Ten Night Stand

by Mickey Miller

  The girl has guts, making the first move, and I respect that. Plus, it means maybe she’s as attracted to me as I am to her.

  She’s got on this black and white skirt, a big beige belt around her waist, and this black and white polka dot blouse. It’s a little bit alternative-looking. And a lotta bit sexy as fuck.

  I groan as I grind into her, pleasure searing through me. I’m spurred on when she lets out a tiny little purr, and I reach my hand down from her chin, grab hold of her asscheek under her skirt and squeeze it hard.

  I growl.

  She’s found the animal in me.

  Maybe it’s her scent. Maybe it’s the way she’s somehow strong—making the first move—yet submissively letting me take her at the same time, but I’m harder than a redwood tree.

  I wrap kisses around her cheek and suck on her neck, if it leaves a hickey, fuck it. I don’t care.

  She’s mine now.

  Some vague voice in the back of my head—what’s left of my conscience, maybe—reminds me that I definitely shouldn’t be getting entangled with her. This is a bad, bad idea, sleeping with one of my tenants. I’ve heard horror stories about guys who thought they could beat the odds, and none of them turned out well.

  My conscience is drowned out, though, as she moans into my ear.

  “Oh God, Damien. I’ve thought about this for so long. You have no idea.”

  “Fuck me,” I snarl, biting my lip. I slip a hand up her skirt until I reach her panties. I run a finger along her slit, and finally open my eyes to gauge her reaction.

  She tips her head backwards into the couch pillow, her eyes in a haze.

  “Holy fuck, you’re so wet,” I growl as I run my finger over her.

  “Unh huh,” she responds, nodding. “I know.”

  “Well you’re about to get even wetter,” I say.

  I slide her panties to the side and slip my middle finger onto her clit. I rub so lightly I’m barely touching her, but she’s slick with her own juices and ultra sensitive to the touch, judging by her moans and short breaths.

  She gyrates her hips upward in tiny pulses, and I push my finger harder into her. She gets louder, and her moans are like fucking music to my ears. Just her light, sexy voice alone has me about to come.

  Well, alright, I’ve got a little bit of self control. I’m not a minute man here, and I’ve got her pleasure to worry about. Give me some credit.

  She comes first. Wasn’t that a bestselling sex book?

  Fuck if I ever read that book. Still, making Krista come at least once before my cock even makes an appearance is just the gentlemanly thing to do right now.

  But fuck if my cock isn’t aching like mad.

  With my free hand, I pull up her skirt, revealing her olive colored thighs. I whip off her panties, push two fingers inside her and curl them up right into that spot.

  Yes, that spot.

  “Jesus Damien, How did you know…” she trails off and moans, unable to form an audible sentence.

  Slowly, I work my fingers inside her, and she reciprocates by gripping me tight.

  “How did I know that’s your spot?” I smirk. “I just know, honey.”

  She writhes and moans and purrs, and I cover her mouth with mine, not to mute her moan, but just for the fun of it, because I can.

  And because it’s kind of fun to watch her, to feel her squirm.

  She grips me hard, fingernails digging into my back. “I’m...coming,” she breathes, pulling her head away from mine as she shakes on the couch. Laying exhausted, she looks like she’s done already, and I have to smile. I run my free hand over her smooth stomach, her thighs, and glance at her pussy.

  Now, I have a strict no going-down-on-a-girl-in-the-first-six-weeks policy. Don’t ask—maybe I’m an asshole. But there’s just something about going down on a girl that’s super personal.

  Maybe it’s Krista’s honey scent. Maybe it’s how hard I am. But I can’t help myself.

  I need to taste her.

  I slide down off the couch, turn her body, and slide slowly between her legs, breaking my rule.

  Her moans spur me on as I run my tongue up and down her slit, loving the sounds of pleasure that escape from her lips.

  I wrap my hands around her and she has no idea how good she feels, the flesh of her ass wrapped in my palms, that luscious hot feeling of unexplored flesh.

  “Oh God, Damien, you’re making me come aga...” she mewls, taking hold of my hair and pushing me further into her pussy.

