Her lips crash against mine the moment we reach my apartment door, and my mind goes completely blank. The world narrows to just this, the electric sensation of her mouth on mine, the way her tongue moves with such confident precision it feels almost supernatural. My knees nearly buckle as she presses me against the doorframe, her hands tangling in my hair.
I've had good kisses before, but this... this is something else entirely. It's like she's reading a manual of my desires that even I don't have access to, finding pressure points and rhythms I never knew existed.
"Keys," she murmurs against my mouth, her breath hot on my lips.
My fingers fumble drunkenly in my pocket. The metal jingles as I struggle with the lock, Calista's teeth grazing my earlobe in a way that makes focusing on simple motor skills nearly impossible. Her tongue traces the shell of my ear before she blows softly into it, sending shivers cascading down my spine.
The door finally swings open, and we stumble inside, a tangle of eager limbs and desperate breaths. I reach for the light switch, but Calista is already pulling me through my own apartment with startling confidence, navigating around furniture I sometimes bump into even when sober.
"How do you…" I begin, but she's already tugging me down the hallway, past the kitchen, directly to my bedroom door.
She pushes it open and pulls me inside, my brain still trying to process how she knew exactly where to go. The moonlight filtering through my half-closed blinds casts silver patterns across her skin as she steps away from me.
Without hesitation, she reaches for the hem of her dress and pulls it over her head in one fluid motion. The black fabric pools at her feet, and I'm left staring at her silhouette in the dim light, the upside-down cross pendant gleaming against her pale skin.
"Come on, get naked," she barks, her voice commanding yet playful. Her hands are already working on her bra clasp. "What are you waiting for, Ethan Scott? An engraved invitation?"
I scramble to keep pace, yanking off my clothes with none of the grace Calista possesses. My shirt buttons catch, my pants tangle around my ankles, I'm a disaster compared to her fluid efficiency. When I finally kick free of my boxers, standing naked and vulnerable in the moonlight, I feel suddenly self-conscious.
But Calista... Calista is breathtaking. The scattered moonbeams illuminate her skin like alabaster marble, highlighting constellations of freckles across her chest. Her breasts are fuller than I'd imagined, crowned with perky nipples that tighten under my gaze. The upside-down cross dangles between them, a dark promise against her pale skin.
"You're staring," she whispers, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she reaches for my hand.
In one swift motion, she pulls me forward while falling backward onto my bed, guiding me on top of her. Her skin against mine feels electric, like touching a live wire. My head spins, partly from the whiskey, but mostly from her.
"Come on," she breathes, her crimson eyes glittering in the darkness. "Put it in. I'm dying to feel you inside me."
The rational part of my brain, the part that's survived nearly thirty years by being careful, manages one last gasp of responsibility.
"Wait, we need a condom," I mutter, starting to pull back.
Her expression darkens instantly. One hand shoots up to grip my chin with surprising strength, her nails digging into my skin.
"Don't you dare insult me with a condom," she hisses, her eyes flashing dangerously.
"What? I just thought…"
But my protest dies as her other hand wraps around me, guiding me to her entrance with determined precision. The moment the tip makes contact, I feel something, a jolt of connection that makes my vision blur at the edges.
"Come on," she urges, her voice husky with need. "All the way in."
I push forward slowly, and the sensation nearly breaks me. It's unlike anything I've experienced before, not just physically tight or wet, but something deeper, as if her body is somehow attuned perfectly to mine. It feels like recognition, like coming home to a place I've never been.
A sound escapes me, a deep, guttural moan that I've never heard from my own throat before. The vulnerability of it should embarrass me, but I'm beyond caring.
"Fuck," I gasp, overwhelmed by the intensity. "You feel so good."
Calista's face transforms beneath me, her expression one of wild ecstasy mixed with something that looks disturbingly like triumph. Her crimson eyes seem to glow in the darkness, pupils dilated to black pools.
"Because we're a perfect match, Ethan," she whispers, wrapping her legs around my waist to pull me deeper. "We were made for this."
I start to move within her, each thrust slow and deliberate. The whiskey in my system has dulled my edges but heightened every sensation, making each movement feel like an exploration of something sacred.
"Don't just fuck me, Ethan," Calista breathes against my ear, her voice commanding yet vulnerable. "Make love to me."
Something about her words ignites something primal and tender simultaneously within me. I reach for her hands, finding them in the moonlight, and interlace our fingers together. Our palms press tight, as if we've held each other this way since the beginning of time. The connection feels ancient, predestined.
"Yes," I whisper, picking up my rhythm, driving deeper into her with each thrust. Our joined hands press into the mattress on either side of her head as I move with increasing urgency.
"Yes," she moans back, her crimson eyes locked on mine with a ferocity that should frighten me but instead feels like recognition. She lifts her head from the pillow to capture my mouth in a kiss that steals what little breath I have left. Her fingers tighten around mine, our knuckles going white with the pressure.
The sensation is overwhelming, not just physically but emotionally. I've never felt so completely seen by another person, so utterly accepted. The rational part of my brain tries to remind me that we just met tonight, that this connection can't possibly be real, but my body knows differently. My body recognizes her.
"I've waited so long for you," she murmurs against my lips, and though the words make no logical sense, they resonate within me like a truth I've always known.
Our bodies move together in perfect synchronicity, as if we've choreographed this dance through countless lifetimes. I feel myself building toward release, but there's a strange reluctance to let this moment end.
"Don't fight it," Calista urges, as if reading my thoughts. "Let go for me, Ethan. I want to feel you."
Her permission undoes me completely. My body surrenders to the inevitable, and I plunge deeper as the first wave of pleasure crashes through me. It's so intense that for a moment, I think I might actually black out.
"Yes," I groan, the sound primal and unrestrained. "God, Calista..."
My release pulses into her, hot and urgent, each throb more raw than the last. Beneath me, Calista begins to writhe, her body arching up to meet mine. Her fingernails dig crescents into my back as she whimpers, the sound building into something wild and untamed.
"Yes! Perfect!" she screams, her body convulsing around mine. "Just like that, Ethan! Don't stop!"
I keep thrusting, riding out both our climaxes. The sensation seems impossible, endless waves of pleasure that refuse to diminish. My entire body shudders with each pulse, my vision blurring at the edges until all I can see clearly is her face, transformed in ecstasy.
"Fuck," I pant, barely able to form words as the pleasure continues to roll through me. "It's so... I can't..."
It feels like we're suspended in this moment forever, locked in some eternal feedback loop of pleasure. I've never experienced anything remotely like this, it's transcendent, almost frightening in its intensity. My groans become more desperate as my body keeps responding to hers.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the last aftershock ripples through me. My arms, which have somehow maintained my weight this entire time, give out completely. I collapse onto her, our sweat-slick bodies pressed together, my head nestled in the crook of her neck. I can feel her heart racing against my chest, matching my own frantic rhythm.
"Oh fuck..." I try to find words, but my brain has short-circuited. My eyelids feel impossibly heavy.
Calista shifts beneath me, but makes no attempt to push me off. Instead, her fingers find their way into my hair, gently stroking the damp strands away from my forehead. The tender gesture feels almost more intimate than what we just shared.
"Shh," she whispers, her lips brushing against my temple. "Rest now."
I feel myself drifting, my consciousness slipping away despite my attempts to hold onto this moment. Her fingers continue their hypnotic movement through my hair, and I surrender to the pull of exhaustion.
Just before sleep claims me completely, I hear her voice, soft but clear.
"You're going to be such a great dad, Ethan."
The words float through my fading consciousness, their meaning sliding past me like smoke. I try to respond, but darkness claims me before I can form the thought.