das Wunderländ

Fuck! FUCK!!

I slammed my hands down on the bathroom counter, turning the faucet on full blast. I splashed freezing water over my face, trying to shock my system out of its panic. I gripped the edges of the sink, looking up at the dripping mirror.

Staring back at me was an absolute idiot.

I had ruined it. I had ruined the best friendship I ever had because my massive, arrogant ego demanded more. We had an unspoken arrangement. We had fun. But the second I stood on that freezing street and screamed that I cared about her—that I loved her—I shattered the illusion. I had crossed the line, and by doing so, I had lost her completely.

No, I forced myself to think, my chest heaving as I stared at my reflection.

It was necessary.

I couldn't keep living in that agonizing gray area, wondering what she was doing or who she was with. I needed the closure. I needed certainty, even if it meant breaking my own heart. With this final severance, I could finally move on. It was for my own good.

I walked out into the empty, silent loft and collapsed onto my bed. I stared at the ceiling, but my vision immediately started to blur. My breathing turned shallow and heavy. A sharp, physical ache radiated from the center of my chest, traveling down to my fingertips. My jaw trembled. The logical, stoic mask I had worn all night finally shattered.

I couldn't stop it. The hot, heavy tears spilled from my eyes, soaking the dark fabric of my pillowcase. I curled inward, completely breaking down in the dark.

I didn't want to move on. I just loved her. I wanted her in my life, on any terms she would give me.

**

Harsh, bright sunlight forced my eyes open.

My head was pounding. I couldn't remember when the crying had stopped or how I had finally fallen asleep. My body felt like it was made of lead. My cheeks were tight with dried salt, and my eyelids felt thick and swollen. I dragged myself to the bathroom and splashed water on my face again. The man in the mirror looked entirely defeated.

I walked into the kitchen, grabbed a cold beer, and slid the glass door open to the balcony.

I didn't bother putting a shirt on. The brutal, freezing December wind immediately bit into my bare chest, sending goosebumps across my skin. I didn’t care. I leaned against the brick wall, letting the winter cold sink into my bones, desperately hoping it would freeze the agonizing pain in my heart.

I lit a cigarette, taking a deep drag, and chased it with a swig of beer. I grabbed my acoustic guitar from the corner, sat down on the floor cushion, and started picking a slow, hollow melody. I watched the clear blue sky slowly fade into a heavy, oppressive gray. I sat there, waiting for the snow to start falling to bury the city.

I tried to find some clarity in the biting cold and the rhythm of the strings.

Ding!

The sharp chime of the front doorbell echoed through the loft.

I stopped playing. My hand hovered over the strings. Who the fuck was bothering me on a Sunday morning? I stared at the glass door, hesitating. I just wanted to be left alone to rot in my misery.

Ding!

A low groan escaped my throat. I set the guitar down, grabbed my beer, and walked barefoot across the cold hardwood floor to the front door. I unlocked the deadbolt and pulled it open, ready to tell whoever it was to fuck off.

My breath caught in my throat.

Jessica was standing on my doormat. Her vibrant ginger hair was a tangled mess. Her pale skin looked almost translucent. But it was her green eyes that completely broke me—they were bloodshot, puffy, and reflecting a deep, devastating sorrow. She looked like she had been crying all night.

Sitting on the floor right beside her legs were two massive, packed suitcases.

"Jess?" I whispered, my brain completely short-circuiting.

"You said I could move in whenever I wanted... right?"

She didn't wait for an answer. She reached out, pressing her freezing, trembling hand flat against my bare chest. She pushed me gently backward, stepping into the loft and dragging her heavy suitcases over the threshold. She kicked the door shut behind her, sealing us inside.

My mind was entirely blank. I didn’t ask what happened. I didn't ask who had made her cry. I didn't care.

She kicked off her winter boots. Without a single word, she pushed her hands against my shoulders, walking me backward until the backs of my knees hit the sofa and I fell onto the cushions. She immediately climbed over my lap, straddling my thighs.

She looked deeply into my eyes. There were no arguments. No witty banter. Just two lost, broken souls seeking shelter within these four walls.

She leaned down, her cold, trembling lips slowly pressing against mine. Her small arms wrapped tightly around my neck, pulling my face into her shoulder.

