A Week in New York(6)

He knew she was hot. He knew I would have fucked her, just as I told him I would when I first caught sight of her across the bar last night. When I went over to her, Andrew had left to go home to Amanda. His wife. Of five years, although they’d been together since college. Ten years fucking the same woman. Or not fucking her, as Andrew so often complained. Jesus. I knew I couldn’t do it. I didn’t even pretend it was a possibility. I had rules and I didn’t keep them to myself. I was clear with the women I fucked. I didn’t pretend it was anything other than sex. There were no broken promises, no ambiguity. They never wondered if I would call—I never took their number.

There were a few women that had my number and I saw semi-regularly. And when I say saw, I mean fucked. Joan, who called me whenever she was between boyfriends. I was happy to help her out. Phoebe who lived in Boston but came to New York once a month and was a fantastic lay. And Fiona, who hadn’t called in a while, maybe she got married or something. But I never called them. Not ever. That was rule Number Five.

“Mandy wants to know if you’re still coming up to the Hamptons this weekend. I think she has a friend she wants to introduce you to.”

“Fuck, Andrew. I’m not fucking one of Mandy’s friends again.” Mandy had introduced me to Susie last December. I’d been clear—very clear—with her that I didn’t date. She seemed to be cool with that and she had great legs, so I’d taken her back to her hotel. The sex had been very average and then she tried to give me her number, which I politely refused, and she had gone bunny boiler crazy. Mandy was pissy with me. Andrew had tried to talk me into going to dinner with her. It was a fucking disaster.

“If I come to the Hamptons this weekend, I won’t be fucking any of Mandy’s friends under any circumstances. Can you tell her that? Can you make it clear that it’s not a case of not having found the right woman? It’s that there are too many right women for me to limit myself to one. Tell her, bud, or it’s going to get ugly.”

“You’re a dick.”

I grinned. “Likewise.”

“Later.”

I hung up.

“Anna” had been anything but average last night. She had been exceptional. Feisty, demanding, hungry, responsive. My dick twitched at the images invading my head. I picked up the pace to try to shake it off. When women understood that it was only ever going to be one night, it was better. They let go. Unusually, last night, it had been Anna who had made it clear that there was going to be no follow-up. That had never happened to me before. I found myself grinning. Her accent was cute. Her ass was better. Perfect—round, smooth, firm. I felt stirrings again. She was on vacation, right? Only stateside for one week. Enforced no strings. I’d already broken the no sleepover rule. I might as well use it to my advantage. I stopped dead. She would be naked right now. It was still early. I looked at my watch. I’d only been out fifteen minutes. I’d been planning on running for an hour, giving her time to get out before I got back. If I ran back now, she’d still be there and I could wake her with my tongue between her legs.

Fuck.

Morning sex didn’t count as real if you knew they’d be 3,000 miles away within a week. I started the run back to the hotel.





Anna

I awoke sore. I could feel the half-formed bruises on my neck, on my thighs, on my breasts. I smiled at the cause and then froze. Shit, I hadn’t meant to fall asleep. I had been about to get dressed and head back to Daniel’s place when Ethan had carried me back to bed, and true to his word, he had fucked me all night. Oh god. I’d never had so much sex in one night, never had such amazing sex, and never begged for it, as he told me I would, over and over. I squirmed, feeling myself dampen at the memory. Was he still here? I couldn’t bring myself to look. I couldn’t hear him breathing, but the bed was as big as a small country, so that was no wonder. Did he live here? In a hotel? I had so many unanswered questions. But, I told myself, I came here for fun, not answers.

I rolled to my side and swung my legs off the bed. The bed was empty. I held my breath, trying not to make a sound, so I could hear if there was any noise on the other side of the door.

Nothing.

I grabbed the robe that had been discarded beside the bed and pulled it around me, wincing as the movement brought my attention to my sore back. I headed to the bathroom and lowered the robe, angling my back at the mirror, to see if I could see the cause of the pain. My back was grazed. Oh yes, that was from the part of last night where I was up against the wall, my legs wrapped around Ethan’s waist as he pounded into me, pushing me farther and farther up the wall. Friction burns. I blushed and tried to suppress a grin.