by Hawk, Maya
“Holy shit, you’re tight.” I grip her hips and pump myself into her. Her breasts bounce with each thrust, and I watch our reflection in real-time. Lauryn’s hands slide down the glass, leaving streaks as she rocks her hips against mine. My left hand travels to the front of her hips, trailing down until I find her clit.
Her mouth moans in response to my fingers, and I temporarily pause to make her taste herself. “Taste what I do to you, Lauryn. This is what you’ve been missing all these years.”
My hands grip her hips, and I pump ferociously into her, her body bucking wildly and letting me know she’s getting close. I don’t want her to come yet. I don’t want to come yet. I don’t want it to be over as soon as it started, but neither one of us have a choice. Our bodies have taken over, and our bodies have declared that they want each other.
My balls tighten. I come inside her, emptying myself as she squeals and moans, her hips churning and writhing against my stiff cock. When we’re done, I spin her to face me, taking her face in my hands and tasting her lips again before she has a chance to breathe a word. Knowing Lauryn, she’s already psychoanalyzing this and trying to make sense of something she has no business making sense of.
It is what it is, and it’s a beautiful fucking thing that I have no intentions of letting go of no matter what.
SEVENTEEN – LAURYN
I’m naked. My ass is plastered against the glass of Sutton’s living room and remnants of our sex drip down my slick thighs. My pussy clenches as the remainder of my orgasm fades into oblivion. I’m trying to catch my breath, mourning the loss of the way his cock – and his piercing – felt inside me.
Sutton is well-endowed. His cock fills every fiber of me with each thrust, and his piercing rubs against just the right areas. I’d almost forgotten what a real, man-given orgasm felt like.
I’m still reeling.
James who?
Stepbrother what?
Nothing matters now as Sut stands before me, his arms hooked around my waist and a dreamy, satisfied smile is captured on his handsome face. If we were laying in bed, now would be when we spooned. Or maybe we’d shut out the lights and fall into an orgasm induced coma together.
My mind switches, swimming through a lusty haze and emerging back to reality. I want to ask how many people saw us fucking. I want to know who all saw my breasts bouncing as my stepbrother fucked me against the glass for the entire downtown Miami population to see.
Sut takes my hand, leading me back to the sofa where he sits down. He pulls me onto his lap. We smell like sex and the soap from his shower that still permeates off his warm skin. His cock is slowly turning limp, but it’s still pressed against my wetness. I could easily go for round two if he wanted.
“I have to work tonight,” he says. “I haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours. You can either come back to my room with me and keep me warm with that tight body of yours, or you can make yourself at home while I sleep.”
Our eyes lock, and I debate on whether or not I should tell him I’m moving back to L.A. It’s probably not a good time to tell him, after he just fucked me and is staring at me like he wants me to have his babies, but I can’t string him along. I didn’t come here expecting to fuck him or expecting for us to reveal that our love for one another was still going strong after all these years.
He deserves to know.
“I’m moving back to L.A.” I tell him. I hold my breath, waiting for his response. My eyes close, and when they open, he’s still making the same face. It’s expressionless. I don’t know if he’s angry, shocked, hurt, or confused. Or maybe he’s nothing.
And then his jaw clenches. “You’re not letting that asshole run you out of town, are you?”
“James? Oh, God, no.” I vehemently shake my head. “Seeing how passionate you are about your job makes me want to find my passion. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life peddling drugs to doctors. That’s not my dream.”
“What is your dream?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” I pull in a breath and brush my hair from my face, which reminds me, I have sex hair. I haven’t had sex hair in years. I haven’t had hot sex in years. Vanilla sex doesn’t give you sex hair. “I spoke with my mom this morning. I’m going to live with her while I figure things out.”
I trace along his chest, my finger gliding along every ripple and muscular indentation, and I notice as it rises and falls with each steady breath. His skin is soft and tan and warm, baked by the Miami sun and sculpted by hours in a gym. His face falls, his lips forming a straight line.
