Later, when I’m back in my room, I strip the clothes from my body and finally allow myself a look in my full-length mirror. Taking in my messy hair, smeared makeup, and hollow eyes, I turn to look at my scratched up back. It’s apparent that the shoulder blade area has been bleeding a little. There’s a fine line of dried blood curving down my backbone and a spot still seems to be slightly oozing. As I stare at it, my eyes start to sting, but instead of crying, I do the exact opposite. A laugh bursts from my throat, which at first takes me by surprise. Before I can reflect on it long, I’m laughing hysterically, but without real humor, my stomach aching with the effort.
The fact that this raw, angry spot completely represents how I feel on the inside more than I could ever verbally express, suddenly seems hysterical. Holding my stomach and covering my mouth with the opposite hand, my giggles subside and I try to catch my breath. When my laugh cuts off and turns into a choked sob, I turn away from the mirror. Falling into bed, I pull the covers over my naked body, and let regret seep into my pores like it always does after encounters like tonight. As a tear falls down my face, I close my eyes and wonder when enough will finally be enough.
She walks with a sexy sway to her hips, long red hair thrown over her shoulder, heavy breasts bouncing with her movements, and her chin held high with confidence. Those attributes alone are powerfully attractive enough, but combined with curves for days and a cherry painted mouth that makes a man envision what he wants it wrapped around, I’m definitely curious. And then when she smiles and laughs at something the bartender says as he serves her a drink, my radar is locked and loaded. She’s got my full attention.
Right there I tell myself, she’s going home with me tonight. I can already picture her naked underneath me, face twisted in ecstasy, her hair a bold red stain on top of my white cotton sheets. My body responds to the thought and I continue to watch her. As if she feels my gaze, she turns, her eyes meeting mine. When they connect, something shoots through me I’ve never felt before. Lust, sure, but something else, something indefinable. We’re both unable to look away at first, but eventually she drops her gaze when the bartender says something else to her When she smiles at him in thank you, I feel a twinge of jealousy that he’s the recipient of that sweet, seductive, radiant gleam.
While I may be sitting at a table with a group of guys – conversation, laughs, and drinks flowing around me – everything about me is attuned to her. She doesn’t blink without me noticing. I’m simply biding my time until I can make my move while keeping half an ear on the talk around me so they don’t notice my lack of attention.
“Dude, did you hear what I said?” Cole asks with a lift of his brows. Whoops, guess I’m not doing such a good job after all. Taking a sip of my drink, I meet his eyes, “You said you think you need to increase the times per week you work out your legs. Yes, I heard you.”
He nods and continues to tell me why he’s determined that this strategy will bolster his likelihood of take-downs, but I only listen to half of what he’s saying. Appraising all the guys around the table, I smile. Cole, Dylan, Zane, Jax, Levi, Tyson, and I decided to get a few drinks after finishing a rather long training session tonight. We’ve got a big fight coming up and we’ve been training our asses off every night this week. I’ve had to work around my schedule, but it’s imperative. When Jax, owner of the gym and trainer for us all except Cole, suggested we grab a few beers, we were all game. Empty calories be damned, we still have time to work it off before weigh in. It’s time for a break.
Zane clears his throat next to me purposefully drawing my attention, “Why don’t you just go talk to her?”
Smirking, I’m amused at his intuitiveness but shake my head no. “Soon.” I’m not surprised he noticed me studying the firecracker across the room - nothing gets by him. He pretends to stay out of people’s business but really he’s listening and analyzing all the time.
“What was that? Ryder’s narrowed in on his latest conquest?” Dylan asks clearly having overheard Zane. Before I can respond, Levi chimes in, “Oh, what do we have this time? Blonde? Brunette? Or maybe you’re changing things up and she’s got blue hair?”
“Blue hair?” I ask.
“Don’t knock the colored hair chicks, dude. They’re hot,” Zane adds.
