One And Done

by Cynthia Sax

  Chapter Fourteen

  When I leave my bedroom in the morning, Azure is staring glumly into a cup of herbal tea. Contemplation isn’t like my free-loving friend.

  “It’s Friday.” I try to cheer her up. “You’ll soon have two full days without the corporate overlords.”

  “Zanetti’s assistant is pregnant.” Her shoulders slump. “Rumors say the baby is theirs.”

  “Theirs?” I pour myself half a cup of coffee, fill the other half with cream and sugar. “All three of them fathered this child?”

  “It isn’t yet known which man is the biological father.” She pushes her cup away from her. “That’s one of the complications of sharing your woman with two of your buddies.”

  I sit beside her. “You want to be the woman they share.” Her flings with Mikie The Wonder Kid, Duke and other men were distractions.

  “There’s a baby involved. I won’t break up a family.” Azure has some limits, not many, but some.

  “I thought Zanetti’s assistant was living with someone?” I sip my coffee. “There was that guy she brought to the holiday party.”

  Azure shrugs.

  I study her. My friend is truly upset about this. “Ask Zanetti about the baby. He’ll tell you the truth.”

  “And if I don’t want to hear the truth?”

  I understand that thinking. Part of me wonders if I would have been happier if I’d never gone to Smoke’s club, if I’d never found out that Edward had been cheating on me. “Talk to him, hear the facts, then move forward.”

  “I don’t care about Zanetti.” Azure crosses her arms in front of her. “Are you moving forward? You meditated with Tarun yesterday.”

  My face heats. “Did he tell you I asked him to sleep with me and he turned me down?”

  Her mouth drops open. “No.”

  “Yes.” I grab a chocolate chip cookie from a tin, bite into it, needing the sweet treat this morning.

  “Was it after meditation?” Azure narrows her eyes. “Because he doesn’t like to sully his mind with sex once it’s been purified.”

  “If a man wants a chick, he’ll fuck her in the middle of a tornado, while his ass is on backwards.” I quote Smoke, finish my cookie, start another one. “Tarun doesn’t want me, not enough, and I’ve wasted enough time on one-sided relationships.”

  “I thought you wanted casual sex, not a relationship.”

  It’s my turn to shrug.

  “Because your nightclub owner, while fun, is firmly in the casual sex category.” Azure takes the tin away from me before I can reach for another cookie. “You’re not still seeing him, are you?”

  “I talked to him yesterday.” I avoid her gaze. “But before you say anything, he’s hooking me up with my next one-night stand.”

  Both of Azure’s eyebrows lift. “He’s pimping you?”

  “There’s no money involved.” Deprived of cookies, I stand, then sling my tote over one shoulder.

  “That you know of,” my friend mumbles.

  “I trust him.” I head toward the exit.

  “You trusted Steady Eddy too.”

  That’s true. I’m not the best judge of character. I leave the apartment, stroll along the hallway, take the stairs. Halfway through the descent, I regret this, my calves aching, but I continue, determined to lose weight, to fit in Smoke’s tiny sports car.

  Woofer isn’t at his post, outside the front doors to the apartment building. I miss him. So damn much. I give his bagged breakfast to Joe, a bearded homeless man.

  I walk half a block and glance over my shoulder. Joe has flung my gift to the sidewalk and is peeing on it.

  ***

  I’m an invoice-processing machine all morning. Lunchtime is as industrious. Skipping that meal should make up for my cookie breakfast.

  In the afternoon, I switch to calling major business tenants, something I do weekly, ensuring they don’t have issues they require assistance with.

  Smoke hasn’t contacted me about finding a replacement player. Patience isn’t one of my strengths. Around two o’clock, I enter a meeting room, close the door, and press his number on my phone.

  He answers immediately. “Baby, I’m not your man. You can’t call me every time you have a problem.”

  “But you said you’d help me fix this problem.”

  Silence stretches.

  Maybe he doesn’t remember our conversation. “You said you’d introduce me to a man like you, someone who will teach me about sex.”

  “You truly want that?”

  Why does he sound so skeptical? “Of course, I do. Edward dumped me due to my lack of experience. I have to fix that or my next relationship won’t work either.”