“What?” I ask. “Say it.”
“You’re running, Lauryn.”
I climb off his lap, gathering my clothes from the floor. Now it feels silly to be buck-naked and having this serious discussion with him.
“I’m not running.” I step into my panties before tugging my leggings up. Eyeing the space around us, I see my bra hanging from the back of a chair.
“You can’t figure out your passion here?” He stands, redressing.
“I don’t have a job here,” I say. “Not anymore. I’m resigning.”
“I’ll take care of you.” He waves his hand in the air. “Live here. Live with me. Figure out your passion here.”
“Sutton…” My mind is made up. It was made up before he ever kissed me and told me he still loved me. It was made up before he took me against the glass and made me his for a short, passionate moment in time.
He heads toward me, steady as a freight train, and frames my face with this hand. His thumb runs along my bottom lip before he plunges in and presses his mouth against mine, hard. It’s desperate and sexy all at once.
He pulls his mouth from mine, leaving hints of his flavor on my tongue. “You’re never going to learn, are you, Lauryn?”
“Learn what?”
“You’re never going to learn to trust your heart, and that’s really unfortunate for you.” He releases my face and steps away. His silence concerns me because Sutton Pierce is anything but silent. He should be fighting for me. He should be pushing my buttons. He should be begging me to stay. But he’s not. He says nothing, disappearing down the hall into the darkness.
A door slams. I show myself out.
EIGHTEEN – LAURYN
It’s been two days since I walked out of Sutton’s apartment. Two days with an ache between my legs and a heaviness around my heart that won’t fade no matter how much I try to ignore it.
And now I’m standing at the head of a conference room, waiting for him to walk in so we can present to Miami-Dade OB-GYN group. My heart thumps hard inside my chest, and my palms sweat against the smooth plastic of the PowerPoint clicker.
“Presentations make me nervous too, honey,” an older female doctor says. She tugs on the pearl necklace at her throat. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. No one here bites. Except Dr. Bonnano.”
She chuckles to her herself and turns to her left, making idle chat with another physician. They pass around the tray of organic brownies I brought and unscrew caps on the Fiji water bottles I lugged in.
Sutton better not bail on me.
I grab my notes, not that I need them. I have this stuff memorized. I know it like the back of my hand. The clock behind me reads three past twelve.
“Ma’am, with all due respect, we’ve got patients to see,” a grouchy older doctor says at the opposite end of the table. He has a slow, southern accent that makes me think he’s from Savannah, Georgia. “Mind if we get on with it?”
That’s the thing about being a drug rep. People think it’s some fancy job where you get to shower your doctors with gifts. They think you get to drive around in a fancy car and charge the whole world on your corporate VISA. It’s not like that at all. At the end of the day, we’re just salespeople. And at the end of the day, that’s how we’re treated.
“Y-yes,” I stammer, forcing a smile to my face. I click to the first slide – a picture of a middle-aged woman holdings hands with her husband as they st
roll down a carnival boardwalk. “Arovag is the first and only drug on the market that targets low female libido.”
“I’m here. Sorry.” Sutton rushes in, out of breath and looking like he just came directly from the hospital, which is weird because he only ever works the weekend package. “I miss anything?”
I stare at him, gape-mouthed, until he rushes up and grabs the notes and clicker from my hand. He takes over, receiving undivided attention from each and ever white-coated doctor in the room. Something about him being a colleague garners him eons of respect and attention.
Folding my arms, I stand back and wait until he’s done giving his talk. He fields questions from other doctors, answering them like a pro, and when we’re done, he helps himself to the samples in one of my tote bags and hands them out like baseball cards.
An attractive, red-haired doctor comes up to him after the space is nearly cleared, but they’re standing on the opposite side of the room. I see them smiling. I see her place her hand on his arm. A small tingle of jealousy sears through me, and I push it away in an instant because I have no business being jealous. They finish their conversation, and she struts off, dragging her heels on the carpet and turning to offer him one last flirty smile before she disappears out the door.
