by Fields, MJ
A million emotions swarm in my beehive of a head.
Once a fat kid, I’m pissed as hell that these fuckers clearly haven’t a clue how emotionally wrecked someone is when they try to eat their feelings. How anyone could miss that is beyond me. Britany Spears, Jessica Simpson, Marie Osmond, Princess Fergie, for fuck’s sake.
Then the man who has tasted, eaten, fucked, and is clearly in deep shit in less than two days over this woman wants to thump the hell out of her ex with a baseball bat. But no rational fucker would do that. That’s a whole different level of crazy. Actually, it’s psychotic.
And I’m pissed she’s not a virgin.
I look up and see her and Angela smiling as they begin to walk toward a group of women. I have to ground myself so I don’t go over there, kiss the hell out of her right now, throw her over my shoulder, and take her south with me. But apparently, Autumn has a career and her best friend is her boss.
The shit my father said about her can’t possibly be correct.
I look over to the bar to make sure my father isn’t still there when Shelby walks up to me.
“That was intense.”
“It’s fine, Shells.”
She crosses her arms. “Nothing’s ever fine with him.”
I look down at my phone and see a snap from Autumn.
“Who’s that?” Shelby leans in, but I hold my phone back as I look for Autumn.
“That’s none of your business,” I tell her.
“Let me guess, hot catering help?”
I give her a look, and she gives me one right back.
“Don’t even act as if you haven’t been doing that since you were my age.”
She’s not wrong.
“The difference is—”
“There’s no difference,” she interrupts me.
“The difference is”—I pause and give her a look—“you have me to steer you in the right damn direction. I didn’t have anyone.”
“We’ll see,” she says as she walks past me and toward a waiter, grabbing a barbeque slider.
I look down at my phone and hit the snap app.
AutumnsSeason:
- You free?
I look away from it and around the crowd. I still can’t see her.
StixsandStars1:
- Where are you?
AutumnsSeason:
- Currently with my bestie, and we both decided to blow off all obligations and have fun.
StixsandStars1:
- When will I get to see you?
AutumnsSeason:
- I can be available as soon as an hour, two tops.
StixandStars1:
- Two hours and one minute then.
AutumnsSeason:
- I can’t wait.
StixandStars1:
- I can’t wait even more.
Shelby clears her throat as I slide my phone in my pocket. “Here.” She hands me a slider.
“Thanks, Shells.”
“Whiplash much?”
I throw my arm around her shoulders. “We’re all good, kid, all good.”
After taking Shelby and the twins back to the house, I hit the shower. When I get out, there’s a snap.
AutumnsSeason:
- Same bar? Meet me in an hour?
StixandStars1:
- Sounds good, G.
Thirteen
Autumn
I’m late, which isn’t an Autumn trait, but when three different Ubers didn’t show up, I was tempted to walk. However, I’m wearing a little black dress and red Jimmy Choos. The heels are high and my hopes are, too.
My wish is for tonight to be as amazing as last night and to not fall any deeper in major like as I already am.
Hot sex has topped my list, and he’s checked that box … multiple times. The fact that he makes me feel sexy, respected, desired, and sexy. Yes, I know I mentioned that twice, but it has been a long time since I’ve felt that way. As a matter of fact, the last time was … never.
I’ve made my peace with saying goodbye and never looking back, but when I go back to New York City, I’ll bring with me an arsenal of things to add to my list.
Respect.
Desire.
Laughter … God, he makes me laugh so much.
And I need to promise myself never to allow a man who doesn’t look at me with smoldering eyes into my little red panties. I’ve worked too damn hard to get this body back, and whoever I allow to touch me better damn well bring his A game and deserve it, because I have discovered mine.
Walking into the bar, I see him immediately. How could I miss him? And let’s just say that if I did, all I would have to do is follow the line of vision of every female in the place to guide me.
He’s wearing black jeans and a gray sweater.
I slow my pace when I notice his shoulders are slumped. His elbows are on the bar, and his hands are in his silky, messy, hair. I feel slightly nauseated by it.
When he sits up and turns toward me, the corners of his lips turn up. When he stands, it’s not with the prowess and fluid moves I’m used to with him, but he’s no less sexy.
I can’t help laughing, thinking he may have had a bit too much to drink.
“Been here a while?”
“Long enough to catch a buzz. But thankfully, not long enough that I can’t see how fucking gorgeous you look.” He kisses my cheek then stands back and gives me a once-over. “Gorgeous.”
“A few more drinks, and you’ll be seeing double.”
He grins as he pulls out my stool and waits for me to sit before sitting himself down. “Two of you, a threesome.”
“Exactly.”
“Let’s order you a few shots, and then we can make it a foursome.”
When the bartender comes over, I order, “Two shots of H2O and keep ’em coming.”
The bartender nods.
“I’m not fucked up, babes; just a little buzzed.” His eyes take me in again, and he shakes his head slightly.
I reach over and push his hair back. “Rough day?”
He nods and takes my hand as I am pulling it back. “And I’m not looking forward to tomorrow.” He leans in and goes for a kiss.
