My phone vibrates again in my pocket. Eric's been blowing it up the last hour.
I need to get to work. I need to get my shit done and get back to Lucy.
“You wanna look at your watch again or finish this shit up?” Eric snaps at me. Don’t know why he even fucking cares. The meeting is done. All the partners are sitting around spilling bullshit about who they’re sticking their dicks into. My purpose for being here is done. I need to get back home. “Clearly you have more important things to be doing. Feel free to share with us who has your attention lately.” His tone is laced with annoyance.
The stress returns full blast, and the numbers start piling. I slide my hands over my face and tug at my hair, needing my head to stay clear. “First off, none of your business. Second off, yep, none of your business.”
Mateo slaps his hand on the table, bursting out laughing. “Whoa there, cowboy. Want to tell us something? You got a girl keeping your dick warm finally?” I’m irritated that he puts Lucy in a category of just being a lay for me.
“You’re telling us you found someone who puts up with you and those stupid ass sandals you always wear?” Levi chimes in.
I’m done with this. I stand, tossing the folder holding today’s numbers at Eric. “Numbers are solid. I’ll be remote the rest of the week if you need me.” I walk off, letting those assholes laugh at my expense.
I’m out of the conference room when Eric grabs me. “Wait just a second.”
I turn, waiting for the undermining. “What?”
“What? How about where the fuck have you been all week?”
I brush his hand off me. “Handling some shit. None of your business.”
“It is when you blow off the company. You sat through half that shit mumbling. You slipping again?”
My hands begin to shake as I fight the tornado in my head. The personal file I’m holding slips out of my grip and falls to the ground. Eric is down before me, gathering the strewn papers and picking up one in particular.
“What’s this?” He waves the application for the teaching position.
“Nothing.” But there’s no hiding the stress on my face. I don’t need his scrutiny right now. “Listen, I’m fine. Just leave it alone.”
“The hell you are. I know when you’re not fine. What’s got your head all jammed? Whatever it is, whoever it is, get rid of her. It’s not helping you or this business.” I take in his cold, calculating stare a second longer before snatching the contract out of his hands and shoving it inside the pocket of my suit coat. Turning my back, I walk away before I take my fist to his perfectly manicured face. He knows nothing about happiness. He hasn’t truly been happy since Julia, who took off on him several years ago.
“Where the fuck you going? Don’t walk away from me, Trevor.”
I don’t bother turning around as I address him. “I’m going to live my life the way I want to.” And then, I’m gone.
By the time I pull into my driveway, I’m a fucking wreck. I’m reciting the exact measurements of my driveway as I pull in, counting down the exact second until I park. The three Xanax I popped are doing shit for me.
I barely shut my car off before jumping out and heading across the way.
Chapter Nine
Lucy
The first thing I’m gonna do when I win the lottery is hire someone to do my laundry. I mean, how much detergent goes into this shit? I hear the door open and assume it’s Trevor. That or someone else feels comfortable walking in Gran’s house. Do ax-murderers knock? Seeing Trever storm down the hallway, I feel a bit relieved.
I live to see another day.
“Look who the cat dragged—whoa!”
He’s behind me, trapping my body between him and the dryer.
“I need to fuck you.”
Oookay then. He thrusts against me, and I throw my hands onto the dryer for support. His hands wrap around my yoga pants, tugging at them. My tummy starts to swirl with excitement. I’m all for hot, spontaneous sex, so I allow him to undress me—more like tear my clothes off.
“Hey, don’t tear the goods, I only have two pairs,” I joke.
He has my pants down, jerking at my underwear. “I’ll buy you more.”
I love sex with Trevor. He’s going to destroy sex with any future guy for me. Because let’s face it, his dick is top notch. But something seems off with him. I’m quickly learning his moods. He’s mumbling, which I’m sure he doesn’t realize, spitting out equations that would put Einstein to shame—a sign I know he’s trying to compress something.
He tears my panties down, then pulls one hand away to release himself from his pants, aligns himself, and with two hands back around my hips, he slams inside. “Oh shit,” I moan. He feels so much bigger from behind. My legs almost buckle, but he holds me up, pulling out and slamming back in. My grip tightens on the dryer, holding myself in place, but it’s impossible. He’s on a mission.
“I need all of you right now,” he grunts, fucking me like a madman. In and out, he pounds into me. He’s so deep. Maybe it’s the position, or the valiant effort he’s making, but it’s as if he’s willing to break me just to get even deeper.
This isn’t like our normal sex. It’s more aggressive. Not that I’m complaining. I’m about to have an orgasm that’s surely gonna blind me. I moan, and cuss, begging for him to fuck me harder. And he does. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m going to come. Fuck, I’m going to come… “Fuck, Trevor, I’m cooooming…” I almost bite my tongue off. My walls squeeze down so tight, I may have cut off the circulation to his dick. He’s nearing his climax too. Trevor takes complete control slamming my ass into him, fucking me, one, two, and on the third thrust, I feel him buckle. The growl…God, it’s so hot as he orgasms.
I try to catch my breath as I fall onto the dryer, thankful for the flat surface. It was that or tumbling face-first to the ground. Trevor breathes heavily behind me, no doubt trying to talk his heart out of evicting itself from his chest.
“I think we just moved the dryer five feet forward,” I sigh.
He doesn’t respond.
I lift my head to look back, making sure he’s still alive. What just happened would kill a lesser man. “Hey, you still with me?” He still doesn’t speak, but presses his lips to my shoulder, kissing behind my ear, my neck. I’m now positive something’s up. I just don’t know if it’s safe to ask. At least he stopped counting.
I wish I could help ease his mind, give him some relief from all the commotion in his head. A part of me feels like what just happened was his way of getting that. Kind of a win-win for us both. But over the past couple days, he’s become more than just a neighborly hook up for me. And as much as I want to deny it, the gooey feels are starting to build.
“Man, tacos sound good right now, don’t they? Guacamole, ground beef, chips. Lots of chips.”
He squeezes me and chuckles in my ear. “I love tacos.”
We’re on the back deck, Trevor sitting on the lawn chair, me curled up in his lap. We just got done devouring a mound of tacos and I’m trying not to barf at how full I am. Trevor’s mood has changed. We got cleaned up and walked down to the local grocery mart for supplies to make tacos. He grabbed a billion more things like cereal, lunch meat, and every day stuff that would taste horrible in tacos, then insisted on paying the bill. Now, with a full fridge and a fuller belly, we’re quietly enjoying the evening sounds of the ocean.