fireman bradley fireman bradley fireman bradley viv he's all i can think about now
You do not hook up on the first date.
Ever.
And what's more, you consider any guy that does want to hook up on the first date the reddest of red flags.
But does that really count when you were the one to initiate it?
Sure, Bradley had kissed you first - dipped head and his moustache tickling your upper lip. You'd figured it was about as chaste as he could manage.
But you had been the one to pull him in by the shirt, crashing your mouth to his after a brief moment of pause.
You had been the one to move his hand to your tit, practically moaning into him when he tweaked your nipple through your sundress. It hadn't mattered to you that you were very much in public, and that anybody could come out of the restaurant and see him crowding you up against the brick wall.
Bradley had asked if you wanted a ride home - to save rhe Uber fare. You both knew what that meant, under the circumstances.
Clothes discarded haphazardly in your hall, before giving up on your attempt to make it to the bedroom. He'd eaten you out on the stairs, your thighs bracketing his head as your thoughts were reduced to just his name. Bradley Bradshaw.
The name would be stupid for anybody but him.
You realise that you're completely and utterly fucked when he carries you up to the bed for rounds two and three, peppering soft kisses across your face as he goes.
Like the two of you have been together for years, rather than on a first date.