“Dude, so true. One night, I hooked up with this chick that had pink stripe things in her hair, and she did this thing with her tongue-”
“No one wants to hear it, Levi,” Jax cuts him off with a stern look and shake of his head, ever the paternal influence
“Speak for yourself, dude,” Dylan says laughing as Levi turns to him to continue his story.
Tyson grins and stands, “Well gentlemen, that’s all for me. I’m headed home to my girl.” Tyson and his girlfriend Sydney recently got engaged. They spend all of their available time together, and the fact that he came out tonight at all is a bit of a surprise. Jax too for that matter. His girlfriend is Tyson’s sister Rowan. Neither of them comes out with us as much as they used to. Can’t say I blame them. I get it. I remember all too well.
Jax stands too, relief clear on his face to be leaving. Plus, no doubt he’s happy he’s not the first to bail on us, thereby avoiding the ribbing he’d receive. I stand as well and give them a nod as I decide to take this opportunity to take a piss. “See you guys tomorrow,” I wave.
Jax puts a hand on my shoulder stopping me as he says to all of us, “Listen up bastards, I know you all are off work tomorrow – some just schedule lucky, some because it’s the weekend. Be at the gym at nine sharp. No excuses. I want an early start.”
Everyone nods, not really surprised by his words, although Levi curses under his breath making me chuckle. We’re all used to Jax’s rigid training schedule, and with a fight so close we expect his expectations to escalate.
In the bathroom, I quickly do my business and am at the sink washing my hands while staring at the graffiti on the walls when I hear someone enter. I ignore them initially and turn to grab a paper towel to dry my wet hands. When the sound of the dead bolt locking reverberates around the room, I look over my shoulder and stop dead. My mouth falls open as the redhead I was eye fucking in the bar stands there staring at me, a small smile on her full red lips. Blinking rapidly, I momentarily wonder if I’m seeing things. Turning to face her fully, I watch her apprehensively, and eagerly as she walks toward me. She’s got legs for the days, and the shoes she’s wearing tap out a beat with each step she takes.
When she reaches me, I finally manage to open my mouth to give voice to the question on my lips, but she places a single finger over it. Shaking her head, she gives me a seductive smile making it clear she doesn’t want me to say a word. She raises her brows, a silent question, and I nod indicating my willingness to comply.
When her hands move down her body, my eyes widen and I watch with rapt attention. Slowly, eyes never leaving mine, she pulls the bow and the second it comes undone her dress parts to reveal high breasts encompassed by black lace and a matching thong. My mouth instantly goes dry and I swallow heavily. Taking another step toward me, she tosses her hair over her shoulder, then leans forward and puts her mouth on mine. Still without saying one word.
Her mouth just rests against mine, as if she’s patiently waiting for permission. When I feel the tip of her tongue trace along my lower lip seeking entrance, I let her tease me, but remain momentarily frozen. My mind is turning. I never kiss during hookups. Ever. It’s off limits – it’s too intimate, too emotional. When she nibbles on my bottom lip and releases a soft sigh that blows across my mouth, all rationality goes out the window and I open my mouth - tentatively at first. She makes a sound that sounds like victory and eagerly tastes my mouth with her own. When she pulls back and bites my lower lip again, this time, it’s me that moans. I’m completely blown away by this woman. Her boldness and confidence is a complete turn on.
Placing my hands at her waist, I pull her against me, making her body flush with mine. Every dip and curve of her meets mine,
the perfect give and take. Her arms are wrapped behind my neck, one hand cupping the back of my head, the other on the top of my back. Her hand at my back grips my t-shirt hard as our kiss intensifies.
I’m rock hard for her after just a kiss. My hands at her waist move to her ass, enjoying the silk of her skin on their journey. I can’t help myself and grind my hips into her, making it clear what she’s doing to me. Bending a little, I move my hand down the back of her leg, then grab behind her knee and hitch her leg over my hip. She makes a sound of surprise when the delicate lace covering the front of her brushes against the front of me. She recovers quickly and grinds her hip into mine in blatant invitation. Sliding my fingers along the back of her leg, she’s completely open to me now. Stopping at her ass, I squeeze the firm roundness, then I go further. Tapping my middle finger right over her lace covered entrance, pull back and look at her, a question in my eyes.
