by Mia Sosa
I place my hands on his chest, massaging the sprinkle of curls there, and then I lean over, pressing my breasts against him. Our eyes meet for several beats before he closes his and devours my mouth, invading it with firm strokes of his talented tongue, while I remain fully seated on his dick.
After we come up for air, I brace my hands on the side of his head and slowly grind against him. All I want to do is stay here, in this moment, with him inside me.
He chants my name like an invocation. “Eva . . . Eva . . . yes . . . Eva . . . yes, yes, yes. You feel it, yeah?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting to savor his fullness. “Yes, Anthony, I feel it.”
We revel in that sweet and slow pace for several minutes, the sounds of slick skin and panting the only soundtrack in the room. When I can’t bear it any longer, I beg for him to make me come, my voice matching the neediness powering through me. He lifts his torso slightly, digging his hands into the small of my back. Demonstrating a level of strength I can’t fathom, he helps me ride his cock, pounding into me in quick bursts.
My voice is a decibel away from an outright scream as he fucks me furiously. Needing him closer, I crush his face to my chest. He seals my fate by closing his mouth over my nipple and sucking it hard. I detonate, seeing reds and yellows behind my eyes and trembling uncontrollably.
“Eva, I’m going to come, too,” he shouts.
I feel him throb inside me, and then a gush of warmth fills my core as he pours himself into the condom.
It takes us several minutes to return to Earth. When we do, Anthony slips out from under me, gently turning me on my back, and climbs out of bed. Pointing behind him, he asks, “Bathroom?”
Basking in my drowsiness, all I can do is nod.
He disappears and not long after returns with a washcloth. “Can I clean you up?”
Again, I nod, opening my legs. He sits beside me and wipes between my legs, his finger teasing me as he makes several passes.
“We’re closed,” I say. “Come back another time.”
He grins at my quip and takes the hint. After disposing of the washcloth, he lies down next to me and pulls me into his arms. I change positions, resting my head on his chest and draping a leg over his.
“Eva, that was like all the best days in my life melded into one.”
The sweetness of his words melts me. Boneless and wanting to convey how much he means to me, I kiss his jaw and say, “Same.”
“Can I stay the night?” he asks as he caresses my cheek.
“It wouldn’t be the best days of my life melded into one if you left.”
Wearing a broad smile, Anthony places a hand on my table and leans forward. “You called him what?”
“Cookie Monster Calvin,” I say, trying to keep a straight face.
We’re sitting at my dining room table the next morning, enjoying coffee and a fruit plate before he heads home. Moments ago, I inadvertently mentioned an ex-boyfriend by his nickname.
Anthony stares at me, his expression incredulous. “Which means . . . ?”
I lift my mug to my lips so I can hide my face behind it. This is so embarrassing. “Well, you know how the Cookie Monster attacks a cookie. That’s how he attacked my vagina. Om nom nom. Me eat pussy!”
He throws his head back and holds his stomach, laughing so hard tears well up in his eyes. “Crumbs flying, too?”
I throw a napkin at him. “Don’t mock my poor sexual experiences.”
“Me?” he says, placing a hand on his chest. “You’re the one who called him Cookie Monster.”
“It was apt,” I say.
He spears a slice of melon and dangles it near his mouth. “What nickname would you give me?”
I rise from the chair. “No nicknames for you.”
He stands as well. “You’re no fun.”
I tug him toward me and gently bite his arm, breathing in the crisp sea scent he favors on training days. “On the contrary, I’m so much fun, you’re still here.”
“Can’t argue with that, but now I need to go.”
Pouting, I place a finger under my eye and draw it down to the apple of my cheek. “Sad face.” Then I walk him to the door and hug him at the threshold, not caring that my lipstick is smudged or that my hair is showing the negative effects of skipping my nightly twist-out routine. And we don’t say anything. For once, we just let the moment stand, our arms tightly wrapped around each other. Eventually, we separate, and I already miss his touch.
Jacket in hand, he presses a kiss to my forehead. “Okay, I’ve got to go.”
