Disclaimer: Nothing. I own nothing.
You close your eyes the first time. His breath is on your skin, hot and ragged and you can't help but be turned on about this. There are no words, not that he talks much anyway, nothing but "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." His hands are everywhere, touching every surface of you. You can't help to think, this is wrong, so wrong on so many levels. But his hands are pressing your skin, pulling you closer as he kisses you. Your skirt is between his legs and he's in a hurry to pull it off. The shirt had disappeared a long time ago.
The second time, it's in the infamous Mermaid motel. It reeks of scandalous affairs and cheap beer. Surprisingly, you don't care as long as he's there. As long as he's there, tugging your clothes and raking his hands in your hair. The nagging voice tells you that you shouldn't be doing this. The voice disappears when his lips are on your shoulder, then slowly moves to your neck; tongue tracing your jaw, then finally capturing your lips. The kiss is explosive and laced with lust. Just the way you like it.
You kind of stop caring the third time. His tongue slips past your lips and both your clothes are long gone. Your nails dig into his back as he fucks you. After, fingers are splayed on your stomach and he asks if you're okay. You say you are even though you don't really know anymore and he nods. You kiss him, sticky and hot, and he pulls you on top of him. Round two.
There's a fourth, fifth, sixth, and you've stop counting. You've stop thinking about them. You have been become such a good liar now, excuses falling out your lips as you disappear off with him. You can't describe how you feel with him (or even how it happened). Your thing with him has become something more. Everything's changing now and you know it. Maybe everything will be alright again. Maybe it won't. Surprisingly, you don't care as long as he's there.