Weekend Fling

by Stacey Lynn

  We eat and drink, laugh until my sides hurt so much I’m not sure I can take any more, surrounded by Teagan and Corbin and Trey’s parents through most of dinner, when Corbin surprises the heck out of me by pushing from his chair, rounding the table, and holding out his hand to me when a slow country song by Thomas Rhett starts playing.

  “Want to dance?”

  I catch Trey’s glare that clearly says watch it and stand, sliding my hand into Corbin’s. “Love to.”

  He escorts me to the dance floor and takes my hand in his, dancing us with the grace of a man who has definitely lived his life growing up attending galas and high-society functions.

  “You dance well,” I say, and he smirks down at me. “Mom taught me when I was young. Said every man should know how to take care of a woman.”

  Sounds like something my mom would say. “Are you two close?”

  A muscle ticks in his jaw. “As close as my father allows.”

  I’ve heard bits and pieces, know he’s not close to his dad at all, and I know what it’s like to want to be with a parent and not be able to, fully. He must notice my look of compassion because his head jerks in the direction of the dance floor.

  My gaze follows, immediately finding Trey, who’s standing near the bar, but his focus is solely on us.

  “He likes you.” His voice lowers, the timber honest but also serious. “And he’s the best man I’ve ever met. Don’t fuck with him.”

  I tip my head back so he can see my eyes, see how serious I am, as I reply, “I would never hurt anyone intentionally, least of all Trey. He’s a good man.”

  “The best.”

  “Then that makes me a lucky one, doesn’t it?”

  “It does. Definitely. Although my guess is Trey would say he’s the lucky one.”

  The compliment from Trey’s best friend makes me blush down to the tips of my toes. When the song ends, I’m expecting Corbin to immediately let me go. Instead, I’m twirled out. His grin is set on someone else and I catch the flash of it right before Trey’s arms reach out and pluck me from Corbin.

  “You’ll do, Willow.” He tips his head toward Trey as he steps back. “Enjoy the night.”

  I watch as he strolls straight for Teagan, smirking at her shaking her head at him like she can’t believe Corbin danced with me at all but probably knows what we spoke about, and then I’m yanked closer to Trey.

  “You okay? Things looked intense.”

  “Corbin says you’re the best man he’s ever met.”

  “That’s because I am.”

  “Cocky,” I tease, gripping his hand holding mine tighter. “But I think he’s right, too.”

  “Yeah?”

  His voice is soft, pulling at parts of me that have awakened all day with a fierceness demanding fulfillment.

  “Yeah,” I whisper, and lean in close to Trey, my head to his shoulder, not only to inhale the spicy scent of his cologne mixed with him, but to feel the beat of his heart.

  As the song continues and he guides us around the dance floor, his hand at my back sinks lower, fingertips dancing, lowering with each twirl on the floor.

  We’re on song three, one that’s no longer slow, and we’re much too close to each other but, like magnets, can’t seem to pull ourselves apart, when Trey brushes his mouth along my jaw, back to my ear.

  “I want you.” A shudder rolls through me as his lips brush my ear, teasingly kissing me in the sensitive spot, and trailing down my neck. “How about we get out of here?”

  I step away, ankles trembling on my thin wedge sandals, and slide my hand from his shoulder down his arm to his hand. “I think that’s the best idea you’ve had yet.”

  Chapter 17

  Trey

  This moment is here. The woman I’ve dreamt of for months. The woman who does it for me in so many ways I’ve lost count. And here she is, trusting me, following me into my suite, kicking off her shoes, then walking backward toward my bedroom.

  I’ve been drawn to her all night. All weekend, really, but tonight is different because there’s desire simmering in both of our veins. The anticipation is killing me.

  “So,” Willow says, “where would you like me?”

  My bed. The one in the hotel will work for now. The kitchen counter. Kitchen table. Shower. Balcony where I can screw her in the moonlight while she’s forced to stay quiet.

