The fears crawled back inside.
The bedroom was large, the bed larger. The curtains covering the huge double doors facing the deck were open, offering a million-dollar view of the pool and ocean. A sliver of moonlight illuminated the otherwise gray room, shining a little on the silky material of the blonde’s dress.
The one she’d removed.
Cal finished washing his hands, pretending to inspect his face in the bathroom mirror while eyeing her every move. She stood at the foot of the bed, the slate and satiny thing a puddle on the floor, her tiny breasts looking even smaller, but divine, her nipples erect, nothing on her body but jewelry and wantonness, necessity and loneliness.
“I don’t have protection.” He unbuttoned his shirt, slipped off his shoes and pants, still not looking directly at her.
“I’m on birth control.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“And you’re prepared to leave?” She glanced at the buttons on his boxers as she drew closer, svelte and naked … stunning.
“Yes.” Every nerve ending in his body gravitated toward the promise of being inside her. Still, he would leave. He didn’t fuck without a condom.
“I don’t believe you.” She opened the bathroom drawer on Cal’s right and began rummaging through it.
“I will.” Cal stroked the back of her hair, pushing his fingers through the thick, crimped locks.
“There are other things we can do,” she whispered.
“I want all of you.” Penetration or nothing. All with a woman whose name he hadn’t bothered learning. Didn’t need to.
“I found some.” She trembled, both hands shaking.
After moving her hair to the side, he pressed his chest to her back and inhaled, her scent something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He nipped her ear, her jawline, the corners of her lips as one of his hands fondled her breasts, the other finding her throat as he gripped her there.
Their eyes locked in the mirror.
“Breathe,” he said while lightly squeezing the hollow of her neck.
The moment she exhaled, her eyelids fluttered. Her knees buckled.
God. She was fucking exquisite.
Cal continued playing with her tits, tweaking the nipples, massaging, then pinching them, his touch causing her to make beautiful little sounds. Dragging his lips across her shoulder blades, Cal kissed his way down her backside, pressing his mouth over her soft skin, between strands of her hair as he dropped to his knees on the floor and immediately pushed two fingers inside her warmth.
Her upper body bent forward as she whimpered, clung to the countertop, and fucked his hand. Cal’s lips lingered near her bottom, her hips, her thighs, kissing her, fingering her deeper and deeper and deeper until she writhed and groaned and cried, until he felt she was ready to explode.
Then he removed his digits and stood.
“Open it.” He flipped her around, placed the package in her hands, and pushed her ass against the vanity. “Put it on.”
Cal’s face fell to her neck while she did as he said, her hands still shaking, his lips melting over her skin. In a fury, their tongues met, exploring and devouring until his lips became teeth. Nibbling her collarbone, her nipples, then cupping her sex until she heaved and moaned and began to pant the word no.
“No?” Cal lifted her onto the counter and spread her wide, first her legs, then her folds. Then he glanced up into her glazed eyes.
“Please,” she uttered.
“Which is it?” He stroked his dick over her slit, dragging the wetness from hole to clit. “No or please?”
The pale, blonde flapper answered only in broken vowels and eye rolls.
“Yes?” Cal said, his breath hot against her neck. “Do you want this?”
“Please … fuck … yes.”
In one quick motion, Cal pushed himself inside her while biting back the sounds of his own pleasure, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of hearing how much he needed this, how much he enjoyed it — he pummeled her cunt like he’d been starved for it. After months of fucking a few random women, then not fucking anyone — none of it had been like this, a loneliness being absolved or newly formed, a woman who understood, then would forget, someone who wouldn’t ask any goddamn questions.
A woman he had no doubt was married.
Fuck… He pushed that thought away.
The married, neglected woman would scream, come undone, surrender.
He would fuck her all fucking night.
One minute, he’d been observing her from across the deck, her eyes lost and blank and lonely, and the next, he was fucking her — fuck, God, fuck — he was fucking her.
Deeper. Faster. Harder.
Thinking he could drown himself inside her cunt, hide his shame by liberating hers.
Anticipating her climax, he beheld his own face in the mirror as her body began to shake and seize, her insides latching on to him, the tremble of her orgasm igniting him.
In a split second, Cal’s fears released.
He gripped her hips, held himself deep inside, unable to turn away from his reflection, seeing his own eyes in that fucking mirror as he came — his own fucking eyes. They were wide and distant and riddled.
The fears crawled back inside.
Both of them remained a moment in the uncomfortable position, breathing heavily, bodies pressed together, sweaty, mesmerizingly still, Cal holding her against the vanity, her chin resting over his shoulder.
He no longer looked at his reflection.
He didn’t need to be reminded of what he’d seen staring back at him.
The woman lifted her head, pushed gently against his chest, and tried to meet his gaze. “You never asked my name.”
Cal slid out, stepped away, and hung his head. She placed a hand on his back. Cal flinched but wouldn’t look up.
“Do you make it a habit to sleep with women without even asking their names?”
Palms on the counter, Cal remained silent, holding himself up like a toothpick in wet sand, eyes toward the floor yet wide and stinging, his heart full of uncertainty.
“You don’t talk much.”
“You didn’t ask my name.” He swung his bitter gaze in her direction.
“I know who you are.”
“And you told me who you are.” Cal swiped his clothes from the countertop and made his way to the toilet. “Loud and fucking clear.”