Plus One (Pig & Barley Book 3)

by Mae Wood

  And it’s done. Not much to do at this point. You’d think that after four years of the date and dump plan, I’d be better at the dumping part. And I like to think I am. Short and swift. Clean break. Phone calls and texting avoids the whining, questioning, and crying phase. Bethany would move on after a few burpees and beet salads.

  It also avoids any throwing. I learned that the hard way and still bear a small scar on my hand where I deflected a wineglass. I really am a bastard, but I never promised her a thing. I switched my phone to silent to avoid the inevitable tearful and rage-filled phone call and walked out of the bathroom.

  Drennan was standing near the door. “You okay?”

  Realizing I’d been in there a long time, but not wanting to cop to my awful behavior, I replied softly. “Yeah.”

  “Cool. I’m going to use the bathroom now and then we can go.”

  We can go? My half-drunk cock rose to half-mast. Down boy. But I could still feel the warmth from where she smacked my ass. And I liked it.

  Once we were back in the elevator, I punched the button for the fourth floor where my room was. “What floor?” I asked with my arm still extended, fingers hovering over the numbers. I was a little drunk. She was a little drunk. I may be a bastard, but I don’t do regret over sex.

  I tilted my head at her, waiting for her response. She didn’t say squat. She reached for my outstretched arm and pulled my index finger into her lush wet mouth. Holy mother of God. It’s on like Donkey Kong.

  A good suck and then she began to trace the lines of the bird tattoo on my forearm with her tongue. I couldn’t think. I crushed her against the elevator wall, my hands feverishly running up and down her sides, stroking her from breast to thigh through her clothes, calling up memories from the pool where there was more flesh to flesh, while I plundered her mouth.

  She pressed her face into my neck and a moan escaped her lips. The vibration from her chest spilled into mine. Rising up on her toes, my hands reached lower, cupping her ass. The sharp nibble on my earlobe nearly blew the top of my head off. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. My room it is.

  We staggered down the hall, a tangle of limbs and lips. When the hotel door thudded to a solid close, the fog of lust was swept away by clarity for a moment. A deep breath filled my lungs.

  “Yes?” I exhaled, seeking her approval. I needed her to be with the game plan.

  She palmed my cock through my pants. Green light means go. “For fuck’s sake, Bert. Please say you have a condom.” Christ, no regrets then.

  Clothes came off and a condom rolled on, we fell into bed and right before I was about to push into her, reality intruded again for a moment. “You’re on birth control, right?”

  “Condom,” she replied, pushing her pussy up to grind on my dick.

  I backed off and knelt in between her legs, resting my ass on my heels, my wrapped cock hard and straining. “You’re on the pill, right?”

  “No.” She lifted up on her elbows and her boobs swayed. Okay, then, no fucking, but we’re definitely still going to play. I needed the belt and suspenders approach to birth control. No more surprise babies for this guy. “I have an IUD.” Thank fuck.

  I scooped up her ass and dove face first into her wet pussy, licking her with solid long strokes and teasing her clit with the tip of my tongue. Her fingers combed through my hair, nails scratching my scalp as she bucked beneath me. She wiggled and began to beg, her words no more than a chant of “please, please, please.”

  Resting her ass on my thighs and after a quick nuzzle at her full tits, I lifted her by her shoulders into my lap. She was disoriented and on edge, blue eyes wild and large. It took her a second to adjust herself, wrapping her legs around my waist and her arms around my shoulders. Her tits in my face. Better than I had imagined, but I wanted her up. I want to see those babies bounce. I held myself steady for her as she pushed up and then slowly lowered onto me, taking me all the way in. Fuck, she’s snug. “Hold on,” I muttered.

  I braced one hand between her shoulder blades, suppressing my juvenile urge to motorboat and levered her towards me, so I could suck on her tits and rub my face into the soft valley of her cleavage. With the other, I worked my way between us, finding her clit with my thumb and I began to bounce on my heels, using my quads and glutes to rock us.

