I grab her feet from behind me and put her heels in my hands. I rock her body back and forth on my cock so I can bring her over the edge first. Sure enough, she starts to tremble. Her body arches as she throws her head back and lets out a cry.
“Fuck!”
As she starts to tighten around me, I grip her hips once more and thrust my cock inside her. I only manage a few thrusts before my balls start to feel hot and heavy and my muscles start to coil. I clench my jaw and let out a few grunts as I bury myself deep inside her and release all of my pent-up desire.
I wait until she’s milked me of every drop and I’ve regained enough air in my lungs. Then I pull out. I leave Violet for a minute to dispose of the used condom in the trashcan, making sure it’s buried under scraps of paper. When I turn towards her again, she’s sitting in a chair, putting her panties back on.
Why is it that I find even that sexy?
I fasten my belt as I watch her put on her bra and then her dress. She seems to be having a hard time with the zipper so I help her.
“Thanks,” she mumbles.
I realize it’s the first thing she’s said in the past several minutes—well, not counting the curse that escaped her lips when she reached the climax of pleasure. I feel like I should say something, too. But what? I normally don’t have conversations after sex. I just put on my clothes and leave.
Before I can say a word, Violet leaves the room without so much as a backward glance. I frown.
I’m glad we had sex. I’m glad Violet didn’t run away in the middle of it. And yet, for some reason, I don’t feel as satisfied as I normally do, which is strange because I did enjoy every second of it.
I run my fingers through my hair and scratch the nape of my neck.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Chapter Fourteen
Violet
I can’t believe I did everything wrong.
I had a plan for the first time I had sex with Asher. I was going to be in lingerie, fresh from a shower. We were going to do it in his apartment. Afterwards, I was going to tell him that it was never happening again, that it didn’t mean anything and that the two of us should move on and try not to be a pain in each other’s asses any longer.
Instead, I made a grave mistake in assuming his house manager was his lover—seriously, what was I thinking?—we had sex in the conference room at the office—unbelievable—and then worst of all, I forgot to talk to Asher afterwards to clear things up.
Actually, I didn’t forget to. While I was putting my clothes back on, I felt like I had to say something to fill the awkward silence. I knew I was supposed to say something. What I forgot was what I was supposed to say. I just couldn’t remember any of it. Maybe it was because I was tired. Maybe it was because I was shocked that I just had sex in a conference room. Or maybe it was because my head was still spinning from that sex, that fucking amazing sex that I’d dreamed of for years. At any rate, my mind went blank, or more accurately, stayed blank—because let’s face it, my coherent thought processes turned off way before that—so I didn’t get to say anything.
Now that I’m home in my apartment and I’ve had a shower and dinner, my mind is clear. I remember what I wanted to say and I realize I still have to say it. I have to wrap things up neatly. Years ago, Asher and I didn’t have any closure. We just went out and then we didn’t go home together and we just stopped talking to each other. Maybe that’s why I haven’t completely been able to get over him. This time, we have to talk. I have to tell him that it’s over.
My mind made up, I grab my cardigan and head next door. No need to put on lingerie. I’m just going to talk. I ring the doorbell twice. No one answers. I ring it a third time. Still nothing.
I step back to check if there’s light beneath the door. There is. I press my ear against it but don’t hear a sound.
Maybe Asher’s not here. Maybe he left the lights on or they’re automated, but he’s not here. It’s Friday night, after all. Asher could still be at the office finishing work, or at the club. Or at a hotel sleeping with another woman, which for some reason makes me furious. How can he have sex with another woman just hours after he did it with me?
I shake off the feeling and the idea. No need to jump to any conclusions. Look what happened last time. All I know is that Asher isn’t home, so I just have to come back tomorrow and tell him everything I need to then. Plain and simple.
~
Not that simple.
Now that I’m here standing in front of Asher, who’s wearing just a robe and looks like he just woke up, I can’t seem to find my words again.
Instead, all I can think of is how good he looks with his hair uncombed. Some of the strands tumble over his forehead and I can’t help but want to brush them off with my fingers. I can’t help but stare at the hair on his chest, exposed between the flaps of his robe, and wonder if he’s wearing anything underneath it. Boxers? Briefs? Somehow, I can’t remember what he had on when we had sex. I can’t remember what his cock looks like either, which is weird because it was inside me. I’m pretty sure I saw it.
I glance at Asher’s crotch.
How can you have sex with a man and not remember what his cock looks like?
“Violet?”
I pull my gaze up to the level of his eyes and try not to blush. I try, but I fail when I see Asher grinning like he knows what I was just thinking.
Damn it.
“I…” I touch the side of my neck and clear my throat. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“You didn’t.”
“Good.”
I fold my arms beneath my breasts and draw a deep breath.
Focus, Violet.
“I came by last night,” I tell him. “But you didn’t seem to be home.”
Asher’s bushy eyebrows arch. “You did? Well, I hope no woman answered the door this time. Otherwise, I might have to call the police.”
“No.” I shake my head. “No one answered.”
He leans on the door frame. “By the way, I told Roxanne that you were my neighbor, so next time, she shouldn’t slam the door in your face.”
He did?
I put my hand on the nape of my neck. “You didn’t have to.”
“No, I think I did. She was rude to you because she thought you were one of those women trying to get inside my apartment to steal my stuff.”
My eyebrows furrow. “There are women like that?”
“Yeah. You know, women who say they’ve left their panties behind but they really want to get a pair of my boxers as a souvenir.”
So he wears boxers. That doesn’t mean he’s wearing a pair right now, though.
“That’s creepy,” I say, trying to stick to the topic at hand.
“Yeah. Also, once, there was this woman who bugged Roxanne to let her in so she could wait for me in my bed. In handcuffs.”
Handcuffs? Is Asher into that? I wouldn’t put it past him. In fact, if I remember that week when he was bringing women home every night, it seemed like he was into everything. It sounded like it. Me? I’ve never experienced being tied up, but I can’t say I’m not curious. Too bad Asher and I will never get to try it.
Whoa. Did I just think I wouldn’t mind having sex with Asher again?