I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her flush against me in a fierce, desperate hug. I buried my face in her hair, breathing in the scent of vanilla. I didn’t want her to ever leave again. She was the only thing I needed to survive.

Her warm breath hitched, growing heavier against my skin. The gentle kiss quickly escalated, turning hungry and intense. Her hands slid down my neck, her fingertips tracing the muscles of my bare chest, seeking warmth.

We moved in a frantic blur. She shrugged off her heavy winter jacket, tossing it to the floor. Slowly, desperately, every piece of fabric covering her pale skin was stripped away between deep, breathless kisses. Her warm, incredibly soft skin pressed flush against my cold chest. I could feel her rapid heartbeat hammering against my own every time my hands mapped the familiar curves of her body.

She finally broke the kiss, gasping softly for air. She rested her forehead against mine, her messy ginger hair falling like a curtain around us. Her bright green eyes gazed deeply into mine, completely stripped of all her secrets and walls.

"Jess?" I breathed, my heart pounding in my ears.

She lifted a hand, gently pressing a soft finger against my lips to silence my questions.

"Let’s take it further," she whispered, her soft voice trembling with vulnerability and absolute certainty. "I want you inside me, Daeron."

She pushed my sweatpants down, tossing them to the floor before climbing back over my thighs. Her small, warm hands guided me. I was shaking slightly. It was my first time, but there was no fear, only a desperate, consuming need to be as close to her as humanly possible.

She positioned herself over me and paused. She bit her lower lip, her green eyes locking onto mine. I saw a flash of hesitation—a heavy, unspoken guilt—but the physical heat radiating between us quickly burned it away. She took a deep, trembling breath, and slowly sank down.

"Fuck!" she whimpered, her fingers digging fiercely into my hair.

The sensation was blinding. In one agonizingly beautiful movement, she claimed my virginity completely.

She buried her flushed face into the crook of my neck, letting out a ragged sigh as our bodies adjusted. After a long moment, she slowly began to rock her hips in a steady, agonizing rhythm. With every fluid movement, she let out soft, breathy moans that sent jolts of electricity straight down my spine. The friction was intoxicating. I reached up, pulling her face down to mine, and we devoured each other in a desperate kiss.

She’s mine now, my frantic mind supplied. She chose me.

I grabbed her waist, lifting my hips to meet her downward thrusts, accelerating the pace.

"Daeron! Daeron!!!"

Hearing her scream my name in the empty loft drove me completely over the edge. She hugged my shoulders tightly, her whimpers echoing directly into my ear. I pushed harder, chasing her rhythm. Suddenly, she let out a loud, drawn-out cry. Her entire body went rigid, trembling violently against my chest as a massive wave of pleasure crashed over her.

"Fuck... Give me a second, babe," she gasped, her voice incredibly soft and vulnerable as she collapsed against my chest, her heart hammering wildly against my ribs.

After a long, shaky exhale, she tilted her head up. Her eyes were dark and hungry. "Take me again. Now."

I laid her back against the wide cushions of the sofa.

I guided her legs apart and moved over her, pressing back into her inviting warmth. I started slow, but quickly increased the speed with every downward thrust. The intensity skyrocketed, her moans growing louder and more frantic, filling the high ceilings of the loft.

I leaned my weight forward, burying my face in the crook of her porcelain neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses over her skin. My right hand moved up to cup her breast, my thumb brushing over her sensitive peak, while my left hand anchored her hip to keep her steady. I gave her exactly the punishing, relentless pace she was begging for.

A second, massive burst of pleasure ripped through her. Her body shook intensely, her usually pale skin flushed a deep, beautiful crimson.

"Fuck! Oh my God!" she swore, her chest heaving as she stared blindly at the ceiling. "You’re... you're not done yet?"

"No," I rasped, trailing my lips down to her collarbone. "I need more, babe."

I gently grabbed her waist and turned her over, lifting her hips off the cushions. I pulled her flush against me, immediately resuming the brutal pace.

"Fuuucck!!" she whimpered, her voice muffled as she buried her face directly into the sofa pillows.

I gripped her hips tightly, my muscles burning as I thrust harder and faster. The physical tension building in my chest was absolute, agonizing perfection. I was entirely consumed by her.

