"Granted, we were both pretty out of it that night, but if I would have ever known that you had never…that you…that I was your first, I would have done things a hell of a lot differently," I admitted.

Like stare at your na**d body and memorize every inch of it, swirl my tongue around your ni**les and suck them into my mouth until you moaned my name. I'd taste your skin and burry my face between your legs and make you come so hard you'd forget your name.

"Holy fuck," she whispered with a glazed look in her eyes.

I just said all of that out loud didn't I?

She sat there staring at me with her mouth open, and I worried that I royally f**ked up. It was too soon for me to talk about her va**na and how much I wanted to become BFF's with it. Sure, I spent the past five years glorifying every single thing I could remember about her, and I worried over the past week that maybe my memories were better than reality, but that was just stupid. She was just as amazing sitting here in front of me as she was in my dreams, and I needed her to know that. I opened my mouth but before I could get the words out, she jumped down off of the stool, mumbling something about stocking beer in the cooler in the back. She brushed past me and I was left sitting on my stool with a bottle of vodka and the smell of chocolate lingering in the air.

***

Oh my God. Oh holy f**king shit.

I was such a f**king coward. I ran away from him as fast as I could and now I was in the storage room pretending to stock beer.

I'd taste your skin and burry my face between your legs and make you come so hard you'd forget your name.

Jesus Christ on a cracker. I had no experience with this shit. I wanted to hump his leg as soon as those words left his mouth. He clearly didn't mean to say them out loud going by the shocked expression on his face.

"Shit!" I muttered loudly, punching an empty case of beer.

Except it wasn't empty and my fist connected with full cans of beer.

"Son of a bitchfuck!" I cursed while I shook my bruised hand, kicking my foot out and connecting with a bottle of tequila that went rolling across the floor.

"I hope this alcohol abuse isn't because of something I said."

I turned around to find Carter lounging against the door frame. Why does he always have to witness my mortifying stupidity?

"I mean really, what has that bottle of tequila ever done to you?" he asked as he started to walk towards me.

"You mean aside from impairing my judgment so that I lost my virginity to some really hot guy I met at a frat party, got knocked-up and never got the guy's name because I am a complete and total bitch and now that he’s here I feel like I am so out of my league whenever he’s around because I have zero experience with this shit?" I rambled.

Carter stopped right in front of me and gave me a crooked grin.

“You think I’m hot?”

I rolled my eyes at his attempt to lighten the mood and completely gloss over my nervous admission.

"You know, you're absolutely right. That tequila is a real asshole. Go ahead and kick the shit out of it. You might as well finish off the beer, too. I saw him looking at you funny."

I laughed at the ridiculousness of this conversation. I wasn’t drunk but I was pleasantly buzzed enough from our earlier game of Truth or Truth to be able to see the humor in this situation. When I stopped laughing, he reached out and brushed a piece of hair off of my cheek that had escaped my pony tail and it reminded me so much of the night we met that I let out a small sigh.

"Let's get something straight here. You are not a bitch. I don't blame you for anything that you did. I'm not going to lie and say that it didn't totally suck ass to wake up the next morning and not have you there with me and then spend five years wondering if I had imagined you. But I would never think you were a bitch for doing what you did," he said as he inched closer. "I wasn't lying before when I said I would have done things very different with you that night," he said softly as he moved so close to me that our chest and thighs were touching. I swallowed roughly as he brought his hand up and rested it on my hip.

"I would have kissed you more," he said, leaning in and placing a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth.

"I would have held your body up against mine longer so I could feel every inch of you," he whispered against my cheek as he wrapped his other arm around my waist and pulled me up tighter against him.

His hand that rested on my hip slid up the side of my body. It grazed up my ribs and brushed against the side of my breast until his palm was flat over my heart.

"I would have touched you everywhere and took the time to feel your heart beat against my hand."

I licked my lips and tried to control my breathing. God, I loved the way he smelled, the way he spoke and his hands on me. How had I lived so long without these things?

