Ten Night Stand

by Mickey Miller

  I swallowed, and thanked him silently for reminding me that I’d given myself a fake name tonight. Alexa was my ‘what happens in Tijuana stays here name.’

  I also considered for a moment that he had dodged my question. And staring into his river-blue eyes, I didn’t really care who he was or where he’d been. The electrifying current running through me told me all I needed to know.

  * * *

  At two a.m. the music stopped, the club lights turned on and we headed downstairs and out of the club. Amanda had danced the night away with Corbin’s brother, Casey, and asked me if it was all right if she headed back to his place, which shocked me. Amanda was even less of a one-night stand girl than I was, but she insisted it was fine.

  It wasn’t Amanda or my usual move to go home with a guy after one night. Apparently, something was in the water tonight.

  Or maybe—and more likely—the tequila had us feeling like rock stars.

  Plus, Corbin offered to take me home on his motorcycle, and I couldn’t resist having one more chance to touch him. I got on behind him and gripped his muscled body, my breasts pressed into his hard back as we flew against the warm summer night air.

  We passed through the border crossing on our ride back to San Diego, and I was half surprised Corbin didn’t get detained. After spending a few hours with him, I’d reached a couple of conclusions. First, Corbin was the sexiest man in the entire bar. Hell, maybe in the surrounding area. Second, he was a mini celebrity in that club. Walking around with him, people got out of our way like he was Moses and they were the Red Sea.

  We pulled up in front of my house on his motorcycle. Corbin turned and smiled at me, his strong jawline visible in the shadow of the street lamp. "So, you mind if I come up for one more?" he baited.

  I pressed my hand to my heart, which thumped hard. “Yeah, I guess that’s fine.”

  Inside my apartment, I popped a bottle of wine and poured a couple of glasses. We stood and leaned against the marble counter in my kitchen, sipping them.

  Corbin grinned and let his gaze linger on me, giving me the same deep stare that entranced me hours ago when we met. “Quite delicious.” He swirled the liquid at eye level a few feet from my face, then shot me a look.

  I scrunched my brow and took a sip. “Yeah, I agree it’s not bad.”

  Corbin put his hand on my neck like he did the first time he’d touched me in the bar. “I was talking about you. You look delicious.”

  He leaned in and kissed me softly on the side of my neck. I had nowhere to go, my body wedged against the marble. I leaned my head back and exposed my neck. He wrapped kisses in a U-shape down from my neck, close to my breasts, and back up the other side. Heat coursed through my skin, making me even more sensitive to his touch.

  “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

  Corbin’s brow furrowed, like the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. He covered my lips with his, and tingles spread through my body.

  I breathed deeply and pressed my chest into his, feeling solid muscle as he continued to wet my neck with kisses. I reached my arms around him and caressed his flesh through his shirt. He ground his leg between mine, and my dress rode up my legs, exposing my panties. I felt his length growing beneath his jeans.

  “Oh hello,” I said.

  “He says hello, too,” he smiled.

  He brought his mouth to mine, parting my lips with his tongue. I let out a soft moan and dug my fingernails into his back through the cloth of his shirt. Corbin unbuttoned his shirt and I ran my hand over his washboard abs. Through his pants, I could feel his length graze my leg. He let out a low growl.

  “Jesus you’re sexy,” he grinned as he gripped the bottom of my dress and rolled it up. I took the hint and helped him slip it up over my head. He lifted me up by the hips with seemingly little effort and set me on the kitchen island. He devoured my lips again, and rubbed my through my black thong, moving his finger in a gentle circle. Our foreheads touched and we gazed into each other’s eyes. Breaking eye contact, he began to work his mouth down my body. Starting at my neck, kissing lower to my breasts, past my stomach, until he reached the lace of my thong. Corbin pulled at it with his teeth. I lifted my hips and he slipped it off.

  “You sure you want to do this?” he teased and tossed the throng to the ground.

  “Shut up and go down on me,” I said, surprising myself a little at how forceful the words sounded coming out.

  He dove between my legs, found my core, and began to move his tongue in soft strokes. Oh, God…yes!

