Quick Fix: Book 1 (Suddenly Satisfied)

by Ashley Suzanne

  “Just checking on you.” Her gaze drifts again, so I step closer to her, snapping my fingers in front of her face.

  “Eyes on your own paper, Nikki. Phone call?”

  “Uh huh, tried that. Seems you let your cell die. First time that’s ever happened. Ever. So I came over. Couldn’t not make sure my best gal was still breathing. But looks like Studly McWellEndowed has you all taken care of, don’t ya?”

  “Don’t acknowledge her, Tanner. Feeding the beast is never a good idea. There’ll be a dozen follow-up questions,” I sigh.

  “And a ruler, because damn, boy’s gotta whole lot going on over there.”

  “Nik. Living room. I’ll be out in a second. Like, when I have underwear on.” I try shoving her toward the door, but she doesn’t budge.

  “But, really, Mi-Mi. He’s huge. I’m not seeing shit, right? Am I still drunk?”

  “Nicole. Seriously. Out,” I use my best bossy voice, which seems to garner something that resembles Nikki following a directive.

  “Oh shush, prissy pants. I’ll go home. John’s plane lands in a few hours anyway. Really was just making sure you were alive. Everything else was a cherry on top.”

  “I am. I’m fine. Good?”

  “But him.” She cranes her head toward Tanner’s general direction. “He’s fine, but is he good?” She raises a brow. As if she needed to. Nikki’s fluent in not only English but sarcasm and innuendo, too.

  Best friends are supposed to be pains in your asses right?

  “Phenomenal,” I mutter, knowing damn well she won’t leave without a response. “Can you get out now?”

  “Sure can. And you get off! See ya around, Tanner.”

  “Goodbye, Nikki,” he laughs, obviously amused by our banter, not the least bit upset he was on full display. I’d die of embarrassment mixed with mortification if it were me.

  I give Nikki a quick, awkward hug and send her out the door. The second she’s out of Tanner’s sight, she turns around and makes some weird thrusting motions with her pelvis while fanning herself.

  “You did real good, angel. Now, go ride his face for me.” I can’t help but smile and add a small giggle. That’s exactly what would have been happening had she not burst through my door like the Kool-Aid Man. The little bit of stubble from last night, mixed with some added scruff … I clench my thighs at the thought.

  “Got it. Ride his face. I’ll see you at dinner tomorrow. Do not come back, Nicole Veronica, I mean it.”

  “Fine, fine,” she shoos, holding up her hands in surrender. “But I want all the details.”

  As soon as the door’s shut, locked and chained, I peek out the blinds and watch Nikki pull away. Assured she’s actually gone, with no fear of another Nik-trusion, I return to the bedroom to crawl back into bed with Tanner. Letting go of the stress Nikki caused, I rest my head on his chest and gently run my finger through the small patch of hair beneath his navel.

  “That was interesting,” he chuckles. I’m glad he finds this hilarious, because I’m thoroughly embarrassed. Men are so different. I envy them, that’s for sure.

  “That was Nikki,” I correct. “Sorry about her, by the way. She shouldn’t have ogled you like a piece of meat. It was rude and inconsiderate.”

  “It’s fine. In her defense, I’m the guy you didn’t know and left the bar with … and now I’m naked in her best friend’s bedroom.”

  “Yeah, but still—”

  “Only thing we should be talking about is how fuckin’ sexy you look in my shirt and how you can’t get it to button around your tits.”

  I look down, and sure as shit, there’s a gaping hole at the widest part of my bust. Feeling feisty, I flick one of the buttons open.

  “That’s what I like to see. How about another one?” he asks, salivating.

  “One more of these?” I pop the next and peer over at Tanner, gauging his reaction. His hungry eyes roam my chest as one of my nipples escapes its confine.

  “Fuck, you’re so sexy. Keep doing that,” Tanner praises, taking himself in his hand. “Give me more, baby. Wanna see if I can come just lookin’ at you.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be concerned with making me come?”

  “Do I look as hot as you right now? If you don’t put your hands on yourself this very second, are you gonna die?”

  “I mean,” I drawl as I slowly glide my hand across my breast, down my stomach, around and between my thighs and up to my core, the other taking hold of the exposed tit, “I’m pretty sure I know the feeling.”