"Fill me up!" she gasped blindly.

Those words were the fatal spark. My vision went completely white as an explosive, overwhelming release finally ripped through my body. I collapsed forward, wrapping my arms tightly around her back as I came down from the high.

I fell back heavily against the armrest of the sofa, my lungs burning as I gasped for air. Sweat coated my chest, and the freezing winter draft from the balcony felt incredible against my skin. I let out a massive sigh of relief.

Beside me, Jessica slowly pushed herself up. She crawled over the cushions and leaned her exhausted body against my side. Our eyes locked. The heavy, protective walls we had built around ourselves were completely gone. In this quiet, messy aftermath, there was nowhere left to hide.

"I love you, Jess," I whispered softly.

Jessica froze. Her green eyes widened in absolute shock. I watched as a thick, heavy layer of tears instantly pooled in her eyes. But she didn't smile. She shoved her face into my bare chest, hiding her tears as she hugged my torso with a sudden, desperate tightness.

"Thank you... I..." her voice cracked into a soft sob. She couldn't finish the sentence.

She didn't say it back.

I stared up at the high, industrial ceiling of my loft. A cold, hollow ache settled in my chest, completely separate from the physical exhaustion. She didn't love me. Maybe she never would.

But I wrapped my arms around her shaking shoulders and held her tight. It didn’t matter. I didn’t care anymore, even if she couldn't say the words. I was entirely broken, and she was the only one who could put me together. As long as she was right here, hiding in my arms, I would take whatever pieces of her she was willing to give me.

**

After wiping the sweat from my chest with a towel, I threw on a gray t-shirt and stepped back out into the freezing air of the balcony. Jessica was still in the bathroom, the sound of the running shower echoing faintly through the loft.

The heavy, intoxicating fog of lust slowly cleared from my brain. The adrenaline receded, leaving behind a cold, sharp reality.

Fuck. What the hell just happened?

I leaned my forearms against the frozen metal railing, staring down at the snow-covered street. The logical, analytical part of my brain—the part that used to read opponents on the karate mat—finally woke up.

Why had she suddenly appeared at my door in tears? Why had she thrown herself at me the second she walked inside? Was she just using sex to distract herself from whatever had broken her heart last night? Did she actually love me, or was I just a convenient, safe place for her to hide? FUCK.

The more I analyzed the timeline, the more glaring the red flags became. Nothing added up. I felt like I was completely trapped inside an illusion. I was a fly that had flown willingly into a beautiful, delicate spider's web, and now I was completely stuck.

But as I stood there shivering in the winter air, a dark, desperate realization settled in my chest.

If I walked back inside and demanded the truth, the illusion would shatter. If I asked her why she couldn't say "I love you," she would pack those two massive suitcases and walk out the front door forever. I couldn't survive that. I didn't want to lose her. I wanted her to be mine.

Yes, I thought, my grip tightening on the frozen railing. I don't care if it's a trap. As long as she stays here with me, I don't give a fuck about the truth.

"Do you want a beer, Tiger?"

Her voice snapped my dark train of thought in half. I turned around. Jessica was standing in the doorway. She had thrown her heavy winter jacket on over her bare skin, holding two cold bottles of beer. Her hair was damp from the shower, smelling strongly of my soap and her vanilla perfume.

"Yeah. Sure," I said, burying my doubts deep in the back of my mind.

She walked out onto the balcony and sat down on the floor cushions, leaning her body weight heavily against my side. We sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking our beers and watching the city wake up under a fresh blanket of white snow.

"Aren’t you cold? You're only wearing sweatpants and a thin shirt," she murmured, setting her bottle down to rub her warm hands over my frozen knuckles.

"Not really. The sun is coming up, so it’s not that bad," I lied smoothly. I leaned my head down, pressing a soft kiss into her damp ginger hair. "Besides, you're keeping me warm now."

She giggled softly, the sound vibrating against my ribs. "You really love sitting out here, don't you?"

"Of course. This is our official sanctuary, isn't it?"

She tilted her head up, her green eyes catching the morning light. "Like a sacred place?"

"Our sacred place," I smiled, my heart aching slightly.