  “Shit. Ugh…yes,” I moan. The man definitely knows what he’s doing down there. He reached up and put a finger in my mouth. I wrapped my lips around it as he worked his magic, my hips gyrating in sync with his strokes.

  Finally, Corbin released me from his grip and stood up next to the kitchen island. I propped myself up on my elbow and saw him slip his jeans and boxers off, revealing another tattoo around his midsection. From there my gaze drifted downward.

  “I know it’s big, thanks,” Corbin ran his hand over the tribal tattoo on his stomach, speaking in a low voice. “When I decided I wanted tattoos, I wasn’t going to get some tiny little thing. Go big or go home, that’s always been my motto.”

  “Oh, right,” I say sarcastically. Because I was definitely thinking about how big your tattoo was and not anything else. I stared at Corbin for a moment too long, and he grabbed his length, stroking it as he eyed me.

  “Alexa, are you ready for this?” he asked, smirking and raising an eyebrow my way.

  “Who is Alexa?” I asked, and scrunched my face, confused. As soon as the words came out, I covered my mouth and my heart dropped to my knees.

  I remembered: I’m Alexa. Oh yeah.

  Corbin squinted at me. “I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me right now.” He leaned in and whispered in my ear. “And I kind of like it.”

  “Yeah I am! Did I almost have you?” I coyly smiled, hoping Corbin wouldn’t notice anything was amiss.

  “Well, Alexa,” he emphasized my fake name, “are you ready for this?”

  I glanced between his legs at his length one more time. “Umhmm,” I hummed, nodding at him. If not now, then when?

  He reached to a lock of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. “Ready for what? Tell me you want my cock.”

  “I want you—inside me. Please,” I sat up further and ran my hand down his chest and abs and then gripped him between the legs.

  Corbin moaned and pushed my hand off him, then picked up his jeans from the floor. He reached his hand into a front pocket, pulled out a golden foil packet, tore it, and rolled the condom on.

  “Last chance to back out.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “No. Please, now,” I murmured. I could take any more teasing from the son of a bitch. I lay back on the cold countertop, my naked ass pressed against the hard surface. I took in Corbin’s gaze, his muscular tattooed body, and his whole essence as he eyed me from above, standing as I lay.

  “God damn you are sexy when you beg for it,” he growled.

  Corbin folded my legs so my feet pointed toward the ceiling as he entered me from a standing position, his body the perfect height for doing so on the counter. I tensed slightly and whimpered as he slid his tip inside me. His first thrusts were shallow.

  “Ohh baby. You’re so tight.”

  “It’s been a while,” I blurted out, and instantly wished I hadn’t.

  “Don’t worry, honey. The wait is over.”

  Cocky damn bastard’s words sent waves of pleasure through me.

  Corbin pushed all the way into me and I let out a loud moan, the heat inside me a direct contrast with my bare back on the cold marble of the kitchen island.

  After a minute, his thrusting quickened. I wasn’t sure why I’d never had sex on this kitchen counter before, because the angle could not have been more perfect. Corbin gripped my hips with his strong hands, forcing himself deeper inside me. He filled me from root to tip and I arched my
back and moved my hips to meet his thrusts. His body pumped away over mine, our sweaty skin making a slap slap slap sound as our bodies met.

  After a while he slowed and stopped, gazing into my sex-stare.

  “I want you to ride me on the countertop. Can you be a good girl and do that for me?”

  “Yes.”

  We switched positions so that I was standing and Corbin was lying on the once cold counter that I had warmed up for him. Careful not to hit my head on the ceiling light, I squatted down and guided his warm thick cock into me.

  I moaned as I took him inside me.

  “Shit, you’re so fucking hot when you whimper like that,” he growled as he stared into me with his light blue eyes. I bounced slowly up and down on him, feeling his full length with every movement. I used his body for balance as I fucked him.

  “Are you ready to come?” he growled as he wrapped his hand around my head and gripped my hair, pulling my face closer to his chest.

  I’d been on the brink for some time now, feeling seconds away. All I needed was a little gentle prodding and I would ripple over the edge. “Yes.”

