One Night Stand

by Brooks, Sarah J.

  The more I thought about it, the easier it was to talk myself out of what would obviously have been a seriously dumb choice. I was glad that I found out about him and his kid sooner rather than later because I had a feeling it would have been all too easy to fall for someone like him—and then where would I have been? He had a child, pretty much the only deal breaker that I’d ever had in my entire life, and I wouldn’t have wanted to have that awkward conversation where I had to explain to him that no matter how great I was sure his daughter was, I didn’t want kids, and nothing was going to change my mind about that. He was hot, sure, but not hot enough to justify turning my whole life upside down.

  It was frustrating, though, because normally I would have gone to Ant for guidance on this kind of thing—but there was no way she wouldn’t figure out who I was really talking about. Logan had been right about his sister; the question, if she found out about the two of us, wasn’t if she’d kill us, but rather who she would kill first. If she had wanted to bring us together, then she would have done it already, and I had to trust her judgment and assume that she had a very good reason for that.

  But not having anyone to talk about it with made it harder and harder to shake from my head. I should have just shoved it away in a closet marked “never look again” and moved on with my life, but I was newly single and being all alone in that apartment was starting to get to me now that the thrill of moving in had started to wear off. Now it was just big and empty most of the time, and the more time I spent there, the more I found myself wishing I had somebody to share it with.

  So one night, I found myself sipping on my second glass of wine, my mind racing. My ex had never been great in bed—obviously since that would have required him to actually listen to me—and now that I had a taste of the good stuff and knew the source was directly upstairs, it was hard to keep my head straight.

  I put down the glass and went for a shower. I would have cleaned the place, but I had only just moved in, and there wasn’t much to take care of; in fact, most of the time, the place felt a little sad, still not fully decorated because I didn’t have the money to do it up the way I wanted to. I scrubbed my skin, hoping that it would be enough to get the craving for physical touch out of my mind, but it didn’t seem to do the trick. I returned to my glass, took myself to bed, and perched on the edge, glancing at the drawer that contained my vibrator. I could just … I could just get myself there. Get it out of my system before my stupid desire made me do something that I knew I shouldn’t.

  No. I was a big girl, and just because I was attracted to someone physically didn’t mean I had to pleasure myself to think straight. The logical part of my brain was going to win out because I needed to rely on it in future; I needed to know that it was going to make itself known when I needed it to. Yes, I could rely on myself. I just needed to keep busy and ignore the fact that I could hear Logan moving around upstairs, so I knew he wasn’t at work. That was irrelevant information. I didn’t care where he was … unless I needed a cup of sugar.

  I should have put down the wine, but the soft, warm buzz was helping get my mind off everything running through my head. Or at least I thought it was. But instead, as I felt the alcohol really hit my system, I realized I was just running his name through my head repeatedly: Logan, Logan, Logan. He had a good name, one that seemed to roll sweetly off the tongue, and I wanted to do more than that with my tongue to him tonight.

  Eventually, I heard the footsteps upstairs quieten—well, the little ones, the pitter-patter of feet on the ceiling above me. I downed the last of my glass and traced my finger around the rim; I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t even think about it. It had been a full week since we last even spoke to each other, and I had been perfectly happy keeping myself busy all that time. So why was it so stuck in my head now? Why did it pulse in the front of my brain like the only thing in the world that mattered, like an addiction I needed a fix on? I was going over those memories I had tried to lock away, the ones regarding what we had done together that first time. He had been so controlled, so strong, so passionate—I wanted that again, and I wanted it with him.

  I closed my eyes. Was I going to do this, or wasn’t I? Indecisiveness, I decided suddenly, was worse than going back on a promise. Was I going to do this or not? Was I going to go up there, and …?