“Call me later?” I ask.
“I’ll everything you later. Don’t know how I’ll do anything else.”
He excels at melting my cynical heart. It’s his superpower. And I don’t mean to be rude, but I wish I could close the door right now, so I can end our time together on this precise and perfect note.
But my wishes aren’t granted. Someone’s forceful steps interrupt the mood. Looking past Anthony, I watch as a figure appears on the second-floor landing . . . a figure that looks suspiciously—and horrifyingly—like my father.
Damn, damn, damn.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Surprise visits from parental figures are the worst. No person should experience more than one in a lifetime.
Eva
“Dad, what are you doing here?”
My father swings his gaze between Anthony and me, no doubt noticing my disheveled appearance and Anthony’s bloodshot eyes. I’m almost thirty years old, dammit. I refuse to cower under his judgmental inspection. Okay, no, that’s not entirely true. This is awful. I kind of wished my father never realized I had sex. Ever.
He shifts to face me, giving Anthony his back. “I received a last-minute invite to speak at a teaching conference here, something you’d know if you ever returned my calls. I’ve been trying to reach you for a week. It isn’t like you to avoid me. And since I was in the area, I decided I’d check on you.”
Anthony clears his throat. “I’m going to leave you two to catch up.”
I shake my head, clearing myself of the fog. “Sorry, Anthony, I’m a little out of it. Meet my father, Charles Montgomery. Dad, meet Anthony.”
“Good to meet you, sir,” Anthony says.
“Likewise,” my father replies, his expression neutral.
This is not how I expected their first meeting to go. Despite the problems between my father and me, I want him to like Anthony. Our relationship is brand new, sure, but who knows where we’ll be in a year’s time? They’re not going to be bosom buddies today, though, or anytime soon for that matter, not after that introduction.
I open the door wider and motion for my father to enter. “Come in, Dad. I’ll be inside in a minute.”
My father slips past me and I shut the door.
“Well, that was awkward,” I tell Anthony, cringing.
He grimaces and mouths, “Yikes.”
“Whatever. I can’t take anything back now. The man could have texted me instead of leaving vague voicemail messages. And then he shows up unannounced. Who does that?”
Anthony pulls me to him. “Your father does that. Good-looking guy, I must say. I can see where you get it from.”
“You haven’t met my mother.”
He peers at me, his expression turning uncharacteristically serious, before he presses his lips against mine. When he straightens, he says, “Yet. I haven’t met her yet.”
There goes that little flutter in my belly again. “Fair enough.”
With a wistful smile, he traces the back of his index finger against my cheek. “Talk to your father. We’ll see each other soon.”
I stamp my foot like a two-year-old. “I don’t want to. Don’t make me.”
He spins me around and gives me a gentle push toward the door. “You got this.”
Head and shoulders down, I trudge back inside. My father’s studiously inspecting the shelves of my bookcase, no doubt wondering why my favorite romances and mysteries oversha
dow the classics.
“A friend of yours?” he asks without turning in my direction.
“Yes,” is all I want to say about Anthony.
But he’s not done. “And you know him how?”
“He’s Tori’s cousin. I met him at her wedding.”
“Didn’t know he existed.”
What he means is, he wasn’t aware that I was dating anyone.
“Well, he exists. And he’s really great. Maybe one day we could all go out to dinner and you could get to know him?”
My father nods. “Maybe.”
“I’m going to change. I’ll be back in a sec. Fresh-squeezed lemonade’s in the fridge.”
When I return, now in a T-shirt and a pair of yoga pants, my father’s sitting on the couch drinking a glass of lemonade as though he’s lazing the day away on my grandmother’s porch in Atlanta.
Anthony’s right: He’s a handsome man. Distinguished-looking. The tortoiseshell glasses and his salt-and-pepper hair make it easy to picture him in front of a class of college students. It’s a wonder he’s not wearing his trademark sweater vest.
I join him on the couch. “So, as you can see, I’m alive and well.”
