remember saying yes.

Very clearly.

Possibly more enthusiastically than necessary.

And I remember laughing because we somehow managed to get tangled in the hotel sheets before we’d even properly started.

Romance.

Pure fucking romance.

The thing about being thirty-seven is that you generally know what you like.

You know what works.

You know what doesn’t.

And you’ve learned that some men are much more impressive with their mouths during dinner than they are afterward.

Liam, apparently, had no such problem.

Which was nice.

Very nice.

Actually, nice is a ridiculous word for what happened next.

Let’s just say I discovered that my body had been keeping a few secrets from me.

The first time surprised me.

The second time made me question several previous relationships.

By the third, I was considering writing a formal apology to my vibrator.

Poor thing.

It had been doing its best.

And here I was, discovering there were apparently performance levels I hadn’t even known existed.

At one point, I ended up in a position that required considerably more flexibility than I’d demonstrated at the gym in years.

“Are you okay?” Liam asked.

“Ask me tomorrow.”

He laughed.

I was laughing too.

That was probably the best part.

Not that the sex wasn’t spectacular.

It was.

But there was something wonderfully ridiculous about two grown adults who’d met over a borrowed cigarette behaving like they’d been waiting for each other all year.

No awkwardness.

No pretending to be mysterious.

No carefully calculated moves.

Just two people who wanted each other and were having an excellent time doing something about it.

Eventually, we collapsed onto the bed.

I stared at the ceiling.

“Well.”

Liam turned his head.

“Well?”

“That was unexpected.”

“Good unexpected?”

I looked at him.

“Don’t ruin it by fishing for compliments.”

He laughed.

I closed my eyes.

For approximately thirty seconds, I considered going to sleep.

Then his hand found mine.

I opened one eye.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“Are you trying to kill me?”

“Should I stop?”

I looked at him.

Then at the clock.

Then back at him.

“Do you have another condom?”

He smiled.

“Yes.”

“Show-off.”

And apparently, that was that.

I couldn’t tell you exactly when we finally fell asleep.

I remember the sheets were a disaster.

I remember my dress was nowhere near the bed.

I remember Liam pulling me close afterward, and thinking that he was surprisingly comfortable for a man I’d known for approximately five hours.

Then nothing.

Until five in the morning.

But that’s a separate disaster.

For now, here’s what you need to know.

Two condoms.

Three orgasms.

One very satisfied thirty-seven-year-old woman.

And absolutely no idea who the fuck Liam was.

Which, at the time, seemed like a perfectly reasonable arrangement.