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One moment, you and the famous movie star Johnny Cage were partying, getting equally drunk, and the next, he was pulling you into his bathroom.
It was a blur of drunken kisses and rough hands, tugging at items of clothing in an attempt to get them off or at least undone. “Why won’t these damn pants come off?” He grumbled, fumbling with his jeans until they were finally open, his boxers following suit.
Grabbing your hips, he turned you so you were facing away from him and looking into the mirror. He leaned down, gently gripping your chin. “I love this view,” He whispered huskily, grinning at your reflection.
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