  “Eddy is a jackass.”

  Part of me, a tiny part still loyal to my cheating ex, wants to disagree with Smoke, but I stay silent, not wishing to venture off topic, fearing we’ll never return to it.

  “Fuck.” Smoke cusses. “If I don’t do this, you’ll go to another bar and pick up the most dangerous man in the place, won’t you?”

  “Knowing my track record, that’s highly likely.”

  “Your list of sexual challenges would have to be shared with others,” he warns.

  He’ll tell another man, a stranger, my private erotic fantasies. I suck back my protests. “I trust you.”

  “You trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Jesus H. Christ,” Smoke curses. “This breaks all of my rules, baby. We’ll have to be careful or someone will end up hurt. But I’ll do it.”

  “Do what?” Me? I’d like that. I wiggle.

  “I’ll arrange your sex with a stranger. Come to the club around five-thirty,” he instructs. “Expect the unexpected and don’t let it scare you. You’ll be safe within the building.”

  “I shouldn’t mace this stranger?” I tease.

  “No mace. No tasering. No kneeing groins.” He chuckles. “Trust me, baby. I won’t let anything bad happen to you…or to your magnificent tits.”

  I grin. He’s thinking about my breasts again. “What about my blow-job lips?”

  “They’d look good wrapped around my cock, your plump cheeks indented as you suck me off.” The club owner’s voice lowers, a deep rumble teasing my skin. “You’re built for fucking, Jenella, from the soft curls on your head, perfect for caressing a man’s balls, to your lickable insoles.”

  “Will you teach me how to caress a man’s balls with my hair?” This sounds awkward, with a high potential for making me look like a spaz.

  “The deal is I’ll help you with the stranger sex. That’s it.” Smoke shoots down my request. “Then we go our separate ways. My life returns to normal. There will be no more early morning calls.”

  “I waited until two o’clock today.”

  “My body didn’t know the schedule.” He’s back to being grumpy. “I woke up at eleven in the fucking morning, hard as a post, expecting to jack off to your sexy voice. It was damn irritating.”

  “Oh, poor baby,” I murmur, secretly thrilled. “Did you get a lot done?”

  “That’s not the point.” His lack of an answer tells me he did have a productive day. “The point is you’re fucking with my system. Tonight, I’m seeing you for the last time. There will be no more special requests.” He ends the call.

  After tonight, I won’t need him. I’ll have the name of a replacement player. I return to my desk, a big smile on my face.

  I work, or try to. An hour later, I Fought The Law plays, my ring-tone volume low. Edward is calling me. Despite knowing we’re over and he doesn’t love me anymore, I’m excited, my heart pounding in my chest.

  “Hello, Edward,” I answer as calmly as possible.

  “Jenella.” His voice is warm, more like the voice of the man I once adored. “Have you seen that tie my mother gave me for my birthday?”

  My stomach growls. Loudly. I clutch it with my free hand, trying to stop the noise. “The tie with ‘I heart my mother’ plastered all over it?”

  “Yes.�
�

  I grin. “You hate that tie.” It isn’t hideous. If it weren’t for the message, it would have been wearable.

  “She’s coming into town tomorrow and she asked specifically about it. Do you still have it?”

  “I think it’s hidden away in my closet.” I stored the tie there. Edward suggested I throw it away but I didn’t think it was right to discard a gift from his mother.

  I was correct about something.

  Yay me.

  “Thank God.” Edward blows into his phone. “I’ll swing by the apartment in the morning and pick it up.”

  He’ll pick it up. He’s not sending an intern.

  Edward wants to see me.

  Do I want to see him? He’s hurt me, badly. I doubt I can ever trust him again, can ever move past his betrayal.

  “Okay,” I concede. “Call before you drop by.” My finger hovers over the end button.

  “I miss you,” Edward blurts.

  “And you want us to be friends.” My lips twist. “We’ve had this conversation.”

  “Yes, no, yes.” He sounds as confused as I feel. “I don’t know what I want us to be.”

  “Figure it out.” My words are curt. “But don’t expect me to wait around. I have my own life to live.” I end his call.