I lean back. “Don’t start something you can’t continue.”
“You talking whiskey dick?”
I nod.
“Whiskey fuels my drive like lithium to an energizer battery. I keep going and going and—”
“I get the point.” I smile at him.
“Can you handle that tonight?”
“I can, but buzzed, I’m not letting you anywhere near my bum.”
He scowls. “When you were late, I thought maybe you weren’t coming tonight.”
I shake my head. “I’m a woman of my word.”
“Good, because I have a proposition for you. Regardless of the answer, I want it to be honest.”
Swallowing hard, I nod.
The intensity of his blazing blue stare causes my heartbeat to accelerate, and as uncomfortable as the heat is getting in a public place, I couldn’t look away if I tried.
“I don’t want this to end here, not tonight, not in a week. Hell, not for the foreseeable future.”
My head shakes back and forth, as if on autopilot.
“Don’t mind-fuck it, Autumn of Queens. It’s not every day you find something like this. When you get to the good stuff, you don’t let go. I know you’re a busy and independent woman—that’s part of my draw to you—and I know my schedule is heavy and getting more so every day, but we make time for what feels good. And you and I feel really fucking good together.”
Both his hands are on my knees now. “From my place to Queens isn’t across the ocean, babe; it’s an hour and a half. I’m back here at least once a month and could be even more often if the right woman”—he points to me—“were to say, I need to feel good, I could make it happen. If the right woman”—he points to me again—“decided she needed a fucking break from the snow in December and said so, I’d have my bed ready for her. And no one—
and I mean no one else—would be in it.” He points to me a third time. “If the right woman said, let’s do this, I’d jump in feet fucking first.”
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and feel the heat of his body getting closer to me.
“I have wheels and will travel for you and only you. My schedule is lighter until after the holidays. I can take four-day weekends every damn one of them if I choose. And right now, I choose you and I choose me. I choose to do what feels really fucking good. I knew after night one that you’ve been through some shit but look at me—I didn’t run scared. And look at you—you’re still sitting here, wanting something better, something that just feels good, just feels right.” He kisses me softly, like a whispered question, and when I’m about to say yes against his pillow-like lips, he rubs his lips across mine and whispers, “You and I are written in the stars.”
If anyone else in the world said that to me, I would laugh in their face. But I know how much he likes the stars—enough to want to share them with me. And I know how much he likes me—he shows me every time I’m with him.
“Okay,” I sigh out.
“Okay,” he sighs back. Then his lips leave mine, and I hear him chuckle.
I bite my quivering tongue.
He takes my hand and looks at the bartender. “We’d like a bar menu.”
“Are you sure you want to stay?” I ask in a heady, who-the-hell-am-I voice.
“I’m sure I need something in my stomach and a few glasses of water before we hit the road.”
“I thought we’d just hit the beach.”
He shakes his head. “I want you in my bed.”
“Your family—”
“Has partied all day and are fast asleep.”
“But in the morning—”
“I crash at the pool house when I’m home.”
“But—”
“Trust me, Autumn of Queens.”
“I was born in Queens, raised in Alabama and my place is in SOHO.”
He smiles. “Tell me more.”
The bartender sets the menu in front of us.
Eric doesn’t take his eyes off me. “The sampler platter.”
“Fried or broiled?” he asks.
“Broiled,” we both say at the same time.
When he walks away, Eric waits for me to answer his demand.
I pick up the glass of water, take a sip, and then set it down. “My biological mom gave me up when I was born. I was adopted at four months old by my parents and raised in Alabama.”
“When were you born?”
“May nineteenth.”
He laughs. “A Taurus. Earth sign.”
“I don’t pay a lot of attention to astrology, but I think that’s about to change.”
“Answers a lot of questions for those who need answers. Like aside from that fact that she is gorgeous, why am I so fucking drawn to this woman born in the spring and named Autumn?”
I shrug. “I was adopted in September.”
“And Scorpios”—he points to himself—“are mostly sexually compatible with only a few signs; one would be Taurus.” He points to me. “See? Written in the stars.”
I smile and try not to get wrapped up in the fact that it absolutely feels that way.
“What sign was your ex?”
“Stephen was also a Taurus.”
“I like that you speak of him in the past tense.”
“I’d rather not speak of him at all.”
“You ever see him?” He picks up his glass of water and takes a drink.
“Well, we may as well get it out of the way. You’ll find out eventually. His name is Stephen Greenfield.”
“Never heard of him,” he deadpans.
I laugh, and so does he.
“I’m not big on baseball but have always rooted for the Yankees and will definitely be rooting harder for them now.”
“Football?”
He shakes his head.
“Oh, please, I find it hard to believe you’re not into sports.”
He shrugs. “Half-ass lacrosse player, but I do love the game and the gym.”
“And the gym loves you.”
Caressing me with blue flames from my toes to my nose, he states, “Clearly it loves you, too.”
“It was a necessity for me. I ate my feelings, and they ate me.”