For the first time all morning, I saw her genuine, bright smile. It was the carefree, beautiful smile I used to see every day back in the courtyard at high school.

She leaned her head back against my chest, her fingers interlocking tight and securely with mine. Suddenly, her eyes darted to the corner of the balcony. "Oh, you play guitar?" she asked, pointing at the acoustic instrument leaning against the brick wall.

"Yeah, I play pretty often when I'm out here."

She sat up, grabbed the neck of the guitar, and dropped it into my lap. "Play me a song."

"What song do you want to hear?" I asked, adjusting the wooden body over my knee and testing the tuning.

She hummed thoughtfully, tapping her chin. "Mmmm... How about Beautiful Girl? By Jose Mari Chan."

"Damn, that is a vintage classic! I didn’t know you were so old-school, Cheeto," I laughed.

"Hey! I only know that song because you used to play it on the radio in your car all the time when we drove to school!" she pouted, crossing her arms defensively.

"Alright, alright," I laughed, raising my hands in surrender. "Do you want to sing the duet with me?"

"No." She shifted around, sitting cross-legged directly in front of me, giving me her undivided attention. "I want you to sing it to me first."

I took a breath, strummed the opening chords, and let the gentle, acoustic melody fill the cold air. She sat perfectly still, watching my hands on the fretboard, a soft, affectionate smile resting on her lips. I let my voice carry over the balcony, pouring every ounce of the love I felt for her into the lyrics.

When I reached the outro, I let the final chord ring out. I looked deep into her green eyes, singing the final line softly.

"...And I’m glad that it is you... beautiful girl."

The illusion was perfect.

She didn't hesitate. She leaned forward, closing the distance, and pressed her lips desperately against mine. I dropped my hand from the strings, wrapping my arm around her waist and kissing her back with everything I had. It felt like our intense, exhausting session on the sofa hadn't been nearly enough.

She pulled back just a fraction, her warm breath ghosting over my lips. "I’m glad too," she whispered.

I set the guitar safely on the cushion, slid my arms under her knees and back, and lifted her effortlessly into my arms. I carried her back inside the warm loft, straight toward my bedroom, burying myself completely in the beautiful lie.

**

Morning light crept across the hardwood floor.

I blinked my eyes open, shifting my weight, only to find the sheets beside me completely cold and empty. A heavy, suffocating panic instantly seized my chest.

It was a dream. The crying, the suitcases, the desperate confession on the sofa—my lonely brain had just hallucinated the entire thing. I closed my eyes, a crushing weight pinning me to the mattress. I just wanted to go back to sleep and find the dream again.

But then, my senses caught up. The sharp, unmistakable sound of sizzling broke the quiet hum of the loft. And then came the smell: sweet, melting butter and warm vanilla.

I threw the blanket off and practically sprinted out of the bedroom.

Jessica was standing at the kitchen island. She was wearing one of my oversized black t-shirts, her bare legs shifting as she casually flipped a pancake in a skillet. She looked over her shoulder and saw me standing there, panting like a lunatic.

"Morning, Tiger," she greeted me, her face lighting up with a brilliant, domestic smile.

Thank God. The tension drained from my body so fast my knees almost buckled. I walked up behind her, wrapping my arms tight around her waist and burying my face in the crook of her neck.

"I thought I was dreaming," I mumbled against her skin, pressing a soft kiss below her ear.

"Yeah, well, I wonder what you were dreaming about," she laughed, leaning her weight back against my chest. "Because you snored incredibly loud all night long."

"What the fuck! I do not snore!" I argued, my ego instantly flaring up.

"Oh, really? Hear this if you don’t believe me!" She dropped the spatula, pulled her phone off the counter, and tapped the screen. A loud, rumbling, rhythmic snoring echoed through the kitchen speaker.

"Damn you!" I laughed, reaching over her shoulder to snatch the phone. "I was physically drained last night! It’s normal to snore when you're completely exhausted!"

"Hahahaha! You literally just said you didn't snore!" She swatted my hand away. "Come on, grab some plates. I made pancakes and I’m starving."

We didn't talk about the suitcases sitting by the door. We didn't talk about why she was crying. We didn't talk about the university, or her parents, or the boys back home. We just ate breakfast in our own isolated universe.

And after that? We built a fortress out of pure physical distraction.