  Chapter Twelve

  Drennan

  Bert held me to him as I clung to him, suspended on his full cock. I found myself arching to offer more of my breasts to him. Losing all sense of time and place, I focused on being fucked by him. Thoroughly fucked by him. His thumb massaged my clit and I shuddered, the precursor to an orgasm rippling through me. My arms began to give way. “I can’t hold on,” I rasped.

  He rotated onto his back, clutching my hips to his so our connection didn’t break. My fingers dug into his sweaty pecs and his thumb toyed with my clit, as I rode him to my release. As I spiraled down to reality, he soon followed me over the edge, dirty words and my name spilling from his mouth.

  I love making men come undone and Bert didn’t disappoint. His growls and groans and moans stood in spectacular contrast to the panting, languid man under me. The intensity of a few moments before drained away, leaving him scattered and spent, like tannin at the bottom of an emptied wineglass.

  I collapsed onto him, my body slack and spent. In the darkness of the hotel room, a bit of light peeked through the curtains, barely enough to highlight the contrast between his fair skin and bold tattoos. I lazily traced the lines of black ink on his right shoulder and arm with my fingers, as his arms wrapped around my lower back and his hard muscles relaxed.

  Eventually he rolled us over and withdrew from me, trudging unsteadily towards the bathroom. I curled into a ball on my side, listening to the shower run and watching the play of light and shadows spilling out of the bathroom door. “Hey,” he said, leaning against the doorjamb.

  “Hi.”

  “Come join me.”

  “Second.”

  “Can you move?” he asked, his voice full of mirth.

  “Unh, unh.” I shook my head and the world spun some, the combination of booze and sex.

  “Okay.” He walked over to me and scooped me into his arms, cradling me against his chest. My bare feet touched down on the cool tile floor. He opened the shower door and steam billowed into the bathroom.

  “I need a minute.”

  “Sure.”

  He turned and left the room, returning after the toilet flushed.

  “Better?”

  I nodded, still discombobulated from our romp. He took my hand and gently ushered me into the shower. Round two? Already?

  I placed a hand on the tiled wall, watching my feet so that I didn’t slip. “Getting your land legs back under you?”

  “Something like that.” I looked up in time to see him duck under the showerhead. Rivulets sluiced down his lean muscles. And I thought the pool was good. This is even better. Damn. Swimmer boys.

  “Hey,” he offered, planting a gentle kiss on my forehead. “You good? You’re quiet.”

  I nodded, still unable to find words. He lathered a wash cloth and began to rub my shoulders, methodically working his way down my body and turning the shower into a luxuriously slow massage, caressing my skin and kneading my muscles I braced for some foreplay when he reached my belly button, but he simply kept washing me, unhurriedly and reverently.

  I groaned and sighed with relief, unrealized tension fully fading from my languid body.

  “Like this?” he whispered in my ear.

  “I like it all.”

  “Let’s get you rinsed off and then back in bed.”

  He’s not kicking me out? “Okay,” I said, trying to suppress my surprise and trepidation. Post-coital isn’t my strong suit. I always retreat into my own head for a bit after sex.

  Bert grabbed a towel off the rack and wrapped me in it while at the same time turning off the hot water. “Your Go-Go Gadget arms are nice.”

  “Don’t want you getting
cold.” He took another towel, wrapping it around his waist before beginning to dry me. I let him take care of me and lead me back into the bed where he tucked my nude body in under the lofty white duvet. “Where’s your key and what room number is yours?”

  My eyebrows arched in surprise. Who is this man? “Figured you’d want your toothbrush and some clothes.” He reached into his duffle bag and shrugged into fresh boxers, jeans, and a vintage T-shirt.

  I couldn’t argue either of those points. “Four twenty-three. I’m right down the hall.” I pointed to my small crossbody bag and I asked him to fish out my key card. He nodded, grabbed the card, and walked out of the room. Sinking back into the bed, I couldn’t help but feel odd. It’s not that every guy I’d slept with was a jerk, but I wasn’t used to this level of affection. Or attention. Or care. Or whatever the hell this was. But five star service in a bedmate was delicious. I lapped it up.

