Ten Night Stand

by Mickey Miller

  He nods, then smirks. “So that’s how it’s gonna be?”

  I nod. “I’ve been nice to you for a really long time. I’ve tried to be a friend to you. But this isn’t working. So we’re done talking. Don’t contact me.” I pull out my hand and start counting on my fingers emphatically. “Don’t text me, don’t email me, don’t DM me. Don’t write me, and fucking especially—don’t stalk me at the damn grocery store when I’m trying to live my life.”

  Nick starts laughing, and I’m confused that my words aren’t having their intended effect.

  “No,” he says.

  “The fuck you mean, no? I’m not asking. I’m telling. If you don’t, I’ll be taking legal action.”

  He leans toward me, lowering his voice. “If you do not stop seeing him, I’ll be sending him this.”

  Pulling out his phone, he presses play on a video.

  I hold my stomach. Suddenly, I feel sick as I watch the clip. “Nick. No.”

  I lunge for his phone, but he holds it out of my reach.

  “Nah ah ah,” he says. “Not like I don’t have a bunch of copies of this video anyhow. But I’m going to need you to stop seeing your plumber—I mean landlord, Damien Davenport—ASAP. Or else he sees the video. One way or another, Krista, this relationship isn’t going to make it. You know it. So you might as well tell him off on your terms.”

  I seethe with anger. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  He cocks his head. “I would dare. And you know it.” Letting go of my cart, he turns. Before he walks off he adds: “You always were so good about picking out food. By the way, let me know when you’re ready to get back together. You’re really looking hot again these days.”

  He turns and goes, but not before grabbing a tomato out of my cart for God knows why.

  I’m left, one tomato less, grinding my teeth with my pulse speeding.

  Damien might not judge me for a lot of the things I’ve done—like having a fling with a girl in college.

  But I can’t let him see that video.

  12

  Damien

  When I fall for a girl, I fall hard.

  Emphasis on the hard.

  But normally, I don’t fall fast. Maybe it’s my military training, but I always find myself examining all the possible angles and outcomes before I dive headfirst into a romantic situation.

  Falling this fast wasn’t something I expected.

  There’d been girls in my past—quite a few of them. But none that inspired me to these heights of lunacy—waiting ten dates without any sex.

  With a girl as sexy as Krista, it’s enough to drive a man completely insane. Yesterday, after she came—I felt her breath two inches from my face—she collapsed in exhaustion.

  Of course I wanted to fuck her.

  Of course I wanted nothing more than to relieve the thick hard on bursting beneath my jeans.

  She slept so sweetly, so softly, though—and she eased my own tension just by snuggling into me, so I watched her as she slept on the couch. Listened to her breathe. Took time to run my hands through her dark brown hair without her knowing.

  However, I’m only a man. And even after my morning MMA workout with Axel, I still haven’t relieved the tension I’ve been feeling—I’m basically walking around my house with a half-boner.

  Not sure if you’ve ever tried it, but it’s quite uncomfortable.

  After my workout I throw on jeans and a zip hoodie, then head down to Krista’s place on the second floor. I knock. No answer. I check my watch and wonder where she’s at if we have our late-lunch slash early-dinner meetup starting soon. I suppose I’m a little early.

  I head back up to my place, and the heat’s already kicked in for the fall. My place is basically an oven, it’s gotta be seventy-five degrees inside. I leave the door open, kick off my shoes, and get a drink of water.

  I blankly stare out the window at my neighbors. A cute little kid about four years old plays soccer with his uncle in the tiny city backyard. I know it’s his uncle because I’ve chatted with the family before. I’ve also seen the ugliness that happens when his biological dad comes and visits—drunk off his ass—and complains about his lack of visitations.

  I exhale. Coming around in that state is no way to get quality time with your kid. Still, I find myself wondering where the father went wrong, how he got kicked out.

  Was it just old fashioned cheating?

