Dice [h.s.]

63

"Fine, make me your villain." -Unknown

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Kennedy's POV

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To me, sex is an exchange of physical attraction. It's the way we feel about someone's physical characteristics, rather than their personal ones. I've had sex with plenty of people where their personality is terrible but their body is unbelievable.

At first, with Harry, that's all it was. I was physically attracted to his body. I learned that early on when I kissed him and only thought with my vagina and not my heart.

And when we had sex for the first time, again that was all it was. An exchange of attraction for each other's bodies. The way they feel, look, work. The works, not the real stuff.

I quickly came to realize that was bullshit. I tricked myself at first that it was just about his body and not about who he was because, by the things I heard and what he had done to me, he was a dick and I hated his personality.

Those first words that were a sprinkle of vulnerability was the minute he made notice to my heart. When I started to figure him out and how he was so much less than just a pretty face, I became invested.

The sex with him became more then an exchange of excitement and attraction, it slowly became intimate, in a way. I'm probably talking out of my ass, but I felt something different last night.

Last night, fuck. That was the first time, in all my years of mind numbing sexual encounters, that I've ever actually done it raw. Sure, I knew what a cock felt like because I've sucked probably more then twenty in my life. But that's my mouth.

I allowed myself to be vulnerable. Yeah, some people do this on the second date and say it's normal. But those are the people who have fucked two people in their lives, one being a random hooker that gave them syphilis.

It wasn't like we made love or anything. God, anyone who uses those words is a nuisance to society. It felt normal, but also not. We made it feel like any other night, but with a little extra something I guess.

I can't explain it. It's just an experience a person has to live through. I always thought the only time I will ever be doing it raw was with a long term partner. But he twisted my moral conscious and fucked me.

Literally.

Waking up this morning, I felt lighter. I was cocooned in a pile of blankets, half knowing Harry wasn't there because I never got all of the blanket when I slept beside him.

With my eyes opened against the sun, I buried my face into the fluffy comforter. I felt my shirt tightened against skin as I slowly rolled myself out of the comfy cave I had built for myself.

When my body hit the air of the room, I slid off of the bed and moved to the open window so I could warm up. Blindly, I grabbed the pack of cigarettes Harry had thrown on the bedside table and brought them to my chest.

While I rubbed my eyes, I opened the cigarette package. I took one out, along with a tiny black lighter. As I opened the window a bit more, I placed the cigarette on my lips and lit it.

I allowed the smoke to fill my throat until the urge to cough arose. I quickly blew it out, avoiding an asthma attack from a disease I don't even have. I watched as the gray smoke disappeared in the breeze of Las Vegas.

I looked down at my body, looking at the t-shirt stop in the middle of my thighs. I took another drag of the cigarette while running my fingers through my bedhead.