It started with a party in my dorm. The music was loud, and the air smelled like cheap beer and bad decisions. I had just broken up with my boyfriend, and I was in no mood to play nice.

That’s when I saw him. He was leaning against the wall, watching me with a look that sent shivers down my spine. I grabbed another drink and walked over, pretending I wasn’t nervous. You’re staring, I said, and he just smirked. Maybe you like it, he replied.

I don’t remember how we ended up in my room, but the next thing I knew, he was kissing me like he’d been waiting for this all night. His hands were everywhere, sliding under my shirt and pulling me closer.

He pushed me onto the bed, his lips trailing down my neck as he undid my jeans. I gasped as he slid them off, his hands exploring every inch of my body. You’re so fucking perfect, he murmured, and I couldn’t help but pull him closer.

When he finally slid inside me, I let out a moan that I was sure my neighbors could hear. He moved slowly at first, teasing me, but when I begged him to go faster, he didn’t hold back.

By the time we finished, we were both a sweaty mess, lying tangled in my sheets. He kissed me one last time before leaving, and I knew I’d be thinking about him for days.