“Nick. Pleased to meet you.” His handshake was firm and warm.
His dark eyes seemed tired, just like I imagined mine looked.
“You should be careful there.” He lifted the recued bottle of wine. “Precious cargo.”
“Exactly. I need that tonight.” I unlocked the apartment and stood in the mouth of the open door.
“I understand,” he said, handing me the bottle of wine. “This city can be tough on a working stiff.”
I looked at him again, noticing the exhaustion in his face, a hint of loneliness in his posture. Although I’d noticed his couple-seeming furniture and now with his wedding ring clearly marking him as off-limits, I realized I hadn’t seen a woman coming and going in that apartment. Maybe he was a widow. Maybe that was why he looked so lonely.
“You want to come in and share a glass?” I asked the question quickly before I could think better of it.
A look of surprise crossed his face, then he smiled. “It would be a pleasure. Thank you.”
I opened the door wider and he followed my inside. My apartment was just like I’d left it earlier that morning. A mess. I blushed as I walked into the small space, picking up the sweats draped across the couch, tucked the Wii remote on the shelf under the flat screen TV.
“Sorry about the mess. I just moved to New York by myself. I never expect any company.” I looked around; glad I hadn’t left out any dirty underwear or food. “Have a seat on the couch. I’ll get some glasses for the wine.”
I pulled open the shades to let in the last of the late afternoon sun, bathing the apartment in a warm golden glow.
“Do you need any help?” he asked. “I’m very handy around wine glasses and things like that. My wife practically trained me.”
I bit my lip at the mention of his wife. “Where is your wife,” I asked.
“Still in Miami dealing with a few last minute things for her job. She’ll be here soon.”
“You must get lonely here without her.”
“You have no idea.” His response was heartfelt. For a moment, he looked embarrassed at being so honest in front of a stranger. Then he shrugged.
He followed me into the kitchen, standing at a decent distance from me but I still felt the warmth radiating from his body as he leaned against the counter across from me in the small kitchen.
I swallowed. Cheese. We needed cheese.
I opened the fridge and took out baby swiss and sharp cheddar. “Since you’re so handy in the kitchen, you slice these up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled, some of the fatigue draining from his eyes. He looked much more animated than he had in the hallway.
While he sliced the cheese, I stretched to the top cupboard for the wine glasses. To my surprise, I felt his warm eyes on my back, on the tight pull of the skirt across my butt, my long legs in the high heels.
So the attraction was mutual, I thought. Even more dangerous. I felt my heart speed up.
“Let’s have our wine and cheese in the living room,” I said.
I desperately needed the space to get away from my attraction for him. In the confines of the small kitchen, I could smell his cologne, the hints of sweat from his long work day. My palms itched to touch him.
Back off. He’s married! I tried to reason with the little devil doing a dance inside my panties every time he drew near. But the little devil wasn’t listening. She wanted to lie in his lap and drink from him like a straw.
In the living room, I poured red wine for both of us and sat on the armchair, deliberately avoiding the couch where two bodies could comfortably sit together, slide closer to each other. Nick deposited the platter of cheese and crackers on the coffee table between us and sat back in the couch.
“You have a nice place here,” he said. “Simple. Uncluttered. I like it.”
“Thanks. Although I’m sure your place is much more interesting. Much warmer.”
“It would be if Rose was here. But since she isn’t, it just feels lonely.” He sipped his merlot, staring into the distance for a moment before refocusing on me. “But I didn’t come over here to talk about my sad life, tell me about you.”
Over wine and cheese and the faint scent of flirtation rising between us, we exchanged the separate stories of our lives. I told him about my move from the suburbs of Atlanta to big bad New York where I knew no one except my co-workers. Sometimes I missed home with a desperation that made me want to cry. But this job paid an extraordinary amount of money, more than I could have ever made in Georgia and so I was here. Lonely and wishing I had someone to spend my money with.
“I’m sure they’re plenty of guys in this city who would love to sink their teeth into a sweet Georgia peach,” Nick murmured with a faint smile.
“If there are, I haven’t met a single one of them yet.”
Nick poured us both a second glass of wine. “It’s only a matter of time.”
Over the second glass of merlot, Nick told me he was an architect newly relocated from Miami. He and his wife had been married for nearly five years but had chosen to hold off on having children for the sake of their careers. It was a decision that Nick sometimes regretted. His wife, though, was committed to the childless course they had taken. She was a model and that life relied on her body remaining youthful, slim, and unmarked. A child could potentially ruin her career. Or at the very least, slow it down.
“She must be very beautiful then,” I said, feeling the faintest stab of jealousy.
“She is,” Nick said. “So are you.”
The bottle of merlot was almost empty. That was the only reason I could think of for him to say such a thing.
