Wanted: No Strings

by Brandy Ayers

  Fuck. No condom. We didn’t use a condom. I didn’t even think about it. I was so wrapped up in the amazing sensations that I totally forgot about the stash of condoms in the dresser drawer.

  Thank God he remembered to pull out.

  ***

  “I think you killed me.” I half laugh, half pant the joke from our collapsed position across the bed.

  The whole thing shakes with Trent’s deep chuckle. “I don’t think it’s possible to die from coming too much, but it was my pleasure to test it out for you.”

  One of my legs is draped over his thigh as we both lie on our backs, his arm tucked around my shoulders, fingers caressing up and down my arm. I hadn’t expected this from tonight. I knew we would most likely have sex. I hoped it would be good. But this intimacy after is kinda throwing me for a loop.

  Shouldn’t he be pulling on his pants and heading for the door? But he’s just lying there, as if he has no plans to move for the rest of the night.

  Suddenly the awkward moment crashes down around me. What do I do? Ask him to leave? Say thank you? Is there a politeness protocol for one-night stands? I really have to pee. Am I allowed to get up and pee? Or do I have to wait for him to go so he doesn’t have to think about my bodily functions when he looks back on this night?

  “Woman, would you stop squirming around? I need to sleep for, like, ten minutes, then we’ll go again.” Trent rolls over, throwing his arm around my torso and pulling me in tight to his chest.

  What. The. Fuck.

  Again?

  We just screwed for over an hour straight. I glance at the Hello Kitty clock on the wall my sister gave me as a housewarming gift. No, an hour and a half. No way can he go again after that.

  Shit. I really have to pee.

  Jumping from the bed, I stumble over my own damn feet, bumping my shin on the end of the damn Murphy bed. Double shit, did I just give him a perfect view of my ass when I fell over? What the hell am I thinking? He just stared at my ass for an hour as he drilled me from behind.

  “Where are you going?” he calls after me as I damn near sprint to the bathroom on the other side of the kitchen. I don’t bother answering.

  I need to call Meg. She can tell me how to get this guy out of here. I mean, he is super nice, and hot as sin, and amazing as all hell in bed. But this is one night, and it needs to stay one night. So, he needs to get the hell out of Dodge.

  “Phone, phone, phone. What did I do with my phone when we got here?” Pacing back and forth in my tiny bathroom is kind of pointless. Step, step, turn; step, step, turn. There is nowhere for me or my rising panic to go. Finally, the need to relieve myself is too much to ignore, even while in the middle of a panic attack. I sit down on the toilet, and it rocks back and forth the way it always does.

  “Francie, your phone is on the floor where you dropped your purse.”

  Triple shit. The guy I just banged cannot listen to me pee. I may not know much about casual sex, but I know that listening to the woman you met less than three hours ago and have already given multiple orgasms to pee is not sexy.

  “You want to open the door and tell me what’s going on? Then I’ll hand your phone over.”

  Could this get any more embarrassing? Holding back the pee is starting to hurt, but I will be damned if I am going to release the floodgates while he is standing on the other side of the door. “No. Just leave it on the floor, and you can go now.”

  A deep rumbling chuckle vibrates through the door. “Honey, I’m not going anywhere until you open this door and talk to me.”

  “No talking necessary. You fulfilled the job description as it was posted on craigslist. Big dick, check. Awesome sex, double check. There is really no need to stick around.” I try to keep my voice light and carefree. As if this is no big deal. Fucking a man until I nearly pass out and then panicking as soon as it is over is totally normal. La-di-fucking-da. But the panic is easily recognizable even to my own ears.

  “Listen. Why don’t you finish up in there. I’ll grab us some drinks from the fridge, and we can relax and talk for a while.” I can still hear the damn smile in his voice. The fact that he finds me so damn amusing is really starting to piss me off. No. Don’t think about pissing. No waterfalls. No trickling water.