  “Look at Mi-Mi, joining the kinky parade. Can’t say I hate it,” he jokes while he continues to lazily stroke his dick.

  “Can’t beat ‘em, come with ‘em.”

  “Atta girl. Now, baby, tell me what I’m doing to you?”

  “You’re fucking me,” I respond hesitantly. I’ve done a lot of firsts in the last few hours, and this will be another one. Men dirty talking is one thing, but a woman … it’s a whole other level of added pressure. What if it’s not sexy enough? Good enough? If he’s depending on me and my words to get him off, I’m scared I won’t be able to do that.

  “How? Details, baby. I need to know exactly how I’m fucking that tight cunt. You’re wet as hell in my head. You really wet, Miranda?”

  Desperately wanting to play his game, I mentally prepare myself to destroy any wall of self-doubt Tanner hasn’t already shattered.

  “You have me bent over the footboard, like last night. My panties wrapped around my hands behind me. You’re slamming into me with such force, my stomach might bruise. Mmmmm,” I purr and tweak my nipple. “God, Tanner, you feel so good. You’re pulling my hair so tight my scalp tingles.

  “Yes, oh God, yes.” Furiously rubbing my clit, faster and faster, harder and harder, manipulating the orgasm from my body, I toss my head back and close my eyes.

  “That’s it, baby, keep going. My cock feel good?” he asks, voice strained, egging me on.

  “So good,” I keen. “The best I’ve ever had. Don’t stop, Tanner. Fuck, please touch me,” I beg, not wanting to come without his greedy hands getting his fill.

  “You got this, baby. Come for me. All over my dick. Soak my balls, Miranda. Now,” Tanner demands.

  I comply, splintering into a million tiny shards. My vision behind my closed lids blurs, and my entire body goes lax as I ride out the last wave to wrack my body.

  *****

  “I’m starving. What do you want for dinner? Order pizza or point me in the direction of your best mac and cheese.”

  Tanner’s question catches me off guard. I’m not well-versed in one-night stands, but every movie in the history of ever typically has one party or the other leaving before another evening is spent—hence the idea behind a one-nighter.

  I’m really enjoying his company, but it has to end. Tanner—even with the age gap—is exactly the kind of guy I should want to spend time with. I’m not sure, but if Dr. Phil knows anything, I’m still too fragile to be engaging with someone I could see myself continuing a relationship with … especially in light of everything Ben put me through. Tanner deserves more than being a placeholder until the next man—the right man—comes around, if that’s even what’s going on here.

  “I think I’m gonna call it a night,” I say sheepishly, uncomfortable with the idea of having this conversation. I’d bet if it were the other way around, and I were at Tanner’s place, he’d have no qualms about kicking me out before I wanted anything more than what was promised.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes and no. I like hanging out with you, I just don’t want this to be more than it is. This isn’t exactly the easiest thing to talk about. I feel really awkward,” I answer honestly, choosing to keep my filter tucked away since he seems to like that about me.

  “And what is this?”

  “A one-night stand. Am I wrong?” Now, wait a second, why am I second-guessing myself?

  “So that means we can’t eat a meal together?” He seems genuinely confused,
which only makes me wonder what the hell’s going on even more.

  “Does it? This is your area of expertise, not mine.” I’m sounding defensive, and I have no reason to be. And now I’m turning into the crazy I promised myself I’d never become.

  “Depends on the person. I’ve had it both ways. If you want me out because I’m on your nerves, okay. If you want me out because you think you’re supposed to want me to leave, that’s fine, too. But you’ll have to clue me in on which one it is, Miranda.”

  “I like you, Tanner, I don’t want you to go. But how’s this work? We eat, then fuck some more? You sneak out in the night? Tomorrow morning? I’m a planner, and I’m in uncharted waters. I need to know what the hell we’re going to do. Need a little guidance.”

  Softly, Tanner places a palm against my cheek, which I lean into. “Play it by ear? I’m not done with you yet, Miranda. You done with me?”

  “I want more,” I whisper.

  “Then take it. You’re the only one stopping you. So, again, pizza, mac and cheese or should I get my stuff together and take off?”

  “None of the above. How about I go fix us something to eat?”