  I want Willow everywhere I’ve ever been and everywhere I go in the future.

  It’s maddening and there’s so much bouncing in my brain, I don’t know how to answer her.

  Her fingertips play at the thin strap on her shoulder, pushing it down slowly. Her dress makes her look innocent. Light blue and floral, fuller from the waist to just above her knees. The sweetness of it is driving me crazy.

  The teasing glint in her eye tells me she’s anything but, and I am here for all that she offers me.

  “You’re driving me crazy.” I step toward her, hands going to the buttons of my shirt. I get three undone before I grab the collar at the back of my neck and pull it over my head.

  “You’re too pretty to be human,” she retorts, eyes down on my stomach, my chest.

  “I’m all man.” I’m usually confident, not arrogant, but being around Willow brings out some crazed inner part of me. My hands burn with the need to get them on her skin. Her trim waist. Curvy hips. Perfect-size breasts that are currently heaving against the tight top of her dress.

  She steps backward toward the bed and her hand reaches behind her to where I know her zipper is.

  “Stop. Turn around.” She listens, her shoulders rising and falling as her breathing picks up. My hands tremble as I brush her blond locks over one shoulder so I can get to her dress.

  God damn, this woman is sexy as hell. She smells of a hint of vanilla. Maybe flowers. I don’t even know the sweet smell that surrounds her, and I pause when I finally dig out her zipper to press my lips to that spot where neck meets shoulder.

  “I can’t decide if I want to take you hard and fast or take my time, savoring every moment of this.”

  She shivers from my words or my lips brushing over her bared skin as I push down her strap and slide down her zipper.

  A part of me wants to yank it down, like a child frantic to get to their present beneath the wrapping. The other part of me wants to be deliberate, anticipate what she’ll look like when I finally have her bared to me. Unfold each corner with precision, waiting, for the moment, to see the gift that’s fallen into my lap.

  She turns her head, meeting my eyes over her shoulder. “Perhaps we can try both?”

  “We will.”

  I finish pulling down the zipper, dragging my hand up her spine, her bare back. She hasn’t been wearing a bra and my dick, now straining against the seam of my own linen shorts, is pleased. I’m hard, needing more than these simple touches.

  I’ve jacked off for months to the thought of Willow and now that she’s here, I don’t know where to start first. Where to touch. Where to kiss.

  Her dress falls in a soft pool at her feet, and my hands go to her underwear. Minty-green silk and barely covering her ass, it makes me almost wish I could see her in a matching bra, unwrap her like a present. For now, I leave them on and turn her around. She stands in front of me, chest rising, nipples hardening while I undo my shorts and they join her dress on the floor. We’re only in our underwear, my erection obvious and large in my boxer-briefs. I reach for her, pulling her flush to my body, and kiss her.

  She opens easily, like she’s been waiting for me all her life, and I devour her mouth. My hand is at the side of her neck, tilting her head, forcing her to give me better access, and soon we’re a tangle of limbs and kisses, panting breaths, and muffled moans as we fall onto the bed.

  I brace myself on my elbows to keep my weight off her but my hips fall easily between her spre
ad thighs.

  God damn, she’s beautiful. Long, lean muscles with curves that make her absolutely glorious.

  “Trey,” she gasps, sliding her hands to my shoulders, my arms, my sides, like she can’t figure out where she wants to touch but she has to have it now.

  I feel the same way and pull my mouth off hers and slide down, kissing her shoulder, her chest, just above her breasts, where one of my hands begins to knead her beautiful tits, playing with her nipples until they’re hardened buds and her hips are wildly bucking against me.

  Thank God I’ve jacked off to her once today or this might end too soon.

  I take my time, tasting every inch of her, finding what she likes based on her body’s responses and the noises she makes, sweet, little whimpered mewls when I’ve found the right spot, and then I’m at her sex, sliding her underwear down her legs and pressing my lips to her center.

