The way she feels and sounds is more encouragement than I could possibly need, and somewhere after working over to her other breast, I lose track of where I'm kissing, enveloped in the taste of her skin, nosing blindly against her. It's impossible to ignore the fact I'm still dressed, but the last thing I want to do is pull away from her. Fingers pressing hard into her hips, I drag that scrap of lace down over her thighs, the sound in my throat choking me with want and frustration both.

In the dark, she could be anyone and it wouldn't matter, she could be Callie or someone else completely. It's her name I say, though, slurred and desperate as I draw back to fumble aimlessly with the button on my jeans. It's not my first time, no, but basic mechanical skills still seem just about beyond me when every inch of her is bare in front of him and I feel like my dick's hard enough I could fuck her through the denim with no problem. I just barely manage to get my pants and underwear halfway off before I'm moving forward again to touch her, any of her, all of her. The beer's all but worn off, but she hasn't.