  “You gonna cook naked? I wouldn’t put up a fight.” He laughs and stands from the bed to pull on his jeans without his boxers.

  Feeling brazen, I join him at the foot of the bed and snatch his boxers from the ground. Slipping them on, I fold the waistband, hiking them higher on my thighs. “I don’t cook naked. That’s not sanitary,” I tease and start to walk out the door when something hits me in the back.

  Turning around, Tanner’s shirt is at my feet. Looking between the button-up and Tanner, I smirk slyly and wink. “I’m good, but thanks. Unless you want me to cover up?”

  “Not a chance in hell, woman.” Tanner chases me down the hall to the kitchen where he sits at the bar watching me cook some eggs. Not the best dinner, but much better than mac and cheese.

  “You think you’re up for another round?” I ask, putting our plates in the dishwasher and wiping down the counters.

  “Told you, baby, I’m not done and might not be for quite some time.”

  “Well, then, come on. I need a shower. Think you can wash my back?”

  “Look at you, all grown up,” he teases, smacking my ass.

  “What can I say?” I wink and shimmy out of the boxers. “Sure hope your smartass comment was code for ‘I can’t wait to fuck you in the shower with water and soap running down our bodies, Miranda’ because that’s the deal I was making.”

  Chapter 7

  Tanner

  My weekend with Miranda was amazing, to say the least, and I didn’t want to leave last night, but upon her insistence, I did, but not without a fight on my part.

  “Tanner, really, it is what it is. Go home. Live your life,” she said with a serious expression on her face, but I wasn’t buying it.

  “I’m not tryin’ to be your man or anything, but I enjoy spending time with you. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing, I’m just … not ready. Not yet. Had I met you at another point in my life, it might be different, but unfortunately it’s not.”

  “Well, I’m gonna leave my number. If you call, you call. If you don’t, I’ll be disappointed, but that’s fine, too. I had a lot of fun. I’m not gonna lie … you’re the best fuck I’ve ever had,” I taunted, pulling her into my arms for another kiss. God, could that fucking woman kiss. It wasn’t lame or porn quality, but it showed me she gave a shit and she’d give as good as she got. Whoever her ex was … yeah, he was a fucking idiot.

  “See ya around, Tanner,” she said, pushing me away and out the door. Miranda never looked sexier than she did in that moment. Maybe because I’d never been turned away by a woman before, or maybe because she was standing there, watching me with lust in her deep-blue eyes, auburn hair curly from letting it air dry, wearing my boxers and a tight, fitted tank-top with no bra. She was a walking wet dream.

  I smiled at her, hoping it’d be enough to let me stay another night. She may have been done with me, but I was nowhere near done with her. “Call me sometime,” I encouraged once again.

  “Sometime … maybe. You’ll make someone a very happy girl one day, Tanner Reynolds. Never stop eating pussy, you’re really good at it.”

  Fuck, my dick was hard … again. It seemed, over the last forty-eight hours, I had a permanent erection, ready to get balls deep inside Miranda with just one look from her.

  Instead of saying bye again, like a pussy-whipped bitch, I chuckled and walked down the steps of her townhouse into the cab she had waiting for me. For never having had a one-night stand—or weekend stand—she sure as fuck knew the protocol.

  Now that our time’s done—maybe—she has me thinking differently about the world. When I got home around eleven, I started thinking … do I treat women the way her ex does? Do I not give the good ones a chance? Have I broken more hearts than I’ve healed? I’m young, but isn’t twenty-three about time to start looking for someone to settle down with and start a life? Have I been partying and fucking too much to see what could have been in front of me? Who’d I let slip through my fingers because I was too busy moving from one cunt to the next?

  After an hour of pondering those same questions, unable to come up with a decent answer, I finish a paper I need to turn in before class the next day. This is where shit gets really fucked up.

  This is my last semester of school before graduating. Like a fucking boss, I worked my ass off during my first three and a half years to ensure these last fourteen weeks or so would be a breeze. I didn’t want anything holding me back from enjoying my senior year while maintaining my 4.0 GPA. Yes, ladies, not only am I sexy and good at eating pussy, I’m also pretty fucking smart.