He nods as if he gets it then takes another drink and sets it down. “I was a fat kid, so I know all about it. But we have plenty of time to get to know each other, Autumn of …” He pauses. “Does it bother you when I say Autumn of Queens?”
“No, not at all. It reminds me of where I came from, the journey I’ve traveled and will continue to travel.”
“That is incredibly sexy.”
* * *
“You good?” he asks as we walk hand in hand toward a pool house bigger than my Brownstone.
“I feel like a teenager, breaking rules.”
He chuckles.
“It’s not funny. I was never a rule breaker. I would have never snuck into my ex’s house.”
“Well, back then, you were a virgin, so …” he jokes.
“I don’t want to go through that awkward stage. The meet the parents’ nonsense.”
“I promise he doesn’t even step foot out here.”
I momentarily regret my word choice, forgetting he lost his mother at a young age. It seems almost thoughtless. But to say I get lost in everything him isn’t an understatement. He doesn’t seem affected, so I continue. “What about your siblings? Are they still here?”
He opens the double wooden doors and a dim light turns on, illuminating the area.
“Oh my God, this is … It’s beachy … couture. So Hamptons’ highlife.”
“Yeah, it’s nice. Been out here since I was fifteen years old.”
I look up at him. “Really?”
He nods. “Perfect place for low key weekend parties and to have some peace and quiet. I can’t wait to have a piece of you and don’t you dare be quiet.” He crashes his lips against mine as he walks me backward. As my back hits a wall, he hikes my leg up to his hip with his strong, large hand.
“Do the shoes match the panties?” he asks against my lips as he grinds against me.
“Mmhmm.”
“Perfect.” He pulls away from the kiss and drops to his knees, throwing my leg over his shoulder and covering my core with his hot, sexy mouth.
I feel a pull, hear a rip, and then look down. Part of my red lace panties are between his teeth as he hooks thumbs under the lacey sides and drags them down. I lower my leg so he can get them all the way down.
Releasing my panties from his mouth, he looks up at me. “We’re leaving the shoes on.”
“They’re good shoes.” I remove my feet from my panties one leg at a time.
“You’ve got great taste. And Autumn, you taste so good.” He throws my leg over his shoulder, no pomp and circumstance, no tease, nothing but …
“Oh my God.” I grip his soft, thick hair to steady myself, because I’m now suspended, two legs over his shoulders, back against the wall as he fucks me with his tongue … his whole face, as if he was the thirteenth apostle at the Last Supper who knew that, very soon, things would never be the same.
Yanking the hem of my dress up, he hisses, “Let’s get this fucking dress out of the way.”
“It’s vintage Chanel.”
“It’s in the fucking way.”
After he unzips the back, I lift my arms, and he pulls it off and tosses it to the floor.
“I’m sorry, Coco,” I whisper.
He drops to his knees again and veraciously devours me. Within a minute’s time, I feel another orgasm coming, and I’ve yet to recover from the last.
“Oh fuck!” I squeal, my back scraping up the wall as he stands.
He looks up at me as I hang on for dear life and, with his long, thick, exquisitely skilled tongue, he slowly, methodically laps at my lips as he walks us … somewhere that I can’t see because I don’t have eyes i
n the back of my head. And if I did, they would find their way to the front of me, just to watch this insanely gorgeous man eating me.
Pulling his lips from me, he looks up, eyes blazing and face glistening with my need and, in his gruff, husky, very demanding tone, tells me, “Hang on.” Then he bends over, hands full of my ass, and lays me on what I assume is his bed.
He bends down to kiss me, and I grab his face, overcome with erotic needs never felt before. I run my tongue from his chin up and across his lips to taste myself.
“Give it back, dammit.” He grips the back of my head, smashes his lips to mine, and swipes his tongue inside my mouth. Then he catches my tongue, sucking it intensely before holding it between his teeth firmly, not painfully, his eyes narrowed at me. “Mine.”
I pull my tongue back as I grab the sides of his head and push him down. “Then do something about it.”
So, he does.
Burning, withering, crying out from ripple after pleasure ripple, I can barely take it anymore when he pushes up on his knees and steps off the bed, panting out, “Roll over.”
I do so without hesitation.
“All fours, gorgeous.”
Looking over my shoulder at him, I watch as he squeezes his cock then strokes it as he eyes my naked form. “What are you waiting for?”
One step to the edge of the bed, two hands on my ass, he spreads me then licks me from front to back before gripping my hair and pulling it back while bending his large hard body over mine and kissing me again. As his other hand is occupied with rubbing his cock against my opening, I push back against him as he thrusts in fully.
He doesn’t wait until I’ve had time to take in his girth, he fucks me with raw abandon, and I meet him thrust for thrust.
When my body starts to sag onto the bed, he holds my hips in place. “I want your pretty, round ass.” He reaches under me and pulls me to my knees.
I turn back, and he kisses me, whispering against my lips, “I wanna make every fucking hole of yours feel good, Autumn.”
“But—”
“Trust me.” He kisses me while rubbing my pussy, lubing his finger before he slowly begins fingering my ass.
