I Hate Valentine's Day

Then her head fell back against the bed with one last gasp, her arms flopped out to the side, and she slowly began to unclench around my cock. I could feel her insides rippling as I started to thrust again. I heard the slap, slap, slap of my hips against hers mixing with her heavy breathing as she came down.

"Fuck that was worth waiting for," she moaned.

"Did you?" I asked.

"What do you think?" She asked sarcastically. "Now it's your turn. Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Fuck me like you want me. Fuck me like you've always wanted me."

I did, pounding myself into her, pinning her to the bed with my body and grabbing her hips with both hands. She grabbed my shoulders, urging me on. She made quiet gasping noises every time I drove into her and they were the hottest sounds I had ever heard.

It didn't take long.

"I'm getting close," I finally gasped.

"Bite me," she said.

"What?" Train of thought: derailed.

"Bite me when you come. Bite my neck. Mark me. Make me remember you coming in me every time I look in a mirror."

"Fuck I'm close."

"Fucking mark me, John!"

And that sent me over. I slammed my hips forward and came into Sandy, hard.

She gasped out, eyes opening wide, and I pushed my face beneath her chin, biting down on the bend between her neck and her shoulder. Her nails dragged at my shoulders as I pulsed inside her and I could hear Sandy muttering obscene things into my ear as I filled her.

"Cum in me fucking cum in me John. I can feel it. I can feel you cumming fucking feel you. Fill me up. Fill my pussy."

And I did, feeling my legs shudder and my cock pulse as I came deep, deep inside her. I groaned into her neck just as she'd screamed into mine, and she muttered obscene somethings into my ear as I emptied myself into her pussy.

"Ohhhh fuck..." I groaned into her neck as I felt the last few spasms rock through me.

Then I was done and collapsing on top of her.

"Wow," she said.

"Wow," I agreed.

"We should have done that sooner."

"Yeah."

"Fuck."

I stared at the butterfly on her neck, right next to the red mark she'd begged me to leave on her.

"I think I left a mark," I commented.

"I sure hope so."

"Sandy?

"Yes?"

"Where's your other tattoo?"

I could hear the smile in her voice. "If you haven't found it yet," she said, "maybe you should look a little harder.".

The sun had moved a little by the time we spoke next, the warm light glowing on her floor and wall. We were lying in bed, her naked body cradled in the crook of my arm, her head on my shoulder and arm wrapped around my chest. I could feel her breathing against me. The room smelled like Sandy and sex. A little garlic and bleach too.

My arm was around her, fingers tracing the small red butterfly tattooed on her ass. Four. Found it.

"I asked you out on Valentine's Day," she said.

I glanced down at her. She was tracing a finger through the hair on my chest.

"When," I asked, "last year?"

"Last year," she confirmed. "I'd been wanting to for weeks. Then it was Valentine's Day and I was watching all these sickeningly romantic people eating their overpriced food and thinking you and I would never do that if we were dating. We'd do it way better. You'd cook something at home and it would be amazing. Then we'd fuck until morning."

"That's a really great idea."

"If you say the eating at home part I'll bite you."

"I'm learning that's not a threat with you."

She bit me, but only a little.

"And then I came back into the kitchen," she continued, "and you were there, and you were telling some story about studying sea turtles or something with your uncle and you were just... I don't know. You were laughing. And then you were flirting with me, and I was flirting with you, and Clive told us to shut up and get back to work."

"Sounds familiar."

"And then as I'm going out with the next bunch of plates he pulled me aside and told me to ask you out."

I stared at her. "Clive?"

"Yes."

"Our boss, Clive, who yells at us all day and has at least one ex-wife?"

"Yes. He told me to just ask you out already so everyone could get back to work."

"That sounds more like Clive."

"He's actually pretty sweet."

We were silent again for a while. I watched the dust dance in the sunbeams, traced the butterfly, and listened to the sounds of our breathing.

"I take it I said no?"

She shrugged. "That's how I remember it. But now I'm not sure you even knew what I was asking."

"Is that why you hate Valentine's Day? Because I said no?"

She grinned against my chest. "Someone thinks highly of himself. One of the reasons. That and it's a stupid holiday made up by greeting card companies to make money."

"Really?"

"Probably."

"Think you'll still hate it next year?"

"Oh I'll always hate Valentine's Day. But I'm starting to like the day after."