  Before I knew it, I was grabbing my shoes and heading up there, heart pounding in my chest. I was so damn horny for him, and it all seemed to swell up on me at once—the tips of my fingers tingled, my body anticipating how good this would feel. What if he shot me down? The thought passed swiftly through my mind, but I shoved it out at once. No point letting myself get upset over being rejected before I’d even given him a chance to do it. I just wanted his hands on me, his mouth on mine …

  I was wearing a pair of shorts and a strappy top, nothing serious, and at least I thought to shave and slick on some lip balm that evening, so I didn’t look like a total mess. I had lathered myself in body lotion, something I maybe remembered to do once a month at most, as though subconsciously I knew what I was going to do that evening. I arrived outside his door and hesitated for a split second; was this really dumb? Disrespectful? He had said we had to lock things down between us, not let it happen again. And yet, here I was.

  Before I could talk myself out of it or so much as lift my knuckles to knock on the door, it opened, and I found myself face-to-face with the man I hadn’t been able to get out of my head. I opened my mouth, trying to think of something to say, and swiftly closed it again.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, glancing around as though this was somehow a set-up from his sister meant to catch him in the act. “Do you need something?”

  “You,” I blurted out before I could stop myself, and he came to a dead halt right there in front of me. I would never normally have come out with something so cheesy, but my brain had shut down as soon as I set eyes on him; his beard was a little scruffy and his hair a little messy, peak dad-hot.

  He raised his eyebrows at me and burst out laughing—well, that was better than him just turning me away on the spot, right? I shifted on the cold floor and moved towards him.

  “I know we said we wouldn’t do it again,” I continued, speaking quickly, breathlessly, quietly. “But tonight, I just couldn’t stop thinking about you …”

  “I’ve been thinking about you all week,” he admitted, and I bit my lip, and I noticed that his eyes flew straight to my mouth; I let my tongue trace my bottom lip slowly, watching as his eyes darkened a little in reaction. I loved this, how clear he was about his desire for me, how little he fought the urge to hold back.

  “Can I come inside?” I asked.

  “How bad would it be if I said, ‘Only if I can?’” he replied, and I burst out laughing and slapped my hand over my mouth to keep from attracting any attention to us. He held his hand out to me.

  “Come on, my daughter’s asleep,” he told me and tugged me over the threshold, kicked the door shut behind me, and then pushed me up against the solid wood and kissed me again.

  My toes curled as I kicked my shoes off and leaned into the kiss, and I thanked my lucky stars that he was as into this as I was. His hand looped around my waist as he pulled me against him, and I let out a moan against his lips—he pulled back and pressed a finger to my lips.

  “We have to be quiet,” he reminded me, and I sucked on the tip of his finger and slipped my hand between his legs, gripping at his swiftly-growing erection.

  “I can manage that,” I assured him, and he kissed me once more, sinking his fingers into my hips roughly as though trying to keep from making a sound by channeling it into my body.

  Which I was more than fine with. I wrapped my arms around him, and he swept me off the ground and carried me towards his bedroom, my legs curled around his hips, pulling him close. He was so addictive, more intoxicating than wine could ever be, and I tried to forget about the fact that his daughter was somewhere in this apartment with us. I just had to keep quiet
and get out before the morning, and I would be just fine.

  He closed the bedroom door quietly behind us and then slipped down onto the bed beside me; sliding his hand up my shirt, he pinched my nipple between his fingers and leaned down to kiss me again.

  “You have no idea how much I was hoping you would come back up here,” he murmured against my lips, catching one between his teeth and tugging lightly. I wriggled on the bed and stroked my hand over the stubble on his jaw; I liked its roughness, liked the contrast with the gentleness of his touch. My nipple was already swelling and growing hard beneath his fingers, and he began to make his way lazily down my neck as I arched off the bed, grinding against the air, desperate for relief. I looked down at him, at this absurdly handsome man as he traced his mouth across my skin, and I knew that we shouldn’t be doing this—and yet, there was no part of me that wanted to stop.

  “You smell so good,” he moaned softly, his breath warm on my skin, and I tilted his chin up so he was looking right at me.

  “I want you to fuck me,” I murmured, and I wondered where this woman had come from, this woman who could talk dirty as hell, who could flirt and seduce and say precisely what she meant. Maybe she had just been waiting for the right man to show up—maybe she had never been aroused enough to give in to her desires like this before.

