Chapter 4
Alex
He’s huge. He’s not going to fit.
My poker buddies call me a man-eater, but it’s purely for my poker skills. It has nothing to do with my sexual prowess. In fact, it’s been a while since I had sex. Not that I don’t love it; I do. But trusting someone enough to open up this way has been hard.
A finger to my chin pulls me back to reality. His gaze connects with mine.
“Relax, sweetheart.” His smooth, low voice unravels a knot inside of me. “Let me in this perfect pussy.” A new knot undone. “Let me worship her the way she deserves.”
“Oh,” I moan out, finally relaxing my muscles. He pushes all the way in, and I release a throaty gasp. He’s so deep, and I feel so full.
“That’s it. Look at how well you take me,” he grits out with clenched teeth. His hips work slowly, pushing in and out of me with restraint, and suddenly, it’s not enough.
“Yes,” I breathe out. “Fuck me. Harder.”
He quirks an eyebrow, and I nod my head profusely. Straightening the arm that was previously perched on his elbow, he pumps into me faster, bottoming out each time.
Breath escapes me, but I don’t need it. Not with his mouthwatering biceps straining above me. Not with his dark eyes staring at me with hunger, or his sculpted tattooed chest flexing. And definitely not with his dick rubbing against the perfect spot inside of me.
His hips work faster, pushing me into the comfortable mattress. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good.”
He bites his lip before letting out a guttural groan. My arms wrap around his neck, and he uses the opportunity to smash his mouth onto mine. I taste myself on his lips, which only makes it hotter. Our tongues battle as if this is another competition, another bet.
But fuck, whatever it is, I think we’re both winning here.
Pulling our lips apart, he places a thumb on my clit, making my eyes roll to the back of my head. He doesn’t rub it. No, he presses it down to rub over his cock as he thrusts into me.
I let out an incoherent “Mmmmmm,” unable to form words.
“Clench it. Clench my fucking cock like you mean it.”
And I do. Not because he said so, but because my pussy leaves me no choice, gripping his cock hard, all the way to my release.
“Shit… I’m com….” I murmur when my orgasm crashes into me, shaking me to my core. My back arches off the bed, my toes curl and my pussy squeezes even harder, drawing his own release from him.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants as he spills into the condom, his whole body twitching.
There’s something about seeing this obviously powerful man so disarmed by me that heats the blood in my veins.
Our chests heave, our bodies slick with sweat. He stares into my eyes as if trying to see through them. My heart beats faster, hoping my face is trained enough not to let him see anything. I lick my lips, making his gaze catch on the movement, and release a relieved breath.
The moment broken, he exits me and walks into an adjoining room, which I suppose is the bathroom.
This was the best sex I had in my life. But I have no intention of sharing that with him.
Nope. If I know one thing about men, it’s that their egos don’t need inflating. They do that enough on their own.
While he’s still in the bathroom, I jump from the bed, grab my discarded clothes and rush to put them back on. I’m just clasping my bra when he walks out of the bathroom, naked as the day he was born.
Fuck, he’s hot. I never enjoyed going to the gym, but I sure appreciate what it did for him. His cock is half hard already as it bobs between his legs, and I can’t help licking my lips again.
“Going somewhere?” he asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest. I guess he doesn’t mind being naked. A body chiseled by the gods could do that to you.
“Yes-yes. I need to get home.” My bra is on at last, and I work on my dress.
“Mhm.” He doesn’t say more, looking at me intently.
I slip on my shoes and smooth my dress before daring to glance at him.
“This was nice.” His smirk is almost imperceptible, but it’s obvious he knows I’m lying through my teeth.
Calling this nice would be like calling the Grand Canyon nice.
It’s not technically a lie, but damn, it sure ain’t the truth, either.
“I should get going.” My thumb points at the door.
“I’ll drive you.”
“No, it’s okay. You’re,” I gesture to his naked body, “in no shape to drive.”
“Fine, but I’ll call you a rideshare.”
“That would be great, thank you.”