  “Oh my God, will you please just walk away from the door so I can pee without you hearing?” Sometime during my rage spiral of shame, I let loose and start peeing, at the exact same time I hear the heavy footfalls of Trent walking away.

  He absolutely heard me pee. Damn it all to hell.

  I stall for as long as I can after cleaning up, even going so far as to brush my teeth. But I really can’t stay in the bathroom all night. I have a feeling Trent is a patient man and totally willing to wait me out on this one. Why didn’t I bring a robe or shirt or undies or anything to cover up with in here with me? I don’t even have a towel because it is laundry day, and they are all sitting folded in my laundry basket.

  Gathering the last shreds of my dignity, I march out of the bathroom butt-ass naked to find Trent sitting up in the bed, his back propped up against the wall, and one of the manuscripts I’ve been working on in his hand. And he is hard. Like, really hard. Pointing straight to the ceiling and twitching hard.

  I quickly grab his shirt from the floor and slip it on, needing one of us to be clothed for what is surely going to be a hell of an awkward postsex talk.

  “So, did you write this? Because, holy shit, I volunteer to be a guinea pig to test out some of these scenes.” Trent flips the page, not taking his eyes off the manuscript.

  “No, I don’t write them, I edit them.” I have no clue what to do right now. I can’t sit on the bed with him, that’s weird. We just had sex on that bed. There is a wet spot somewhere on that bed with cum from both of us mixed together. Strangely, I find the idea hot and not at all gross.

  He lays the manuscript down on the floor beside the bed, his brow lifted in curiosity. “How’d you get into that?”

  “Ummm, a few years back a friend of mine from high school wrote a romance novel and asked me to look at it because she remembered what a freak I was for grammar.” I look everywhere but at Trent. Looking in his eyes feels dangerous right now, as if by making eye contact with him I will start catching feelings. I don’t need feelings for this hot Adonis naked in my bed. I came down with a bad case of feelings when I was a teenager and ended up wasting half my life. No, thank you. No more with the feelings. “It was her first book, so she didn’t have the money to spend on an editor. She paid me fifty bucks to read and edit her manuscript. Then she told some of her writer friends, and they all started coming to me too. I got so busy I had to raise my rates to scare some of them off. But then my friend hit it big. Like, really big. She keeps me on retainer now, and I still take other clients. It was thanks to those books and those writers that I grew a spine and left my husband. I realized there was better out there, that our relationship wasn’t good or normal.”

  “Good for you. That is pretty amazing.” Unable to avoid it anymore, I glance at Trent and find his eyes burning with lust and something else that I don’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole. Something like feelings. “Why are you standing there? Come here. I want to try out this scene from the book.”

  “I mean, aren’t we done now? We had sex, and you rocked my world. Good job, by the way. Don’t we go our separate ways now?” I take a couple steps toward the bed, stopping when my shins press against the cold metal frame. “This is my first foray into casual sex, so you have to tell me what to do next here.”

  Trent leans forward, grabbing my wrists before I can shuffle back again. The squeal comes out of my mouth before I can stop it, and before I know what happened, I’m cradled in his lap with my hands pinned behind my back.

  “There are a lot of different ways to do casual sex. Sure, you can do the one-night hookups, but really, why would you restrict what just happened here to one night?” Trent pulls one of his hands out from behind my back, shifting both my wrists in
to the other’s grip. “I know your original intention was for this to be one night, but I think the smarter thing to do here is to take advantage of my complete obsession with your body, with your pussy, and use me as your guide.”

  Gently, his fingers trace my collarbone. They glide over the cotton covering my breasts and sink down to my pussy. He spears two fingers deep into my core, and I writhe, not sure whether I can take any more tonight. Truthfully, I’m a little sore after all the orgasms. But Trent seems to have some sort of vagina voodoo going on, because after just a few strokes, I’m dripping once more and practically begging for him to shove his dick inside me.