She clearly came in here and locked the door for a reason – no question about that. God knows I’m certainly no stranger to hook-ups. Believe it or not, this isn’t my first time in some random bar bathroom; but I still seek permission. Searching her eyes, I see exactly what I expected - lust, want, need, and definitely permission. What I don’t expect, is to see something I’m all too familiar with. It’s a deep sadness. The want and need to connect. The desire to feel something – hell – anything. It’s the hope that for just a few moments, someone can help you escape whatever it is you’re running from. It makes me pause for a moment, the recognition making something within me shift. Maybe it’s just kindred souls recognizing each other, I don’t know, but for a fleeting moment I wonder if I’ve met someone that could potentially understand some of my own battles.
Shaking my head, albeit subconsciously, I reorient myself to the present - this isn’t the time to explore strange feelings. My hesitation vanishes as her hand sneaks down the front of my jeans and squeezes me. All other thoughts, besides the body in front of me, dissipate like sugar in the rain. My hormones rev up to epic levels and I excitedly yank her thong to the side and touch her intimately, right where she needs it the most. Right where she’s begging for it. Moaning when I feel her wetness, she doesn’t hesitate to enjoy the sensations I’m gifting and quickly springs into action. Undoing my jeans, she frees me and runs her hand up and down my hardness. The message is clear, she doesn’t want to waste any time with foreplay.
Lifting her other leg up, with both legs now wrapped around my waist, I spin around and prop her on the sink. Reaching into my back pocket, I grab a condom and quickly apply it. I swear we hold our breaths as we both watch our bodies become one. Sighing simultaneously, we pause for mere seconds, just enjoying the connection, before she’s digging her heels into my ass urging me to move. So I do.
The only sound in the small space is our breaths coming in pants, and the sighs and moans we emit. Vaguely I hear a voice behind the door and knocking, but I ignore it, my complete focus on the firecracker around me. When she pushes me back and hops off the sink, my brow raises in confusion, until she spins around, lifts her dress up and bends forward over the sink. Looking at the picture she presents before me, I exhale sharply. She’s gorgeous – everywhere. She smiles at me over her shoulder and nods, then we groan together as I enter her from behind. When she curses under her breath, I laugh softly, knowing exactly how she feels.
My eyes close in pleasure for a moment as I carefully move in and out. Reaching around, I rub her clit, and then open my eyes in surprise when she smacks my hand away and replaces it with her own. Hell, I can’t help it - I smile. Gotta admire a girl that knows what she wants. I concentrate instead once again on moving in and out with increasing rhythm and enjoy the warmth of her body and the sensations running up my spine. As my orgasm builds and I’m near explosion, her body clenches around mine as she meets her own end. Her groans and moans are enough to make me pump harder and release quickly.
She holds onto the sink in front of her and I briefly rest my chest on her back while I try to catch my breath. In moments, she’s washing and drying her hands, fixing her hair, and reapplying lipstick she’s taken from a purse I didn’t even notice. As I’m zipping back up, I smile at her and begin to ask if I can buy her a drink. She turns to me stopping my movements and gives her head a soft shake as if she knows my exact thoughts. With a smile, she kisses me on the cheek and murmurs, “Thanks.”
I’m speechless for the first time in I don’t even know how long. My mind is spinning as I watch her unlock the door and walk out. When a man walks in immediately following her exit, he smiles at me knowingly. “Wow,” he says, but I ignore him. Turning to the sink, I wash my hands. Looking in the mirror, I see red lipstick smears on my mouth, and I grab a towel to wash them away. Blinking rapidly, I finally come to my senses. Running out the door, I look around and even call out, “Wait!”
But, it’s useless.
She’s nowhere to be found.
The same thought resounds in my head and I finally give it voice, even though there’s no one to answer. “Who was that girl?”
