Chapter 6
SIX
WADE
I stir awake to find my cock hard as a rock.
And a smooth hand wrapped around it. Stroking up and down my length, making me grow even harder, if possible.
“Oh, baby,” I whisper under my breath sleepily. “That feels so good.”
A playful giggle tickles my ear as she gives me a playful tug. “If you think that feels good, wait and see what happens next.”
I open my eyes and watch as a brunette head ducks under the comforter. Her long hair is tussled after all of our activity last night. I had her three times last night before we fell asleep. We should be satisfied. We should be spent.
But if there’s anything I’ve learned in the short time since we met, it’s that the woman staring up at me with shining eyes will never cease to amaze me. What were the odds the first woman I met on a dating app would turn out to be the woman who stirred my soul in a way no one else has before?
She licks her lips. My blood heats in anticipation of what’s to come. Pushing the covers back, I prop myself up on the pillows so I can watch as a pair of full pink lips wrap around the pulsing head of my cock.
“Fuck,” I hiss as her warm, wet mouth envelops me.
The fist hugging my girth moves up and down my shaft, pumping me as she takes me deeper into her mouth. Her tongue traces a pulsing vein. Pleasure flows through me, and I collapse against the pillows as it consumes me.
I release another garbled sound. I’m not even sure what word I’m trying to get out. I’m past the point of words. I’m past the point of thought.
I’m all feeling. All desire, as the woman who has stirred my soul from the moment we met tempts and teases me past the point of no return.
“You feel… fucking… fuck me you feel incredible,” I manage to get out, sliding my fingers into the silky tresses flowing over her shoulders and onto my thoughts. “You’re incredible.”
She hums in response. The sound vibrates around my cock, adding another layer of sensation to the ecstasy she’s stirring inside me.
I mean it. She is incredible. Not only at giving head. Or at sex, though what we shared last night was so good, it should have been illegal.
No, there’s something about this woman—something I haven’t quite been able to put into words yet—that has had me gripped from the moment I walked into the bar last night and found her waiting for me.
Little does she know, I’m the one who has been waiting for her all this time.
Another soft hand comes around my balls and gives them a gentle tug. It’s all I can do not to pour my seed down her throat this second.
But I don’t want to come yet. Not until I can drive her every bit as wild as she’s made me.
“That’s enough,” I growl.
I pull her head back. She stares up at me, her lips swollen and her bright eyes wide with curiosity and arousal.
“I want to feel you come around my dick again,” I say, pulling her up toward me. “But first, I have to taste you.”
Brushing my lips against her mouth, I raise her body up more, bringing her knees to rest on either side of my shoulders. Gripping her ass, I give the smooth flesh a squeeze as I kiss her other lips.
The salty musk of her desire floods my senses. I groan into her pussy as my tongue rubs against her clit.
“Oh, Wade,” she croons. I glance up to see her tossing her head back. One of her hands pushes the hair away from her forehead. The other cups her breast.
I almost wish it was my hand. Though mine are happily occupied squeezing her ass cheeks and bringing her heat even closer to my mouth. I left her gasps and moans guide me, telling me when to apply more pressure and when to pull back.
Her thighs are quivering against my cheeks when she finally screams, “I’m about to come.”
I tear my mouth away and flip our bodies over. She grasps for me as I thrust inside of her, my hard cock pounding as her pussy clamps around me.
We find our releases within seconds of each other. She cries my name and I shout something even I don’t understand.
It’s tempting to collapse on top of her. But I move to my side so I won’t crush her.
“That was…” She pauses to take several shallow breaths. Her chest is rising up and down every bit as fast as mine.
“I know.” I kiss her bare shoulder. “It keeps getting better.”
She turns her head to grin at me. “Every time.”
“Imagine how good we’ll be twenty years from now.”
She makes a non-committal sound and, blinking rapidly, turns her gaze back up to the ceiling. “I’ll be right back.”