  “Sure, you could find a new big dick every time you want to get laid, want to try something new. But why bother when you have one that already knows how to make you come apart within seconds?” Trent says all this as if it means nothing to him, as though he doesn’t actually give a shit whether I take him up on his offer. But something under the bravado contradicts his tone, a tension that I can tell he is trying to bury.

  With his fingers inside me, slipping and sliding in the wetness he is creating, his words make sense to me. Why would I find another guy? This one is so amazingly fantastic in bed, and nice and funny out of it. I would be dumb to pass up this guy’s offer to be my sexual tutor, right? “I don’t want a relationship, Trent. I need to make that clear. Even when your fingers are doing everything they can to make . . . Uuunmphh.” The most unattractive sound possible gurgles out of my throat as he twists his wrist and does something with his fingers inside me to make everything else seem completely unimportant.

  “Shhh, don’t you worry, girl. I know exactly what this is.” There is too much significance laced in everything he says. Too much awe in his eyes as he looks at me.

  But I’m having a damn hard time caring at this point, not when yet another orgasm is building and growing inside me.

  Just as I’m about to start screaming my freaking head off again, Trent slows everything down, easing his touch to a barely there whisper. “This time, I’ll take you slow. Show you that a fast, furious fuck is incredible, but a slow build to the cliff can be just as amazing. You’ll beg for me to let you come, but when you get close, I’ll back off. You don’t have to worry, though. When I finally let you dive over the edge, you’ll thank me.”

  Holy fucking shit. What have I gotten myself into?

  Chapter Seven

  Trent

  “Dork. I know you said not to come over before nine anymore, but come on, you know I couldn’t wait to hear about last night.”

  A strange woman’s voice echoes through the tiny apartment. She really doesn’t need to shout to be heard in this place. Before the vestiges of my postsex marathon sleep can be fully wiped away, a short, athletic woman with hair so many different colors I’m not sure which one to focus on first steps into the living room. Bedroom. Well, the room.

  “I brought coffee, so you can’t be too mad. But I have to know, did the mountain man give you a deep dicking to remember?” Whoever this lady is, she’s not watching where she is going, instead looking at her phone and sipping from a Starbucks cup.

  I huff out a laugh at her crude language, so unlike the woman whose breasts are pressed against my side. “Well, I don’t mean to brag, but I’d like to think it was a pretty damn deep dicking.”

  Rainbow Brite, as I’ve decided to call her, stops in her tracks, eyes round with shock. But the shock doesn’t last long. She smirks and leans against the wall. “Hellooo, Mountain Man. I’m surprised you’re still here. FranFran was adamant that this would be a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am type of situation.”

  “Well, to be fair, she tried.” I glance down at the beauty wrapped around me, flashes of the night before inundating my senses. “But I can be very persuasive.”

  “Yeah, I can imagine, given the size of the tent your morning wood is popping right now.”

  Shit. In my exhausted state from the four . . . no, five . . . rounds we went last night, I completely forget we are lying here with nothing but a thin sheet covering us. The combination of nature and boobs pressed against me has the old tripod at full effect. Bending one knee up, I try to hide exactly how happy I am with my current position.

  “So, do you want me to have Francie call you?”

  I pause, waiting for this over-the-top girl to fill in the blank.

  “Meg. The sister.” The amusement on her face slides away, revealing a more protective emotion in its wake. “Listen, Mountain Man, Francie has been through a lot. More than she probably let on.”

  Despite the wacky hair and short stature, this girl is actually intimidating me a little right now with her glare and suddenly stiff stance.

  “She is just starting to be able to stand on her own, and she doesn’t need another man coming in, trying to railroad everything in her life.”

  I open my mouth to say something, but Meg holds up the hand holding her phone to silence me, barely even pausing to take a breath in the middle of her diatribe.

  “I’m sure you have the best of intentions. Fran is sweet. She’s insanely smart. And just about everyone but her knows how gorgeous she is without even trying.”

  I can’t argue with that point.