“Most of all, I would never have taken even one sip of alcohol that night so that every single moment with you would have been etched into my brain and the memory of how your skin felt against my hands would be clear as a bell.”

I was certain he could hear the pounding of my heart echoing through the room. I knew he could feel how fast it was beating with each word he spoke.

"Fuck, Claire," he muttered. "Just being close to you drives me crazy."

He bent his knees slightly and then pushed up against me so I could feel exactly what he was talking about. Both my hands flew to his shoulders in an effort to hold on and pull him closer. My one leg automatically lifted to wrap around his waist and bring him closer to me. His lips ghosted over my neck, and I was pretty sure I moaned. When he was back by my ear he whispered, "If this is too much, too soon, just tell me to stop and I will."

Was it too soon? Was I acting like a complete slut right now rubbing myself all over him? I was a mother for fuck's sake.

A mother that had never been laid properly and was horny as fuck.

"If you stop, I will straight up murder your ass," I whispered as his lips found their way to mine and connected.

No sooner had our mouths collided when I felt his tongue gently push its way past my lips. I slid my tongue against his, and he moaned into my mouth, pushing his h*ps into me harder. I was tingling all over like in some cheesy romance novel. My br**sts were heaving and my loins were quivering.

I HAD QUIVERING LOINS!

I felt like I was going to explode if he didn't touch me. I wanted him to touch me so much it almost hurt. I am so not good at dirty talk. Just the thought of saying "touch my *ack* pussy" made me want to cringe. I could try "let your fingers do the walking". Or maybe "put your digits in my divot."

Focus Claire!

Oh my God his tongue was like magic. Where the hell did he learn to kiss? I bet his dad taught him.

Wait no. That sounded gross.

Jesus, I was turning into a puddle of goo and so was my underwear.

TOUCH MY VAGINA!

If I screamed it in my head maybe he'd figure it out. His tongue circled mine and his hand went down to my ass to slide me up and down against his hardness.

PUT YOUR HAND ON MY VAG!

My leg slid down his hip and the feel of the rough denim of his jeans against my bare thigh made me whimper. He walked us backwards and pushed me up against the wall of the storage room, deepening the kiss and slowing it down at the same time. My hands were clutching the hair at the back of his neck so hard I think I pulled some out by the roots.

His hand that was palming my ass moved away and I almost yelled in frustration until I felt him slide it around to the front of my thigh and slowly inch it up towards the hem of my shorts.

OH MY GOD HE'S GOING TO TOUCH MY VAGINA!

Did I remember to put on sexy underwear and not period panties? You know what I'm talking about. The ginormous granny panties that you only wore when the crimson tide is flowing. The ones you’d never allow man nor beast to see.

He broke the kiss as his fingers snuck under the leg of my shorts and – Oh thank you sweet baby Jesus and the wise guys, I just remembered I put a Victoria's Secret thong on when I got dressed earlier.

"I know this doesn't make up for the shittiness of that night, but I want to make you feel good, Claire. Can I touch you?" he asked softly against my lips while he looked into my eyes.

Could he not feel my quivering loins and the brain screams?

I need your fingers inside me!

Yep, you guessed it.

"Fuck. That was the hottest thing I have ever heard."

I didn't have time to be mortified that I’d spoken out loud. He was doing what I asked and his hand was sliding all the way under the edge of my shorts until I felt his fingers slide up the front of my underwear.

"Holy fuck," I muttered and jerked my h*ps into his hand.

No one had ever touched me like this. I thought touch was all the same and brought on the same feelings whether it was a guy or myself fumbling around down there.

Clearly I was mistaken.

Carter’s fingers moving up and down ever so slowly against the thin scrap of satin made me want to scream my head off in pleasure.

"I can feel how wet you are," he whispered as his fingers moved to the side and toyed with the edge of my underwear.