  A few minutes later the door opened and Bert placed my red carryon suitcase on the dresser. “I grabbed this and your makeup case.” My orange and white polka dotted train case dangled from his index finger. “I’ll put it in the bathroom for you.”

  Back next to the bed, he shucked his clothes, folded them, and placed them on top of his duffle. He slid under the covers and pulled me into him, spooning me from behind. “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “No, thank you.”

  And I drifted off to sleep.

  I awoke with the bed shifting beneath me. Earthquake! Then all was still and I realized my bedmate was just rolling over. Take the girl out of California, but you can’t take a lifetime of earthquake drills out of the girl.

  Bert’s sleeping face was to me and the covers had drifted to his hips. I studied his lean body scattered with tattoos in the silver early morning light. Silhouettes of birds in flight on his right forearm. What must be race times and dates on the inside of his left bicep, which was pillowed under his head. Ganesh, the elephant-headed Hindu god, curved around his flank, balancing the large stylized anchor on his pec.

  Without thought, my finger traced Ganesh’s head and trunk, starting Bert awake. I cringed, both by being caught and by having woken this ticklish man.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi,” I said, feeling heat and color flood my cheeks. The hum of the HVAC filled in the silence that settled around us.

  “Sleep well?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Everything okay?”

  I shook my head furiously. “No, I mean, yes, everything is great. I just get quiet after sex.”

  He nodded. “That’s cool.” He folded his arms behind his head, resting his head on his hands. Flat on his back, his morning wood was unmistakable.

  “What’s with Ganesh?”

  “He’s the remover of obstacles. My turn. What constellation is this? Gemini?” He traced his fingers over the side of my stomach near my hipbone.

  “Gemini.” He raised an eyebrow, asking for the story without words. “It’s for my mom and her twin sister. They passed away.”

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to upset you.”

  “You didn’t.” Another minute passed as we lolled in the morning’s comfortable silence. “Want to get breakfast?” I asked. “I’m sure someone is serving up cheese grits, bacon, and other heart-healthy Southern fare.”

  “Since we’re here to eat, absolutely.” Breakfast, but no early morning tumble? That’s unexpected. I thought I’d stayed over for round two. Or three.

  He kissed my temple and then climbed out of bed and made his way into the bathroom. Okie dokie, time to slip on some clothes. I grabbed a pair of jeans and a soft long sleeve T-shirt from my suitcase and had just put on a black lace bra and panties when he emerged.

  “Now I’m rethinking breakfast.”

  My stomach answered with a decidedly indelicate rumble. “You snooze, you lose.” I slipped a shirt over my head, still miffed that he wasn’t back down on me.

  “Okay, let’s see what kind of grub we can rustle up.” He quickly threw on the clothes he’d put on last night to fetch my things from down the hall. “Here’s your key card. And here’s another to this room, so you can get your things whenever.”

  “Cool.” His nonchalance mixed with the level of attention focused on me made me slightly off kilter. Not because it felt wrong, but because it felt uncomplicated. Warm and easy.

  The elevator opened in the lobby and we made our way to the coffee station to grab something for our short walk back to the symposium. “Sugar?” I asked, doctoring my morning cup to perfection.

  “No, cream only for me.”

  “He’s too sweet for extra sugar,” said a woman’s voice in a teasing tone. Bert and I turned from the coffee station to find his two friends from last night. The guy wore a shit-eating grin. Busted.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Bert

  Marisa rolled her eyes at us and moved toward the coffee station. “Whatever you two. I need coffee.”

  “Sure thing, Runner Girl.” I backed away, making room for the fury that was Marisa uncaffienated.

  “Let me snatch some really quickly.”

  Oh, fuck. Marisa’s word choice was anything but accidental and it was aimed directly at me. “I can only have one a day now, so I try to make the most of it. Bert, how many cups of coffee do you have a day?” she asked.

  “One in the morning and two in the afternoon,” I said, answering about coffee and ignoring the subtext. “Let’s walk over together.” I nodded at Trip, indicating for him to chat up Drennan, so I could get Marisa on track before she derailed everything.

