Just a Number

by A. D. Ryan

  It’s all right. Trying not to fall

  Asleep in psych.

  Tired? Maybe I should stay at

  the condo tonight…

  I fire up my computer while I wait for her response, and as soon as the monitor lights up, so does the screen of my phone.

  What? No way…unless you want

  to. I’m just bored out of my damn

  mind in this class. Blah. :(

  Well, I stopped by the condo this

  morning to pick up a few things, and

  Gretchen is gone, so if you need space

  to rest or study, I don’t mind.

  Except that I do. For some reason, I hate the idea of being away from her. It’s been a week since we’d originally gotten together, and I can’t imagine spending a moment apart from her. Some might consider this behavior dependent and on par with someone who might be on the rebound—and they’d probably be right. However, if I’m being honest with myself, these feelings I’m having would indicate that this is so much more than that. I genuinely care about Amelia, and there’s nowhere else that I would rather be than in her arms.

  I’d love it if you came over. I’ve

  enjoyed spending time with you, &

  this way you’re safe from the ice-

  bitch stopping by unannounced ;)

  I laugh, drawing attention from my assistant and a few coworkers outside my office as I reply. I’m not sure what prompted Amelia to start calling Gretchen the “ice-bitch,” but it’s oddly fitting and also quite funny. I’ll have to be sure to ask her later.

  Locks were changed this morning,

  so that’s an unlikely situation. I’ll be

  finished around 2, and then I have to

  stop and talk to Stephen. How’s 4?

  Another minute goes by before my phone vibrates in my hand, and I can’t help my smile from widening until my cheeks hurt as I read her latest message.

  Sounds great. I’ll be waiting for

  you…naked.

  Naturally, this message invites the memory of her naked body, and it’s all I can seem to think about. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing…until my clients show up and I have to try and think about their ad spread in several high-profile magazines and not the so-very-many positions I’d like to spread the twenty-one-year-old I’m involved with on her bed.

  I’m happy that I manage to make it through my meeting and get their next campaign straightened out so we can go ahead on the project. When all is finalized, I thank them for taking the time to come down before walking them to the elevator. Once they’re gone, I grab my phone and dial Stephen’s office to see if he’s got time to meet with me before I head over to Amelia’s place.

  Turns out, he has an hour free before he needs to head home, so I tell him I’ll be right over. I tell my assistant to forward any calls to my cell—unless they’re from Gretchen—and she smirks. She’s always hated my wife, but that’s probably because Gretchen is a raving lunatic and was always accusing Laura—a happily married woman with a little girl—of sleeping with me. That really should have been my first clue that Gretchen was fucking around on me behind my back. Don’t they always say that your own guilt makes you accuse others of the crimes you’re in fact guilty of?

  I knock on Stephen’s office door, drawing his light brown eyes to mine, and he smiles as he waves me inside. He gestures for me to take the seat across from him, and I comply. “Hey, man. How’s it goin’? Jules tells me you’ve got her busy redoing the condo? She’s pretty excited, especially since she hasn’t shut up about Gretchen’s horrific decorating tastes in the last thirteen years.”

  I laugh, running my fingers through my hair. “Yeah, I figured she’d be up to the task.” Then something occurs to me, and I arch an eyebrow inquiringly toward Stephen. “She’s going to bleed me dry, isn’t she?”

  Stephen’s eyebrows pull together with confusion. “Gretchen? Doubtful. Your pre-nup was iron-clad, and she was in breach of it.”

  “No, your wife,” I clarify with a smirk, and Stephen joins in on my laughter scratching the back of his blond head.

  “Oh,” he gasps between bouts of laughter. “Yeah, probably.”

  We sit for a few minutes, joking about my little sister’s outrageous spending habits, before we both finally cut to the chase. “In all honesty, Stephen, am I screwed?”

  He shakes his head. “Not at all. Like I said before, your pre-nup was iron-clad. It laid out the result of infidelity, and she was caught red-handed. She won’t get a dime of your money. I guarantee it. In fact, I say take her car back, too. That bitch doesn’t deserve to keep it.”