  If that’s even possible.

  She does it like we’ve known each other for much more than just a night. Which in reality, we have. I’ve been her landlord for six months, it’s almost inconceivable that we’ve never done this.

  But we haven’t—like a good man I made sure we never crossed the line.

  And now that we have, there’s no sense in going back.

  My cock aches as I kneel before her, sucking the sweet honey nectar from her clit like she holds the juices of life. And hell, she just might. Because right now, in this very moment, I feel more alive than I’ve felt in a very long time. Her bliss, as she moans in pleasure, is my bliss.

  Her grip on my head finally loosens and I’m satisfied that she’s been overly satisfied. So I stand up and slip my shorts down so I’m totally naked, as she leans back on the couch before me. My cock and balls hang low, and I catch her staring at my big cock right at her eye level.

  “Curious about something?” I grin.

  “Yes,” she admits.

  “Tell me.”

  “I shouldn’t. It’s dirty.” She lowers her eyes.

  I laugh. “I just sucked on your clit for fifteen minutes and you can’t tell me what’s going through your mind? Come on, now.”

  She takes deep breath. “Fine. I want to know how it feels.”

  “Well there’s an easy solution to that.”

  I take a condom from the pocket of my jeans that are lying near, and put it on. She lays back on the couch and I plunge into her, and she’s so wet I go in nice and easy.

  Fuck, is she ever wet.

  “Fuck me, Damien…” her moans trail off, and she wraps her legs around my back as I thrust into her on the couch, with every inch, exploring her depths with my cock and exploring her neck with my kisses. She purrs and whimpers, and I growl into her ear. The sweat from our bodies mixes and she grabs at my ass, whimpering a little louder with every time I touch her deep in her core.

  “I-I-I’m gonna come again Damien,” she whispers, and the vibrations of her voice push me to the brink.

  I fuck her with reckless abandon, loving this girl and everything she is. In the act, I feel a closeness I’ve been seeking for years, She reveals her essence to me, totally vulnerable as she clenches around me. It’s a glorious feeling as she tightens, and with that, I climax. Tingles of pleasure course through me as I erupt deep inside her.

  When it’s all over, we collapse together in a heap of sweat on her couch. And I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

  Now that I’ve officially broken the rules and slept with a tenant.

  3

  Krista

  The next day, the morning sun streams into my living room, but I don’t open my eyes yet, basking in the afterglow of last night.

  For as long as I can, I want to enjoy the sensation of my head resting on Damien’s chest as it rises and falls. We fell asleep on my sofa last night in a tangle of cramped limbs, and though we were uncomfortable, I slept better than I have any night in the past year.

  He stirs and growls—sounding almost like a bear coming out of hibernation—but I don’t move a muscle. I want this night of cuddling to continue. And after it’s over, who knows what will happen? I’m his tenant. Maybe it will be best to forget this thing ever happened and go back to our landlord-tenant relationship.

  I open one eyelid and stare at Damien and his beautiful skin.

  It’s a weird quality to remark on a man, to be sure, but I’m fairly certain he’s in his t
hirties, and he probably still gets carded. My hips are to the side of his body and my hand rests happily on his abdominal cavity as his chest rises and falls with his breath.

  He opens his eyes and catches me staring at him.

  “Hey,” he echoes with a sleepy grin.

  I smile, feeling the vibrations of his vocal chords through his chest when he speaks.

  “Hey yourself. Good morning.”

  “Mmm,” he growls, wrapping both arms around me and drawing me further into him. “That was the best night of sleep I’ve had in a long time.”

  “Me too.”

  He sits up and stretches his arms, and he looks even more muscular in the morning sunlight. His left arm is entirely tatted up, the biggest tattoo being the rose. I’m about to ask him about it, but he speaks first.

  “I should go,” he says, standing up. His eyes linger on me for an extra second, then flash to the coffee table where our whisky glasses sit, still half full from last night.

  “Oh. All right.” I stand up, suddenly conscious of my nakedness. He pulls on his briefs and looks around for his jeans. I pull on my panties and scan the floor for my bra, but don’t see it.

