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She chuckles into my skin, kisses my chin. “Never pegged you as spontaneous.”

When she kisses the skin under my chin, brushing kisses along my jawline, it’s like she’s setting my skin on fire. I rag doll into the couch, losing sense of everything but her touch. Gladly melting into the sensation.

She moves her hands from my hair and grabs my hands. She slides them up the curve of her chest, up her collarbone, before settling my fingertips on the fine hairs on the back of her neck.

“I can be spontaneous,” I reply.

I dig one hand into her hair, settling the other onto her hip. My mouth back on hers. The kissing only gets more aggressive, with heavier pressure. Our lips are prying open, but there’s still no tongue. I don’t even like tongue and this is an agonizing game. She tightens her grip on me, pressing our chests together. She’s so hot, and I can’t even remember if this is how it usually is or if girls store heat differently. And there’s a rhythm. A slow, sensual, starving rhythm. Kisses deeper, grips tighter, Valeria’s body sliding forward until she’s straddling me.

Jesus, until she’s straddling me, our crotches sliding against each other in one confident buck. I sigh into her mouth, quiver under the sensation. I know this. It’s familiar in a physical sense, but wholly unfamiliar in every other way. Yet it’s not as scary as I thought it’d be. I trust Valeria; I’ve never trusted myself to unravel with anyone more than her.

She pulls away, pressing her mouth to my ear. “Is it getting a little tight here?” She speaks with ragged breaths. “We could stretch out.”

“Yeah,” I mutter.

She grabs the backs of my shoulders, slowly lowering me until I’m on my back. She drops her upper body between my knees. The image of her head and chest between my legs, that crooked smile on her lips and that short rebel-boy hair framing her face—I’ve never wanted to burn an image into my head more. She kisses my thigh, her grip tight on my leg. It’s not even a place I like, but I sink into the cushion. But when she kisses my inner knee, Jesus, that’s something else. The kiss goes zero to sixty and hits me right between my legs.

I can’t believe I thought for a second that Valeria had less experience than me. This is someone who’s been gay for a while and knows exactly what drives girls insane. This is someone with tricks and moves. Someone who is oozing confidence.

“You like that, darling?” she asks.

I can only nod as my heart swells. No one’s ever made darling sound so good.

She peppers kisses up my inner thigh, and just when I think she’s going to kiss the shorts on my overalls, she skips right to the exposed spot on my side. I jump at the sensation, making Valeria giggle.

“Ticklish?” she asks.

I flush. “Yeah.”

Guys don’t usually talk this much.

She kisses the bib of my overalls, my collarbone, my neck, and then she’s back at my lips. She’s draining every ounce of sanity out of me, until I’m squeezing my legs against hers, hands on her lower back. Her mouth isn’t enough. It isn’t enough and she knows it.

As I grind into her, pushing her hips deeper into mine, she half pulls her lips off mine, moaning into my skin. The sound explodes in my heart, the joy spreading like water.

“You like that?” I ask, a hint of teasing in my tone.

“Yes.”

I press our bodies as close together as I can, dragging the pleasure out with each movement. And as our hips slide past, as the pleasure grows with each second, I can’t help but think—for just a second—that she’s not snorting or half-assing it like guys did when we were grinding while kissing. That she wants this as much as I do.

It feels so fucking good.

Valeria unhooks a buckle on my overalls.

Then the door opens.

It isn’t like at Sunken City. It’s more like trying to jump out of a hot bath when wine drunk. Valeria turns toward the door as I prop myself up. I can only imagine what we look like right now. Valeria’s hair is tousled to douchebag-jock-who-just-had-car-sex-in-an-’80s-movie level.

It’s a guy who works at the lounge. He’s fidgeting like mad. “So if you guys don’t leave in three minutes, I’ll have to charge for another hour.”

He exits upon delivering the message, and Valeria climbs off me. Runs her hands through her hair.

“Can I tell you a secret?” I say.

“Yes.”

“It’s not my birthday.”