Young God

Happy Birthday

He didn't know her name. Shit, maybe that's what she'd whispered in his ear as they stood at the counter waiting for the bartender to deliver their drinks a while ago; whiskey neat for him, whiskey on the rocks for her. But by god, what she was called escaped him now. A shame. Even the neighbors knew his name, given the way she'd screamed and shouted it for the last half hour.

He wondered briefly if she moaned her boyfriend's name similarly. No, she wasn't single. She'd been honest about that and for him, it wasn't a deal breaker. She was in New Orleans with a group of friends on vacation, and her loving partner was back home in Delaware.

"Deeper. Oh my god, Harry, deeper," she begged, long, cherry red nails dragging along the delicate skin of his back. Her claws dug in as he hoisted her legs onto his shoulders and gave her what she wanted, bottoming out as he gave her his full length. Something dangerous glinted in his emerald eyes before they fluttered closed.

While sex had always felt pretty damn good, lately it was phenomenal. Mind blowing. A new sensation hit him every time, tingles and flutters like an itch he couldn't rid himself of. A good fuck usually scratched it for a while, but never long enough for genuine satisfaction.

Still, that didn't mean he wouldn't at least attempt to curb the appetite. He'd never cross paths with the woman writhing underneath him again, but goddamn if he wasn't in love with her for the night. Her moans had gone straight to his head, something euphoric building where their bodies met. The fact that he'd pulled out in time was nothing short of a miracle. Of course, they'd used protection, but he'd climaxed so forcefully that he worried the thin latex would fail to contain it.

"You're not finished with me yet, are you?" his companion asked, brows low, hazel eyes narrowed. She sat up on her elbows, panting as she glanced around at the disheveled silk sheets they'd all but torn apart. Though she clearly tried to conceal her disappointment, he sensed it anyway as he studied her visage underneath the moonlight beaming through the window.

" 'Course not," he drawled, having already crawled from the bed in search of his jeans. A thin layer of sweat covered his tattooed skin, breaths quick and shallow as he wrapped and tossed the used condom into the bin, then scooped his pants from the floor. They lie next to her cheetah-print panties, the ones they'd torn apart in their haste to get them off of her. The matching bra was strewn across the plush armchair near the bed. Harry dug around for his wallet. He was never without at least two condoms. He'd always go for a second around, partner permitting. "You haven't come yet and I generally don't like bad reviews."

The matching bra was strewn across the plush armchair near the bed. Harry dug around for his wallet. He was never without at least two condoms. He'd always go for a second round, partner permitting. "You haven't come yet and I generally don't like bad reviews."

It was one part ego, one part fairness. He wasn't in the business of getting off alone. Well, at least not when another person was involved. That just wasn't right. And he wasn't an asshole. He could be, was even exceptional at his best effort, but there was a time and place. Locked away in a luxury suite with some hot random girl like he currently was didn't warrant that attitude.

He ripped the condom open with his teeth, tossing the wrapper aside as he gripped his shaft and slowly stroked, his cock hard against his rough palm despite the orgasm. This was once a rare occurrence. Years ago, when he was finished, he was usually finished, like any other guy. He wasn't sure what to blame for this new ability, as clueless about that as he was his newly insatiable sex drive. But he could have worse problems.

Adrenaline shot through his veins, unprompted but present all the same. Something deafening pounded in his ears. Slightly crouched, he followed the sound that thumped somewhere behind him. The restroom's door was closed. He tried the knob, twisting and pushing the door outward. Inside, pitch black. Terrifyingly enough, it didn't matter.

His vision was startlingly clear, almost as if the room was bathed in light. Dripping from the shining silver faucet were drops of water. Most curiously, the beads of water landed against the sink's marble in sync with the drumming rattling his eardrums.

He frowned, wondering if she'd dumped something into his whiskey earlier, staring at the steady succession of drops as they fell. A maddening need to know sent him deeper into the massive, extravagant bathroom. Heart thudding in his chest, he quickly raised a trembling hand to the sink's knob, turned it counterclockwise and the dripping slowed to a stop.

So did the sounds in his ears.

He swallowed hard. He could even hear his very own heartbeat, loudly, so fucking loudly. He wasn't drunk enough not to know that wasn't normal. A second calmer, slower beat intermingled with the sound. He both expected and feared his partner's arms coming around his waist, her soft skin gliding against his as she pressed her bare breasts to his back. She lifted an arm and gently raked his long, messy locks away from his neck, kissing at the nape.

"What's the matter, babe?" she asked, peeking around his bulging bicep to catch a glimpse of whatever he was staring at. What the hell did he see? She only saw the darkness of an unlit room. Her gaze then traveled upward, spying worry etched into his flawless features. "You okay?"

"Nothing. It's fine, just thought I heard something," he said, rubbing his temples. He prayed he was simply imagining things. The drops. The sudden waft of the perfume she'd probably applied hours prior suddenly pungent, as if she'd just doused herself straight from the bottle.

Apparently, he was losing his fucking mind.

He might have pondered his mental state a while longer until she tugged at the unwrapped latex between his long fingers, plucking it free with those cherry red nails. She caught his eye under the dim light glowing from recessed lighting over the suite's bed, maintaining the contact as she lowered herself toward the floor and pinched the condom's tip before rolling it onto his erection. Lucky her, she'd had to use both hands.

Her lips ghosted his waist and that quickly, those problems were for later. It was his 30th birthday, after all.