Good Morning Heartache

by Audrey Dacey

  Ryan grabbed her by the buttocks and lifted her to him. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he plunged into her. He pushed her against the tile wall and kissed the tip of her chin.

  She was hot and smooth against his member, and he had to concentrate to keep from climaxing too quickly. As he pushed into her, she began circling her hips again. Her back arched and she pushed her breasts into his chest. Her mouth opened wide, and she leaned down and sucked the water from his neck.

  He watched as her eyes shot open wide when she pulled away from him again, and she let out an unbridled cry of satisfaction. He pushed into her harder until he was as deep as he could get and let go. He came hard. Harder than he had come in a long time.

  She moaned again as her body pulsated around his penis and yelled, “Nomar!”

  Until that point, he had no regrets.

  §

  Alexis let out a final, satisfied moan as the strong arms of the man in front of her lowered her to the slick tile floor. She tilted her head back into the running water and combed her fingers through her wet hair. The water didn't cool her down as the aftershocks of her orgasm continued to pour through her.

  She ran her eyes over his hard body. Oh, yes. He was exactly what she had needed, and he did his job perfectly. She looked past the long hair that swept across his forehead and into his eyes. They were still stoic, and she wondered if she did her job as well as he had done his.

  She smiled at him and said, “Thanks.”

  He pushed past her to get under the showerhead and rinse his body off. Then he turned back to her, glaring, and said, “Nomar? Who the hell is Nomar?”

  “What?”

  “You screamed 'Nomar' while you were coming.”

  “Did I?” she giggled a little and a flash of anger washed over his face. “Oh, don't be offended. You should be honored to be in the ranks of Nomar.”

  “You're not married or engaged or something, are you?”

  “Absolutely not.” She looked sternly at him. “And I don't want to be.”

  She reached past him and turned the silver knob until the water shut off. She pushed open the smoky glass door and grabbed a towel from a large woven basket outside the shower.

  She looked back at him as she wrapped the towel around her chest and stuffed a corner into the top. It was obvious he was still confused. Apparently he wasn't from around here.

  “Nomar Garciaparra. He used to play for the Red Sox. He's my go to guy for…mmm… fantastical ideals. Apparently you approached that ideal. Congrats. It's not like I could shout your name,” she paused for a moment, and then added, “buddy.”

  His skeptical eyes stared her down while she handed him a white towel. Alexis just shook it off, grabbed her panties off the floor, and wrung them out over the drain. She watched him as he wiped the water off his smooth skin with the towel. He was a beautiful man. She wondered if he'd be up for a second round. While the first orgasm was a necessity, a second one would be pure decadence. She had always appreciated decadence.

  He ran the towel over his head vigorously for a few moments, and when he was done, he looked at her intently and asked, “You like baseball?”

  Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped for a moment. “Are you kidding me? Who doesn't like baseball? It's immoral to dislike baseball. You might as well go around punting puppies.”

  His mouth turned up in one corner for just a moment, and then he turned away and stepped out of the shower while wrapping the towel around his waist.

  She followed and shouted after him, “You like baseball don't you?”

  “Yeah, I like baseball,” he said, running his fingers through his long hair, slicking it back.

  “Thank God.” She reached down and pulled off the gold heels, rubbing her feet briefly. She really should have kicked them off earlier, but she was too busy trying to get this guy to sleep with her, and the heels seemed to help her cause. “So, what's your team? And if you say the Yankees, this,” she waved her finger between the two of them, “never happened.”

  “The Cubs.”

  Alexis threw her head back and laughed hard. She reached up and touched his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. Between gasps of air she said, “I'm sorry. It's not funny.” She calmed herself, but a few more giggles managed to escape. “But seriously, that's gotta be terrible. They haven't won a Series in over a hundred years. It can't be easy to root for a team that sucks that hard.”

  A bit of humor came to his eyes, and his intensity was beginning to wane. “No, it's not easy. You should know that. It wasn't all that long ago that your team was in a very similar situation,” he pointed out.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She waved her hand dismissively. “But we broke our curse. And at least ours was cool. Billy goats? That's just not badass.”

  He moved closer to Alexis, towering over her small frame. For a moment she felt a wave of anxiety, maybe a little fear, but she stood a little taller to ward off the feelings.

  “At least we didn't whine for eighty-six years about losing a player to the Yankees to finance a Broadway play.”

  She was at a loss for words and a little pissed off. So, she pushed past him, and while walking away, said, “Whatever.” She was very passionate and defensive when it came to the Red Sox. It was the one thing her family really bonded over.

  Alexis strolled to the bedroom and bounced onto the bed. Her towel dropped off her body, and her breasts jiggled. “You want to keep talking about baseball, or do you want to talk me into another go round?” She smiled for a moment and for the first time she saw a real grin on the man's face.

  “Definitely, round two. But you have to promise me one thing?” He walked to the edge of the bed and lightly slid his hand from the top of her chest to her mound.

  Alexis let out a breathy laugh of pleasure. “I thought you didn't want a commitment.”

