EoO - Bad Bunny = 365partygirl felix has one night stand with hot unnamed sex god

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If you told Felix she'd get the best head of her life from a random guy she was dancing on for hours at the club last night on a random Thursday, she wouldn't have believed it.

He ate her out until she came three times, fingered her until her legs practically when numb, in the middle of his mattress. It was on her first night in town, and she was so caught up in the moment she forgot to text Minho before she passed out the night before.

Even with the variety of cocktails she threw back, she didn't wake up with a ragin headache, just a dull ache between her hips and a tenderness in the backs of her thighs from where he pushed her knees to her elbows. Also, the dancing—the dancing in her heels did not make things any easier for her back and her knees. Her face is flushed thinking of all the ways this guy stretched her into positions she didn't even know she was capable of reaching.

"Oh, you're up."

Felix pushes herself up onto her elbows, the neckline of an oversized tee slipping off her shoulder, and she turns hre attention to the bedroom door.

God, she can't remember his name, but one look at his slender fingers wrapped around the doorpost knocks at the phantom memories of them inside of her last night—she can recall the way they slipped in and out of her around the most embarrassing sounds ricocheting off the walls of the room. He's even more handsome than she remembered—high cheekbones slicing through the morning light, yet the soft corners of his smile framed by dimples.

Felix nods, a bit bashful with her ankles crossed, and she feels even more naked under the daylight peaking through the blinds.

"I...I can make you something to eat?"

His voice is deep, still a little rough with sleep. He looks like he just came in from a workout—a run, maybe? A bit of sweat on his hairline, a dark patch on his chest. She can smell him from here—it's much different from the the sex clinging to her skin, and she doesn't mind it.

"I'd like that," she admits, blinking the last bits of sleep from her eyes. She's glad she can't find a mirror in the room, is sure she must look insane, but the stranger seems sweet enough to not care.

"I—I'll meet you in the kitchen," he stammers, an endearing lips cutting through some of the words. "But—uh–" he makes a beeline to his wardrobe, plucking a baby pink cardigan from a hanger and tossing it onto the bed next to Felix's knee.

Felix reaches for it, the soft fibres brushing the side of her thigh. She tilts her head to the side.

"It's cold out today," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. It feels perfect inside this room, the floors heated just right. "And, uh, you—you can keep it. It doesn't fit me anymore."

Felix holds it up, sees the embroidered golden butterfly over one breast. It's cute, but it sticks out like a sore thumb from everything else she caught a glimpse of in there—mostly muted greys, browns, and beige. Khaki cargos and forest green sweaters. His shoulders and chest are so broad—there's no way he could even fit a single arm in here. It makes Felix a little faint thinking about him trying to stuff himself in it for her, getting to see his muscles bulge through the fabric.

"A perfect souvenir," Felix says, holding it to her chest, and gives the shy boy a wink.

His face turns pinker than the sweater, and he turns on his heel to head for the kitchen.