by Anthology
He hadn’t stopped haunting her since.
A knock sounded on the door, and she glanced down at her desk to check the name of her next patient. Staff Sergeant Matthew Solomon.
Her heart skittered to a stop. Could it be him outside her door? Had he sought her out? If so, why?
She smoothed her hair—just in case—and rushed to the door to swing it open. Heart racing, she smiled while she focused on her patient. Who stood in front of her. And whom she’d never seen before.
Matt hadn’t come to find her.
Her smile wavered, and her throat constricted. Blinking, she motioned her patient inside.
How foolish to think he’d want to see her again.
***
Matt watched the door, waiting for her to appear. He’d been told she ended her day at five. The clock said it had reached quarter after. Her last appointment for the day had left twenty minutes before, yet she hadn’t come out. As he sat, surrounded by doctors and soldiers, his anxiety level rose.
“Fuck this,” he murmured under his breath, wheeling forward. The guard—secretary—had gone home ten minutes ago. She’d studied him, but hadn’t bothered him as he sat like a sentinel outside her work. And what he sought rested right beyond the door.
He took a steadying breath, and pushed it open. She sat at her desk, staring off into the distance, a melancholy expression on her face. Her shoulders drooped, and she twirled her glasses while nestling her chin in her palm.
His heart ached at the sight of her, begging for redemption.
For forgiveness.
She didn’t look his way, but continued to stare at the wall. “You can leave, Bridget. I’ll head out in a few.”
He cleared his throat. She jumped and looked at him. Her jaw dropped and she cast a hurried glance over his body. Hope sprang to life in his chest. Had she missed him—maybe as much as he missed her? She staggered to her feet, and her glasses clattered on the desk.
“Matt?”
He tugged on his collar. “Is Bridget your secretary? If so, she left a while ago.”
She paled and nodded. Smoothing her skirt down, she headed toward him but froze mid-step, leaning on the side of her desk. She cocked a brow, swallowed, and asked, “Why are you here, Matt?”
He cleared his throat, running his fingers over his head. He’d found her. Now came the chance to grovel and plead for forgiveness. He’d been obsessed with her ever since she left, couldn’t get her out of his fucking mind. He’d been an ass, true. But if she gave him another chance, he’d do his best to make it up to her. Every single day.
“Look, I wanted to apologize. I never should have said—”
“Apology accepted. Don’t worry about it. You didn’t have to come all this way to say sorry.” She turned her back to him, gathering her glasses, phone, and purse. She placed the latter on her shoulder, turning to him expectantly.
He’d been dismissed. His heart sped up while he floundered for the right words. The words that could maybe make her stay.
“No, wait. I-I-I—” He slammed his hands on the armrest on his chair, making her jerk back and look at him in concern.
“What’s wrong, Matt?”
“I can’t fucking think around you, that’s what’s wrong. All day long, I practiced my speech in my head, over and over again. I had all the right things to say. All the words planned out.” He pointed at her, dismayed to see how much his hand trembled. “But when I see you, all thought leaves me. All I can think of is how beautiful you are. And how much I missed you. And how you deserve so much better than me.”
Her eyes widened, and shone with unshed tears. “Matt, I don’t know what you want from me. You told me to leave. Insulted me, even. I felt bad after I left, and came back. You were already gone.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she nibbled on her lower lip.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I just—I felt so embarrassed. And ashamed. I never meant to fall asleep. Didn’t want you to see that side of me.”
“I get it. I’m a therapist, remember? I figured it out after I cooled off.” She shrugged, stepping closer to him. “But I still don’t know what you want from me.”
He clammed up, at a loss for words once more. Anxiety made sweat creep down his spine and his pulse race. How could he ask her to give him a chance? To be hindered by a crippled man the rest of her life? What woman would want to be burdened by him?
Yet, she’d said she could care less if he ever walked again. Had called all his hideous scars beautiful. She’d termed him brave.
A hero, for Christ’s sake.
Could she look past all the negatives and take a chance on a broken man like him?
“I don’t know. I want to see you again. I feel depraved asking, since you sought out a one-night stand. And I'm not a catch. I might never walk again. Might remain crippled. But, I can’t stop thinking about you.”
She cried out, and jumped into his lap. Surprised, he closed his arms around her. She cradled his face and crushed her lips to his. Warmth flowed through him at her embrace, making him wonder if life would be all right after all.
Maybe he wasn’t a complete screw up.
She pulled away, locking gazes with him. Her eyes glowed like emeralds in the sun.
I should buy her some.
“You fool, you’re more of a catch than me. I’d love to see you again.”
“More of a catch than you?” He brushed her hair behind her ear, smiling. “Are you delusional, woman? You should see a therapist. I heard they’re great.”
“Hmm. Maybe.” She leaned into his touch, rubbing against it like a cat hungry for attention. “Sorry I threw water at you, by the way.”
“Eh, I deserved it.” He grinned and kissed her nose. “Want to go out to eat, on a real date?”
She hopped off his lap, and collected her belongings before turning to him. “Absolutely. As long as, after dinner, we end up at your house. Or mine.”