She totally eye-fucked him.
By the time he turns toward me, I snap my gaze toward the mess on the conference tables. Wiping up crumbs and tossing out used water bottles, I clear up the mess and load my things back into my tote bags without saying a single word.
I catch him looking at me with his breath held and his mouth straight, and I know that look. He has something to say. Brushing past him, I run-walk toward the elevator before he has a chance to stop me, but it’s no use. He follows me, climbing onto the empty elevator right beside me.
He yanks a bag off my shoulder and grabs my roller suitcase.
Now he wants to be a gentleman?
“What’s your problem?” His brows meet in the middle, guarding his piercing golden gaze. I press the button for the main level, hoping to buy time, but I’ve only bought myself a paltry two seconds.
The elevator lowers us down, floor by floor. My stomach tickles, and I’m not sure if it’s because of the mild g-force of the elevator ride or if it’s because of the way he’s staring at my mouth like he’s five milliseconds from devouring it.
The doors ding and part with a clunky thud, and we disembark, only he grabs me by the crook of my elbow and pulls me to a little alcove behind the elevator bay. It’s a private area. No doors or people. I’m not sure who designed the space, but it’s a waste if I ever saw one.
“You going to talk to me?” He’s growing impatient, which says a lot because he’s one of the most patient people I’ve ever known. His body heat mixes with mine, filling the tight space around us and taking hold of my senses. His mouth is inches from mine, but he’s released my arm. He’s not holding me physically, but emotionally, he owns me right now.
But I’m not giddy or excited. I’m scared. I’m scared of what might happen if I give into him and give him what he wants: me.
“You didn’t call me for two days.” I hope if I pick a fight, we won’t have to talk about the real issue at hand.
“You left my apartment after you let me fuck you.” His nostrils flare. “What was I supposed to say?”
“Nothing, Sutton. There’s nothing to say. I don’t know why you’re making this a thing.”
“Are you mad because I was late?” He scratches the space above his left brow.
“No.” I say it with a laugh because I could give two shits less about him being three minutes late. He’s a fucking doctor. He’s never on time for anything.
“Then, what?”
“I don’t want to do this,” I say. “I don’t want to do this with you. I don’t want to talk about this or make this into a thing. It’s nothing, okay? Let’s go our separate ways and forget this ever happened.”
“You’re talking to me like I’m a goddamned one night stand, Lauryn. Do you hear yourself right now?” His voice is raised. A stampede of footsteps fills the area. People are getting off the elevator.
“Stop, Sut. Don’t do this. Don’t let anyone see you like this.”
“Guess what, Lauryn? I don’t give a fuck about what people think about me. It’s kind of how I do things. You should try it sometime.”
“What do you want from me?” I whisper through gritted teeth, my eyes darting over his shoulder to make sure the crowd has vanished. “You want to fuck me again, Sut? You want one last go-round to get me out of your system? Is that what it’s going to take?”
“Everything okay over here?” a man appears, another doctor, out of nowhere. Didn’t even hear him coming. It’s the grumpy southern one.
Stupid, silent doctor shoes.
“Everything’s fine, Dr. Bonnano.” Sutton waves him off, flashing an innocuous smile, and the doctor disappears just as quietly as he appeared. Sut turns to me, closing the tight space between us. “I couldn’t get you out of my system if I tried.”
I’m holding my breath, waiting for his next move. I close my eyes, and when I reopen them he’s gone. I catch the back of his white coat as he vanishes through the sliding doors toward the parking lot.
***
“Hey, Connie.” I rap on my boss’ door that afternoon. My hands clutch the white resignation letter I typed up the night before. I’m doing this. I’m really doing this. I’m quitting and moving and not looking back.
“Come in,” Connie sings. She’s perched in front of her computer, typing an email with angry fingers and a frown on her red lips. She stops as soon as I walk in and shut the door, her entire demeanor shifting like she’s happy to see me.