  My dick is hard, punching into the sheets, desperate to feel her like my mouth is currently doing, and while I originally wanted to take forever with Willow because she deserves it and I want to worship every inch of her, my need rushes to the surface. I bring her to the edge, fingers inside her, mouth on her clit, until she’s a gasping mess, and pull back.

  “Oh my God, Trey.”

  “I know.” I kiss her inner thigh, the spot behind her knee, her calves, as I slide to the floor and shuck my underwear and find the condom in my pockets I’d grabbed earlier, and then I’m seated, stroking myself.

  She props up onto her elbows, hair draped over her breasts and my sheets, and I already know I’m going to wake up in the morning with her hair in my face and the scent of her lingering long after we leave the bed.

  Hopefully not too damn early.

  “I was so close,” she says, pulling me back to her.

  I smirk. Kiss her lips. “I know. But I want to feel you come around me and I was close, too.”

  My dick needed the break, but now he’s ready to go, so I grip him in one hand, sliding myself through her wetness, teasing her until she tosses back her head in frustration.

  “Trey.” She draws my name out like a prayer and I am done for.

  I press my mouth to her alabaster throat, sucking lightly, and push inside of her, and holy-heaven-on-a-stick, this is the most divine experience in my life.

  Better than making millions. Willow might ruin any future work productivity and I can’t find it in me to care one single bit.

  “Shit,” I gasp, as I thread myself into her, and I lean down and take her mouth as she groans, her hands going to my hips to hold herself close. “Fuck. You feel good.”

  “You’re big,” she gasps, and rolls her hips.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “No. It feels incredible.”

  I hide my smirk, kissing her cheek as I rock my hips slowly, letting her get accustomed to my size and the feel of me. I’m a big guy, but not scary-huge. Poor Willow and the small-dicked men she’s been with. I’m not even jealous, more thankful for their incompetence.

  “You do, too.” I rock slowly, sliding in and out, until her nails dig into my ass, urging me to speed up.

  My body is already alive and ready to detonate, but I make love to Willow slowly, despite my desire to ravish her. I pull out every whimper from her, waiting until her thighs shake and her breath grows ragged, her nails more forceful against my flesh, and once she goes over, clinging to me and crying out my name, I follow her over, falling to my elbows and kissing her through our orgasms, our groans mingled together and our bodies connected in a way I never want to feel separated.

  * * *

  —

  I wake up in the morning, rolling over and reaching for Willow, only to find the bed next to me not only empty, but cold.

  She’s been gone for a while and a quick glance at the clock shows it’s barely six in the morning. What the hell?

  We’ve had four hours of sleep and I’m exhausted, but I roll out of bed and head to the bathroom. Sure, I would have loved to wake up this morning, pull Willow beneath me, and give her another teeth-tingling orgasm before the ceremony this morning, but I’m more curious where she’s run off to.

  She doesn’t regret last night, does she? God, I hope not. And I hope she realizes that last night wasn’t just about sex for me. I hope she knows I want more from her.

  There’s no way I’m letting Willow walk away from me. Not here, and definitely not when we get back to Portland.

  After using the bathroom, I dig through my clothes, only searching long enough to find a pair of white boxer-briefs. I tug them on, scratching the hair at my lower stomach, and head off toward the living room.

  “Willow!” The door between our room is open and yet she doesn’t answer me.

  However, the scent of coffee hits my nose and I head for the pot filled on her side of the suites. Only one cup is missing, and it’s still hot. She hasn’t gone far or been gone for too long.

  A strange ache in my chest loosens as I grab a mug and fill my own cup. I take a sip, keeping it black, and step toward her room. I don’t know what I’ll find. Is she on the deck, enjoying watching the lightening of the sky as day starts to break? Is she regretting last night? Thinking about it at all?

