Three

This is the greatest night of my life.

…And apparently, it's also the last one.

But impending death aside, this is easily the greatest night of my life because it's finally happening. She's finally here.

I've listened to her come nearly every night for the past year. I've heard her moans, her whimpers, and her gasps. I can recognize the shaky timbre of her voice and I know the precise angle her back arches when she climaxes. I even know how her toes curl.

If it's not abundantly clear: I've memorized her. And if asked, I could describe her entire body in painstaking, exact detail.

In fact, I bet I could perfectly map the pattern of flush that arises on her skin when she's on the brink. It starts on her collarbone and cascades over the swells of her breasts. Then it rises into her cheeks until it spreads to her temples. Her body goes pliant, but there's still a lingering tightness in her muscles like she's bracing for something earth-shattering. Never—not once in the hundreds of times I've watched her come her brains out—has she half-assed an orgasm.

Climaxing, at the end of the day, isn't special. It doesn't take talent or skill. I make myself do it often, thoughtlessly, with muscle-memory getting me there half the time. But when she comes, it's a goddamn sonata. A masterclass in indulgence. It's a show of unparalleled rapture—the kind of stuff I could bottle, sell, and easily become a billionaire if it were possible to make pleasure whole.

More than once, more than twice—hell, more than fifty times—I've come with her name on my lips.

Valeria. Valeria. Valeria.

Valeria Fuentes.

Or, as she refers to herself when she's seated demurely in front of a camera, dark eyes locked on the exact spot that makes me feel like she can see me through my glowing laptop screen: Aurora Amada.

Aurora fucking Amada.

And now, finally—finally—I'm kissing Aurora Amada. Or…Valeria. I'm kissing Valeria.

…I'm kissing Valeria.

I'm so fucking confused. I've barely said a word to her—practically nothing until a few hours ago—and yet somehow, in my last fifteen minutes on Earth, I'm kissing her so hard that our teeth accidentally collide.

My hand weaves into her long black hair and I yank it, tangling it into my skin forcefully enough for my flesh to turn white at the point of contact. The pain doesn't faze her. In fact, it seems to spur her on. When I pull harder, she leaps into my arms—groaning while she does it.

My hands hook under her curvy thighs, grasping her bare skin. She's not even wearing real pants—just these tight little spandex shorts, I realize, when my hands slide up and meet the contours of her ass cheeks.

Her ass is ridiculously phenomenal.

I mean, fuck—it's phenomenal. I'm not even sure I should be touching it because this ass feels priceless. It should be insured and guarded by 24/7 security. But I'm touching it. Gripping it. Fully kneading it. And fine, I volunteer: I'll be the one to guard it. I'm selfless like that.

Valeria releases a needy mew, and I start moving. We're moving. I have no clue where, but I'm stumbling through my condo, refusing to look around to charter a path because looking would force me to stop kissing her—and fuck that shit—I'm never going to stop kissing her.

Ungainly but unashamed, I drop her onto my couch and fit myself in the space between her legs. I wonder how far I can push this. It's strange. So strange. This makes no sense, but that's fine by me. If I have fifteen minutes left, I want to spend it licking into Valeria's mouth, finally tasting her, savoring her—

Oh shit. She's going to let me fuck her.

She's shimmying out of her shorts and tossing them to the side—and her little striptease is the only thing in this world that can get me to stop kissing her.

She's seriously going to let me fuck her.

Shocked, I stare at her, and now that I'm staring, I don't know if I can ever stop. She's even more gorgeous in real life. Up close, her eyes are big and seeking, dark like caviar, framed by a luscious fan of curled eyelashes. Her features are delicate, beginning with full, arched eyebrows and a wide nose bridge over a round tip. Her cheeks are full, highlighted with soft apples that flush pink even over the muted bronze of her skin. But it's her lips that get me. They're so fucking plump and sit close to her nose, making them look unbelievably kissable. Now I know firsthand: They taste as good as they look.

Her body is curvy everywhere, I know, but her form is a galaxy of things that swoop and shimmer, from her full breasts to her flat stomach to those round hips that mesmerize me when she walks. Even the barest glimpse of her sauntering through the lobby puts me in a tailspin. The thing about Valeria is, it doesn't matter what she's wearing. Sweats, workout gear, lingerie—or literally nothing at all. She owns her movements unlike any other person I know.

The great irony is that I don't even know her, not really.

She runs her hands up her luscious body, raising the hem of her shirt to show off her bare skin underneath. Skin—so much skin.

She stares up at me, her shirt pushed above her stomach and displaying a micro thong over her lush hips. There's nothing but certainty on her face. My breath hitches when she deftly reaches into my boxer briefs—the only clothing on me—and pulls out my cock. Naturally, my cock doesn't fully understand how decidedly not-sexy this whole "about-to-die-thing" should be, because he's hard, ready, and overjoyed with me for finally getting this girl underneath us.

Change of plans: If I have fifteen minutes left, I want to spend it fucking Valeria.