  Anyway, back to the classes …

  There was a girl I’d wanted to fuck last quarter who was taking Women’s Literature, so I did, too. I mean, it was a guaranteed A. I read all the books in high school and my mom is a Women’s Studies teacher … doesn’t get any easier. I could pass this class blindfolded and with hands tied behind my back. Ahhhh, the memories. It wasn’t hard, whatsoever, to whip up something halfway decent on Mansfield Park to submit to the professor who gave me an extension so I could participate in the campus blood drive.

  I open the internet browser, then my email, and compose a message with an attachment to my professor.

  FROM: T.Reynolds@uofa.edu

  TO: B.Hathaway@uofa.edu

  Subject: Tanner Reynolds – SEC B03 – Mansfield Park Essay

  At first, I think I’m crazy … that my head’s playing tricks on me. Could the professor I’d idolized the past few weeks be the same Hathaway who’d fucked over Miranda? There was no way. Everything she’d told me about him when we weren’t sleeping, fucking or eating, was negative. He’d cheated on her countless times, never made sure she was satisfied or complimented her for anything. He’d stopped giving a shit.

  I tried to talk myself out of thinking our Hathaways were the same. My Hathaway is amazing; he has the best in-class discussions, jokes around, smart as fuck, and he talks about women like they’re goddesses. I want to knock the teeth out of her Hathaway.

  The campus website is my first area of research, but I get nothing except the boring details of my Hathaway’s accomplishments: Graduated top of his class. Majored in literature. Has a PhD in English. Published a handful of articles and books, even a novel here and there. Blah, blah, blah.

  Google next: Benjamin Hathaway, University of Arkansas. I mentally cross my fingers as I hit search. Instead of reading through a bunch of boring-ass articles, I click “Images” and fuck me stupid, our Hathaways are one in the same.

  Picture after picture of Professor Hathaway’s professional headshot are plastered all over the Internet, then comes a slew of pictures to seal the deal. Ben, wearing a tux at some charity event, chatting it up with a young woman holding a voice recorder and a sad, lonely-looking Miranda next to him. To the Average Joe looking at this picture,
they’d see a professor answering questions to a journalist, but I know the girl … Celeste fucking Brewer. Not only do I know her but Miranda confided in me about the affair she and Ben had. That fucking asshole was standing there, with his gorgeous wife in a sexy black dress, flaunting his side piece in front of her. Completely unbiased opinion: Celeste doesn’t hold a candle to Miranda. I’ll take classy and sexy before slutty and ratchet every day of the week … twice on Sundays.

  I could stab this fucker in his dick.

  Needless to say, after I send the email with my paper, I can’t fall asleep. I was really hoping to recover from my weekend with Miranda by sleeping in and skipping this class, but knowing what I do now, there’s no way I can’t confront him, even if I have to do it passive-aggressively.

  I really want to call Miranda, but I don’t have her number. I also can’t remember where she lives so I can go over there and inform her of my discovery. Then again, even if I did, she’d probably tell me to leave it alone, graduate with my perfect GPA and move on with my life, not let Ben get under my skin and rile me up—she’s classy as fuck. Good thing I can’t speak to her; I’m pretty fucking rad when there’s an inferno raging inside me, and I’m ready to boil over.

  Now, here I am, twenty minutes before class starts, approaching the lecture hall. As I get closer to the door, the sound of female laughter seeps from the classroom. Of-fucking-course.

  Without hesitation, I push the door open, letting it slam behind me. I’m not surprised to see Ben standing between the legs of a co-ed while she sits on top of his desk. They, however, are pretty startled, both of them jolting away from each other before I verbally announce myself. Ben turns first, giving me a glimpse of the girl he’s flirting with … Angie Hamm.

  “Oh, Tanner, it’s you,” Ben sighs, seemingly relieved, but still steps away from Angie.

  “Hey, Tanner,” she giggles in that high-pitched sound she thinks is attractive—my ears are on the verge of bleeding.

  Desperate isn’t the right word for Angie Hamm, but it’s damn close. She’s pathetic. She orgasms in the same annoying tone, and it’s even worse when you’re trying to keep your dick hard. Yes, ladies and gents, I’ve had the displeasure of fucking Angie Hamm. She’s been trying to get the cock again ever since, obviously lacking any idea of social cues—no really does mean no. Looks like she finally got the hint, though, judging by her current predicament with our professor.