New York Nights Page 28

His cum was salty and thick, and I honestly loved the taste of it. As the last drop landed into my mouth, I looked into his eyes and he looked back at me. The expression on his face was one of pure satisfaction and awe, and I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my life.

He stood—pulling me with him, and pressed his lips against mine. “That was fucking perfect.” He turned off the water and led me out of the shower and back into his bedroom—not bothering to dry me off.

He grabbed me by my waist and tossed me onto the bed. “Spread your legs.”

I let my legs fall apart and he climbed on top of me. Crashing his lips against mine, he sucked my bottom lip into his mouth.

I could feel the tip of his cock rubbing against my pussy and I lifted my hips—encouraging him to fuck me.

After being with him in the shower, I didn’t want to do much foreplay and I didn’t want to talk.

I just wanted to be fucked. Now.

His hands caressed my breasts and I pushed them away. “Fuck me, Andrew.”

“I am.”

“Now.”

He smiled at me, looking as if he wanted to say something smart, but he leaned over and reached into his nightstand for a condom.

He quickly slipped it on and entered me in one full stroke, causing me to moan in pleasure.

“Ahhhh...” I reached up and grabbed his hair as his cock pounded into me relentlessly. I was sure I’d never get tired of him fucking me, each time was better than the last.

I shut my eyes as he buried his head in my neck, as he whispered how “fucking good” I felt. Small tremors started building inside of me, and as much as I wanted this to last a little longer, I wouldn’t be able to hold on.

“Andre..” I said his name as my hips started to jerk and my orgasm took over me. I screamed, falling back onto the pillows, and he collapsed on top of me seconds later.

We both lay there, entwined in each other for a long time—not saying a word. When I finally found the energy to speak, I cleared my throat. “Are you going to sleep inside of me all night?”

“Of course not.” He pulled out of me, immediately making me miss the feel of him. He walked over to his closet, tossing the condom away.

“What are you doing?” I sat up.

“Getting dressed.”

“For what?”

“So I can take you home.” He slipped into a pair of pants. “And so I can go to sleep.” He put on a shirt, and then he looked over at me. “How long do you think it’ll take you to get ready?”

“I don’t need you to take me home.” I shook my head. “I want to stay here.”

“Here?” he looked utterly confused.

“Yes, here.”

“As in overnight?”

I nodded, and he stood there staring at me as if I’d just asked him to do the unthinkable. The look he was giving me was one of anguish, regret, and for a second I almost felt bad about suggesting it.

“Aubrey, I don’t...” He sighed. “I’ve never let someone spend the night.”

“Then let me be your first...”

He continued staring at me, tapping his chin, and then he walked over to his closet and grabbed a set of white pajamas.

“You can sleep in these...” He held them out for me.

I reached out to take them but he shook his head.

“Stand up.”

I slid off the bed and stood in front of him.

He took his time helping me into the button up shirt—kissing every inch of my exposed skin until he reached the top button, and when he was finished he kissed my lips.

I expected him to hold out the pants next, but he tossed them across the room. “Get in the bed.”

Smiling, I slipped underneath the sheets as he hit the lights.

He joined me in bed seconds later, pulling me against his chest.

“Are you happy?” he whispered.

“Yes...”

“Are you sure? Is there anything else outside of my comfort zone that you’d like me to do for you tonight?”

“Not tonight, but you could make me breakfast in the morning.”

“You’re pushing it...”

“Just in case you change your mind, I would like Belgian waffles, bacon, sliced strawberries, and orange juice.”

“Unless you want to eat all of those things off of my cock, it’s not happening.” He pinched my ass. “Go to sleep, Aubrey.”

 

In the morning, I opened my eyes and realized I was alone in Andrew’s bed. I looked over at where he’d been sleeping and spotted a note on GBH stationery:

Had to run to the office to meet a new client. I’ll be back to take you home.

PS—Feel free to take your panty collection home with you.

—Andrew

 

 

I slipped out of bed, ready to explore more of his condo, but there was a sudden loud knock at the door. I rushed over and twisted the knob, expecting to see Andrew, but it was a man dressed in all black.

“Um hello?” I tried not to look too confused.

“Are you Aubrey Everhart?”

“Yes...”

“Great.” He handed me a white bag. “Gourmet waffles, bacon, sliced strawberries, and orange juice, right?”

 

 

Denial (n.):


A statement in the defendant’s answer to a complaint in a lawsuit that an allegation (claim of fact) is not true.

 

A few days later...

Andrew

I was officially out of my damn mind.

I was in my bathtub, and Aubrey was sitting on top of me—panting as she came down from another orgasm.

She was spending the night at my condo for the third time this week, and it was pointless to even pretend like I minded.

I wasn’t sure what the hell was happening, but she’d definitely gotten to me. She was infiltrating my every thought, and no matter what I did to try and come back to my senses—to remind myself that this could only be temporary, she slipped deeper into my life.

“Why are you so quiet tonight?” she asked.

“I’m not allowed to think?”

“Not when a naked woman is in your lap.”

“I was giving her a chance to relax.” I slid my hands underneath her thighs. “What unnecessary bullshit do you want to talk about today?”

“It’s not unnecessary,” she said. “It’s about your family.”

“What about my family?”

“Are they still in New York?”

I prevented myself from clenching my jaw. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” She raised her eyebrow. “What do you mean you don’t know? Are you estranged from them?”

“No...” I sighed. “I just don’t have any parents.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Then why do I remember you telling me a story about your mom the first month that we met?”

“What story?”

“The story about Central Park and ice cream.” She looked into my eyes, as if she were expecting me to say something. “You said she took you to some children’s fair, I think? It was something that happened every Saturday. But the one you remembered most happened when it was raining and she still took you, and you stood in line for an hour just to get a scoop of vanilla.”

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