  Logan moved up over me and kissed me again, this time moving between my legs; I lifted my hips and pressed them against him, already craving that gorgeous cock inside of me.

  But he seemed keen to tease me and to make me wait. He stripped me slowly, lifting my hands over my head as he pulled my shirt off; he touched them briefly, running his fingers over my skin.

  “Keep them here,” he ordered me, voice tense in my ear, and I did as I was told, knowing that he was going to make it worth my while. I closed my eyes and parted my lips as he moved down my neck once more, letting his mouth trail down my throat, across my heart. He grazed his tongue over my nipples so gently that it almost hurt, and when I let out a tiny sigh, he reached up to cover my mouth. Unable to make a sound, unable to touch him, everything ramped up a notch as he moved down, down, down.

  His mouth was on my lower belly as I drew his fingers into my mouth, running my tongue around the tips and sucking softly; his brow furrowed slightly as though he was doing his best not to get distracted. He withdrew his fingers from my mouth and trailed them over my throat for a split second before they found my breasts once more, using the lubrication of my saliva to torment me further. I pressed my lips together to keep from making a sound as he moved further down, pulling off my shorts and panties and spreading my legs like he owned me, and I needed reminding of it.

  He brushed his mouth up the inside of my thigh and glanced up at me with questioning eyes; I blinked and wriggled back and forth, letting him know that I wanted him. His breath was warm on my pussy, and the pressure was almost getting too much to bear. All I wanted to do was reach down and pull his mouth against my pussy—but I held my hands above my head, just as he’d asked, doing my best not to make any noise as I waited for him to give me the relief I so sorely needed. My hips were grinding the air again, the need intense, impossible to escape. And finally, finally, he pressed his mouth to my pussy and gave me what I needed.

  I gasped and held my breath as his tongue found my clit, as he began to draw slow, small circles around it; his mouth was so warm and soft that it made my entire body ache, but I kept my hands above my head and held myself still to let him do what he wanted to me. Spreading my legs a little further, he moved his fingers up and slipped them inside of me, fucking me slowly, and slowed the strokes of his tongue even further, caressing me torturously. I looked down and found him watching me carefully, his eyes locked on mine, and he must have seen the desperation on my face because they flashed with amusement before he turned his attention back to what he was doing to me.

  He went down on me like no one ever had before, like he couldn’t get enough of me—he sucked softly on my lips until they were engorged and sensitized, trailed his tongue from my clit to my slit and back up again, withdrew his fingers from me so that he could briefly fuck me with his tongue before he focused his attention back on my clit and sucked gently on me once more. He ate me out like he actually wanted to pleasure me, as opposed to getting this out of the way so he could do what he wanted. My legs were shaking, and my chest was heaving, and it felt as though my entire body was grasping and gasping for release. But he went slow, coaxing me there, guiding me gently and tentatively to the point where I could hardly hold myself together. It was too much, the feeling burning inside of me, and it took every single ounce of control I had not to cry out in agonized need for him.

  He sealed his lips around my clit and stroked me with his tongue as he moved his fingers inside of me, finding that place that made my entire body tense up. I was close, so close that I could almost taste it, and I lifted my head and looked down at him, and the sight of this gorgeous creature putting everything he had into making me come was enough to push me over the edge.

  I closed my eyes and clamped my thighs around him as the orgasm hit me, running me over like a freight train. I had no idea how I kept my mouth shut because it felt as though the sensation was exploding through me, prickling my skin, pulsing out from between my legs and over my body. Finally, I gave in and reached for him, touching his hair, his neck, his shoulders, and pulling him back on top of me. He kissed me once more, and I could taste myself on his mouth, and it only prolonged the pleasure.

  “Good?” he murmured in my ear, and I could hear that teasing edge to his voice as though he knew damn well how good it had been and just wanted to hear it from me.

  “Amazing,” I breathed in return, and I turned to kiss him once more. I needed this—I needed him inside me. And he seemed to understand just how badly that desire was affecting me.