Worry of his dreams scaring her melted away until he couldn’t remember ever having cared. In its place, excitement and lust filled him. He held the door open for her, unable to believe how damn…happy he had become.
And hope was there too. He couldn’t ignore it.
“I think we can work something out,” he assured her. “And I owe you a pair of red panties.” He winked, watching her walk out into the lobby. Her laughter tinkled over him like a soothing balm. She waited for him to clear the waiting room, and all the chairs blocking his way then she walked behind him, resting her fingers on the handlebars.
She didn’t push him. Instead, she walked with him, letting him guide her to the exit.
While they waited for the elevator, she leaned down, whispering in his ear, “I’m wearing white panties today. Wait until you see them.”
~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~
Diane Alberts lives in Northeast Pennsylvania with her husband, four kids, and a bird. She lives in the mountains-but wishes it were the beach. She has been writing since she was in elementary school, but only recently fulfilled her dreams of being published in 2011. Enjoys dyeing yarn and knitting in her “spare” time.
She loves interacting with readers, so feel free to email her!
Email address: [email protected]
Website: www.dianealberts.com
Panties Optional
A 1Night Stand Story
By
Stephanie Beck
Also by Stephanie Beck
Alice’s Dragon
Home to Hellas
Searching for Smut
Smut Interrupted
Smut Therapy
Writing as Stephanie J. Grace
Felines & Flowers
Easy Peasy
Oh, she was naughty.
Maggie looked around the Castillo and fought not to giggle. What would all the lovely Las Vegas people think if they knew she’d left her panties at home? She rolled her eyes and strode across the hotel lobby floor. She’d be surprised if half
of the people present were wearing undergarments. Saturday night in Vegas didn’t lend itself to excess clothing, and that night, panties were definitely excessive.
Being new in town, with so many different and exciting opportunities, Maggie finally had the start of everything she’d ever wanted. A boyfriend and dating didn’t make her short list of desires, but she had needs. Maggie time started after work ended, and she really needed half a dozen orgasms in the next few hours. More, if Mr. Samuel Peterson proved all Madame Evangeline promised.
A sexy night out, that’s what Maggie needed. Though her credit card had squealed for ten seconds after Madame Eve’s fee went through, she believed, the expense would be justified.
She looked around the crowded bar, an image of what she desired in mind, but not an actual face for the man she was meeting. The concierge would direct her to the right man, a very safe and regulated meeting to make sure she didn’t fall into the arms of a weirdo. She’d spent way too much of her hard-earned money to have that happen. Still, looking and dreaming didn’t hurt. Black leather on one guy. In the desert? Dumb. Next, her attention shifted to a man in a fabulous gray suit. She’d seen those before, though. She had exes who looked fantastic in gray suits and had happily taken them off for other women. There were so many men to choose from, and though Maggie usually took the lead in what she wanted, she liked that for once, the cards were already on the table.
“Madam?”
Maggie turned and smiled at a huge man in an equally huge black suit. She looked up and up until she found a set of ears she would be all too glad to wrap her ankles around.
“Hello there.”
“Maggie Chase?”
“That’s me,” she said, adjusting her purse higher on her shoulder. The big tote didn’t quite match her outfit, but the sexy clutch she preferred wouldn’t have held a change of clothes and her toothbrush.
“Follow me, please. Madame Evangeline has arranged for your caller to meet you in the lounge.”
Lounge. Which meant they were going to the super-fancy part of the Castillo. She loved how decadent she felt within the expensive, gorgeous walls of the hotel. Rare art and beautiful fabrics surrounded her at every corner. As an interior decorator, she recognized them for the treasures they were. Could they have held back on the gold plating? Sure, but it suited the hotel and Vegas lifestyle.
As they meandered through the crowd, Maggie wondered why she wasn’t more nervous. One-night stands and paid escorts never entered her normal strategies for getting laid. Not that she expected the guy waiting for her to be some gigolo, but still, hooking up with a stranger to get string-free sex should have felt at least a little wrong. And maybe it did. Maybe that little bit of naughty provided the catalyst making her so hot.
Her escort stopped short, and Maggie nearly tripped. She grabbed the booth end before she fell on her ass and embarrassed herself, while forcing her heels to stop before she impaled the poor man. The stilettos were tall and wickedly sharp. They were plain wicked, but that didn’t mean she wanted to draw blood with them.
“Mr. Peterson, allow me to introduce Ms. Chase. If either of you have a need, wave from here. I’ll be watching.”
With those instructions, the liaison walked away. Despite the dim light, Maggie could see the man across from her. A stranger. A hot stranger wearing a gray shirt too nice to be called casual but far from fussy. He stood and offered a hand, showing a slim-to-the-point-of-scrawny frame, but when he leaned forward, his face, lean like the rest of him, made her breath catch.
***
“May I call you Maggie?”
The goddess in emerald green smiled and nodded. “Absolutely. And you’re Samuel?”
“Sam works.” He motioned her to sit though staring at her in the painted-on dress tempted him. “Have a seat. Can I order you a drink?”