  Chuckling, I nod. “I already told her to prepare to give it back.”

  “Good.”

  “How long could everything take? Realistically, I mean,” I inquire, more-so because while I know my marriage is over, I still feel guilty that I’m legally attached to Gretchen and sleeping with another woman.

  “Most of the time, about a year.” He pauses a moment and shrugs. “But given the circumstances, this could all be done in a couple of months max. You could even be divorced by the new year.”

  The thought of ringing in the New Year with Amelia as a single man is liberating, and I find myself smiling.

  “Jules was right,” Stephen muses aloud. “You’ve met someone, haven’t you?”

  Always pretty empathetic to what others around him are feeling, it doesn’t surprise me that Stephen’s picked up on this, and I shrug. “Truthfully, I’ve known her a while, we’ve only just realized there could be more between us.”

  “But you’re not telling anyone about her just yet,” he deduces, shocking me a little.

  “You’re oddly intuitive,” I remark.

  “Or I have a very talkative wife,” he corrects with a crooked smirk and a snicker. “Look, I’ll do what I can. Since there’s really not a lot that has to be divvied up between the two of you given her whoring around on you—”

  A bark of laughter escapes me, interrupting him. “Is that a technical term?”

  “When it comes to Gretchen? Yes,” Stephen deadpans. “Anyway, things should run smoothly. She hasn’t got a leg to stand on, so this could be one of the simplest divorces I’ve ever had the pleasure of processing.”

  It’s the best news I’ve heard all day.

  After thanking Stephen profusely, I exit his office and make my way to Amelia’s place to share the good news. I’m pretty sure I break the speed limit the entire way to her neighborhood—something I seem to do whenever getting to her is of necessity—and I arrive before I know it, parking in one of the visitor parking spots. Sure, she doesn’t have a vehicle, and I could park in her spot, but the last thing I need is a surprise visit from Alan and having him find my car in her spot.

  I let myself into the building with the key Amelia gave me on Monday, and I make my way up the stairs and down the hall. The door to her neighbor’s place opens and he steps out with a bag of trash, looking at me as I walk by. I glance over my shoulder as I arrive at her door and find him standing there, still watching me as I push the key into the deadbolt. “Hey,” I say. “How’s it going?”

  He runs his hand through his shaggy blond hair and scratches the back of his neck as he casts his dark eyes down to his feet, mumbling something I can’t understand as he turns and heads for the trash chute. Amelia’s right, the guy’s a little weird, and I think that maybe he has a crush on her.

  The minute I close the door behind me and slide the deadbolt into place, a warm—and very naked—body crashes into mine, forcing me back until the doorknob presses into my lower back. Her lips trail up and down my neck as her hands slide up under my suit jacket and push it down my arms.

  She moans against my throat, and the sound travels beneath my skin. “I’d had this whole sexy vixen thing planned where you’d come in and find me on the couch or my bed…” She wraps a hand around my tie, her index finger looping over the Windsor knot and tugging it down to loosen it. “But seeing you i
n this fucking suit…” Her teeth nibble at the skin just below my ear as she pulls the tie from around my neck, and my cock responds with a twitch and a throb while my hands fly to her hips and pull her against me. “God, it just makes me so damn hot.”

  Her fingers are swift and precise as she slips each small button through its eyelet and removes my shirt, running her hands over my chest and down my abdomen until she reaches my belt. My muscles quiver under her touch as she undoes the buckle and then the button on my slacks, and she takes extra care to slide my zipper down over my now extremely hard cock. I groan, dropping my face to kiss her, but before my lips can touch hers, she drops to her knees before me, hooking her fingers into the waist of my pants and tugging them down carefully.

