Second Dance

The first thing I saw was her hands—the way they wrapped around a champagne flute, fingers tracing the rim like she was remembering something. Maya. Five years since we'd ended, and she still had that effect on me, that gravity that pulled my eyes across the crowded ballroom. She'd filled out since then, curves softer, hips wider, and Jesus, it looked good on her.

"I didn't think you'd come," she said when I finally walked over. Her voice was the same—that low, smoky rasp that used to whisper dirty things in my ear at 2 AM.

"Couldn't say no to Dave." I gestured vaguely at the groom. "We go way back."

"Me too." She took a sip of champagne, watching me over the rim. "I mean, we go way back. Not Dave. Us."

The music shifted to something slow, and couples drifted onto the dance floor. I held out my hand before I could overthink it.

"Dance with me?"

She set down her glass and took my hand. Her palm was warm, slightly damp. We swayed together, closer than we should've been, her body pressing against mine with every step.

"You still smell the same," she murmured against my ear. "That stupid cologne you always wore."

"You still talk too much."

She laughed, but it caught in her throat when I pulled her closer, my hand sliding down to the small of her back, then lower, over the curve of her ass. She didn't pull away. She pressed into me instead.

"I've missed this," she whispered. "Missed you."

"Show me."

She grabbed my hand and pulled me through the crowd, past the bathrooms, down a hallway. A supply closet. Locked. Then she was in my arms, mouth on mine, hungry and desperate like we were making up for lost time.

"Maya—"

"Shut up and fuck me."

I pushed her against the wall, hiked up her dress. She wasn't wearing panties. Of course she wasn't. I ran my fingers through her slick folds, and she gasped, bucking against my hand.

"God, you're so wet."

"For you, you idiot. Always for you." She unbuckled my belt with shaking hands, freed my cock. "I've been thinking about this for weeks. Since I saw your name on the seating chart."

"Weeks?"

"I've been playing with myself thinking about you." She wrapped her fingers around me, stroking slowly. "Imagining you inside me again."

I groaned and lifted her leg, hooking it around my hip. The head of my cock pressed against her entrance, and she bit her lip, eyes locked on mine.

"Please."

I pushed inside her, slow, savoring the feel of her tight heat around me. She was so warm, so wet, and she moaned long and low as I buried myself to the hilt.

"Fuck, baby, you feel amazing."

"Don't stop. Don't you fucking stop."

I fucked her against that wall, hard and deep, her back sliding against it with every thrust. She wrapped both legs around me, and I held her up, pistoning into her, the sound of our bodies slapping together echoing in the tiny room.

"Harder," she demanded. "Right there. Don't—oh god—don't slow down."

I didn't. I drove into her until she was crying out, her nails digging into my shoulders, and I felt her clench around me, pulsing, coming with a scream I swallowed with a kiss.

But I wasn't done.

I set her down, turned her around, bent her over a shelf of cleaning supplies. She braced herself, looking back at me with wild eyes.

"Fuck me from behind," she said. "I want to feel all of you."

I grabbed her hips and slammed into her. She cried out, and I set a rhythm, fast and rough, watching my cock disappear into her over and over. Her ass bounced with each thrust, and I spanked her lightly, just enough to hear her gasp.

"Yes. Like that. Don't be gentle."

I wasn't. I pulled her hair, made her arch her back, fucked her until I felt that familiar tightening in my balls.

"Where?" I grunted.

"Inside." Her voice was a ragged plea. "Please. I want to feel you come inside me."

I gave her what she wanted, burying myself deep and spilling into her, shuddering as she clenched around me, milking every drop. She collapsed forward, breathing hard, and I followed, pressing against her back, kissing her neck.

We stayed like that for a long moment, tangled together in a supply closet while a wedding party went on without us.

"Same time next year?" she asked, her voice muffled.

"Maybe sooner."

She laughed softly. We fixed ourselves, smoothed our clothes, and slipped back into the ballroom like nothing happened. But when she caught my eye across the room later, she smiled, slow and knowing.

The next morning, I woke up to a text: *Coffee?*

And there she was, sitting at the café by my apartment, wearing the same dress, hair messy. She smiled when she saw me.

"You're not going to disappear on me again, are you?"

I sat down across from her. "Not if you don't want me to."

She reached across the table and took my hand. A stolen glance, a shared secret, the taste of her still on my lips.

"I don't."

CATEGORIES: [Chubby, Ex-Girlfriend, Wedding Sex, Just the Two of Us, Morning sex]