  Our eyes meet. “Looks like we got a little messy last night,” he says, and we break out laughing.

  “Hey, you know, you don’t have to go yet if you don’t want to,” I bait, taking a step toward him.

  He runs his tongue over his upper lip. “So this wasn’t just like a...one-time thing? I mean Krista, I’m your landlord.”

  “Yeah, so…?”

  Smiling at my answer, he wraps his arms around me, and warmth flows through my body, that nagging feeling of loneliness temporarily eradicated.

  “Do you have to go to work today?” I ask, pressing my cheek into his chest.

  “No, I’m an owner. This is my work. Don’t you have to go to work?”

  I shrug. “My twelve-hour hospital shift doesn’t start until eleven. I’ve got some time.”

  We kiss, slower this time, and sober.

  Well, mostly sober. Our breath might still be tainted with a touch of whisky.

  He tastes even better than last night.

  I think we might go for another round this morning.

  And then my phone vibrates, buzzing hard against the wooden floor.

  “Shit,” I say. “It’s probably my boss wanting me to come in early or something. Screw him.”

  We make out, and I let my hand fall down to Damien’s ass. His firm, tight ass.

  I break our kiss. “Do you work out?” I blurt out.

  He smirks. “Why do you ask?”

  “Uh, no reason. Just, your muscles are very...firm. That’s all.”

  He shrugs, and takes a breath. “Ever since my military days, I’ve been a gym rat. I like to call it ‘steel therapy.’”

  I furrow my brow. “That’s...interesting. I didn’t know you were so intense.”

  “I’m really not. I just like the feeling of throwing a little weight around and getting stronger.”

  “I can tell you’re a little intense. You don’t have to sugarcoat it for me.” I get up on my tip toes and whisper in his ears. “Whatever you’re doing with your body, I loved the feel of it against me last night.”

  “And I didn’t mind the feel of these against me,” he growls, running his hands up my stomach to my still-exposed tits. Finding my nipples with his fingers, he lightly flicks his fingertips around them.

  I exhale, leaning my head back, and run my hand along his washboard abs. I can feel him starting to grow again underneath his briefs.

  We kiss again, our lips fusing together and my core heats up. My sex fiend does somersaults of happiness. I haven’t had a morning hookup since God knows when.

  My phone buzzes again, and it doesn’t stop buzzing this time. Whoever is calling must be repeat dialing me.

  “I’m just going to get this,” I say, holding up a one minute sign. “Freeze. Don’t even change your position at all.”

  “You got it. I’m frozen right here.”

  I giggle at his imitation of a statue, as he feigns making out with an invisible me with one hand on my ass and another on my boob.

  So my landlord has a sense of humor, too. Noted.

  This morning couldn’t be going any better. But when I pick up my phone, all that changes.

  Nick - 11 missed calls.

  My heart drops.

  Why the fuck is Nick calling me at all? Let alone this early in the day?

  Damien must sense my nervousness and calls it out. “Everything okay? Who was it?”

  “It-it’s my ex,” I admit. “I don’t understand why he’s calling me.”

  He falls out of his frozen statue pose. “Oh. I see.”

  “Yeah. It’s weird, I know. Let me just call him and see what’s up.”

  I dial, and my hands shake. No answer, and I let out a sigh of relief. I’m off the hook.

  And then my door buzzes, and I literally jump.

  “Holy shit, calm down. Calm down Krista. It’s okay.” He puts his hands on my shoulders. “It’s fine. Get your clothes on. We’ll work through this. Wow, you’re really trembling. Are you okay?”

  Damien’s eyes offer nothing but pure kindness and concern. I can’t lie, I’m surprised a man who fucks as well as he does could have a soft side. But then maybe that’s my own prejudice getting in the way.

  I smile softly, barely, not quite faking it, but not not faking it. Right now, he’s nothing but a one-night stand, and he doesn’t need to know the extent to which this man, my ex, has gone to hurt me.

  Will go.

  “I’ll be fine. It’s just my ex-boy…” I take a deep breath, straighten out, and look Damien in the eye. Even though I don’t need to admit the full extent of what Nick and I were, I shouldn’t lie to him either, and calling Nick my ex-boyfriend is like calling a hurricane a rainstorm. “He’s my ex-fiance,” I finally admit.