We walk into his living room, where I find my purse. He takes his phone, still naked, and taps on it a few times, hopefully finding me a ride. I use the time to give Persephone some more snuggles. A minute later, the man’s phone pings with a text.
“The car’s here.”
Huh. That’s fast. “Great. I guess I’ll see you around.” I plant a fake smile on my face.
He leans against the doorway, still naked. I pretend I don’t see the way his muscles stretch. “Do I get to know your name?”
“Why ruin this with names?” I pat his chest with my palm, suppressing the urge to moan at the hard planes of it. “Let’s keep this a fun, mysterious night.”
“You mean a nice, mysterious night?” Another smirk.
“Right.” I smile. “See you.”
“Wait.” His hand wraps around my wrist, stopping me. “Take my jacket. It’s freezing out.”
“Oh.” I’m stunned as I wait for him to return, still naked, with the suit jacket I previously had on. He drapes it over my shoulders, and it’s as ridiculously large on me as it was the first time I wore it. “Thank you.”
I straighten my lips, not allowing the tears to gather in my eyes, and strut to the elevator. It’s silly, really. Why would such a simple gesture have such an impact on me?
I’m out of the building before I know it. Running away is an exercise my feet know all too well.
A luxury black SUV awaits me, a car too similar to the one I got here in for it to be a coincidence. I wrap the jacket around myself tighter, swallow my nerves and enter the car. There are no rideshare identifications visible, but that’s what I expected.
“Your address?” the driver asks, and I detect a hint of an accent, similar to the accent of the man I just had sex with. His facial angles are sharp under a mop of dark hair. His large hands squeeze the steering wheel, and I realize I’m staring.
“Umm, yeah…” I recite the address for him and buckle my seatbelt.
The car glides through the dark and vacant streets as I nibble on my bottom lip nervously. Eventually, he pulls to a stop. “Thanks for the ride,” I say tersely and exit the car.
He drives away, and I release a relieved breath.
A different woman would probably be terrified to be alone on the streets at this time of the night, seven blocks from her apartment.
I clutch my purse and pick up my pace. Unease blooms in my stomach, but it’s far less debilitating than what I would feel giving away my actual address.
I reach the door of the building in record time. It’s not until I enter the apartment, locking the door behind me, that the knot in my belly loosens, never fully unraveling.
No, safety is not a feeling I fully remember. But I’ve learned to live with the fear. To stick it deep into far-off corners of my mind and pretend it doesn’t exist.
I drop my shoes at the door and take off the suit jacket. My fingers trace the expensive fabric, and I lift it up to my nose. Fuck, he smells good.
Shaking my head, I hang the jacket in the hallway.
It’s a futile attempt at tidying up because my clothes are strewn all around the living room.
Sophie’s apartment is pretty minimalistic, but I’ve left my mark, placing a few of my knick-knacks.
The two picture frames I carry wherever I travel adorn the TV, and I’ve placed crystals for protection, luck and clarity strategically throughout the apartment.
It’s something I’ve done for years, and it helps me feel like there’s an extra layer of safety around me, one I so desperately need.
Still, Sophie will kill me when she sees what her place looks like.
If she ever comes back.
Nope. Not going there. She’ll be back. She left me a note. Sophie is my best friend and my cousin, but we have so much more in common than just our flawed genes. We both have a ton of trauma we’re working through, each of us doing the best we can.
I never thought she could hurt herself.
My throat constricts at the thought.
She told me she was okay.
And she would’ve left her dog with me if she had planned to hurt herself.
She would also never leave her place this suddenly, so something must be going on.
I’ve searched everywhere once I realized she wasn’t answering my calls or texts.
Nothing I’ve tried brought me any closer to the truth.
Her last location visible on the Find My Phone App was this one, and her phone has been offline since then.
I’ve visited the restaurants she used to order her food from, and the grocery store she shopped at.
I’ve tried retracing her steps and talked with every shop owner in the vicinity of her apartment.
I’ve even visited the vet she used to take her dog to, and I’ve found nothing.
Nothing except the note she left me, right here in the apartment.
That note is the only clue I have and that is what I should focus on, not sex with hot, mysterious guys. No matter how good the sex was.