After putting in four very long days straight, having a day off feels great. I’ve grown accustomed to my shift of four days, ten hour shifts instead of the three twelves I put in before, but since I took the assistant head nurse job over the Emergency Department at the hospital, my shifts extend beyond their scheduled time even longer than before. I knew accepting the job would mean more responsibility and likely a greater time commitment, but some days, they seem to last forever. And on those days when the patient volume is abnormally light, I swear time moves slower than a woman at Target on senior discount Tuesday. Yesterday was one of those days. I did get a lot of work done in the office and schedules developed for next month between dealing with the patient issues and handling a few myself, but what a day it was. Today, sleeping in until my body decided it was time to wake up, instead of rising to a blaring phone alarm forcing me out of bed is amazing.
I couldn’t help but take my time with everything this morning, starting with getting out of bed. Usually, I shoot out of bed like my sheets are on fire. Today, I enjoy the feeling of my skin against the sheets as I stretch my muscles for a long time. The delicious pull in my back, arms, calves and all the way to my toes feels amazing. And I stretch again at the side of my bed and curl my toes in the carpet of my bedroom floor as though it is the very first time I’ve enjoyed its lushness. My shower is extra long as well. I take my time using my favorite deep conditioner, smelling the jasmine in my body wash and even running the razor over my legs. The warm water massaging my skin feels marvelous and is rejuvenating. How therapeutic. This is what being in the moment feels like. What a contrast to typical mornings of getting clean and finishing my morning routine as efficiently as possible.
When I step out of the shower and towel off, I decide that full hair and makeup is in order. When I’m at work, my hair is pulled back into a pony or into a high bun and my makeup is minimal. It isn’t until I’m standing naked in front of the mirror, towel drying my hair, that I see a small bruise on my lower pelvis. My mind flashes to bending over the sink in the bar bathroom. My body repeatedly hit the porcelain hard, but I could have cared less. The man at my back and the feelings he was emitting in me were all I cared about – all I ever care about. His face and body flash through my mind again - dark hair cropped close to his head, lots of tattoos, full lips and eyes that would make any girl want to drop her panties. From the moment I took a seat at the bar and looked around, he caught my attention. When we made eye contact, it was all over – I knew I wanted to make him my target, sure – but there was something about him. Something that made me ache inside. As soon as he walked into the bathroom, I made my move.
Generally, my targets are all the same. Make my intentions clear, and they are putty in my hand. It’s a risk, there’s always the off chance they have a girlfriend and aren’t interested. But, I’ve hooked up with enough guys that are taken to know that rarely a girlfriend even matters. It’s pathetic really
, but I don’t care. I only need them for one reason, and one reason only – to escape.
For a moment though, when I looked into that guy’s eyes last night, I thought I saw something more. For a brief moment it was like he saw me – the real me – past all the fluff and well practiced disguise. But, it was fleeting, the end result the same.
Massaging the bruise, my mind relives the whole encounter. Feeling the sink under me, him between my legs and under my hands, the feel of his abs, the hardness at his pec indicating a piercing, the firmness of his ass and the way we fit together. He helped make everything else disappear for a few blissful moments. Sex is the perfect stress chaser. Everything that’s generally taking up space in my mind leaves for those precious moments.
Sighing as I run the blow dryer through my long hair, I gaze across the hall to my room and look longingly at my bed. I’d like to spend my day off just lying there with a good book and a soft blanket, but that will have to wait for another day. I have errands to run – the grocery store, the bank, and post office – things I’ve been putting off for a while. After finishing my hair, applying makeup and body moisturizer, I slide clothes on over my body and mentally tick off the things I need to get at the store. I need pen and paper to make a list. Before I can grab some, my phone rings.
Seizing it from my bedside table, I’m already smiling before I say “Hello,” having seen Gina’s face on my screen. I had told her I wanted a picture for when she calls, so she squeezed her eyes closed and puckered her lips into a kiss, providing exactly what I wanted. She looks like a spastic kissing blowfish. It makes me giggle every time, but it’s her personality captured in one photo. I love it.
Fighting Lust: A Deadly Sins Novel Page 3