  Seeing her down there, eyeing my dick and licking her lips as she wraps her hand around it flips the switch in my brain to auto-pilot. I’ve imagined what it would feel like to be buried to the hilt in her mouth—envisioned what it would be like to watch her head move back and forth as my engorged cock disappears between her red, swollen lips—but seeing her there, her body trembling in anticipation as she leans forward and parts her lips has me struggling to keep from blowing my load before it’s time.

  Then her perfect pink tongue peeks out, and the minute it touches the tip of my cock, tasting the small drop of moisture that had gathered there, I snap back to reality and hold her just out of reach by her shoulders. “Wait,” I pant, breathless even though we haven’t even done anything yet.

  Her hands run over my thighs, her fingers curling and biting into my skin as she looks up at me pleadingly, and she even releases a tiny whimper. “Owen,” she whispers, shifting back and forth between her knees and trying to scoot closer again. “I want you in my mouth. Every last glorious inch of you.”

  Well, now she’s just sweet-talking me.

  It’s really hard for me to not give into her when she looks up at me with those big eyes, but I have to…for now. “Amelia,” I say, my voice thick and raspy. “You have no idea how much I want that, too, but we have to wait.”

  “Why?” She brings a hand back to my cock and strokes it, forcing my resolve to crumble a little and my inner caveman to rush to the surface before I am forced to bitch-slap him back into submission. Her sexual confidence astounds me, and there’s a part of me that wants to know where she learned this. Of course, the other half knows that that particular conversation would likely end with me in jail after having beaten every man that’s ever laid a hand—or even just his eyes—on her.

  I groan, letting my head hit the door behind me with a light thud as she continues rubbing my cock. I’m finding it harder and harder—no, not just my cock—to remember what we’re talking about, but I manage, and I even manage to remember the reason. “Because the clinic hasn’t called back with the results of my tests.” This is probably the least sexy conversation I’ve ever had while a woman’s hand has been wrapped around my dick.

  My eyes are still closed as I try to hold onto my self-control, but I can’t mistake the feeling of Amelia’s lips as she kisses the shaft of my erection once…twice…three times.

  “Jesus…fuck…” I mumble, my hold on her shoulders clearly weakening with every second considering I can feel the warmth of her skin against my legs. Then, before I can tell her that everything is probably fine considering I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even slept with my skank of a wife, she stands up and takes me by both hands, leading me back toward her bed.

  “Well,” she says coyly, sitting on the edge of her bed before moving herself to the center of it and letting her legs fall open. “I can assure you that you’ve got nothing to worry about with me…so you’re free to do whatever you want to this body.”

  The caveman is back in control, and I rush to fill the spot between her legs, hooking my arms beneath her thighs and leveraging her until her glistening pussy is aligned with my face. Using one hand, I stroke her folds, parting them and leaning in. She moans above me, and I glance up from between her legs to see her head fall back onto the bed as she clutches the comforter in her fists. Unable to take my eyes off her, I slide my tongue between her slick folds and around her clit, making her legs tremble.

  “Oh, god!” she cries out, her right leg flexing and threatening to kick straight out before she reins in the impulse.

  The musky scent of her arousal is intoxicating, and I swipe my tongue over her flesh again, bathing it in the taste of her, and watching as she comes undone above me. The sounds she makes—soft sighs, loud cries, moans, and groans—makes my cock impossibly harder, and I can’t wait to be inside her to relieve us both of our mounting climaxes. Of course, I’d like to let her get one off before I do this, so I double my efforts, flicking my tongue over her clit while sliding two fingers into her and searching out that elusive spot that makes her crazy.

  When she tightens around my fingers, and her cries are cut off as though they’re being strangled, I know her first orgasm has claimed her. I wait for it to ebb, kissing her inner thighs softly as her legs fall slack around me and her hands release the blankets from their death-grip, before inching my way up her body.

  Her blue-gray eyes are hooded and shining with elation as she threads her fingers into my hair, pulling my face forward until her lips are pressed firmly to mine. Her tongue delves into my mouth, colliding and sliding over mine as she kisses me deeply. She releases a moan into the kiss, tightening her hold on my hair as she takes my bottom lip between hers and sucks gently before releasing it.

