It’s not like I’m going to deny that this moment is hot—fucking her with our clothes still on, the urgency of doing it against the wall. The yielding way she’s relinquished control to me, the flash of her eyes and the challenge there for me to take what’s mine.
But I already want more. I want her tits in my palms, her body bare before me on a bed, hours and hours for me to do anything. Everything.
When I get her back to my hotel, I’m going toreallyhave her. Lay her out and look at her, turn her over in my hands, get to know every part of her body. I’m going to taste her and have her taste me. We’ll step in that massive, heated rain shower together, and I’ll press her to the glass, fucking her while her breath fogs against it.
I’m so caught up in the fantasies of the future, every way that I want to see her pleasure, that when she clenches around me, the tiniest whimper escaping at the ascent of her orgasm, it sends me into mine, my cock twitching inside her with the intent to release.
I can tell she’s just on the edge, and I slide my hand up into her hair, giving it a tug and loving the sound it pulls up from her throat.
“Come for me,” I order, and she does.
We unravel together, and I keep the pace, driving into her with the abandon of a man who’s already tipped over to the other side.
If I was someone else, I might worry about fucking her without a condom. But it’s been a long, long time since I had to care about anything like that.
When it’s done, I hold her there against the wall for a moment, reveling in the warmth and scent and feel of her, until she pushes against my hand and I force myself to slide out of her, to lower her leg to the balcony floor. For a second, we stand together, our breath mingling as clouds in the air, then she clears her throat and starts to run her hands through her hair.
“Well,” she says, her voice rough before she clears her throat. “That was fun.”
She saysthat was funwith the intonation ofit was nice knowing you, and crosses to the other side of the balcony, as if to give us some space.
But I don’t want space.
“Wait—” I say, as she adjusts her dress, but she shakes her head, like she knows what I’m going to say next.
“Don’t worry about it,” she says, tipping her chin up and flashing me an unconcerned grin. “I’ll just nip to the bathroom and clean up?—”
I don’t want hernippinganywhere. I want to scoop her into my arms and carry her to my hotel room. For the rest of the night, I want to do nothing but bury my face in her hair, learn her name, tease her apart.
Does she live in Manhattan? Which hospital does she work at? Or is she a med student?
I eye her now, thinking she might be roughly the right age for that. Which makes me realize, for the first time, that she might be just a little too young for me.
But right now, I just don’t care.
Opening my mouth, I try to think of a suave way to tell her all that. A cool line like the ones I used inside, that will communicate my interest but not give away just how much I need the touch and taste of her still, even after doing what we just did.
And then, before I can say anything, there’s the distinctcreakof the door to the balcony opening. I look away from Ruby and to the square of orange light, already preparing myself to bark out at the person here that they need to fuck off.
I can tell she’s pulling away from this moment, and I don’t want to let her go.
I’m not willing to let her be some woman I touched on the balcony, only to never see again.
But I’m momentarily stunned when I see the blonde head that appears, the strange light blue eyes that dart over to meet mine. From here, I can smell his cologne, something that surely comes in a blue bottle and is supposed to smell like the ocean, or something stupid like that.
“There you are.” Cal stands holding the door open, and I can feel the heat from the candles and building’s heating—even with the thick velvet curtain—rolling through the door, washing over my ankles. I still don’t feel the cold.
I’m careful to keep my gaze on my cousin, not giving away the fact that Ruby is behind him, breathing hard, hair wild, definitely looking like she’s just been fucked. If he were to glance in that direction and see her, it would be pretty obvious what I’ve been up to since I left the little circle of grieving in the front of the ballroom to “use the bathroom.”
And, in fact, I almost think Calvin might be able to tell what’s just happened when his eyes meet mine. That he might be able to tell I’ve just done something reckless and wild, something—given my relatively benign romantic history—kind of unprecedented.
He could catch onto the fact that I’ve been out here, fucking a stranger out in the cold, rather than doing the whole song and dance for my father’s cancer tour. At least if he does find out—and tell the family—I can plead insanity due to the grief.
I’m not actually sure the grief has hit me, or that when it does, it could drive me to insanity. Or that I would regret doing something like this in the face of it. In fact, being with Ruby put things into sharp perspective for me in a way that I haven’t experienced before.
But, in his typical fashion, Cal doesn’t notice anything about me, or anyone outside his tight circle of awareness.
“Frank has been looking for you, man,” Cal rubs his hand over his chin, and steps forward, letting the door fall shut behind him. Ruby moves quickly, stepping through it silently, and I move to the side, intending to go after her, but Cal steps in my way.