“Bad time?” I eye the computer screen.
She rolls her eyes. “It’s never a bad time for you, dear. Have a seat. What’s going on?”
I press the white envelope against my chest, pursing my lips and closing my eyes. By the time I reopen them, Connie is pulling the letter out of my grip and tearing it open.
“No,” she says, her eyes scanning the page back and forth, back and forth. “No, no, no.” She looks up at me and then back to the letter. “Lauryn, you can’t do this. You’re my best rep.” She releases the letter and it floats to the top of her teak desk. Her eyes glass over, but her mouth curls into a bittersweet half-smile. “I knew this day would come. I just knew it. Is it too late to talk you out of it?”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. No. My mind’s made up. Thought about it all weekend.”
She leans back in her desk chair. It doesn’t seem to be taking her long to accept the fact that in two weeks or less, I’ll be gone. She’s a resilient old mare. “You know, Odessa’s been dying to fill your shoes.”
Odessa was one of the newer reps. With legs up to her neck, fake breasts, and long, red hair always pressed in perfect beachy waves, she was a flirtatious head turner. Rumor has it she dates nothing but doctors.
“She’ll be working with Dr. McHottie,” Connie says. She lifts a single eyebrow as she waits for my reaction.
“More power to her.” I fold my arms and smirk. “He’s all hers.”
“This is about James isn’t it?” Connie’s shoulders sag. Her mouth is twisted into a disgusted grimace.
“Not exactly.” I think about elaborating, but I know none of it matters. Connie’s going to move on. I’m going to move on. None of this will matter a month from now or even a year from now.
“What’s your plan?” Connie asks.
“I’m not sure,” I say. “Just going back home to Brentwood. Will probably move back in with my mom, figure things out. Decide what I want to do next?”
Connie shakes her head. “Oh, to be young again. You think you have your whole life ahead of you, but you don’t realize the best years have already passed you by. You were too busy thinking they were yet to come.”
I ready myself for another Connie lecture, only this time I have to admit she’s making more sen
se than usual.
“Do me a favor,” Connie says, squinting at me. “Don’t look so hard that you forget what you were looking for in the first place. Sometimes the things we’re looking for have been right in front of us all along.” Her desk phone rings and she picks it up immediately. “Connie Saltzman speaking.”
I stand up, giving her a quick wave and motioning toward the door. She smiles and nods, waving goodbye. I’ll see her again when I turn in my things. I plan to give her a few days to cool off before asking if I can cut out a bit early. If I’m lucky, she’ll let me finish out the week and not work the full two weeks, especially if she can fill my shoes with Odessa at the snap of her manicured fingers.
Heading home, I call my mom to tell her I’ll be coming home. I fill her in on everything, and she gives me her full support.
“Can’t wait to see you, my love,” she says with her signature dramatic flair. “It’ll be just like old times.”
I climb the stairs to my apartment, the backs of my stilettos digging into my heels, only when I round the corner, I’m not prepared for what I see.
“Mom, I’ll call you back.”
NINETEEN – SUTTON
“What are you doing here?” She slips her phone into her pocket and pulls out keys, jamming them into her door. The door bursts open, bringing a gush of ice cold air, and I follow her in.
“I want to make sense of this.”
“Sense of what?” She’s playing dumb, and it’s really fucking pissing me off.
Lauryn kicks her heels off, which lowers her about a good four inches, and tosses her purse on a nearby chair. She rifles through her ‘fridge and pulls out a bottled water. “Fuck, it’s hot today.”
“Lauryn, look at me.”
She takes a swig and prolongs dragging her gaze my way. She’s acting like a goddamn rebellious child. I step into her space, grabbing her water and setting it down on the counter.
“Don’t do this,” I say. “Don’t shut me out like this. We were making progress. What happened? Don’t you at least have the decency to tell me what the fuck is going through that complicated little head of yours?”