Not from alcohol buther.
I have claw marks on my back to make sure I don’t forget, either.
What transpired last night was perhaps needed. Maybe it will calm our constant conflict.
But fuck. Esme felt perfect around my cock. And her afterglow due to me was… breathtakingly beautiful.
And now what the hell do I say to her?
I have to think quickly because as I walk down my driveway to collect my Sunday paper—from the mailbox, not damaged because she was egging me on—my not-so-impeccable timing causes me to see from the corner of my eye Esme is exiting her house in yoga pants with a rolled mat tucked under her arm.
She’s fumbling with her keys and dives into her bag for something, and she pulls out her sunglasses. It’s then when she peers up and faces me that her rush subsides.
We both stall for a long second, surveying the other and deciding how to act.
“Morning,” I greet her.
Her eyes snap open, nearly startled, before she inhales a deep breath. “Uh, I’m expecting a package later this week. I triple-checked the address situation and it should be fine.”
Is she nervous or just plain rude for no good morning?
I scratch my cheek. “Great. I’m not sure I will be home much, anyhow.”
Hey eyes widen slightly. “Oh?”
That’s what you moaned last night.
“Late work week ahead. The team is preparing for the draft and need to be ready to have contracts good to go for signatures.”
Her head jostles softly side to side. “Of course, that makes sense.”
Now, we are both trying to avoid making eye contact. I rock on my heels, but then realize that acting as though nothing happened is probably what is best. I don’t need an awkward morning after. That’s what happens with other women. They’re eager for me to promise them a romantic dinner or another night together. But Esme? The woman who is standing before me with doe eyes and disdain probably buried deep within? Well, she might be my golden ticket to physical gratification.
She holds her keys up. “Yoga class. I’m going to be late,” she mentions and begins to turn her feet.
“Have fun. Oh…” I snap my fingers. “I just assumed the fake pearls could get tossed.” I don’t mean to bring last night up. It doesn’t even cross my mind, but a logistic popped into my head.
Now Esme is hurrying into the driver’s seat. “Yeah, sure.” She slams her door shut before I can reply, even though I have no clue what words would tumble out anyhow.
Or if I should even bring up that she left her thong at myplace. It was destroyed the way her pussy craved me, which is why the fabric found its way to my garbage can. Even though I would probably have fun stuffing it into her mouth.
I wince as she backs her car up in a far-too-fast speed, and she’s on her merry way.
Combing a hand through my hair, a long exhale passes through my lips.
Running into one another after destroying my front hall table: Check.
The boxof bagels sitting on my kitchen counter are appealing. I’m starving, and maybe I need to stock up on some carbs after ramming into my neighbor until we both came.
I slide the European-sized mug for coffee under my state-of-the-art coffee machine. It’s confusing as hell which buttons to use, which is why I normally stop by Foxy Rox in the morning, but my at-home coffee is still a good brew.
“Here.” I motion to Oliver sitting at the counter.
“Thanks. My head is kind of slow today. I keep forgetting to remind myself that drinking in our 30s is not the same as our 20s.” He brings the rim of the mug to his lips.
I chuckle at that fact as I open the box for an onion bagel. “What was the deal with Hailey last night?”
Oliver scoffs. “Nothing, man, we just joked around.”