  It’s been a long time since I’ve been so uncertain of what a girl thinks of me, probably since around the time I was fifteen and I was still so much more computer geek than jock, before I had started working out, before I had ever touched a girl. And yet those same teenage insecurities are stretching and clawing, trying to find a small hole in my newly built self-esteem and confidence to nudge their way through.

  It’s ridiculous how this hits me, the lack of calm when it comes to Willow, but it’s been so damn long since I’ve wanted a woman, desired her, been so distracted by her I can’t get her off my mind that it feels like my first teenage girlfriend all over again.

  Her bedroom is empty, and I go to the sliding door facing the beach, but it’s locked.

  And then I hear it, through the closed bathroom door, where there’s barely a hint of light filtering beneath the door.

  She’s in the shower.

  It’s time to shove my fears and insecurities down into the back corners of my mind and be the man I’ve become.

  I have a girl who needs to be reacquainted with some of the best parts of me.

  Chapter 18

  Willow

  The shower is hot even though I’ve been standing in it for three times longer than I normally do. I’ve already washed my hair and done a quick shave. I’ve lathered my face and I’m so distracted this morning, my thoughts firmly camping out in what it was like to be with Trey last night, I might have washed it twice already. But I can’t bring myself to step out of the enormous shower with two different heads, one a waterfall that falls gently from above me and another that is blasting my shoulders.

  If only I could move it to massage the aches out of my hips and thighs from last night’s erotic adventures I’d be an even happier girl.

  Yet I’m warm here, comfortable, able to try to figure out what in the heck I do now.

  When I finally agreed to spend the weekend with Trey it seemed so simple. Have some fun, enjoy myself, take a break before returning to the shitstorm of my life. Maybe find some stress relief doing exactly what Trey and I had spent hours doing last night. But there’s a hitch in my plan I didn’t expect.

  I’m falling for him. From the moment he first stepped into Java Joe’s, Trey has been the kind of guy I’ve always imagined myself falling in love with. Good-looking, with his square jaw and muscled body, but kind eyes and a big heart. He’s consistently shown me he’s a damn good guy with equally impressive friends.

  So how do I leave him tomorrow when it’s time to return to life as it was—me slinging his drinks, him counting his millions high above the city?

  It makes my
nerves rattle like an earthquake because I don’t want to. I have to start making some serious decisions about my life, my mom’s, and how to get her to face her new reality—assuming, that is, that she’s still okay, because I still haven’t heard a single word from her.

  But I’ve decided to try to shove her out of my mind for the next twenty-four hours. She’ll call me back when she can, if she wants, and there isn’t a problem she can find herself in that’s worse than anything she’s done yet. There’s absolutely nothing to do except enjoy my time with Trey for the rest of the weekend.

  A shadow passes by the fogged-up glass wall encasing me in the large shower and I smile.

  Like my thoughts of him have conjured him out of thin air…or from his bed, where I left him looking so relaxed and sleeping.

  “Need help in there?” Trey asks, and he’s already opening the door.

  I need a lot of help. But none of it has to do with the shower. No, it’s the instant heat in my core at his arrival.

  “I do. A lot.”

  He steps inside and he’s already naked. I grin at him. Did he rush here in a hurry to find me, not spending the time to get dressed? Or did he shuck off his clothing when he realized where I was?

  It doesn’t matter because as soon as the thoughts enter my mind, he steps to me, pressing his chest to mine, his cock, so beautiful and long and thick and so much better than perfect, is at my lower stomach. He’s so tall, and I love his height, his strength.

  I have a feeling that last night only scraped the surface of what Trey is capable of in bed.

  “Good morning.” I drape my hands over his shoulders and lean in for a kiss. He tastes like mint and coffee. So he didn’t rush to find me. “I didn’t want to wake you this morning.”

  “You’re up early. Sleep well?”

  His hands are already at my waist, roaming my hips, my lower back, pressing me against him. I lean in, kiss his clavicle, everywhere I can reach.

  We don’t even need the water on. The two of us alone are enough to steam up the shower.