  “Just one.” He paused to pull her lips to his mouth. “Don't call me Nomar.” He rubbed her gently, and her back arched, pushing her closer to him. “What should I call you?”

  “Ryan,” he said as he dropped his towel to the floor, lowered his body, and planted kisses on her inner thigh.

  She felt the rush of orgasm through her body twice and was at the mercy of Ryan’s skilled hands and thrust. By the end, she was unsure if she was going to be able to stand for more than a few seconds, and she took a couple of minutes to catch her breath before climbing out of the bed.

  Ryan just lay in bed staring at the ceiling. “You really know what you're doing, don't you?”

  “I'll bill the room.” She smiled at him, wishing she could lock him up in her nightstand and pull him out when she needed a good time. Then again, she liked variety. After a while his brand of sex just wouldn’t be exciting any more.

  He turned his head and looked at her as she stepped into the puff she had stripped off a couple hours earlier. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I guess you'll find out when you check out.” She smiled as she zipped up the dress and gathered her things off the floor.

  “You're really leaving?”

  “It's been nice, but I got what I came for. Now, I need some sleep, and that is going to be easier in a bed without you.”

  Alexis looked into Ryan's blue eyes one last time; they seemed a little brighter now. A calm had come over them, and she was pleased with herself.

  “Can I get your name before you go?” Ryan asked. “I'd like to know who to credit this night to.”

  “I don't think so, buddy.” She looped the back straps of the pumps over her fingers. “Thanks again. And have a good life.”

  With that she moved to the door and headed out. He didn't try and stop her, and she was glad. The last thing she needed was another love-sick puppy to take care of. The ones who were resistant at first tended to end up being stalkers, but this guy didn't even know her name and that was for the best. It was hard to stalk someone when you didn’t know who they were.

  Alexis smiled. All her unwelcome thoughts of ma
rriage had been washed away in a river of orgasm.

  Chapter 3

  Alexis hadn't slept as well as she did that night in a long time. Ryan had worn her out completely, and the thoughts that normally crept into her mind before she went to bed didn't have time to rise before her lids dropped into a deep, sound sleep.

  She was surprised to see it was after nine when she awoke. She looked at the strange room around her and remembered she had stayed in the hotel. While some said she engaged in risky behaviors, drinking and driving wasn't one of them, and she booked the room minutes after finding out there was going to be an open bar at the reception. The black and purple wallpaper and the long dark drapes had kept the early morning light out of her room.

  She sat at the lacquered desk across from the foot of the bed. She clicked on the little lamp and pulled out the complimentary stationary and pen. She had to write something—anything. She didn't care if it was good. She just wanted words.

  “I am a writer,” she reminded herself aloud.

  It was true. She knew it. A lot of people did. But for the last seven years no inspired ink had touched the page. It really ticked her off.

  Screw you, Frank Carello.

  She blamed her block on him because it was absolutely his fault. She had written only one thing since he left her, and it was in a state of absolute rage. Once the rage faded into sadness, she couldn't develop a single plot, character, or setting.

  Once upon a time…, she started. Beyond that there was a blank spot in her mind where a story should be.

  Once upon a time she had been another idiot in love. She had lived in a fantasy world where people saw each other across the room and knew they were meant to be together forever. A world where a man could live in her heart, and she would let him, because it felt good. A world where words flowed out of her mind and onto the page.

  And then one day she woke up. Frank was the one who killed the dream. For a while she resented him for the broken heart, but she realized that was for the best. Love didn’t exist. It was better she figured that out when she was young, before she got married. Now she resented him. Since he left she had written only one story. Sure, it was published, but at what price?

  The story didn't make her much money. She didn't care. She didn't need the money. All she needed was to produce something, and that she couldn't do.

  “Damn it!” She threw the pen on the desk, and it bounced a couple of times before rolling off the edge along the wall. She leaned back quickly and with so much force that the chair tipped onto the back legs for a moment. Alexis thought she might fall, but the chair righted itself with a soft thud on the carpet.

  She stood up and ran her hands along the length of her torso. The silky pink camisole soothed her skin, and she adjusted the waistband on her panties so they were straight on her hips.

  Glaring at the four words, she thought, Why do I have to start my days this way? How can Frank still have this much power over my life?

  It's not like she was still sad over Frank. There were other tragedies in her life worth crying about, but she was basically over them, too. Her life was good now. And she was happy. Definitely happy. So why did her mornings have to start with the heartache of not being able to write?

  Alexis realized she could keep herself from getting hurt by another jerk like Frank, so she devised rules and arrangements. She was delighted with how things worked. The men in her life gave her sexual release (though some were better than others), and that was all she wanted. She was pretty sure most of them preferred it that way, too.

  She yawned audibly, stretching her hands over her head. Her cami rose over her belly button, and her stomach growled. Breakfast. It was an achievable goal for a day that once again began with failure.

  When she sat down in the hotel's restaurant, she considered treating herself to something sweet, decadent, and bready but ended up ordering fruit and yogurt. Having a huge butt and love handles would work against her in the pursuit of men. She liked to work out, but not that much, and if she was honest, she spent more time doing Kegels than any other exercise.

