Drunk dialling isn’t always unwelcome… (Selina & Donovan part 1)

I randomly got inspired after seeing a photo on Instagram last night.

It ended up being something I’ve never written before, first person, present tense. But that’s what it needed to be written… Hope you enjoy!


When my phone rings at 2am I don’t even bother checking the caller ID, I know it’s Donovan.

“Hey you,” I say with a smile, because I love it when he rings me in the middle of the night. I don’t care if he wakes me up. People get shitty at other people for drunk-texting and drunk-calling them but to me it means that he was thinking about me and decided to do something about it.

“Heyyyy,” replies a rather-drunk sounding Donovan, the noise of the club behind him coming across rather loud in the quiet of my room. “Whatcha doin’?”

Oh boy… must have been a good night if he’s asking what I’m doing at 2am…

“Lying in the dark feeling horny… What are you doing?” I ask him in return, knowing very well what he’s doing because I saw the photo his mate posted on Instagram earlier, when I decided to try and get some sleep. After lying in the dark wide awake for two hours I had just decided that maybe an self-induced orgasm would lull my brain into sleep when he rang. Perfect timing, as always.

“Oooooh, you horny? Thassgood. Maybe I should come over,” he says and I hear men voices jeering in the background. Jordan making a crass comment, no doubt.

“Maybe you should.” Suddenly I’m craving him. The softness of his skin under my fingertips. The weight of him on top of me. The feel of him inside me. “If you’re up for it.”

He laughs and the sound lights a fire in my belly. “Aw babe. You know I’m always up for it.” The noise behind him gets worse and I laugh along with him because he’s right.

“How far away are you?” I ask, hoping whatever club they picked for the night is not on the other side of town because I want him here, now.

“We’re down at the Devil’s Den. I’ll find a taxi and be there in ten.” The jeers increase a notch on his side before he hangs up and I know Jordan and the others will try to stop him from leaving. They always do.

They don’t like me much, his friends, because I always answer Donovan’s late night booty calls and apparently they reckon that makes me some kind of slut. Since when does having sex with the same guy a lot make you a slut? I think they’re jealous of what Donovan and I have, whatever it is, it seems to work without us having to define it with words.

We both work a lot and enjoy spending our down time together without the complications of an actual committed relationship. I know my mum has grand dreams of Donovan putting a ring on my finger and us making cute little babies together. Mum also keeps telling me I have to claim him as my own before someone else does. Ugh. I’ve stopped correcting her when she refers to him as my boyfriend because it got tiresome.

Everyone has their opinion it seems. My friends Lacey and London insist that I’m in denial and that deep down we’re secretly and completely in love with each other and just scared of saying anything in case it rocks the boat. It hurts my head to think about it so I don’t. I don’t do what ifs or maybes. All I know is that our naked bodies fit together really well and we give each other a lot of pleasure. Surely that’s enough?

The sound of a car stopping outside pulls me of out of my thoughts and a quick look at the time tells me that’ll be him. I hear a car door slam as I walk to the front door, pulling my nightie over my head as I go, wouldn’t want to flash the taxi driver like last time. I open the door a second before Donovan reaches it and he gives me a ravenous smile that make my clit tingle.

“Why are you not naked?” he asks walking in, his shirt already halfway over his head by the time I shut the door and lock it.

“I didn’t want to give the taxi driver a show,” I reply, helping him out of his shirt and throwing it on the floor once it’s off. I let my eyes roam over his chest, the sparrow tattoo by his collarbone, the flat expanse of his belly, that stupid logo tattoo on his hipbone, souvenir from a trip to Hawaii, his treasure trail that my fingers itch to follow south.

He crooks his finger and looks at me with hooded eyes. “Come here.”

I go willingly, my hands finding the waist of his shorts and sneaking under, fingers stroking the soft skin of his sides while he cups my face with both hands and brings me in for a kiss.

I press myself closer, digging my nails in when his tongue swipes mine, the kiss getting frantic. It’s been over a week since I’ve seen him and my body is craving his in the way it always does. I can feel his cock growing hard against my belly so I move my hips side to side, making him groan.