Shifting out of the bed, she scoops a towel up from the foot of the bed and makes her way to the bathroom. My brows knit together. Did I say something to upset her? She didn’t seem mad exactly. But the air around us definitely shifted.
I lie there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut.
The bed is still warm from her body. The air still smells like her skin and her hair and the salt of our sweat.
Everything in me feels loose, wrecked in the best way. Satisfied. Hopeful in a way I haven’t felt in years.
And yet…
I frown up at the ceiling. The shift had been subtle, but it was there. One minute she was laughing, breathless against me. The next she was pulling away.
Was it something I said? Something I did?
I scrub a hand over my face, pushing myself upright. I reach over to the nightstand where my phone is buzzing quietly.
Maybe it’s work. Maybe it’s one of my friends checking in.
Instead, it’s an alert from an app I almost forgot about.
The dating app.
A startlingly familiar name appears on the screen. Tonya.
I glance at the bathroom door. Is she messaging me from in there? If we weren’t on the third floor, I’d worry she climbed out the window.
Frowning, I open the app.
Hey Wade, sorry about last night! I wanted to let you know I actually got back together with my ex. Hope you understand. Good luck out there. You’ll find someone.
I stare at the screen, not comprehending for a long second.
Then the pieces start to slide into place.
The woman I spent the night with isn’t Tonya. But who is she?
A sharp, sick feeling lodges itself in my chest — the same feeling I got the day I found the texts from my ex-wife saying she’d took a job in Chicago and hoped I’d understand.
The casual cruelty of it.
The blindsiding shock.
I remember standing in our old kitchen, coffee going cold in my hand, reading the words over and over again:
"It’s better this way. Neither of us really knew each other.”
And now here I am, years later, with a woman who isn’t who she said she was.
The bile rises fast and hard.
A soft knock rattles the hotel room door.
“Oh, what now.” I freeze, heart thudding.
Tonya—or, rather, my nameless date—is still in the bathroom.
There’s another knock, sharper this time. I drag on my jeans, and grab my shirt as I move to the door. I pull it open.
And come face-to-face with a man I’ve never seen before.
He’s about my height but wirier, with jittery energy rolling off of him in waves.
He glances past me into the room, then back at me.
He frowns. “Who the fuck are you?”
My jaw sets. “I could ask the same question.”
“I’m here to see Angela,” he says, like it should mean something.
I blink at him, disoriented. “Angela?”
“Yeah.” He shifts his weight. “My girlfriend.”
I grip the edge of the door harder. Everything inside me goes cold.
“Angela,” I say again. I can practically feel the blood draining from my face.
Behind me, the bathroom door creaks open. I don't have to turn around to know she's standing there.
“It’s me,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m Angela.”
The world tilts again.
I stare at her, this woman — Angela — who just hours ago felt like the answer to a prayer I’d stopped saying.
She won’t meet my eyes. She’s clutching a towel around herself like it’s chainmail.
The guy—her boyfriend, I guess—looks between us.
“I needed to talk to you,” he says, almost apologetic now. “I screwed up. I should have been here.”
Angela doesn’t say anything.
She doesn’t move.
She’s staring at a spot on the wall between this guy and me.
Tonya—no, not Tonya, Angela—shifts from foot to foot.
My jaw ticks. “You lied to me.”
“From the first moment. You lied.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen like this,” she says. “I just…I was supposed to be on a date last night. With him—a guy who is not my boyfriend. But he didn’t show. Then you walked in, and…”
“You decided to pretend you were someone else,” I finish for her, my voice flat and hollow.
She flinches.
“Please,” she takes a step toward me. “Can we talk?”
“I think I’ve heard enough.” I button up my shirt, grab my jacket, and tuck my phone in my pocket. “Besides, it sounds like the two of you have some catching up to do.”
I stalk out of the room, my chest aching, as I leave without a single glance back at the woman who gave me hope and then broke my heart.