  Or did he have some unforgivable secret his wife couldn’t handle?

  I shudder at that one. I wonder if Krista—if she knew everything about me, all about my past—could truly handle me.

  I’ve kept that part of me locked in a box—literally—and I don’t see myself opening up about it anytime soon. No one needs to see that dark side of me anymore. It’s over and done with.

  I turn and lean against the my sink, rubbing my face. I look down, and I’ve still got a rocking boner. I really need to get rid of this.

  Think of anything besides Krista, I tell myself. Think of something inanimate. I look at my glass. Good. Glass. I feel my erection start to subside slightly. I take another drink of my water swallowing it all the way down, then turn around and put it in the sink. Sink.

  Remember when you saw Krista bend over against the sink yesterday, and you damn near said ‘fuck it’ to the Ten Date Rule before you’d even got started on your first date?

  Once I’ve got the image of Krista firmly in my mind, I can’t stop the following waterfall of thoughts.

  I picture her in those pretty, tight jeans she was wearing yesterday as I walk up to her and grab her hips from behind. I grab a fistful of her hair and pull her back gently, trailing kisses down her exposed nape.

  My cock presses on my jeans, threatening to burst them at the seams.

  Screw this. I need some sweet relief.

  I walk over to my couch, sit down, unbutton and unzip my jeans.

  Might as well get comfortable if this is happening.

  I freeballed today, so I pull out my throbbing cock, releasing it from its cage.

  Holy shit I’m hard.

  I stroke myself long and slow, starting at the base and getting all the way up to the head. With my left hand, I mind the balls. I close my eyes.

  On the movie screen of my mind, I see the scene unfolding before me. Krista appears, and she’s wearing a short, tight black skirt. Slowly, she disrobes, letting the straps down off her shoulders, and shimmying out of her clothing.

  She hasn’t been wearing any bra or panties. Easy access per my instructions to her.

  My eyes still closed, my fantasy takes hold.

  Krista’s naked in front of me, her beautiful olive-colored skin before me in all it’s nude glory. I stand up, still stroking my cock.

  “Turn around so I can put these on you,” I order, holding up a pair of cuffs in my free hand.

  She nods, obeying wordlessly. Spinning for me, she presents her wrists and I cuff her, putting her wrists behind her back.

  “Are you ready to be my toy?” I whisper in her ear.

  “Yes,” she mutters, and I guide her to the couch. She gets on all fours on the couch, and I take the time to run my hands over my prize. I start my kisses on her lower leg, work them up to her thighs, until they land on her ass. I feel her trembling as I work my wet lips over her skin.

  Just then, I hear a noise in real life, in my apartment, and I’m brought back to consciousness.

  I glance toward the door, and Krista’s eyes are wide and her jaw open as she stares. Right. At. My. cock.

  “I thought we could make food in your apartment for change,” she coughs, bags of groceries sliding down her arms. “Oh my God. Do you always leave the door open when you’re…”

  “All worked up?” I ask with a cocky smile.

  She closes the door, then refocuses on me as I stroke my hard length. “It’s your fault, you know.”

  I’m in a trance, my eyelids half-open as Krista glides toward me. Is this a dream?

  “My fault?” she m
utters, eyes still on me.

  “Yeah,” I smirk. “You got me all worked up yesterday. But I’m trying to play within the rules.”

  I lean into the couch, stroking it as she stands in front of me. Her dress falls almost to her knees, a dark blue dress with white polkadots.

  “It’s only fair. You got to to see me yesterday,” she breathes.

  “Do you like to watch me?” I ask, still stroking slowly.

  “Yes.”

  “What do you like about it?”

  “It’s so big. I think about how it would make me feel.”

  “That’s hot. Really hot. Come closer.”

  She takes another step toward me and I can feel the warmth of her body close to me.

  “I want to help you,” she mutters.

  My breath intensifies, pleasure shooting through me when the vibrations of her soft, sexy voice hit me.