We spent the entire week communicating entirely through our bodies. We fucked everywhere. On the leather sofa, pressed against the cold marble of the kitchen island, under the hot water of the shower, and even out on the freezing balcony in the dead of night. We fucked like rabbits, desperately trying to outrun whatever reality was waiting for us outside my front door.

The only time we paused to catch our breath was at night, sitting on the balcony floor cushions, sharing a cigarette and a beer before dragging each other back to the bedroom. It was an intoxicating, exhausting blur. I was addicted to her, and the sex was only getting better.

**

Bzzt! Bzzt! The harsh vibration of my phone rattling against the glass coffee table shattered our week-long bubble. It was Monday morning. I picked it up and saw the caller ID. Nikolay. If the loudmouth Russian was calling me before noon, it meant trouble.

"Danke, Broda!" I answered, answering with German just to piss him off.

"Mudak! Danke means thank you, Derro!" Nikolay roared through the phone. Because his thick accent couldn't wrap around "Daeron," I had officially become "Derro."

"You’re welcome!" I grinned, leaning back on the sofa.

"Blyad, Brat! No messing around in the morning!" he groaned miserably. "My head is still ringing like a church bell just trying to dial your number."

I chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. You drink way too much vodka, Broda. So, what’s new?"

"Party tonight!"

"Wait. Isn’t the massive frat party scheduled for next Saturday? Today is only Monday."

"Derro... Derro... Derro," Nikolay tutted, sounding like a disappointed professor. "Like the wise men always say: before the main dish, we must first eat the dessert!"

"You mean the appetizer?"

"Blyad, you posh people make too big a deal out of food terminology! The important thing is, we need a warm-up party to prepare our livers! And that’s happening tonight!"

"Can I bring a plus-one?" I asked, glancing toward the bathroom where I could hear the shower running.

"Ohhhhh… Derro has a chick already! Bomba!!" Nikolay cheered, his hangover completely forgotten.

"Why do you automatically assume it’s a girl, though?" I joked dryly.

"Don’t tell me you’re gay?!"

"Blet! I like pussy!" I fired back, adopting his heavy Russian cadence.

He roared with laughter. "Yes, yes, bring as many chicks as you want! But remember the golden rule of the crew, Derro!" His tone dropped into dead seriousness. "She must be hot! I absolutely do not want another Triss situation like last month!"

I burst out laughing, remembering the time a blackout-drunk Nikolay had accidentally hooked up with a terrified, socially awkward math major. "She’s gorgeous, don’t worry. But she’s strictly mine. Keep your smelly hands off her, Broda."

"Derro! I am a refined gentleman! I never steal my own brother's cheese!"

"Yeah, sure. Text me the address. See you later, Broda."

"Adios, senorita!"

He hung up. Just as I tossed the phone back onto the table, the bathroom door swung open. A cloud of steam rolled out, followed by Jessica. She was wearing my sweatpants and a small tank top, vigorously drying her damp ginger hair with a towel.

"I heard you talking," she said, looking at me. "Were you on the phone?"

"Yeah. Nikolay just called me. He invited us to a frat party tonight."

"Us?" She paused, lowering the towel.

"Yep. Are you coming?"

"Of course," she smirked, tossing the towel over a chair. "You aren't going to leave me locked in here all alone, right?"

"I don't know," I teased, leaning back and crossing my arms. "Are you sure a preppy girl like you can keep up with the Russians?"

Suddenly, a heavy, wet towel flew across the room and smacked me squarely in the face. The bubble had officially popped. We were going back out into the real world.

**

At 8:00 PM, my tires crunched over the gravel of the dark, off-campus bar parking lot.

I parked the car and killed the engine. Through the windshield, I spotted Nikolay and the rest of the crew already waiting for us under the flickering orange glow of a streetlamp.

"Ready?" I asked, looking over at Jessica.

"Let's do it," she smirked, adjusting the collar of her jacket.

As we stepped out into the freezing winter air, Nikolay threw his arms wide open, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. "Bozhe moy! Who is this absolute hottie?!" he shouted over the heavy bass vibrating through the brick walls of the bar.

"This is Jessica," I said, sliding a protective hand around her waist and pulling her flush against my side.