  “Oh. I didn’t know you’ve been engaged.”

  The door buzzes again three times as I scramble to put my clothes on. Damien puts his jeans on.

  “You should go,” I say as I pull on my pants. “This isn’t your battle to fight.”

  He hesitates, and the buzzer rings again, this time one long, drawn out buzz.

  Patience never was a virtue of Nick’s.

  “Right,” Damien answers, hesitantly. I can tell he doesn’t want to leave me. Maybe he sees the pain in my eyes, the scars of a three-year relationship turned sour. My wheels turn as I try to figure out what the hell Nick would want now?

  Damien looks around for his shirt, but doesn’t see it. Instead, he puts our glasses away in the sink, wisely guessing it wouldn’t be good news if Nick saw the evidence of me having a fun night.

  I think about buzzing Nick up now, because the longer he waits, the worse it’s going to be when he finally comes up. And there’s no ignoring him. He’ll find me no matter where he has to go. Whether that’s waiting outside all night, heading to my work—anywhere.

  I hear some action near the door, though. One of the other tenants must be heading in or out—because now I can hear Nick’s ominous feet on the stairs.

  The hair on my arms stands on end, and goosebumps run across my body. It’s odd how I could have not seen a person for many months, yet an action as basic as walking up the stairs can trigger this sort of reaction.

  Damien doesn’t notice, because he probably doesn’t instinctively realize what Nick’s steps sound like.

  Before we know it, it’s too late, and Nick’s pounding on the door to get in.

  “Krista. Open the fuck up,” he yells. “I know you still live here.”

  My flight or fight instinct kicks in, and I freeze. My phone buzzes in my hand again.

  Why didn’t I just block his damn number?

  Maybe Damien doesn’t realize his shirt is still off. Or perhaps he just doesn’t care. But he moves swiftly to the door, opens it, and the look on his face is one of total vitriol.

 
“Hi,” Damien says. “Can I help you?”

  Nick’s startled, and he attempts to push his way in, but Damien steps in front of him with a big cocky smile. “Hi. Let’s try that again. I’m Krista’s landlord. I’m here early this morning working on the pipes. She didn’t mention anything about a visitor.”

  “Listen buddy, I don’t need to fucking announce when I’m coming by to see my girlfriend, okay?”

  “It’s okay,” I say softly. “He can come in.”

  Damien bites his lip, and shoots me a look of death. Finally, he removes his hand from the doorframe and lets Nick through.

  I can feel my anxiety rocketing through the roof.

  “Your landlord, eh?” he says, making a beeline for me. “Why did you take so long to open the door? What the hell?”

  My heart hammers against my chest. I take a deep breath, notice I’m looking down at the ground. Nick makes me nervous, and there’s a damn good reason I broke up with him.

  It’s a reason I’ve tried very hard to forget. His sudden return leaves me nervous, and tongue tied.

  Damien backtracks, stepping between Nick and I.

  “Everything okay here?”

  “Hey Mr. Plumber guy. Back off. Look, I’d appreciate if you gave me and Krista some room. You know, leave us alone for a little while. What do you say, Kris?”

  A chill runs through me when I hear him say my pet name. I haven’t heard anyone call me that in a long time. Since before our proposal went up in flames. The fact that Nick still has the ability to start that fire in my heart is ominous. I’ve always loved too hard, and never stopped. Even when that love wasn’t there for me.

  Damien’s eyes dart between Nick and I, and I know he’s in a tough spot. Is one night of lustful passion enough to turn him into my defender?

  I put my hand on Damien’s arm to send him a signal. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine. We can work on the sink some other time.”

  Nick’s eyes lock in on my hand, and I realize I’ve crossed the line with Damien in front of Nick. I’ve shown him one of my cards.

  Because nobody grabs a guy who’s just doing the plumbing like that.

  Damien reads the situation and falls away. He heads over to the sink to feign like he is taking one more look at it, then slowly walks out the door and leaves.