A crumpled note

Amber’s fingers brushed against the cold, metal handle of the drawer. She pulled it open, her gaze snagging on a crumpled piece of paper wedged between an old, dusty book and a half-empty bottle of perfume. Curiosity piqued, she reached in and retrieved the paper, unfolding it with care. The scrawled digits on the page sent a shiver down her spine. It was Earl's phone number, his name written beside it in handwriting that looked like it belonged to someone who had spent their life gripping a hammer or a shotgun.

She stared at the number, memories flooding back with vivid clarity. The rough texture of his beard against her skin, the relentless thrust of his hips as he buried himself inside her, the sensation of his seed flooding her insides in quantities that defied logic. Her breath hitched, and without conscious thought, her hand drifted downward, fingers tracing the curve of her inner thigh.

"Fuck," she muttered under her breath, leaning against the edge of the desk. Her legs felt weak, her heart pounding in her chest. She closed her eyes, imagining Earl's hands roving over her body, his tongue lapping at her most sensitive spots. Her nipples hardened beneath her black lace bra, and a flush spread across her cheeks as she slipped a finger beneath the waistband of her panties.

"Earl," she whispered, the name tasting sweet on her tongue. Her finger found her clit, and she gave a small gasp, pressing into the aching bundle of nerves. Memories of his thick cock sliding into her, the way he always seemed to know just how to drive her wild, flooded her mind. She bit her lip, stifling a moan as her finger circled faster, mimicking the rhythm of his thrusts.

The image of his face loomed large in her mind, those sunken, predatory eyes boring into hers as he claimed her over and over. She could almost feel the roughness of his stubble against her thighs, the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress. Her other hand moved to her breast, squeezing the tender flesh through the lace fabric.

"Yes," she hissed, her hips bucking against her hand. "Yes, just like that."

Her orgasm built quickly, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over her senses. She lost herself in the fantasy, picturing Earl's hands roaming her body, his mouth finding her nipples, sucking and biting until they were sore and swollen. Her fingers worked faster, lubricated by her own wetness as she imagined his cock plunging inside her, filling her to the brim with his potent seed.

With a strangled cry, she came hard, her body convulsing as waves of ecstasy washed over her. She leaned heavily against the desk, panting, her fingers still resting between her legs. For a moment, all she could do was breathe, letting the aftershocks ripple through her.

When she finally regained enough composure to move, she straightened up, looking around her dorm room with a sheepish grin. She had left a puddle of her own arousal on the floor, and she quickly grabbed some tissues to clean it up. As she threw them away, she couldn't help but chuckle at herself.

"God, Amber," she murmured, shaking her head. "You really need to get laid more often."

Amber leaned back in her chair, the reality of her recent sexual escapades sinking in. She had been with more men in the past few months than she had in the rest of her life combined. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. Her thoughts drifted back to Earl, his insistent need to impregnate her lingering like a shadow in her mind. Was it a genuine desire for children, or was he simply aroused by the idea of marking his territory on her body?

The thought sent a thrill through her, making her wetness return with a vengeance. She couldn't deny the excitement that came with the idea of being marked, of carrying something of him within her. Her fingers twitched, aching to touch herself again, to relive those moments of raw, primal connection.

She slid her hand down her stomach, feeling the heat pooling between her legs. "Earl," she breathed, the name a whispered promise of pleasure. Her fingers found her clit once more, circling slowly as she imagined his hands on her, his cock inside her, filling her with his seed. The fantasy was intoxicating, making her pulse race and her breath quicken.

But as the pleasure built, so did the fear. What if she called him? What if they met at a motel? The consequences could be dire, especially if he truly wanted to get her pregnant. Yet, the allure of it all was too strong to resist.

"Maybe I should," she murmured, her voice trembling with anticipation and dread. "Maybe I should call him."

Her finger pressed harder against her clit, mimicking the rhythm of his thrusts. She imagined his face, those predatory eyes locked onto hers as he claimed her, marking her as his own. The thought made her orgasm build faster, her body arching off the chair as she rode the wave of pleasure.

When it finally hit, she cried out, her body shuddering with the intensity of it. She collapsed back into the chair, gasping for air, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

"God, Amber," she whispered, her voice filled with both longing and fear. "What have you gotten yourself into?"