"Ohhh…." Nikolay stopped mid-stride. He slowly lowered his cigarette, his eyes darting between us. He looked at me with a sharply raised eyebrow. "That Jessica?"

Jessica froze. She turned her head slowly, staring at me like a hawk hunting its prey. "Which Jessica?"

"Hahaha, Bomba! You actually brought that Jessica!" Nikolay roared, his booming laugh echoing across the empty parking lot.

"Daeron. Define 'that'," Jessica demanded, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

"The only girl that Derro ever talks about or wants to spend his time with!" Nikolay laughed, clapping his massive hands together. "So, you two have already..." He made a highly inappropriate, unmistakable hand gesture for wild sex.

"Alright, that's enough," I cut in quickly, feeling my face burn red in the cold air. I pointed to the other two guys leaning against the brick wall. "Let's ignore this maniac. Anyway, the giant over there is Boris."

Boris gave Jessica a slow, silent, intimidating nod.

"And that cool guy with the drink is Andrew." Andrew offered a friendly, slightly drunk wave. "So, come on, Broda! Get us inside. Show me to the table!"

As we walked toward the heavy front doors, Jessica leaned close to my ear, her warm breath ghosting over my skin. "So… that morning in your loft really was your first time, wasn't it?"

I squinted down at her, trying to look deeply offended. "Did you honestly think I was a slut?"

She burst into a fit of giggles, elbowing me hard in the ribs.

We bypassed the massive line wrapping around the building. Because Nikolay was basically the unofficial king of the underground college scene, the bouncers just nodded at him. We walked right through the doors, no fake IDs required, and stepped directly into the chaos.

*

The bar was an absolute madhouse. It was dark, packed with sweating bodies, and lit only by flashing neon strobe lights. We pushed through the crowd and took over a large, curved leather booth in the back corner that Nikolay had permanently reserved.

"Whoa, you guys actually manage to slip into these 21-plus bars and even get a VIP table?" Jessica yelled into my ear over the deafening music, clearly impressed by the setup.

"Yeah. Nikolay knows his shit."

"But, you told me we were going to a frat party on campus tonight."

"The frat party will happen later, Systra!" Nikolay interrupted loudly, slamming a massive tray of shot glasses onto the table. "Tonight is a RAVE! We warm up here!"

Not long after that, the DJ cranked the volume. The blaring electronic bass literally shook the drinks on our table. It didn't take a second for the massive dance floor to fill up completely with college students dancing wildly to the heavy, synthetic beat.

Our table started throwing down multiple rounds of cheap vodka shots. The Russian strategy was simple: get as drunk as humanly possible before stepping onto the dance floor. As always, Andrew was the first casualty; he literally jumped over the back of the booth onto the dance floor, immediately trying to grind with a group of sorority girls. And Boris? The silent giant was an absolute menace when he had vodka in his system. He walked out into the crowd, and within five minutes, he returned to our table with two gorgeous, highly intoxicated girls draped over his massive arms.

Nikolay was a biological tank. His tolerance for alcohol was genuinely terrifying. He spent the first hour nursing us, pouring shot after shot down my throat until the neon lights started spinning into a blur. Once his job was done, he hit the dance floor with a half-empty bottle of Grey Goose in his hand.

"Damn, this place is totally wild!" Jessica yelled, her eyes wide as she looked around the dark, chaotic room.

"Yep! These guys thrive on this kind of energy. You wanna go dance now?" I offered, holding my hand out.

"Let’s go!"

We pushed our way into the center of the sweaty, crowded dance floor. Jessica started dancing wildly, her body moving perfectly to the heavy, synthetic bass. I looked at her face under the flashing strobe lights; her cheeks and ears were flushed bright red. Yep. She was absolutely wasted.

She turned around and leaned back against my chest, starting a slow, highly sensual grind against my hips. I slid my hands down her waist, gripping her tight. Suddenly, she jolted backward, gasping loudly.

"Fuck!" Jessica whimpered, her head falling back heavily against my shoulder.

"Fuck... did you just finish?" I whispered in disbelief, my lips brushing against her earlobe

"Mmmhhm," she nodded frantically, biting her lower lip to stifle another moan. "We didn't have a quickie before we came here tonight! I’m so fucking horny, Tiger! Let’s go back to the dark table right now."