  “God, Owen,” she pants breathlessly. “I can taste myself on your lips . . .”

  “Do you like it?” I ask in a rough, unrecognizable voice. I don’t know where the question comes from, because dirty-talk isn’t something I ever really partake in, but it’s out there now, and the excited gleam in her eyes doesn’t make me regret it one fucking bit.

  “I fucking love it,” she whispers, keeping her eyes locked with mine as she pulls me down for another torrid kiss.

  Her hips move up off the bed, forcing my cock to slide between her legs until it brushes her entrance, and I have to fight the desire to thrust into her tight, wet heat. “Amelia, we…we need a…” Every upward thrust of her hips has me stammering for the remainder of my sentence, and I’m so glad that women are able to use their brains at the same time as their libidos, because men can’t—not ever—and she understands what I’m trying to say.

  She twists her upper body away from me to grab a condom from her bedside table, and as soon as the rubber is in place, I reach above her and hold onto the edge of the bed as I drive my hips forward. I slowly bury myself inside of her, and she digs her heels into my ass in encouragement. While I want this to go on for much longer, the foreplay we’d engaged in has pushed me too close to the edge, and it doesn’t take much to send me over, my cock pulsing inside of her as she shifts her hips against me in an effort to chase down her own orgasm.

  The final waves of ecstasy are lapping around me as she snakes her hand between our bodies, and it isn’t until I feel her hand move in slow precise circles against my pelvis and notice her eyebrows pull together that I realize she’s making up for what I failed to do for her a second time. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long before she joins me, and even though I’ve already finished, feeling her contract around me sends a fresh surge of arousal through my veins. As much as I would love for it to be, it’s not enough for round two—not yet, anyway—and I collapse beside Amelia, kissing her sweaty shoulder.

  Sighing contentedly, Amelia’s head flops to the side and she kisses the tip of my nose. “That was awesome,” she pants.

  I’m about to agree wholeheartedly, until I remember I wasn’t entirely responsible for her second orgasm, so instead, I apologize. “I’m so sorry.”

  Her head pulls back, her eyebrows pulled together, but this time for an entirely different reason than a moment ago. “For what?”

  I’m unable to put into words what I’m apologizing for, but I can tell she already knows, a
nd it makes her giggle, my pride taking the hit and beginning to bruise. Before I can get too upset, though, she rolls over and straddles my hips. She’s still wet, and I feel arousal burning through my veins again as she continues. “You were amazing. So I needed a little extra nudge at the end there. That’s hardly something to be sorry about. I came twice, Owen. Because of you. Don’t ever apologize for that.”

  And just like that, she’s done what she’s always been able to do: she’s set my mind at ease and reminded me that what we have is more real than anything else in my life. I wrap my arms around her, crushing her body to mine, and I realize that my feelings for her are growing rapidly. And it terrifies me.

  But what scares me even more is the prospect of being without her.

  The next two days fly by, and Julia calls me Thursday night to tell me she’s finished with the bedroom. She tells me she’ll leave the keys with the doorman and the plans for the rest of the house are sitting on the kitchen counter for me to look over in case I want to change something.

  When I originally mentioned the condo remodel to Amelia, she told me I was acting a little crazy, but as soon as I brought up my reasoning, she seemed to understand. She’d only ever been to the condo once shortly after Gretchen and I bought the place and threw a house-warming party, so, when I invited her over for the weekend, she practically jumped at the opportunity.

  She had a study session with Liz after her last class, but told me she’d be done by six and would head over then. I asked if Liz would be dropping her off, and she assured me she still hadn’t told anyone, and that she was going to take the bus.

  In addition to talking to Julia, I get a call from the clinic, and stop by to talk with the doctor I’d seen earlier in the week and find out—much to my relief—that everything has checked out all right. While it’s not my intention to start having unprotected sex immediately, I’ll admit that it’s nice to know I didn’t contract something from one of Gretchen’s many escapades.