“Oh, please,” I said, laughing. “I wasn’t fishing for compliments, I promise you.”
Nick watched me for a moment, as if memorizing my features. “You don’t need to fish. I’m sure they fall on you like flower petals everywhere you go.” His eyes dropped lower, moving with slow and delicate ease over my silk-covered breasts, my stomach, my crossed legs in the high heels.
I felt my nipples harden under his intent regard. My throat dried. To distract myself, I took a big sip of wine. Perhaps not the best thing to do on a mostly empty stomach. Was he doing this to me on purpose? The look he gave me threatened to set my panties on fire!
Suddenly, he seemed to be aware of what he was doing. He cleared his throat and abruptly stood up, taking his nearly empty glass of wine with him. He walked to the window behind me, disappearing from my sight. I did not turn around. Although I wasn’t looking at him, I knew he looked down into the street at the evening that was now full dark. The faint sounds of traffic from eight stories below flowed through the windows.
“A woman like you should never be lonely,” he said.
I shivered, feeling his warmth suddenly at my back. I turned to look up at him, seeing the loneliness and longing plain on his face. It made my own loneliness come out even more, made me ache for him and wish there was better for us both.
I shook my head. This was wrong. Although I wanted to, I shouldn’t. My nipples were tight with an ache to feel him pressed against them. A delicious tingling started between my thighs.
But I had never cheated with a married man and I had no intention of doing so now. I stood up from the couch and cleared my throat.
“It’s getting late, Nick.”
“I know.” He sighed. “It may be too late already.”
Without another word, he put down his empty wine glass, retrieved his coat, and walked to the door.
“Thank you for your company tonight, Dana. You made me feel better than I have in a long time.”
I felt the same way. But I also felt that saying it would only feed the attraction that had blossomed in the open between us. “Good night, Nick.”
I stood in the doorway to watch him walk down the hall, open his door, then—
after a long pause when he turned back to look at me—disappear into the depths of his apartment. Although we hadn’t done anything, I felt absolutely guilt-rid
den. I was the one who had invited him into my apartment. That had been especially stupid of me since I knew how strong my attraction for him was.
Better to cut things off before they got any more involved. I shut the door and went back inside my apartment.
Part II
Central Park on a Saturday morning was a feast for the eyes. Gorgeous men jogging shirtless, their shorts hanging from narrow hips as they breezed past. I had already finished my jog and now sat on the bench, the sweat drying on my skin, watching the beautiful men of New York pass by me in a beautiful parade.
Despite the variety of gorgeousness, I still couldn’t stop thinking about Nick. It has been nearly two weeks since he came over to my place for wine. Two weeks where we’d shared chit-chat in the hallway before we both disappeared into our respective apartments. Once, I’d even seen him in the laundry room, hauling a load of dark colors out of the lower washer.
I’d stared shamelessly at his butt draped in long basketball shorts, barely said a coherent word to him before fleeing to the safety of my own apartment. There was just something undeniably sexy and compelling about him that made my body sit up and take notice. I had never felt that with another man. Ever.
On the bench in the park, that feeling returned, even as I watched the other men make the circuit around the paved loop, some men jogging, others on rollerblades, some on bicycles. None of these men were the physical equal of Nick. But as I looked into the forest of men, I noticed one of the joggers from behind. He must have passed by when I wasn’t paying attention because all I saw of this one was his back. His butt was firm and round, eye-catching under gray sweatpants. A triangle of sweat stained the back of his shirt as he ran. His body was gorgeous.
I kept an eye on him as he did more of his circuit of the track. Jogging, his profile came into view. I gasped softly. It was Nick. I felt rooted to the bench. Uncertain about what to do. Part of me wanted to wait for him to come abreast of me on the bench. And then what?
I was frozen by indecision.
“Hey, Dana.”
He slowed down as he jogged toward me, pleased surprise on his face. “I didn’t know you ran.”
There was nothing for me to do but face him. I stretched out my legs and strived for nonchalance.
“I usually work out at the gym near the office during the week, but it was such a beautiful day it seemed like a shame to stay indoors.”
“I know what you mean. In a lot of ways, this town takes some getting used to, but the combination of this park and the summer weather is fantastic.”
I couldn’t disagree. And the combination of this beautiful man and the warm weather were making me think things I shouldn’t.
“You want to jog around the park with me?” I asked just to distract myself from his warm masculinity emanating in waves from where he stood.
“Sure.”
I stood up from the bench and stretched my hamstrings. My calves. “Let’s go.”
If I’d thought the sight of him standing in front of me sweating through his workout clothes had been distracting, I should have been glad for it. Because running next to him was torture. His deep and even breath, getting more uneven as we ran. The smell of his skin like sweat and Old Spice. I couldn’t stop myself from flicking glances at his body while our sneakered feet beat a matching tattoo against the pavement. The sweat dampened fabric clung to his muscular chest. I could see the faint dark outline of his nipples through the well-washed fabric.