  He slapped me on the ass as he pushed deeper inside me. Ouch. That was probably going to leave a mark in the morning. “Come for me baby. Come now,” he growled as he stared into my eyes.

  I screamed as loud as my vocal chords would allow, releasing months of built-up sexual tension. Corbin’s strokes somehow found their way deeper inside me. He hit the spot. Again. And again.

  My God, what is that spot?

  “Holy fuck, baby,” he said. I tightened around his full circumference. I could feel him pulsing and twitching as he came inside me.

  Our sweaty bodies remained frozen together for a few glorious moments. I lay on top of his hard chest, taking deep breaths. My quads burned. Finally Corbin opened his eyes, kissed me on the lips, and helped me ease off of him. I laid down on my back next him on the cold marble counter while he took the condom off, tied it off, and tossed it in the garbage.

  “Nice toss,” I joked.

  “I never miss the hole,” he said and winked.

  I rolled my eyes. Yeah, okay, buddy. Hilarious.

  A bird tweeted in a tree outside, and I noticed that the sun was starting to come up. What time was it?

  I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at the microwave. 6:04. Holy shit. It’s Monday, and I freaking work in three hours. I hopped off the island.

  “That was amazing,” I said.

  “Yeah, it was,” Corbin agreed.

  I looked at Corbin’s gorgeous naked body in all its glory on the countertop. God smiled on this man’s genetics. If there was a build-a-man video game, he was what I would build. Ripped muscles. Dimples when he smiled. Eyes that sparkled under long eyelashes.

  As much as I didn’t want to say what about to say, I had to say it.

  “Well, I think it’s time for you to go,” I told him as I picked up my undergarments from the floor.

  Corbin got up, and for the first time all night, he genuinely surprised me by not smirking like an arrogant lady-killer.

  “What did you just say?”

  “I said, Thanks. This was fun. And now it’s time for you to go.” I picked up my dress off the floor, looked down at Corbin’s clothes in a pile on the floor, and back up at him.

  With a hanging jaw Corbin tentatively grabbed his briefs, jeans, and shirt. Clearly he wasn’t the kind of man who was used to being rushed out. I had a feeling that he was the one who usually rushed girls out.

  “You’re kicking me out?” he protested, confirming my hypothesis.

  “You seem hurt, but let’s be honest. What are we really going to do here? Are you going to take me out to dinner tomorrow and pretend that you’re interested in what I’m saying so you can try to sleep with me again? Or maybe we could date for a few months before it ends? I’m not about that. We had our fun. Tonight was fun. Let’s end on a high note.”

  “Um, no, that’s not what I was thinking. Er, I just…” Corbin slipped into his jeans. His shirt was still off and I was enjoying the end of the show as the early morning sunlight highlighted all of his gorgeous muscles. He was visibly flustered that I was kicking him out, and not doting over him like most girls probably did. I ushered him toward the door and opened it. He hopped on one foot and tried to put his shoe on quickly.

  “Goodbye!” I said. I gave his body a light push, and didn’t kiss him goodbye.

  “Alright then. Bye Alexa,” his low voice reverberated through the hallway outside.

  I had to be realistic. What future could we have? What was I going to do, get married to some sexy bad boy I met at a Tijuana club and had a one-night stand with? To whom I didn’t even give my real name? I mean, this was fun, but I worked for the DEA, and something about Corbin screamed shady. Besides, I needed to at least grab a couple of winks before work began.

  Chapter 2

  Corbin

  I walked back to my motorcycle in total shock, trying to process what had just happened.

  This is not how this is supposed to work. I’m the one who does the kicking out. Not the girl. Me.

  A voice piped up inside me, though. Maybe it was the voice of reason–like I’ve ever fucking listened to it. The voice said I shouldn’t be so ungrateful about the whole deal. I mean shit, it was my first night out of prison and I went home with the hottest girl in the bar. Her brown hair and lightly tanned skin killed me, just killed me. And damn, those eyes. I was getting hard again just thinking about her.

  Hearing Alexa’s moans with her body beneath me reminded me that I was, after almost two years locked up, a free fucking man.