We shoved our way off the dance floor and stumbled back to our secluded corner booth. When we slid into the leather seats, we saw Boris already heavily making out with the two girls he had brought back.

"Fuck! Watching them is making me even wetter!" Jessica whispered fiercely into my ear.

Without waiting for an answer or an invitation, she pushed me backward until my spine hit the back of the leather sofa. She immediately climbed over my legs, straddling my lap in the dark corner of the booth. She grabbed my face, and we began making out aggressively, our tongues battling for dominance.

She began to roll her hips down against me in a slow, agonizing circle. My hands eagerly explored her body, gripping her thighs and waist. Her wild excitement, combined with the heavy amount of vodka burning in my blood, completely destroyed my self-control. My jeans were painfully tight.

I couldn't contain my lust for another second. "Let’s fuck. Right now."

I slid my right hand down, slipping two fingers inside her panties. She was completely, totally soaked. I rubbed her center gently, the wet, slick sounds completely drowned out by the blaring bass of the DJ.

"Pull it out. Put it inside me, babe!" Jessica demanded breathlessly.

I glanced at the crowd packed only a few feet away, the strobe lights flashing over oblivious faces, but the risk only spiked the adrenaline completely frying my brain.

Her hands frantically unzipped my jeans. She pulled me free into the cool air of the bar. She grabbed my hips, aligned herself, and rubbed the tip against her soaked center for a brief, agonizing second before dropping her weight, taking my entire hard length deep inside her.

"Fuck!!!" Jessica shouted, a loud, unapologetic moan escaping her lips as we fully connected.

She began riding me aggressively. I grabbed her firm hips, holding her tight to help her move faster and deeper against the leather cushions. I pulled the collar of her top down, exposing the top of her chest to the dark room, and I devoured her neck and collarbone wildly.

Her breathing became incredibly heavy, her nails digging into my shoulders as I thrust my hips up to meet her frantic, sloppy rhythm.

"What the fuck, brother?" a deep, rumbling voice suddenly asked.

Boris, who had been busy groping his two girls on the opposite side of the large, U-shaped booth, had finally noticed the intense, rhythmic shaking of our side of the sofa. He reached across the table and tapped the back of my hand, which was currently bruising Jessica’s hip.

My protective, violent subconscious instantly took over.

I snapped my head up. I glared at him fiercely, my grey eyes completely cold and deadly in the neon light, silently signaling him that if he disturbed or messed with me right now, I would end him.

Boris stared at my deadly glare for a long, incredibly tense second. The two girls next to him completely froze in fear.

"….. BUAHAHAHAHAHA! That’s my fucking Brotha!!!" Boris suddenly roared with laughter, his stern, quiet, stoic mask completely shattering into pieces.

Boris stood up from his seat, leaving his two terrified girls behind. He stepped in front of our section of the booth, turning his massive, towering back to us to completely block the view from the rest of the crowded bar. "Go finish it first, Brotha! I’ll keep an eye out for the bouncers!"

Boris's sudden, chaotic, completely insane intervention actually made me even hornier. The sheer thrill of the exhibitionism spiked my adrenaline. I could feel Jessica become even wetter around me as she realized what was happening. Her breath hitched, and we began to fuck even more aggressively in the dark booth, no longer caring how much noise we made.

Her inside tightened perfectly around my shaft, gripping me like a vice, and I knew I was right on the absolute edge.

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! HARDER, BABE!! LET’S CUM TOGETHER!!" she screamed, her voice completely lost in the heavy electronic bass drop.

A heavy, intense wave of fluid gushed from her just as I released a massive, blinding load deep inside her. My vision went white. She collapsed forward, completely spent, leaning her sweaty forehead heavily against my neck.

"Fuck! That was awesome," she giggled breathlessly, her heart hammering against my chest.

"Yeah! Fucking A!" I grabbed the back of her neck, gently moved her flushed face in front of mine, and ravished her lips in a deep, sloppy, vodka-tasting kiss.

"Damn, Brotha! You two are absolute Sex Demons!" Boris laughed hard over his shoulder, still standing guard like a brick wall and trying to cover our messy aftermath from the view of the wild dance floor.