She's game for it. Very much so. In fact, she's so down, she doesn't even bother to take off her panties. She simply tugs her thong to the side, notches my thickened cock at her entrance, and pulls on me so my body falls on top of her.

With a tilt of my hips, I slide into her waiting pussy and a gasp escapes Valeria's throat. It's airy, borderline melodic, and the only thing better is the sensation of her pussy holding my cock. She's tight as fuck, and my entire body feels otherworldly good.

I'm inside Valeria.

I'm inside Valeria.

I'm finally inside Valeria.

"Fuck me," she whispers into my ear before biting down, catching my earlobe with her teeth. It stings in the best way possible, reminding me I have shit to do: namely, railing the woman of my dreams.

Pulling back, I begin to fuck her slowly. Restrained. But the caveman in me hates this pace, and frankly, I'm not sure how I feel about it either. Even though I have her consent, my rational brain is holding me back. This can't be real. This seriously can't be real. If a deal is too good to be true, there's a catch.

What's the catch?

I work my hips in measured thrusts, reading her face and trying to understand how we got here. On my part: I've wanted Valeria forever, but up until this moment—when I'm literally inside of her—I've never gotten the impression she wanted me back.

Am I already dead and in the afterlife?

"Look at me," Valeria orders, reaching up and grabbing my chin.

I do. I never want to look anywhere else but right into those dark eyes.

Her fingers dig into my jaw—hard. Wow. Really hard. Okay, I'm definitely not dead yet.

"Fuck me," she orders, her gaze boring into mine. "Fuck me however you've always wanted to. Don't hold back."

Need ascends in my body, urging me to give her more. She wants it. She's asking for it. And she may have no clue what she's actually requesting from me, but I'm going to do whatever the hell she tells me to.

Don't hold back.

Bracing my hand on the couch, I lift my body and start to fuck—to really fuck. My hips swivel downwards, working her arousal over my length. Getting myself messy. Getting her messy. The strokes get easier, faster, even if her pussy has me in a vice grip. Everything feels fucking magnificent.

The visceral groan that escapes her lips tells me she's into this. Me too. So into this—so indescribably into this. We're fucking like animals now, thrusting, panting, grabbing at each other. Her hands fumble for purchase on my bare back until she gives up and wraps her arms around my neck, hanging on for dear life. I indulge her for a few strokes before I shove her back onto the cushions, putting her at my mercy.

Surprised, she looks at me with wide eyes, and I realize I may have taken it too far. I'm such a dick. She's stunning and she's delicate and the woman I've watched for the last year would hate being shoved into the couch like a sex doll.

I'm about to apologize when she takes my hand and places it over the collar of her t-shirt, nodding.

Uncertain about what she's asking, I pull gently—and she nods again. I keep pulling, forcefully now—more nodding.

Going for broke this time, I grip her shirt and yank unforgivingly on the cotton fabric, stretching it. I could rip it right off her. I could leave her wearing nothing but torn fabric and my cum if I felt like it.

I hold back.

But when I release the fabric, she scratches my back hard. I inhale through my teeth, working through the pain, and Valeria smirks up at me like the smuggest little thing I've ever seen.

…Well then.

Fuck it. If she likes scratching me, she's going to love this shit.

I yank her shirt so violently, the shoulder rips. Not completely, just a tear along the seam. Another pull. Another. With one final ferocious yank, I split her shirt in two, exposing the sports bra she's wearing underneath. Beyond pleased, she gasps before lunging upwards for a sloppy, haphazard kiss. While my tongue is in her mouth, I shove my hand under her bra and grip her bare breast. I've never felt anything so lush in my life.

Valeria is all curves in the most mouthwatering way possible. I've spent a year marveling at every devastating slope on her, but there's nothing quite like the real thing. Her breasts are plump and tender, jiggling mesmerizingly while her body rolls beneath me. Her hips rise to meet mine, and my hand grabs one, more than a handful.

This isn't enough. I need hours with her to strip her down and learn what her skin feels like against my fingers. My lips. My tongue.

God damn it.

There's a note of injustice underpinning every marvelous second I spend with Valeria, like this petulant anger coursing through me. I'm levitating with excitement, but also pissed off because I can't catch a good look at her nipples with her bra covering them—and I don't have enough hands to unpeel her clothes like an orange. This isn't fair. It's not fucking fair.

But then she smiles at me.

She smiles at me with watery eyes and pink cheeks and the shirt I wrecked with my bare hands, and her smile is a gut punch. Until today, I didn't know she could smile like this—and I'm done for. Fucking done for. There's no space to be upset or remorseful about anything right now because no matter what she's doing—walking, talking, fucking herself with a vibrator—Valeria is steel. Her guard never falters, even when she's giggling like a blushing virgin on her livestreams. But tonight, for once, that steeliness is nowhere to be found. She's smiling at me.

And she's so unbelievably beautiful.

She's beautiful as I thrust into her deeply, plunging into her waiting body and loving how she shoves her pussy right back at me. It's intense—really, just short of fucked-up—and it's beyond my wildest dreams…which were disturbingly wild. My cock has never been deeper in a woman, and sex has never been wetter. More hectic. Pleasure is building in my legs, and the most intense part is how few shits I give about coming. It's all about her. It's all about whether I can float her over the precipice—get her there.