  “Here,” he leaned over and grabbed a condom from the bedside table, and he stripped down swiftly and sheathed himself; I reached for him in the dark, wrapping my fingers around him and stroking him a few times, and he went to move down on top of me just like the time before—but I wanted something new. I knew what I wanted to give him.

  I flipped over, arched my back, and glanced over my shoulder at him, biting my lip playfully. His eyebrows shot up, and he grinned, not needing to be told twice.

  “Anything the lady wants,” he remarked, running his hand down my back and over my ass; he held my hip in place as he guided himself into me, and I bit my lip hard to keep from crying out in pleasure.

  “Fuck, you feel so tight like this,” he breathed as he began to move inside me. And I had to admit, it did feel fucking incredible; he was so big like this, made me feel so full. He thrust into me slowly at first, letting me get used to him, my pussy already slick from the orgasm he’d just given to me, but he was soon holding my hips steady and going harder, long, quick strokes where he buried himself up to the hilt inside me with every one. I pressed my face into the covers, hoping they would be enough to muffle the noises that were coming out of me.

  He slipped his hand between my legs and found my clit, stroking me in time with his thrusts; his other hand found its way to my hair, which he wrapped around his fingers and used to tug my head back just a little. I gasped, the pain mellowing at once to pleasure, and wondered if this was what he’d learned from all that wildness and all those hook-ups back when he was a carefree bachelor. It was criminal that he had gone so long off the market if this was what he had to offer.

  Soon, I could feel myself getting close once more, my body moving and shifting and grinding back against him; I could hear his breath coming harder, and I wanted nothing more than to feel him come, to know that I had been enough to push him over the edge. And suddenly, with one last thrust inside me, he held himself still, and he came.

  I twisted around to watch his face, and the sight of him totally lost to his desire for me was enough to push me over the edge. The pleasure swelled and burst once more inside me, his fingers pre
ssed to my clit and his cock still buried deep into me. He slid out slowly, releasing me back on to the bed, and I lay there and tried to catch my breath as he disposed of the condom.

  Now, I knew that I should have gathered my stuff and gotten out of there before his daughter woke up. I knew that was the right choice, and in my head, I was planning to say my goodbyes and get out the door and spend the night in my own bed. But the exhaustion of what we’d just done was overwhelming, and I found myself getting drowsy. By the time I felt him slip down beside me and throw an arm over me I was so tired that I couldn’t even remember why I needed to get out of there in the first place.

  “You have no idea how much I needed that,” he murmured, briefly cutting through my reverie, and he leaned over and planted a kiss on my cheek just as sleep roiled up and took me over. I found myself smiling as, for the first time in a while, I slipped into a restful sleep.

  I woke with a start when I heard movement, and suddenly all that endorphin-laden stupidness vanished from my head. I needed to get the fuck out of there, right now. Before his little girl woke up. I thought I could hear her in the bathroom, and I listened, frozen with fear as she made her way back to her room. How quiet had we been? Did she have any idea I was here?

  I turned to look at Logan sleeping next to me; that scrub of stubble on his chin was so cute I just had to reach out and touch it. But then he shifted in his sleep, and I jumped and pulled away. The last thing on Earth that I needed right now was him waking up and asking for an explanation as to why I was getting out of there so fucking swiftly after what we had done. I didn’t want to have to tell him that it had everything to do with his daughter and the fact that I didn’t want to have to explain what the hell I had been doing in her daddy’s bed.

  I got dressed quickly and quietly, and I felt a twist of guilt at what I was doing. What we had shared had been genuinely incredible, and it was clear that there was some sort of connection between Logan and me, even if it was just a physical one. Didn’t he deserve an explanation, for me to let him know that I would have hung around if it hadn’t been for his kid? No, that would only make it worse. I would just make sure that I never found myself here again, no matter what. He would probably be mad at me for sneaking off, and he would have a right to be, but surely, he didn’t want to have to explain the notion of no-strings-attached hook-ups to his daughter over breakfast the next day.