He places his glass on the coffee table and leans forward. “Your mother tells me you’re switching gears and becoming a stunt performer, but I told her that couldn’t be right. Sounded too nonsensical even for you.”
Too nonsensical even for me. Nice. We could have had this conversation over the phone, in which case I’d be pretending we had a bad connection. Maybe that’s why he showed up. He knew I wouldn’t be able to escape him if he was here in person. “Okay, so Mom isn’t exactly right.”
“Ah. Figures.”
“I’m not switching gears. I’m expanding my skill set. If you know the right people, stunt work can be a lucrative business. Anthony says—”
He furrows his brows. “Anthony? What does he have to do with any of this?”
“He’s a stunt performer. Sometimes a coordinator, too. Anyway, I thought you’d be impressed that I’m not putting all of my eggs in one basket.” All he does is stare at me. Oof. “I’m still teaching classes,” I continue. “They’re going great, by the way. Thanks for asking.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m glad I came. Eva, can’t you see what’s going on here? You’re so confused about your life that you’re grasping at straws, trying anything to make an unworkable solution work for you. It won’t, sweetie. Just come home.”
He’s wrong. And his insistence that he’s right only reinforces my resolve to prove how wrong he is. Just because it doesn’t align with his vision for my future doesn’t mean it’s aimless. I know what I’m doing. When he sees the results, he’ll be forced to agree. “Dad, I really need you to just trust me on this, okay? If it matters, the more you speak, the more I’ll dig in my heels. I need space to do what I choose to do.”
“I’m trying to give you guidance.”
“Then guide me. But don’t expect me to follow you blindly.”
He’s poised to respond, his lips parted to challenge me. But then he says nothing. Now I can confidently say miracles do happen.
“Where are you staying?” I ask, hoping to steer the conversation to less sensitive topics.
“I’m at the Queen Mary in Long Beach. Figured I’d enjoy a mini-vacation before the semester gets into full swing.”
Now there’s a surprise. The history professor tries to soak in history by staying on a historic ship that’s been converted to a hotel. No wonder he can’t understand anything that isn’t squarely inside the box.
“And you’re staying for . . . ?”
He swallows a laugh. “I’m leaving tomorrow. Want to join me for dinner tonight?”
Ah, yes, thank God for excuses. “Sorry, I can’t. My training class is an all afternoon and evening affair.”
His face falls, and my mood falls with it. He’s not a bad man, just an opinionated one. Unfortunately, his most stubborn opinions tend to relate to me. “Have you eaten? I had coffee and fruit, but I could go for a real meal. We could grab brunch somewhere in the neighborhood.”
“That sounds nice,” he says, eyeing my outfit. “Somewhere casual, I suppose.”
“Yes, Dad, somewhere casual. Let me throw a headband on.”
A few minutes later, I return with keys and wallet in hand. “Ready?”
He rises from the couch. “Ready.” The he looks around the room, nodding as though he’s sufficiently impressed with the apartment. “Your place. I like it. But if I could give you one piece of advice?”
It’s nice that he asked at least. “Sure, go ahead.”
“Don’t buy too much stuff just yet. Especially given that you don’t have unlimited resources. You wouldn’t want to worry about getting all this back to Philly if you decided not to stay.”
Damn. I’m going to need a spell to cast the demon out of his body. Satan did not come to play today.
When I return from brunch, two familiar figures hover near the entrance to my apartment building. I groan at yet another unexpected visit on what once had been a Sunday filled with promise. “Well, if it isn’t Thelma and Louise lurking in the neighborhood.”
Tori and Ashley spin around, both crossing their arms over their chests like I have some explaining to do.
“Why aren’t you answering my texts?” Tori asks.
“She was worried about you,” Ashley adds. “I wasn’t. You’re a grown woman, after all. But I did pretend to be worried so I wouldn’t have to explain why she was overreacting. Sometimes I’m lazy like that.”
Tori elbows her. “Are you listening to yourself?”
Ashley shakes her head as though what she’s going to say is regrettable. “Never do, babe. Never do. I kind of just throw everything out there and hope for the best.”