His strong hands stroke down the sides of my neck and down my body until he reaches my ass and grabs it with both hands, digging his fingers into the fleshy parts of my butt cheeks. I feel my pussy clench hard and I cry out.

We’ve been having sex for over three years and he knows all my cues, just like I know his. He picks me up and I jump up to make it easier for him, his hands grasping my butt, my legs tight around his waist, his still hardening cock wedged between the lips of my pussy. I moan with need; I can’t wait for him to be inside me again.

He must feel the same way because he walks us to the couch two meters away and waits for me to unhook my legs from around him before he sits on it. I sit back on his thighs, just enough so I can reach between us and push down his shorts and boxers and then his cock is in my hand, hard and pulsating. He lets out a strangled moan when I give it a squeeze and his hands move from my butt to my hips.

I lift myself up and put my hands on his shoulders, letting him take over. He leaves one hand on my hip and uses the other to guide the head of his cock up and down my slit a couple of times, making me whimper each time it bumps my clit. I dig my nails into his shoulders and he gets the wordless message, pressing the tip of his cock to my hole.

I groan as the top inch of his cock slips inside me, my toes curling already from the intense pleasure, his hands on my hips holding me up and keeping it slow so it lasts a bit longer. It is really late (or really early, depending which way you look at it) and I know that once this one is over, we’ll both need some sleep.

I move up and down that top inch a few times to spread the juices from my cunt all over his cock, but also because there is no feeling quite like that first stretch and I want to feel it over and over again.

He growls and I look up at him, biting my lip before crossing the distance between us to kiss his full lips like a woman starved. I open my mouth to his questing tongue and the moment our tongues touch, he pulls me down on him, hard, his cock hitting my A-spot and making me see stars.

Oh fuuuuuuuck….

My loud moan resonates in the otherwise empty house as I start grinding against Donovan, his hands on the back of my thighs, spreading me so he can reach deeper inside me. We quickly find a rhythm that works and he makes short work of my nightie so he can suck on my nipples, one hand moving up to squeeze the one his mouth is not on.

Every suck, every squeeze and twist, every flick of his tongue, every tug with his teeth on the fleshy nubs causes my pussy to clench and squeeze his cock. The harder he works my nipples, the harder I grind against him, loving the combination of pleasure and pain he’s giving me.

It’s becoming too much and I tightened my hold around his neck so I can bury my face in his neck. He smells so good, he keeps changing after-shave and refuses to tell me the names but it’s always a scent that makes me weak at the knees.

Still we move against each other, his cock big and hard inside me, my pussy swollen from my arousal and the constant friction, my clit throbbing. I brace myself as much as I can when my orgasm hits a few grinds later and I scream my pleasure until I’m hoarse and my throat feels raw.

I feel him go rigid under me as he empties himself deep inside me with a growl that makes me shudder.

He puts his arms around me and I rest my head in the crook of his neck as our breathing gets back to normal.

“Bed?” I whisper in the semi-darkness, as the only light on is the lamp on the sideboard by the front door.

He nods against me and I move off of him, laughing when I realise he’s still wearing his pants and shoes. I clean up the mess between my legs with some tissues from the box on the coffee table and we head to bed after a short stop in the bathroom.

I get into bed with a yawn and check the time on my phone, groaning when I realise my alarm will go off in under four hours. Donovan cuddles up to me and his arm goes around my waist to pull me close. I feel his lips ghost my shoulder blade and I whisper, ‘good night’ with a smile on my face as I feel sleep taking over.

Damn I’d missed this.

 

** If you want to know what happens next for Selina and Donovan, click on the link for the next part right here **

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5 thoughts on “Drunk dialling isn’t always unwelcome… (Selina & Donovan part 1)

  1. Pingback: Don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone… (Selina & Donovan part 2) | DragonflyLady's Writey Ramblings

  2. Pingback: Donovan gets the last laugh (Selina & Donovan part 16) | DragonflyLady's Writey Ramblings

  3. Pingback: Donovan gets the last laugh (Selina & Donovan part 16) | DragonflyLady's Writey Ramblings

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