A loud radio went a ways toward drowning out the sounds in his head. By the time he parked next to his building, exhaustion had overtaken him to the point he could easily stay in the car and nap as get out and go into his long-neglected apartment. The past few hours had been, on the Love scale of drama, a real ten point five. Cara pregnant had not been something he’d expected. But to find out, only to see her suffer as fate changed its fickle mind made his whole body seize with anguish. He groaned and put his forehead on the steering wheel. The heat finally forced him out, mind spinning and gut churning.
He slouched his way across the hot pavement. The building’s front door had been propped open as usual. His shoulder sang out, reminding him of Cara’s cool touch. Cursing under his breath, he unlocked and kicked open his door. Instead of being assaulted by stale air, accentuated by old garbage, he smelled a strange sort of freshness. A candle burned on the fake fireplace mantel and music came from somewhere.
“What in the.... Who’s here?” He dropped the six pack of Love Brewing Heartbreak IPA on the miniscule kitchen counter, unable to imagine who would not only have a key but would be inclined to clean his crappy space for him. “I’m not in the mood for this,” he muttered. “I need a shower and...oh... hello.”
When he walked into the single bedroom off the living room, he got an eye-popping view of female perfection in the form of Melinda, his former fiancée, dressed in nothing but a bra, garter belt, silk stockings, and shiny black high heels. She stood in front of his newly made bed. Another candle flickered on the bedside table. Music oozed from somewhere. The knee-jerk impulse to leap at her, to resume his life as almost-married to the successful, bitchy lady lawyer very nearly overwhelmed him.
“What the hell do you want?” he asked instead, bracing himself on the doorframe, as if it would stop him.
She moved to him quickly, putting her arms around his neck. As she pressed her mouth to his, soft, gentle, testing his resolve, he clamped down on the urge to meet her halfway. Her tongue breached his lips and his body responded in kind, hardening instantly and painfully, his heart thudding in his chest. With a low, growling sound, he grabbed her ass, mashing her nearly naked body against his.
“Oh, baby, I missed you,” she said after breaking away and smiling at him in a way that cooled his ardor ever so slightly.
Blinded by lust, by the need to feel connected to somebody, he shoved the misgiving out of his head. “No talking.” He grabbed her and tossed her down on the bed, making her giggle. Starting at one ankle, he nibbled and licked his way up, stopping when he reached the tempting center and doing it all over with the other leg, absorbing her every groan, every shiver, every spasm of pleasure. His cock hurt. His head pounded. His shoulder screamed in agony by the time he fumbled his zipper open, ripped her silky excuse for panties off, located a condom in his bedside table then shoved into her, sighing with relief. She angled her hips, locked her legs around his waist, and gripped his neck.
“Come on, baby. Fuck me like you know you want to.”
“Just don’t talk, for one minute, will you please,” he gasped and buried his face in her breasts, his hips moving of their own accord, thrusting, pounding, her exquisite tight grip pulling him toward an inevitable, quick end. “God, God, God,” he said, in time with his thrusts, unable to stop, unwilling to try.
He let the orgasm take him, not even bothering with guilt over not drawing multiples from her before taking his own release. It exploded from the base of his spine, blinded and deafened him to everything but the pure, physical sensation of her body gripping his dick in an exquisite vise. “Yes,” he hissed and shivered in the aftermath, sweat dripping onto Melinda’s breasts.
She kept her legs and arms around him, running fingers through his hair, murmuring apologies and other nonsense words into his addled brain. The after connection, something she normally discouraged, preferring to disengage, kick him out of the bed so she could clean up or whatever, lulled him into a light doze.
When he woke, he faced an empty pillow. Music drifted through the air as well as the smell of something delicious. Body sated, his mind went on high alert, questioning and second-guessing what he’d just done. He stumbled into the shower, cranking the thing to the hottest possible setting, wanting to wash her expensive perfume and lustiness off his skin.
He scrubbed and emerged, skin shining pink and stinging. After finding some shorts and an old T-shirt, he wiped off the foggy bathroom mirror and studied his face a few seconds before heading into the other room. Melinda had set the small table for two with china, crystal, and more candles.