“Sure. What are you having?”
“Scotch and water,” he replied, flagging down the waitress.
“Not my favorite. How about an amaretto sweet?”
Sam placed the order, aware of Maggie’s intense regard. She didn’t even pretend to be coy or shy, and he loved her confidence. Being new in Vegas, he’d hoped to meet some new people, but so far, everyone was as fake as the jewelry sold on the Strip. The women he worked with all seemed to be after his money, and even when he tried blind dates with friends of friends, he found the driving distrust he felt for each and every one of them made him back down before he could get close to anyone. When his secretary mentioned Madame Evangeline’s services, he’d been suspicious, but after extensive research, he’d made initial contact. Seeing who the mysterious computer woman had chosen, Sam couldn’t have been more thrilled.
The waitress returned while they were still looking at each other. Sam would bet his bank account Maggie didn’t have a shy bone in her body, and he didn’t either. He’d never been presented with the opportunity to take in a date so directly. He liked it.
“Here’s your drink.” The waitress, all perky boobs and bright blonde hair smiled. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.”
Maggie lifted the drink to her mouth as Sam paid the bill, and the long, slow sip she took sent shocks of lust through his system. Her pretty mouth—so damn sensual. She set down the drink and discretely licked her lips. She could have been more obviously sexy if she’d wanted, but the tiny showings of her tongue did plenty in making his pants very uncomfortable.
“So, Sam. It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve been on Madame Eve’s waiting list for a few weeks, and I have to admit to getting a little anxious.”
He nodded, lifting his drink for a small sip. He didn’t delude himself into thinking his action compared to the sexiness of hers, but she watched him move. What made her observation of him so damn enticing?
“Actually, I’ve been on the roster a month, so I’m glad she finally made the match. Have you eaten? The lounge serves a limited menu, mostly tapas and appetizers, but all very delicious.”
A foot brushed his ankle. The sweet come-on piqued his interest higher.
“Hmm,” she said, and lifted the tiny menu from its place near the wall. “Do you know what I find tedious about fancier places like this?”
“What’s that?” he asked as her foot slid up his ankle and stroked the inside of his knee.
“The garlic and scallions in nearly every dish.”
He laughed, though her foot continued to distract him. “How about some fruit then? I think I saw an appetizer with fresh mango.”
“Good idea. Sweet mango would help keep a nice balance for tonight.”
“Oh?” he asked, flagging down the waitress. “Did you have something salty earlier today?”
“Nope, but I plan to have a lot of something salty very soon,” she said, and Sam thanked his lucky stars he looked over because that nimble tongue of hers darted across her lips again. “Why don’t you forget that order for now. We can get room service later. Something more…specific.”
He waved the waitress away. She looked surprised but went on to her next table.
They were talking an awful lot. Actually, Maggie hadn’t stopped talking, and Sam thought she might be nervous. Taking time for flirting and playing before heading upstairs worked for him, but perhaps somewhere in the first moments, he’d insinuated the need for speed.
Her foot met his groin. No shoe to hit or scrape anything, merely the top of her foot, gently massaging his cock through his slacks. Maybe nerves, but maybe she liked talking dirty and really did want them to head up to their room, where she would commence sucking his cock, followed by room service, followed again by him returning every naughty favor she had offered.
She took another sip of her drink, as if unaware of her foot thoroughly invading his space. “My napkin is going to hit the floor in about two minutes if you don’t make a move here, Sam. I hate to be pushy or bossy, but I really, really want to go fuck.”
His eyebrow flew to his hairline. The horrible habit proved uncontrollable when genuinely surp
rised. She noticed, of course, and blushed slightly.
“That is, if you’re still free this evening.”
Sam finished his drink and gently dislodged her foot, sad to feel it go, but hoping very soon to have something else of hers, something warmer and wetter, in its place.
“I’m ready when you are.”
***
The elevator moved too slowly, but at least Sam touched her. He felt nice. Skinny, but nice. Maggie didn’t usually chase the string beans, but there was a first time for everything. His height provided all kinds of possibilities. A slim girl, Maggie watched her figure, but at nearly six feet tall, feeling petite beside a man didn’t happen often. Pressed close to Sam, she felt feminine and perfect.
He had one arm around her shoulder, a very appropriate sign of affection, she thought. His classy manners probably prevented him from lifting her against the elevator wall and fucking her silly. What a damn shame. The intrusive camera in the front corner of the car would have stopped her from even proposing something so risqué…probably.
“Our room is the first on the right,” Sam said, his voice so calm and normal, Maggie worried he might not be as affected as she.
Then she looked down. His black slacks tented in the front with a ferocity the very nice cotton/polyester blend couldn’t contain. She wondered about his control level. If his business background offered any clues, he probably liked control and power in his life. She loved to press men like that and really test their limits. How fun would it be to be in a corvette with the top down, driving way too fast with her mouth on his hard cock? Just the thought made her mouth water.
They stepped out, Sam’s strong arm guiding her in a very nice way. Not pushy or rude, guiding like he knew what needed to be done, and, holy smokes, did she want someone who knew how to take charge.