  “But she also has trouble standing up for herself. You were obviously able to bowl her over last night, because she had no plans to let her first foray into casual sex stay the night. So, if your plan is to find some weak woman who you can lord over, just get out now. I’m not standing by and letting my sister go through that shit again.”

  By the end of her speech, Meg’s face is red, and she’s huffing a little with indignation. But strangely, I don’t mind. It warms something inside me to know Francie has someone like this in her life. Someone who will fight the battles Francie might not be able to yet. I hope I will be given the same chance to help protect the beautiful woman in my arms. Eventually. I know that spot will need to be earned, not taken.

  “I promise I have no intention of being some dictator in her life.” I glance down at Francie’s sleeping face. Her cheek is kind of scrunched up against my chest, there is a thin line of drool running onto my side, and her hair is a massive tangled nest of curls, but damn if she isn’t the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “But I also don’t want to be a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am type of situation. Maybe that was the intention, but after spending one night with her, I know it won’t be enough.” Tearing my eyes away from Francie, I slide my gaze back over to her sister, who has lost some of her angry edge. “She told me some of what she had to deal with during her marriage. I’m willing to jump through whatever hoops Francie feels the need to put in front of me to trust that I won’t be the same as her ex.”

  “Even if one of those hoops is letting her be with other men?”

  Before I can formulate an answer to that question, Francie moans, stretches her legs out next to me, wiggles around a little, and the space between her eyebrows scrunches up in confusion.

  Slowly, she pulls one eyelid open, sees me, and then both her eyes go wide with surprise. “Holy shit. That happened. You’re still here. You heard me pee.”

  Fuck, she is adorable. Could I do it? If Francie said she needed to sleep with other guys before settling down again, could I be strong enough to stand by and watch her play the field, hoping she would come back to me in the end?

  I honestly don’t know.

  “He heard you pee?” Meg laughs hysterically at the foot of the bed, almost spilling her coffee all over the floor. “What the hell kind of kinky shit are you into now?”

  “Meg!” Francie sits up, forgetting her nakedness for a moment, the sheet slipping down around her waist and exposing those delicious tits. If my cock hadn’t already been saluting her, it definitely would be now. She scrambles to cover herself before laying into her sister. “What are you doing here? How long have you been here?” Her eyes shift to the cup in her sister’s hand. “That better be for me.”

  Chuckling to myself, I lean over to kiss Francie�
��s bare shoulder. “Why don’t I go use the facilities while you two talk. Meg, could you turn around so I can pull some pants on?”

  “I suppose.” The strange woman turns on the spot, but before I can stand from the bed, Francie grabs my arm.

  “Not in front of the mirror, Meg.” Francie’s chastising tone has me laughing as I look over to see her sister winking at me in the mirror.

  “Hey, can you blame me?” This time, she really does turn so she can’t see me in all my glory.

  I pull on my pants from the night before, skipping the underwear since I can’t figure out where it ended up, and stride toward the bathroom on the other side of the apartment. “I’ll just get cleaned up, then I’ll take you ladies out to breakfast.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t have to do that.”

  I look back over my shoulder, and my breath completely leaves my lungs at the vision behind me: Francie, sitting up on the bed, the sheet pulled up to cover her breasts, her hair in what can only be described as a very dark lion’s mane, and little bruises all over her collarbone, left from my mouth.

  “I can make breakfast here instead if you want.” Please don’t let them pick that option. I have no clue how to cook anything more complicated than cereal.

  “Pfft, with what?” Meg looks as if she wants to bust out laughing. “Unless you want Easy Mac for breakfast, you aren’t going to have much luck in this kitchen.”

  Francie tosses a pillow at her sister, who ducks out of the way but spills some of the coffee on the floor.

  “That settles it then. Breakfast is on me.” I don’t even give them the chance to answer, just turn and walk to the tiniest bathroom I have ever seen in my life. Seriously, my pantry at home is bigger than this thing.