A moment later, my eyes collided with his and I realized he’d been checking me out too. My skin burned with awareness of him. I saw his gaze move to my lips, down to my breasts.
“Nick…I—”
“I know,” he said. “I know.” His chest heaved as he ran.
And we kept running. By silent agreement, we left the crowded jogging path and set off on our own through a densely treed and less populated part of the park. We slowed down.
“I want you,” Nick said. He stared out into the park, not looking at me. “I know it’s wrong but I dream about touching you. I think about that first night in your apartment and what would have happened if you hadn’t thrown me out.”
I stopped running, breathing deeply through my nose. “I didn’t throw you out.” That night, I had wanted so badly to keep him there with me, to make love to him and sip wine and for us to drink from each other’s bodies until we were drunk with sex and lust. I swallowed as the want for him rose up in my again.
“Yes, you did throw me out,” Nick said. “And maybe it was for the best.”
What was for the best? Knowing I did the right thing then but still wanting him now with a desperation that frightened me? “I don’t know anymore.” The longing for him was plain in my voice, my shame that I wanted him, my inability to resist.
He made a low noise of choked desire then leaned down to kiss me. His mouth tasted like salt and sweat. Earthy and intoxicating, a blend that begged me to open my mouth for more. I slid my hand into his hair and held him close as I kissed him with passion in the middle of the deserted path. His tongue slid into my mouth, firm and hot. An insistent snake that stirred up my desire even more. I moaned against his lips.
Without breaking our physical connection, I grabbed his shirt and pulled him off the path and into a thick copse of trees, shoved his back against the rough bark of a tree to properly bite and taste him. The adrenaline from my run swam beautifully through me, but it was Nick who was the intoxicant. All those weeks I had seen him in the hallway, shirtless and dripping with sweat from his workout or elegant in his suit, back form a long day at the office. And now, he was here under my hands.
I pressed my hand to his hard chest, traced its muscled outline under the damp shirt. He hauled me closer to him, his kisses devouring my mouth, driving me just the slightest bit crazy with lust, the heady feel of desire returned.
My nipples tingled with the need of his hands, his mouth.
He must have read my mind. In a moment, his hands were shoving under my blouse, unsnapping my bra, fingers firm on my bared breasts, my nipples.
“Oh!” I moaned against his mouth.
His fingers circled my nipples, squeezed them, gathered up my breasts like ripe fruit for his kisses. He dropped us both to our knees in the gathered crackle of leaves, sucked my nipples, one after the other, his beard rough-tender against my skin. My fingers clenched in his hair. His masculinity was hard against my belly, pressing into me.
I was wet, my body soaked in welcome for him. I dove into his shorts, gathered in my palms the hard length of him, like steel covered in silk. He groaned into my breasts.
“Inside me,” I gasped. “Please.”
I turned my butt to him, leaned forward into the tree, feeling it scrape tenderly against my nipples. He shoved down my thin shorts, fingers testing my readiness, sliding into my wetness. The cool breeze brushed against my hot and dripping sex.
“You feel so good!” he gasped.
But although he seemed to love fingering me, he didn’t make me wait for what I wanted. Nick freed himself and slid his hard heat into me. We groaned together. Sighed. Then he began to move, built a slow pace, rocking inside my hot space with his hardness. I clung to the tree, fingers digging into the rough bark while Nick took me firmly from the back, his hot length sliding with insistent rhythm deep inside me.
I wanted to care if someone came and saw us, but I didn’t. All that mattered was Nick’s body inside me and the heat of desire drenching my body in waves. I moved my hips, inciting a riot of sensation deep inside. Lust gripped me harder. I groaned.
My womanhood gripped him, my desire dripped down my thighs as he pounded into me. His hands clenched around my hips, his breath huffing at the back of my neck. The scent of the dirt and dried leaves and the green thickness of the tree flowed over us. I gasped as he made furious love to me, his fingers on my clit, circling my hot button with intent passion as he took me. A sticky sweetness twisted inside my belly. I panted. I could feel the beginning tremor
s in his body.
Sunlight splashed over my face as I threw my head back. My body spasming, cumming around the hard length still moving inside me. Then he was cumming too, flooding me with his hot seed.
“Dana…” he groaned into my neck.
It was a long time before either of us moved. Still in our private arbor as our pulses slowed back to normal, the tremors of fulfilled desire fading to nothing. Then Nick pulled his body from mine, pulled up my shorts and underwear before attending to himself.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said.
Filthy Smut (Vol. 4): 35 Erotic Stories (Over 400 Pages of Hot Sex) Page 25