About Last Night (About Last Night #1)(42)

And she was my first.

In a way, I was glad. On the other hand, I was alarmed. What if I couldn’t match what she had made of me in her mind? Instructing a woman on masturbation over the phone was one thing, but sex was another. We’d just have to take it one baby step at a time.

I wiped the sweat from my face, panting, and then checked the display on my watch. 2:15 p.m. An hour and a half of running would have to do. I needed to make my way home and prepare myself. And when I said prepare, I meant in every way.




Sluggishly walking up the stairs to my apartment, I unlocked the door and kicked my shoes off. My shorts followed. There was no point in showering right now; I’d have to do it all over again in another couple of hours. Besides, I liked the way my skin felt after allowing sweat to dry on me.

Stretching my neck from side-to-side, I walked to the corner of the room and pulled open the yoga mat. It was crucial that I relax, and only two things helped. Yoga. And sex.

I was already semi-hard. My body knew the drill.

Laying the mat on the ground, I sat sukhasana, closing my eyes and breathing deeply. I did this a while before standing high warrior then into tree position. I switched from downward dog into plank, and lastly into sunbird. My body loose, I inhaled then exhaled slowly.

My cock, now fully erect, twitched, slapping against my stomach. I muttered to myself, “Yeah, yeah. Down boy,” then lay flat on my back in the middle of my TV room. I shut my eyes and thought about tonight. My stomach jerked in anticipation. I slid my hand over my hip then ran it over my hard length. My mouth parted in pleasure.

I did it again. Gripping, I jerked it slowly, up then down and back again, running my thumb over the beaded pre-cum resting at my slit. I used the lubrication to massage the sensitive underside, making a faster rhythm with the palm of my hand.

I thought about sex. Dirty sex. Hot sex. Meaningless, raw f*cking. I thought about the moment of entry, when my cock head meets sweet, wet *, the memory of the feeling enveloping me. I dreamed of tits and sucking nipples, pink ones, brown ones, red ones.

A groan caught in my throat as my cock jumped in my hand, responding to the dirty thoughts in my head. My hand worked faster, harder. My hips thrust into the empty hollow of my palm, and the muscles at the sides of my ass and thighs clenched delightfully at being put to work.

I needed this. Oh, God…how I needed this.

Then I thought about a faceless woman who would give herself to me this night. Eyes of no color, and lips of no particular thickness called to me. The memory of her sweet, husky voice at the moment of her first orgasm assaulted me. “Holy shit. Holy f*cking shit. Oh, God. Oh, shit. Jesus Christ!”

Would she come so explosively under me as I rocked into her?

At the thought of Maya coming around my cock, squeezing it tight in her wet warmth, my entire body seized. The hand gripping my prick tightened as my face became pained. Gritting my teeth, my hips jerked uncontrollably. Intense pleasure that bordered pain drifted over my body as I watched my cock spasm repeatedly, spilling come over my stomach.

All at once, I collapsed back onto the yoga mat, panting and sweating. Feeling limp everywhere, I lay there for a long while before sitting up then standing and walking to the bathroom to turn on the shower.

I needed to shave my balls. Ah, the life of a male escort. So glamorous.




The phone at the bedside rang. I ran over to answer it. “Hello?”

A woman on the other end asked, “Hello, Mr. Quinn. Jane from room service here. I see you have ordered a dessert sample platter this evening for your company tonight. Might I suggest the Brown Brothers Moscato to accompany that? Or perhaps a Zibbibo?”

I loved how thorough this hotel was. I suppose that was why I paid as much I did. “Whatever you suggest will be fine.” A sudden thought came to me. “Jane, I didn’t see a crème br?lée on the menu.”

As always, Jane lived to please. “No, Mr. Quinn, there isn’t. I’m afraid the room service menu is not very vast. But being that you’re a repeat customer, I can ask Chef Jacque in the hotel restaurant if he can spare the one from the evening service.”

I smiled then looked down at my watch. It was five-fifty on the dot. “If you can get it to me by six, there will be a very sizable tip involved.”

Professional as ever, Jane responded simply with, “Six it is, sir.”

I hung up, looked around the room, and once again made sure everything was perfect for tonight.

***

Mia



I was there. At the very moment my life would change significantly.

I thought about what I had done during the day and frowned. Today should have been memorable, and although I was absolutely sure it would be, I suddenly wished I’d made the entire day worth remembering.

Glancing down at my watch, I bit the inside of my cheek as my heart pounded. 5:58 p.m. Two minutes early. Would I look desperate if I knocked right this second?

I bounced from foot to foot before rolling my eyes and silently groaning. Swallowing hard, I lifted my hand, and before I could stop myself, I knocked. Suddenly parched, I waited for the door to open. After the longest eight seconds of my life, the latch clicked over and the door opened.

And there stood Matt Quinn—my longtime crush, my new friend, and the man who would take my virginity. He looked hot as ever with his lips already curved into a ridiculously attractive grin, his hazel eyes dancing, his dark hair cut shorter than the last time I saw him. It was still the chaotic perfection I remembered. He wore a black, long-sleeved shirt with white buttons and left it untucked over blue jeans so dark they could have been black. I’d forgotten how tall he was. With his shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow, revealing his strong forearms, he looked delicious. Edible. To top it all off, he wore no shoes or socks.