He doesn’t slip out of me right away, just kneading my ass as he begins to soften inside me. He drags a hand down my spine before finally sliding out of me, a wet suctioning sound follows as his body leaves mine.
I’m still bent over the table as I collect my thoughts and reel from what just happened. I expect some shame or confusion, but all I’m left with is clarity.
I grin against the table as a trashcan lid closes and the stranger who just rocked my fucking world comes back over to the table.
“You okay?” he asks, his hand on my back, rubbing soft circles.
“More than okay, thank you,” I say.
He laughs.
“What?” I ask, as he helps me stand up. My legs are like a newborn fawn’s as I wobble and lean my sore ass against the edge of the table.
“Thanking me for sex, when it was definitely my pleasure,” he says, his cock put away in his pants. My biggest regret was not getting a good look at it. He gets down on a knee and helps me slide my panties back on.
It’s sweet and unexpected, making me blush. He just spanked me, but this small act of kindness is what has me clamming up.
He grabs my dress and helps me put it back on.
I catalog his handsome face, knowing I’ll never forget him. Even when I’m sixty with eighteen cats, because at this rate that’s how many I’ll have, I’ll think fondly back on the man whoeased my pain. The man who made me feel like I wasn’t a freak for the things I wanted. He made me feel alive when I needed it the most.
Feeling bold, maybe reckless, I grab his chin and plant a soft kiss against his lips.
“Thank you,” I say again, kissing his cheek, and I walk out of the office, not saying another word as I feel him watching me walk away and I do my best not to fall down the stairs and make a complete spectacle of myself.
I’m patting down my dress, hoping that I don’t look like I’ve just been fucked within an inch of my life, as I meet up with Chelsea and Savannah. Both of their mouths drop as they stand up from their barstools.
You would have thought I told them I won the Nobel Prize and not my back blown out the way they both squeal with excitement and clap their hands together.
“Kate is back, baby!” Savannah shouts.
“So fucking back,” Chelsea adds in.
“Now tell us every single detail of what happened in the hot bartender's office. Look at you, you aren’t even walking straight. He fucks good, doesn’t he? I knew he would,” Savannah rambles on.
“I will tell you everything if we leave right now and never come back,” I say, taking one last glance back toward the stairwell to the office.
His large frame is leaned up against the wall, a smirk on his face. I take in his appearance one last time, making sure I save it in my memory forever.
He gave me more than a one-night stand. He gave me everything and he doesn’t even have a clue.
4
PETTY
4 MONTHS LATER
“Please,I need more stories of the whore chronicles of Kate,” Chelsea says, drinking her mimosa. This is the third time we’ve done brunch this week alone.
It’s summer and with no summer courses, Chelsea and I have too much time on our hands.
“Savannah really fucked up teaching courses this summer,” I say to Chelsea who nods in agreement.
Four months have changed a lot of things for me, to be honest, I almost feel like a new person. I’m down to only one therapy session a month. I’m enjoying living alone more than I ever thought I would, and I feel lighter. So much fucking lighter.
I’m no longer hoarding secrets of myself, all those pieces I gave away to my ex-husband. I’ve been slowly finding them and piecing them together to build who I am today.
It took me time to realize that I’m not trying to go back in time and be the Kate I was at twenty-five. No, I’m living happily as a single woman in her thirties and it’s more fulfilling than I thought it would ever be.