“Excuse me,” I say, bumping my way between them so I can use my key fob to open the door. Once unlocked, I prop myself against it to let them pass. “Are you coming?”
“Of course,” Tori says.
As we walk across the courtyard, Tori peppers me with questions. “What were you doing last night? I texted you like ten times. Called you twice, too. Did you have your phone on silent? Or were you ignoring me?”
I precede them up the stairs. “The phone was the last thing on my mind last night. And then my father showed up out of nowhere this morning. Sorry about not responding, but I was busy.”
“Getting busy, perhaps?” Ashley asks, her eyes so-not-innocent wide.
Before I reach the last step, I turn around and give her a sly smile. “Yes, if you must know.”
Tori slaps me on the back. “What? With who?”
“You don’t want to know,” I say.
Tori narrows her eyes. “Yes, I do want to know.”
I pretend to examine my nails, a bored expression on my face. “I’ll give you a minute to figure it out.”
“Gabe?” Ashley asks. “I got the sense that he was really into you.”
“Definitely not. I haven’t seen Gabe since the dinner party.”
I open the door for them, and they waltz inside.
Ashley heads straight for the tiny pantry next to the fridge. “Anything sweet?”
“Chocolate chunk cookies,” I tell her as I pick up the pillows that were tossed around during last night’s festivities.
“Yes!” she says.
I love this. I’m in a new city, and it finally feels like I’m putting down roots, interacting with my people. LA’s been good to me so far. I hope that continues to be true.
When I fall back on the couch, I find Tori staring at me, her mind whirring like an engine in overdrive. She already knows Anthony and I hooked up at her wedding, but I wonder if she’ll react differently to the news that we’re dating. This isn’t news I’ll be able to keep from her, nor do I want to.
Her eyes widen and her mouth drops. “Anthony?”
The question comes out as a shriek.
Ashley straightens, a cookie that’
s going to crumble any minute now in her hand. “Say what now?”
“Yes, Anthony,” I confirm. “Is that a problem?”
Tori furrows her brows and shakes her head. “It’s not a problem. It’s a surprise. Especially given our last conversation about this.” Then she collapses on the couch and laughs uncontrollably.
I did this to Anthony once, when he told me about Brett and Damian. His response is appropriate here, too. “Are you done?”
“No,” she says, continuing to laugh. “Didn’t you say he was player? A master manipulator? Trying to control women with his ‘I don’t date’ card?”
A sudden and pressing need to fluff the sofa pillows overtakes me, and I can’t look at anything else while I do it. “Turns out he’s not like that at all.”
“So you were wrong?” she asks.
I don’t answer her question. Let her work for that I-told-you-so.
Tori places her index finger under my chin and forces me to look at her, a wicked grin in place. “Say it. You were wrong.”
I jerk my head away, sniff, and respond in a haughty voice, “I was misinformed. And after the morning I’ve had with my father, it feels nice to know Anthony’s a straight shooter. He just wants to be with me, no games and no bullshit. It’s refreshing.”
“Enjoy it, then,” Tori says with a nod. “I’m happy for you.”
Ashley flops onto the couch, wedging herself between Tori and me. “I’m rooting for you two. Cumgrats!”
My ears must be clogged. “Did you just say ‘cumgrats’?”
She nods, chewing on her third cookie.
I look over to Tori. “Get your sister-in-law.”
Tori shakes her head. “Nope, she’s hopeless.”
For a moment, we’re all exchanging glances, and then we’re cackling. Everything feels right. My classes at Every Body are going well, I’m expanding my friendship circle, and I’m dating a phenomenal guy, who I get to see—I glance at my watch—very soon.
I rise from the sofa, stretching my arms above my head. “Well, as much as I enjoy spending time with you, ladies, I need to get ready for stunt training.”
Ashley sits up. “Oh, that reminds me. I was telling Julian about the training. He said he’d love to speak with you someday about your career goals.” She leans over and touches my shoulder with hers. “He knows everyone in Hollywood, and he focuses on representing actors of color, so he’d be a good person to have in your corner.”