  She sipped the hot, nearly black coffee carefully to keep from burning her tongue. Alexis looked across the busy room and caught the stare of a pair of icy blue eyes she thought she'd never have to see again. She glared at him and grunted under her breath.

  §

  Ryan closed his menu and met the gaze of the unhappy woman across the room. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk to the stranger he spent the evening with, but when he saw her sitting alone at breakfast, he stood up, and his feet drew him toward her.

  He thought a causal “hello” would be appropriate. She had been good to him. He hadn’t had any intention of sleeping with her or anyone at that wedding, but he was glad to end his dry spell. It's not that he hadn't wanted to have sex. He did. It was just that he was busy at work, and the women he did meet were looking for something more than just sex, which was something he couldn’t and wasn’t willing to try to provide.

  She had been better than any woman had ever been to him, at least in bed, and for him, because she had no illusions about where this wasn't going. She deserved at least the basic pleasantries.

  He didn't expect that he would sit down in the chair across the table from her, but it was awkward just standing there in front of her without anything to say. It was all he could think to do, so he did it.

  Ryan could tell from the look on her face that she wasn't expecting it either. He knew it wouldn't lead to anything beyond breakfast. There were a couple of days before Daniel would be in town, and frankly, a little conversation would be nice before isolating himself in Small Town, Massachusetts.

  She set her cup down on the saucer in front of her, and he watched as she licked her lips, trying to catch any rogue liquid. Oh, the things she could do with those full, pink lips.

  Her face flushed, and she crossed her arms under her breasts. “What the hell do you think you're doing?” she demanded in a hushed tone, as if someone might catch them together.

  He wondered for a moment if she lied last night. Maybe she was married. If that was the case, she deserved any consequences that came with him sitting across from her, so he simply replied, “Having breakfast.”

  Ryan waved the waiter over to the table. The server filled a cup with coffee, and Ryan ordered a full stack of pancakes, bacon, and two poached eggs. “Charge everything on the table to room 332,” he finished as the man in the floor length apron turned away.

  Though Ryan spent many nights in fancy restaurants wearing expensive suits, he just wanted to be comfortable for one day. To not have to worry about who the guy two tables over was and what he might think if Ryan grabbed the wrong fork. Luckily no one here was important enough to impress, so today was going to be that day. He was obviously underdressed for the restaurant in his khaki cargo shorts and navy blue polo, but no one actually seemed to care, so he wasn't going to put forth any further effort.

  Ryan watched as she shifted in her chair as though she were trying to get comfortable. Her eyes were focused intently on his face. Ryan couldn't tell if she was nervous, angry, or a little bit of both.

  “You can't just come in here and buy me breakfast,” she said with a slight edge to her tone.

  “Apparently I can.” It was fun to watch her squirm.

  “This was not part of the agreement.” She looked as though she was becoming exasperated: her jaw clenched, her fingernails dug into the soft skin of her arms, and her eyes blazed. “Remember. No commitment. Nothing that even looks like commitment. Breakfast the morning after doesn't really bode well with that agreement or with me.”

  She wanted the same things he did, except she was nervous at the thought of anything that looked like more than sex. Whatever the reason, it was obvious she didn’t want him there.

  “Don’t like agreements. They’re too much like commitment.”

  She forcefully blew a breath out of her nose and narrowed her eyes at him. He smiled back at her. “Besides,
you didn't stay in my room. That's got to cancel out any meaning this could have.”

  She lifted the mug back to her mouth and took a large swig. Coughing, she spit the coffee back into the cup, as it was obviously too hot, and put it down before grabbing a water glass with her other hand and bringing it to her mouth.

  “Ah,” she whispered, gasping.

  He grinned.

  “You think it is funny when someone burns their mouth?” she asked, putting down the water glass so firmly that the table shook and the silverware jiggled a bit. “If I had known you didn’t have compassion for your fellow man or any sense of obligation to good-faith agreements, I wouldn’t have slept with you.”

  Ryan grabbed the napkin lying beside his fork and spread it across his lap, “You're very entertaining.” More than that, she piqued his curiosity. For some reason he wanted to know more about her. He didn't want to date her, or even see her after this meal, but for now, this morning, he'd like to know about the beautiful creature in front of him who gave him a great ride the night before and was driven slightly mad by the thought of breakfast with him. But first he had to take care of something that was driving him crazy.

  “What's your name?”

  She scoffed. “Why would I tell you that? That would break another one of our agreements.” One side of the knit short-sleeved sweater covering the blue and white striped sundress she wore slipped off her shoulder. He looked at the golden skin that was revealed and fought the urge to lean across the table and nibble the exposed flesh.

  “Because I asked.” And just to help contain himself, he added a reminder for both of them. “You're in polite company. Polite company introduces themselves to strangers sitting at their table.”

  “Listen, I know I probably gave you a come-to-Jesus moment last night, and I was happy to make the trade—believe me. But I don't want another stalker, Ryan,” she said, reminding him she had just a little more information than he did.