  ***

  Not wishing to be late, I arrive at the club ten minutes early. I fluff my hair, remove my black jacket, and untuck my yellow silk blouse, before I stride into the building, my tote slung over one shoulder.

  It’s not a super sexy look but I’m coming from work. It’s all I can manage.

  “Got any cookies for us, miss?” Tyrice, the bouncer, stands inside the closed club, his huge form leaning against the wall.

  “’Fraid not.” I didn’t expect to see him today.

  “Too bad.” He surveys my lush figure, not hiding his appreciation of my curves. “Your cookies taste as good as you look.”

  Yay. My improvised look works. “Thank you, Tyrice.”

  “According to my new roommate, you’ve been holding out on us, miss. Woofer says your oatmeal raisin are even better than your chocolate chip.”

  They’re roommates. Woofer has a place to stay, is no longer homeless. One of my concerns about the boy disappears. “Oatmeal raisin are his favorite. Others prefer the chocolate chip.” Edward did. “How is Woofer working out?”

  “He’s working.” Tyrice grins. “I’ve never seen a boy work so hard. ‘Course he’d work harder if he had cookies.”

  “You’re subtle.” I laugh. “I’ll bring cookies the next time I drop by.”

  “We’d appreciate that.” Tyrice’s eyes sparkle. “The boss is expecting you.” He waves a big hand toward the hallway to the right.

  “Thank you.”

  I head in that direction. Both Smoke and the stranger he promised to supply are waiting for me. A shimmer of excitement skitters down my spine. What will the new man be like? Will he have collar-length black hair, a killer smile, sparkling brown eyes, a tattoo on his neck?

  I stop. When did Smoke become my ideal man?

  That’s not good, not good at all. I hurry along the hallway, my hips swaying, my heels clicking on the floor. Smoke and I have no future. He—

  A door opens to my left. A tanned hand reaches out and pulls me inside a dark room. I can’t see anything, can’t free myself. I struggle, dropping my jacket and tote. The man’s grip is too tight. I open my mouth to scream.

  He covers my lips with his, muffling the sound. I fight, trying to break free. The man pushes me backward, against a wall, trapping my body with his muscle, and he kisses me, pulsating his tongue into my mouth, his rhythm smooth and sure.

  I can’t move, my wrists captured and my legs secured. All I can do is stand upright and take this ravishment.

  He’s not hurting me. He’s seducing me with his touch, his musky scent, his heat.

  Oh shit. This is my stranger. Despite Smoke’s warning, I came damn close to kneeing him in the groin. Feeling sheepish, I melt into him, submitting to his embrace.

  He releases my wrists. I slide my fingers up his silk-covered chest. Smoke wears silk shirts. Is he touching me, pretending to be my stranger?

  Or is this someone else, someone he asked to fuck me? He cups my breasts, lifting them, kneading their bounty with knowing hands. My stranger would have seen me as he pulled me into the room. He knows I have fuller curves.

  I explore his body, the broadness of his shoulders, the definition of his chest, his cascading abs. He’s built. There’s not an ounce of fat on him.

  Yet he wants me. The hard ridge in his pants presses against me, proof of his desire. I grind against him, teasing both of us, driving our passion higher and higher. He tugs my blouse over my head and removes my bra as adeptly. This isn’t his first quickie in the dark. My stranger knows what he’s doing.

  He drags his mouth down my neck, between my breasts, squeezing my curves together until he’s smothered by my skin. Fuck me. This feels good, hot and wet and nasty. I thread my fingers through his hair, hold him to me as he licks and sucks.

  A stranger has his face burrowed between my breasts. He’s seen me, knows whose body he’s caressing. I haven’t a clue as to his identity, except that he knows Smoke or possibly is Smoke.

  That last possibility increases my excitement, even though I know it is unlikely. This man is a stranger. I could pass him on the street tomorrow. He’ll know what we did, that he sucked on my nipples, mouthed my curves, hopefully fucked me senseless, and I’ll have no idea. Anyone I see could be him.

  I’m wet, so very wet. My scent wafts upward and the stranger rumbles, his chest vibrating against me. He pulls my skirt up to my waist, slips one hand between silk and skin. I twitch as fingertips connect with my soft folds, sway as he strums my flesh.