  Emphasis on the fucking.

  Still. Fucking bitch didn’t even let me stick around for a round two. Now that’s heartbreak—never getting to feel her flesh on my hips again.

  I turned the key in the ignition on my motorcycle and shook my head. Let it go, man. It’s not like you were going to try to hang out with her. You just wanted a hot piece of ass to bang on your first night out of prison.

  I had to chuckle at the fact that I didn’t even know Alexa’s last name, and here I was all butthurt that she was the one who rushed me out. Shit, Corbin, get a fucking hold of yourself.

  I glanced at my watch. Almost seven a.m. Jesus. How long did we fuck for? I kicked my motorcycle into gear and left Alexa’s apartment in the dust. Fuck it. Even if I did give her the best lay of her life, I’d eventually chew her up and spit her out.

  Besides, I had to follow up with the office today and do what they asked of me if I didn’t want to end right back up in that shithole known as Folsom Prison.

  After all, I was totally disregarding the terms of my parole by going to Mexico in the first place. The last thing I needed was a lasting entanglement to remind me of it.”

  * * *

  I poured myself a generous cup of coffee in Ned’s office at the DEA’s headquarters.

  I sipped the dark brown liquid and recoiled at the heat, still accustomed to the cold coffee they had served us in prison. “Ned, do you have any cream?”

  Ned stared back at me like I had just said the sun was green.

  “Cream? You’re worried about cream right now? Jesus fucking Christ, Corbin. Jesus H. It’s right on the side of the microwave. Jesus.” Ned paced around his room, too worked up to sit behind his large oak monstrosity of a desk.

  “Ah. There it is,” I peeked behind the microwave. “Oh my gosh! You even have those little vanilla flavored cream packets! I love these things. Let me tell you Ned, the coffee in prison—I’ll be damned if sometimes they just didn’t take a little dirt and throw it in the water and heat it up until it was luke-cold. And definitely no cream. Shit no. But sometimes we’d steal a packet or two of butter and make our own…Hey, you look really worked up, buddy. Are you okay?”

  Beads of sweat rolled from the corners of Ned’s receding brown hairline as he paced back and forth. He had undone the top button of his ironed white shirt and loosened the kno
t of his tie. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his hairy forearms as if he had been at the office working through the night on some ball-buster of a problem.

  “Corbin, do I look fucking okay to you?” Ned yelped, ceasing his back-and-forth pacing for a moment.

  “No, you don’t look okay at all. You look stressed. Do you want a cup of coffee? I made extra.” I nodded toward the Mr. Coffee and arched an eyebrow at Ned.

  “Un-goddamn-believable, Corbin. On the first night after your release—after I explicitly told you to stay out of trouble—I get a report from border patrol that says you came over the Mexico/United States border at two fucking thirty this morning? And you’re yapping on about how you like cream in your coffee like that’s not a problem? Is this true or are my sources wrong?”

  Ned put his hands on his hips like an angry parent whose kid was in the principal’s office.

  There was just one problem. This wasn’t a school, and what I did with my personal time sure as hell wasn’t any of Ned’s business.

  I concentrated on putting the third and final cream packet into my coffee while I stood next to the microwave. I wasn’t sure why Ned had such an ax to grind with me when I was basically the heart and soul of this whole goddamn operation.

  “It’s true,” I said as I turned around and took a step toward him. “I am a cream guy. I love it. Everyone sees me and thinks tattooed, shady looking guy like that? He’s definitely a black coffee guy. But I love cream for my hangover coffee. I’ll even have a latte once in a while or if it’s hot I’ll have an icy cold—”

  Ned pounded his desk with both fists, interrupting me.

  “Holy shit, Corbin. Wow! You think this is funny. Just one big joke about cream in your fucking coffee. Do I look like I’m goddamn laughing? This is the DEA Corbin, and your early release is contingent on your cooperation. I’m your superior and I’m asking you a question: Did you or did you not roll past border patrol with some Mexican prostitute at two thirty—” Ned paused and looked at his watch, “—for the love of God Corbin, that wasn’t even six hours ago. I can still smell the broad’s perfume on you!”