  “Talk dirty to me,” I growl, repeating the line she’d said yesterday. “And get out of that dress.”

  She licks her lips and knees down between my legs.

  “I haven’t talked dirty before.”

  “Try.”

  Her mouth hangs open as she stares, inches from me.

  “I can’t wait until the ten dates is up, and I’m going finally give you the best blow job you’ve had in your life.”

  “Oh God,” I mutter, feeling my spine tingle with pleasure.

  “And if you’re lucky, I might finish you off with these.”

  She takes down her dress to reveal her ample breasts, covered only by her black lace bra.

  “Would you like that?” She breathes, lifting one eyebrow.

  “Fuck yeah, I would.”

  “Mmm it’s so hot to watch you like this,” she utters, and places her hands on my thighs. Her touch pushes me almost over the edge.

  “Getting so close,” I mutter.

  She smiles. “Let me help you get all the way.”

  Reaching her hands behind her back, she unsnaps her bra and lets her breasts hang free. Her eyes flash toward me.

  “Damn you’re dirty,” I mutter. “My dirty girl.”

  “Do you like it when I’m dirty?”

  “Love it,” I manage to say. Because when she she presses her breasts into my legs, I lose it.

  It’s Krista’s sexy scent. It’s her glossy lips. It’s her confidence to say yes to me and my craziness when she walks in on me like this.

  Our eyes lock. There’s awe in hers, and need in mine. I feel no shame in this act, just heat.

  “Yes,” I whisper. “Fuck yes, Krista.”

  Her chest heaves. “You’re making me wet,” she mutters.

  Her pouty, sexy lips send me over the edge.

  “Gonna come,” I growl.

  “Come on my tits,” she whispers.

  I pump faster, shifting my hips as I heave a groan. I stand up and with Krista holding her gorgeous, soft tits out for me, my toes curl and I come so damn hard, shooting onto her. When I finish, we’re both breathing hard.

  In the hottest gesture I’ve ever seen, she touches a bead of cum with her finger and puts it to her lips.

  “Not bad. You must have a lot of pineapple in your diet.”

  13

  Krista

  I use Damien’s master bathroom to clean up, wiping his juices off my breasts with a towel he gave me.

  Holy hell, that was hot.

  I never thought in a million years I would actually be turned on by a guy doing something that dirty.

  But with Damien...everything the man does turns me on.

  My mind flashes back to the image of his long, girthy cock inches from my face as he stroked it. I wanted so badly to reach out and give him a helping hand. Maybe a helping tongue, too.

  Somehow, I restrained myself from running my hands over his cock, and rubbing my hand up his rock hard flat stomach. But I couldn’t help impulsively telling him to come on my tits.

  My boobs clean, I lean down into the sink bowl, splashing my face with water.

  The truth is, when I saw Damien naked and exposed to me, my problems with Nick melted away. I came to his apartment nearly in a panic state. But he instantly put me at ease.

  Still, my head throbs as I think back on the encounter with Nick in the grocery store. Wondering if Damien has Advil, I open the rightmost mirror to see what he’s got on the shelf.

  I’m confused by what I see.

  I pull it out.

  Why on Earth would Damien have women’s lipstick?

  I take off the top, and find it's a bright, bright shade of red.

  Anxiety wells up in my chest cavity as I stare at it, flabbergasted.

  "Towel working okay?" Damien's voice booms as he opens the door, and I close the cabinet and shoot my arms behind my back to hide the lipstick just before Damien comes into view.

  He grins as he walks toward me.

  "I just finished washing up," I say. "It was a lot. You're a very...potent man," I say with a cheery look.

  He smiles, tipping my chin up toward me. "You bring it out in me, so to speak."

  He winks and then kisses me on the lips. I savor his taste, but the truth is my mind is wandering to the lipstick behind my back.

  Why on Earth would a man have that?

  Has he crossdressed in the past?

  Is there another woman?