  “Drennan, right?” And with that, my best friend swung into his classic panty-melting charm routine. We walked to the symposium with Trip keeping Drennan happily entertained while I placated Marisa.

  “So, the Snatch?”

  “Broke up with her.”

  “When?”

  “Last night.”

  “Over the phone?” she asked incredulously.

  “No.” I could feel the barometer drop as the shit storm rolled in.

  “Text? Oh, please say you didn’t Tweet at her.”

  “I texted her.”

  “I can’t believe I’m having to say this, but here I go: Once your dick has been in her, you cannot end things by phone or text or any form of technology.”

  She raised a hand toward me, palm outward, cutting off any protest before it left my mouth.

  “I’m sure your sisters would be so proud. And how many hours later did you have Drennan undressed?”

  Christ. “What is this? The Inquisition?”

  “Yes. Want me to break out the thumbscrews?”

  “I plead the Sixth,” I said.

  “It’s the Fifth Amendment. Fifth is self-incrimination. Sixth is speedy trial.”

  “That’s right. The Sixth. I want this questioning over now. Yes, we had a good time. No, I don’t know if we’re going to have a repeat. No, I didn’t so much as kiss her before I ended it with Bethany. That’s all you’re getting, Mrs. Brannon. You can direct the rest of your questions to my legal counsel.” I gestured toward her husband’s back.

  We began browsing the breakfast offerings and while I ate like a truck driver, I noticed Drennan picking at her plate.

  “What’s up?”

  “I know it’s cultural and all, but there is a limit of pork products I can eat and I think I hit it last night when I sampled a bacon chess pie.”

  Was that innuendo? Bacon chess pie had some real possibilities. Before I could puzzle either out, she continued.

  “Bacon, fatback, jowl, ham, cracklings, trotters . . . You guys with the pork are like Forrest Gump’s friend with the ways to prepare shrimp.”

  “Hang on a sec,” I replied, leaving her with Trip and Marisa and asking Ganesh, Jesus, or Eros, or whoever would listen that neither Brannon ruined this before I was able to talk with her. I returned a few minutes later with fresh squeezed orange-Key lime juice and a bagel smeared with herbed goat cheese. Dre
nnan’s eyes lit up. “For you. We serve this cheese maker’s products at Pig and Barley. It’s good stuff. And one hundred percent bacon free.”

  “You rock,” Drennan said with a smile, taking the bagel. After a bite, she grinned. “The cheese is great. The bagel, not so much.”

  “Yeah, I know. Welcome to the South,” said Trip. “I smuggle bagels across the border every time I go to New York or Chicago.”

  “You’re a bagel aficionado, then?” she asked.

  “No,” said Marisa. “He eats instant oatmeal every morning. He likes to keep on the good side of my best friend and since he started bribing her with baked goods, she’s fully on Team Trip.”

  “Smart man,” I said, constantly amazed by the effort Trip put into keeping Marisa happy. But he was the happiest I’d ever seen him, so whatever floated his boat is fine with me even if Marisa is a little too Type A for my tastes.

  “The morning plenary is about to start,” Drennan said, peeking at her phone.

  “Yeah, about that,” said Marisa. “Drennan, are you headed back to Memphis?”

  Holy hell. I smell a set up brewing.

  “I am.”

  “Would you mind taking Bert back with you? Trip has a little business emergency and has to get to Memphis ASAP to catch a flight to Wisconsin.”

  Wisconsin? I don’t think Branco has any business in Wisconsin. Oh, Christ. Wisconsin because of the cheese discussion? Whatever, this Wisconsin excuse is total bullshit and I’m not having it.

  “No, that’s cool,” I said, “I’ll leave with y’all.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m sure Drennan can take you later.”

  No, no. I didn’t sign up for being in a car with her for two hours. Hell, I barely know her and even though she’s not here for the long run, that is well outside my comfort zone. Dinner, sex, breakfast. That’s my wheelhouse.

  “Uh, sure,” said Drennan, a little perplexed by being steamrolled. Then she turned to me with eyes as big as the bagel in her hand. The lightbulb switched on. She just realized this is a set up, too.