Hearing dirty talk from other people always made me blush and feel embarrassed for them and the weird stuff that came out of their mouths. I mean really, can they hear themselves? It's corny and all "fuck me harder big boy" and "oh you're so tight baby". Who says that crap? Obviously I had been missing out on Carter’s dirty talk. It was hot. And I didn't want him to stop. He could talk about how tight, wet and fan-fucking-tastic I was all night long. He placed several small kisses to my lips as he took his sweet time working his fingers under the thin scrap of material and used the heal of his hand to push the leg of my shorts open wider to give him better access. I held my breath and tried not to think about the fact that I'd never had a guy touch me like this. That was just sad, really. And even more depressing was the fact that I was feeling sorry for myself when his fingers were getting ready to go for a swim at the Y.

I broke up the pity party when I felt two of his fingers come in contact with my bare, wet skin.

"Oh my God," I mumbled, letting my head fall back against the wall with a thud.

Yep, much better than my own fingers. My own fingers were now going to feel like Sinbad's hands in the movie Houseguest when he gets Novocain all over them and they flop around like dead fish, knocking shit off of the table. His fingers were smooth and soft and holy f**k they were touching me, feeling just how much I wanted this and that Liz forced me get waxed regularly.

Note to self: apologize to Liz for calling her a Sadistic Vagina-Nazi Bitch every time she made a Brazilian wax appointment for me. Because of her dedication to my who-ha, Carter doesn't have to discover a wildebeest in my pants right now and stop what he's doing to go in search of a weed whacker.

He swooped in and placed an open-mouthed kiss on my neck and slowly pushed a finger inside of me, letting his thumb rest against my cl*twhile he gave me time to adjust to what he was doing.

He held his finger perfectly still inside me, and I clutched harder onto the back of his head and pushed my h*ps forward, making his finger go in deeper and his thumb slide against me.

This was too much and not enough and I felt like this was going to be over long before I wanted it to because the way he moved his fingers was pure genius. And that was just shocking in and of itself. I always needed a full reel of clips from p**n movies flipping through my mind in order to finish. I couldn't think about anything but what he was doing to me right now. Naughty Neighbors, MILF Madness - none of those were necessary.

He started pushing and pulling his finger in and out of me slowly and did some glorious maneuver where he curled his finger before he started pulling it out that made me want to pant like a dog and lick the side of his face. His lips and tongue found every inch of my neck and his thumb circled faster until I was rocking my h*ps into his hand almost forcefully.

I was whimpering and moaning and I didn't have time to be embarrassed that I sounded kind of like a dirty slut or that there was a real live guy who was really touching my va**na because I was really one second away from exploding.

Really.

He pulled his finger out of me and used the pad of two fingers to circle my cl*tuntil I completely fell apart against his hand.

"Ohhh, oh, God! Fuck. Carter!"

His fingers didn't stop and he swallowed my cries with his mouth while I pushed against his hand, never wanting this feeling to stop. I made all kinds of noises into his mouth while he continued to kiss me and pull every ounce of my orgasm out of me until my legs were trembling and I could barely stand. When I stopped moving my h*ps and the last of my release faded away, he pulled his hand out from my shorts and wrapped his arm around me, kissing me slowly, letting his tongue lazily slide against my own. I didn't know how long we stood there in the storage room wrapped in each other's arms kissing. I could have spent hours kissing him and never come up for air.

We finally pulled our mouths apart and stood there staring at each other.

"That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I should have done that five years ago," Carter said with a smile.

"Baby, if you would have done that five years ago, I would have handcuffed my va**na to your arm and made you do that to me every single day."

Carter laughed and then his face immediately got serious.

"Claire, I need to ask you something. And it's really important."

Oh my God, he was going to ask me to have a threesome. Or tell me he was really from Canada and needed a green card and that's the only reason he was here. Oh shit, what if he didn't like my vagina? Did it feel funny? I should have felt around down there more often. My gyno never complained. In fact, he told me I had a very nice uterus. Why the hell didn't Carter like my vagina? Shit, what if he was into dendrophilia and liked to have sex with trees?