  I kiss him fiercely, angrily, all of a sudden.

  In this moment, I'm not me anymore. I'm doing an imitation of myself kissing Damien without reservation. It's a little sad that I'm an expert at pretending in relationships after all the time I spent with Nick.

  But then again, don't I have my shameful secrets too? Maybe I'm just not meant to know a person through and through.

  I bite Damien's lower lip as I pull away from him.

  "Holy hell, what's gotten into you?" Damien asks.

  "What do you mean?" I counter.

  "You just seem really...feisty right now."

  "I've been known to be feisty. You better get used to it. And hey, would you mind starting to chop the onions and tomatoes for the chili? I'll be done in here in a second."

  "Of course, Sweetheart."

  "Thanks."

  He leaves the bathroom, and I pull on my clothes. I uncap the lipstick once more out of sheer curiosity. Goddamn. I've never seen anything such a deep shade of red. It looks as if it was fashioned by the devil himself.

  I put it back on the shelf exactly where I found it, close the cabinet, and head back outside to the dining room, where Damien is already chopping up the onions with a huge knife.

  I sigh softly.

  Maybe all relationships are just destined to have their secrets.

  “Thanks for the surprise visit,” Damien says, without looking up. “Just for the record, you’re welcome to do that again, anytime.”

  I open up another one of the bags and take out the ground beef.

  “Maybe next time I’ll leave my door half open,” I wink, but my mind flashes to the reality of that situation and my shoulders sink.

  “What’s the matter?” Damien arches an eyebrow.

  “Nothing.”

  “Really? You just did a thing.” He imitates my loud sigh and slumping shoulders, grinning.

  “Okay, fine. I did a ‘thing.’ It doesn’t mean anything.”

  He stops chopping and his expression turns serious. “Everything means something. What are you thinking about?”

  I clear my throat. Might as well get it out in the open. “I’m thinking about how I can’t leave my door open, ever. I’d be too scared.”

  His dark eyes squint my way. “Too scared? And would that be for any specific reason? Or just in general?”

  “Uh, just in general,” I lie.

  He cocks his head, leaning forward on the kitchen island. Damien is still shirtless, and it’s quite distracting.

  “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  I pick up the chopped onion and put it into the big pot, adding s
pices and olive oil to sauté it.

  “I ran into Nick at the grocery store,” I admit. “Or more accurately, I’m pretty sure he’s stalking me.”

  “What the fuck? Are you serious?” He glides over to me and touches my shoulder. “How the hell did he know you were at the grocery store?”

  I give a ‘I don’t know’ shrug, lowering my eyes.

  “That’s not fucking okay!” He raises his voice. “He can’t fucking do that. He can’t just follow you around like that.”

  “Well he’s doing it,” I say. “And I can’t stop him.”

  “Yes you can,” He says, pulling me into him. I put my hand on the flesh of his tattoed, still warm chest. In his arms, I feel safe.

  “How?”

  “Simple. Block his phone and social media accounts. Change your number if neccesary.”

  “He knows where I live.”

  “You can get a restraining order if the guy won’t leave you alone.”

  “That seems a little extreme,” I protest. “Getting the law involved?”

  He exhales, letting go of me. “Extreme? You know what’s fucking extreme? Showing up to someone’s house at eight a.m. You know what’s even more extreme? Stalking someone to the grocery store. What did he say anyway?”

  I shift my focus back to the chili, tossing in the cubed ground beef and stirring it. “He said he wants to get back together with me.”

  “And you said…”

  “I told him to fuck off! But he doesn’t understand no.”

  Damien shakes his head as he opens the can of tomatoes. “Well you need to make it very fucking clear that you are not interested. And a good way to start would be by not making him breakfast when he comes over.”

  My jaw drops, and I let the wooden spoon fall.

  “How did you know I made him breakfast?” I huff. “How would you know that?”

  “Because I listened to your conversation after you left. I admit it.”