  “Yes.” I can’t remain silent, my voice loud in the silent room. “That’s it. Play with my pussy. Warm me up so I can take your big dick, every rock-hard inch.” My stomach growls. Oh God. “Hear that? I’m hungry for everything you can give me.” I try to work the noise into my dirty talk.

  The man’s shoulders shake. He’s silently laughing at me.

  Any friend of Smoke would have a sense of humor. “I’m a woman with big appetites.” I move into his hand, riding his fingers. “It takes a real man to satisfy me.”

  The stranger pumps my pussy and nibbles on my nipples, his fingers sure, his mouth firm. I tremble, gripping my breasts, pressing them against him.

  He strokes me, circles my clit, strokes me, circles my clit, winding me tighter and tighter with each pass of his fingers. My chest rises and falls, breathing a struggle, thinking impossible.

  Soon, I’m repeating ‘yes, yes, yes’ like it is one of Azure’s crazy mantras, praying to the god of orgasms who is certainly female. We get multiples. Men get a single big bang. Coming is the only area we end up on top or on the bottom or bent over, any position that works.

  Against the wall is working for me right now. Oh, momma. I hump his hand, selfishly focusing on me. That’s the great thing about not seeing the man. I don’t feel any guilt about taking my satisfaction first.

  “More.” I’m a large girl. I require more than his two fingers to fill me up.

  The man doesn’t half-ass his response. He adds two more, plunging four thick fingers in and out, in and out of my pussy hole.

  “Sweet Jesus.” I express my appreciation, teetering on the edge of release, staring into the darkness of fulfillment. “There’s only one way this could be better.”

  He rubs his thumb against my clit.

  “Fuck.” I scream, driving my hips forward, stars detonating in the darkness.

  This knocks me off balance. My feet shoot out from under me, connect with his shins. He howls. I land with a hard smack on my ass.

  This should have stopped the fun in its tracks. Perversely, it escalates my orgasm. I scream again, coming so hard; my brain explodes, words and thoughts and gray matter flying everywhere. “Fuck. Yes. Ugh. Wow.”
I’m making no damn sense and I realize this.

  Palms smack drywall and then the top of my head. Having located me, my stranger grips me under my arms and hauls me to my feet. This isn’t graceful but no one can see me and I’m still floating on post-orgasmic high so I don’t care.

  “Shit. Ouch. Stranger danger. Man.” I continue to spew nonsense.

  He pats me all over. I suspect he’s looking for injuries. What he finds is quivering woman.

  “I’m good.” I manage to construct a sentence. “Really good.” I giggle. “It must be true what they say about senses. Because taking my sight away intensified everything else, especially the sense of touch.”

  I nuzzle against his neck, enjoying the musky scent of him. There’s a trace of cologne as though it had been applied earlier and then washed off, the aroma teasingly familiar.

  “I haven’t come like that in…” I realize it hasn’t been that long and stop talking.

  He doesn’t fill in the silence with words. My stranger must be Smoke. He isn’t speaking because he knows I’ll recognize his voice.

  This realization, instead of killing my fantasy, ratchets it skyward. I want the man to be Smoke, want him inside me.

  “Thank you for that.”

  He says nothing. Smoke is a chatty guy. Keeping quiet must be killing him.

  I touch his jaw. Yes, it’s clenched.

  “It’s your turn now.” I drop my hand to his groin, placing my palm over the bulge there. “I’d offer a blow job but I can’t see you. You’ll end up poking my eyes out and I’ll be blinded for life.”

  His shoulders vibrate against me, his laughter stuck in his chest.

  “Do you want me back on the floor?”

  He turns me around, places my hands on the wall and bends me over, handling me with a panty-wetting confidence. I wiggle my ass, brushing these curves against his cloth-covered crotch. He groans, the sound amplified in the space.

  That’s Smoke’s groan. I’m 99.9 percent certain. He tugs my panties down to my ankles. I’m now bare except for the skirt bunched around my waist and the heels on my feet.

  My fuck buddy pets my ass cheeks, investigates the valley between them, skimming his fingertips over my puckered hole. I stiffen, having never had anything or anyone enter this part of me.