Curly

I felt my body slip into another orgasm as Max thrust his hardest against me. His cock hit my G-spot hard, and I cried out with a long sigh, again unable to form any coherent thoughts. My pussy clamped against Max's cock as he released his final drops of cum into my hole. My arms and legs were twitching, and I could barely hold myself upright as the orgasm washed over me. I had never been brought to such a wracking orgasm by any man.

I collapsed on the bed next to Max. We lay together for a few minutes, unable to move, think, or speak.

He broke the silence with a slow laugh. I turned to face him.

"What's so funny?" I managed, my eyes half-closed from the intensity of my climax.

He propped himself up on one arm, draping the other around my frame. He pulled me close and stroked my hair.

"That..."

"That was good," I finished for him, sounding more wistful than I intended. As the pangs of orgasm faded, I was retreating into shy Charlotte once more. What have I done, regretting my decision to go out at all.

"That was amazing, Curly." As Max dubbed me with a new nickname, he kissed me gently, first on my forehead, then on my nose. He moved his head backwards, and I moved forward to finish with a sweet kiss on the lips.

"Yeah. Not a bad Friday night." I was afraid he was retreating into his aloof self.

"Not a bad first date at all," he agreed.

"First?" I said, hopeful it was said with purpose.

"Oh, yeah," he responded, settling to hold me as we drifted into post-coital sleep together. "I'm sure we'll have many more..."

~~~

I awoke groggily the next morning, the early rays of sun piercing my eyelids.

What happened?

As I stirred, I recounted the events of the past evening. Max had taken me on a date. Max had brought me home. Max had made love to me...

I was nude, wrapped like a burrito in the red silk sheets of Max's boudoir.

And I was alone.

I gathered the sheets around me to hide my chest and torso, even though it felt silly, even though Max had explored the deepest crevices of my person only a few hours prior.

Crap! I smacked my forehead with regret. It had been so easy to fall into Max's arms while dancing, while kissing. He had felt safe and comfortable and right, so right.

As I sat in bed deliberating my current predicament, Max walked into the bedroom. His torso glimmered with beads of moisture, and he had thrown a lime-green terry towel around his waist.

He flashed me an easy grin as water dripped from his matted curls.

"Morning, sunshine."

I gave him a wary smile, too nervous and upset to trust myself with anything more revealing. I hugged the sheets closer as Max ambled towards his bed.

"Morning," I mumbled.

My heart was racing, my head spinning, as Max crawled across his beds towards me.

He planted a soft kiss on my lips.

"What's wrong?" he asked when I did not kiss back.

I sighed, conflicted with the pleasure of our sexual escapades and the groaning dread of having Max breaking my heart.

"I...can't."

"You can't what?"

"I can't do this."

"Do what?"

I was irritated by his casual demeanor. "I can't do THIS, Max!" I shouted, turning away from him.

He paused, a heavy silence filling the bedroom.

"I can't wake up to you after a night of hot sex and pretend that I don't want more. I can't kiss you in between classes and pretend I'm not worried that you'll meet somebody in Photography. I can't dance with you on Fridays only to see you with some freshman on Saturday."

I turned back to him, red-faced and flustered. He looked stunned.

"I don't know what to say," he admitted.

I groaned, flopping back on the bed.

"Hey, hey," he said softly, climbing under the sheets to join me. "Let's just talk about this..."

Max's shower-damp body pressed against mine. My head was shouting at me to turn away, to stiffen against his form, to deny him my inner thoughts and just walk away.

I curled into him. He felt like home.

"What did you mean when you said I was the only girl you could never have?" I asked into his chest.

"When did I say that?"

"At your party at the beginning of the year."

"Was I drunk?"

"Super drunk."

"Who was I with?"

"Some freshman...she wore clothes that weren't...Katelynn?"

I looked up to see Max's smile spread slowly across his face, obviously lost in the memory of that night. I hoped he had changed his sheets since then.

"Max!" I cried, desperate for him to regain focus on me.

Max chuckled, ruffling my morning hair with one of his free hands.

"What did you mean?"

Max took a deep breath and looked at me seriously. "Charlotte..." he began, unsure of how to address the question.

I feared the worst and inched away from his damp, toned body.

"From the first night I met you, I knew you were something else."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're shy, but unbelievably sexy. You were in to me, but you never threw yourself at me. You're smart, but unassuming. You're intuitive, but you're not willing to share."

"Don't men like a chase?"

"I thought I'd never catch up."

"But I kissed you so many times..."

"I wasn't ready for what you needed."

"What do I need?"

Max considered this for a moment, kissing me absentmindedly on the forehead. I traced the contours of his body while he pondered my question.

"You need stability and love. You need to be comfortable. You need someone to hold your hand while you figure out what you want from life and from yourself."

"And you couldn't give me that?"

"No."

The words stung, even though I knew they were true.

"Can you give me that now?"

"Do you really need all that?"

"Yes."

"Then...no."

"So why," I challenged him, wresting myself from his grip, "did you ask me out on Thursday?"

"Because I couldn't wait any longer."

"You mean you wanted to find out if you could lay the girl who never tried to pursue you?"

"I knew you'd say yes."

"Even though you claimed to know I have feelings for you?"

"Your hair," he mused, twisting my curls with his index finger, "you're so sexy..."

"And that is justification for asking me out?"

"Well, you said yes, didn't you?"

I was furious at Max, but I was more upset at myself, for letting myself think for one night that he had changed.

"Yes, but, but..." I sputtered in anger.

Max looked at me with his deep eyes, and I found my anger melting away. I turned my head, desperate to stay mad.

"Charlotte," his voice pleaded.

No. I would not be another one of his conquests.

"I can change..."

No.

"I can try a relationship...I can try to be a good guy..."

"No."

"No?"

"I'm not going to try to change you...it won't end well."

"What do you mean?"

I looked at him with sad eyes. "Why did you ask me out?"

"Because you looked hot."

"In my sweatpants?" I asked, exasperated.

"Your hair," he said quietly, embarrassed to open up to me.

My eyes glowered, unamused. "Go on," I prodded.

"You wore it down, curly, not caring what anybody thought. You were so focused on your work, you stopped caring about the stupid things in life. You stopped with the makeup and the parties and the boys. You stopped being shy little Charlotte, too afraid to try new things."

"And that's what you like about me now?"

"Yep." Max grinned sheepishly.

He thought he had won, he thought he had convinced me to stay.

No.

"Do you know what I like about you?"

"What's that?" he asked, crawling closer to me. His eyes sparkled; he wanted more sex.

"That you have never changed. That you will never change. That you were unreachable, unfuckable, untouchable..."

"That's what I like about you, Char, you always see through my bullshit." Max leaned in to kiss me.

I held up a hand between my lips. Max backed away, confused.

"No." I stated again. "I never saw through your bullshit."

I yanked the sheets off the bed as I stood, adjusting them around myself to maintain dignity. I shuffled around the room, picking up my discarded clothing. Bra, thong, underwear, tube top...

"But I do now."

I walked out of the room, leaving Max's cock hard and his mouth agape.