I place my thumb on her clit and move it up and down, not in circles, because I know she prefers it this way. She gasps. She groans. She says my motherfucking name.

Her muscles flex before it happens, and because I know her—because I know all the signs—I know I'm in for something special.

Her expression shifts and she pulls her lower lip back with her teeth before releasing it to lick her lips. Then, she braces her palms against my pectorals before she absolutely ignites. She comes undone, screaming out horny, satisfied nonsense to my living room. It's unfiltered, unbridled heat, and proud doesn't even begin to cover my reaction. I've never heard her scream like this before.

This is how it ends. I'm so close and I'm so excited, and at the same time I'm terrified and yet not terrified at all. Her body keeps me grounded, focusing my brain on anything but what little time we have left.

A few more strokes and I'm there. Pleasure rushes through me, crackling with adrenaline, endorphins, and straight-up goodness. Paradise. I come inside of her, hot and huge and messy. So damn messy.

I exhale, not realizing I was holding my breath until now. Sliding my dick out, my cum follows, dripping out of Valeria's freshly-fucked pussy. My load is pearlescent and thick and everywhere. All over her perfect cunt. Inside of it.

Inside of it. It's a masterpiece.

Some sick instinct compels me to take my half-hard dick and slide it through the mix of my cum and her arousal. When the head of my cock is good and wet, I fuck it back into her with a single stroke. All that cum and her wetness goes deep into her pussy, where it belongs, I decide. Once I've gotten it way up inside of her, my stomach loops with a feeling I've never experienced before.

…This is ecstasy.

Hands down, this is the most incredible, inexplicable sensation of my short life.

"Oh my fucking god, that was amazing," Valeria murmurs when I slide out of her a second time.

I collapse next to her, my half-erect cock resting sticky against my inner thigh. I look over at her. She's panting and staring up at the ceiling.

Then it all hits me at once.

I'm sitting on my couch next to a girl I've spent an entire year wanting—as much as a guy can want someone he's never met. If her proximity weren't enough to put me in a tailspin, I just fucked her raw.

But the real coup de grace, the real holy-shit factor, is that Aurora—Valeria—said fuck. She said it a lot.

Valeria releases a protracted sigh bearing the weight of so many unsaid words—a lot of shits and fucks and iterations of fuck this shit, if I had to guess. Her hand fists the ruined remains of the t-shirt she's still wearing. "Any minute now," she murmurs.

I don't know what to say. Anything that comes out of my mouth could be my last words, and nothing feels poignant enough.

Her eyes meet mine and the deep color twinkles as she looks over my face. Her chest heaves with a resigned inhale. "Thank you, Lander."

She says my name again. Those six letters have never sounded better.

"You're welcome," I answer before I slide my hand over on the cushion and rest it on top of hers. "I'm glad I'm not alone."

She bobs her head in agreement and weaves her fingers between mine. "My father called, but I didn't want him to be the last person I spoke to. I…whatever." She forces out a measured breath before rolling her eyes. "I'm not going to talk about my daddy issues in the last minutes of my life."

"You sure? We can talk about your daddy if you need to. Hell, I can be your daddy," I answer in full, convincing seriousness that immediately makes me want to roundhouse kick myself in the face. Fuck me, what an inane thing to say. This is a serious moment, and here I am, so goddamn horny for her—

Her eyes walk the length from my mouth to my hand resting in hers before climbing again and settling on my face. Up close, her eyes are richer than I realized. A deep brown, like seared kindling. Her gaze holds mine like heat.

"You're kind of a weird fucker, aren't you?" she comments, sounding pleasantly surprised. A small curl appears at the corner of her lips, and I really shouldn't be so proud of amusing her, but I am. It feels like one last accomplishment at the end of my life.

I snicker, not denying it. I can be a weird fucker, yeah. Most people just don't realize it. "Are you regretting sleeping with me?" I ask, not caring if the answer is yes. Even if she does, she gave me her last minutes. That's an honor no person deserves, and I don't take it for granted.

But luckily, she shakes her head. "Not at all."

"Me neither."

Her thumb strokes the back of my hand: measured, affectionate, and precisely what I need. Valeria and I are going to die together. I'm surprisingly at ease with the idea.

Any minute now. Could be any minute now.

I know I should be looking back on my life and trying to make sense of my purpose here. Maybe I should be making peace with anything left frayed and unfinished. But my brain doesn't want to go there and I'm not going to force it. All I want to do—all I've wanted to do for a long time—is stare uninterrupted at Valeria.

So I do. I do, and it's amazing, and the way she stares back makes it even better.

It's the perfect way to go.

A buzzing sound breaks the silence and we both flinch. Our eyes lock, a tacit exchange of confusion and resolve. Our hands separate in our search, and she finds her phone right before I find mine.

She gasps—and goosebumps pepper my skin.

Emergency Alert: False Alarm. There is no missile threat or danger to the District. Repeat. False Alarm.