My duffle is packed and ready for tomorrow. Even if I have to ride the pants-pisser plane back home, I want to go home so badly it hurts. I miss my mother. I miss my father more than anything. I realize that I have a wonderful family, complete with siblings I love enough to donate a kidney to, and that doesn’t happen in all families. There isn’t some magic thread that holds families together if you don’t nurture those relationships. Looking back on my childhood, Dottie Calvert made sure we all loved each other and had experiences that bonded us enough so that I’d punch someone out if they insulted any of my siblings.

  At the end of the day, I’m glad I came this weekend. I appreciate my family, and I will never act like I don’t again.

  I also met him.

  Fuck, Prescott looked so good in his wet shirt with drops of water dripping from his hair. I wanted to open my mouth and drink those drops as they came off his body.

  There is so much wrong with me.

  My hand drags down my chest, and my nipples stand at attention at the movement and the thought of Prescott. His mouth on my nipple. His mouth…other places. Am I doomed to rub myself to thoughts of him forever?

  Huffing, I throw the covers aside and let the cold air hit my legs and arms. I should have brought more than a little tank top and pajama shorts to sleep in, but they’re comfortable. They’re also easy to take off if I want to enjoy myself with the vibrator in my duffle bag.

  I dig through the bag and pull out the purple dildo with the attached vibrating forest animal. I affectionately call it Bob, the letters standing for battery-operated boyfriend, and I smile as I check to make sure it still has a good charge. This will have to do tonight. I’d rather it be Prescott’s tongue, but beggars can’t be choosers.

  I get back into bed, pull my pajama shorts down to my ankles, and spread my legs a little. “Mmm, Bob, you dirty man whore. Time for a little fun.”

  Flicking the vibrator on, I settle the rabbit – or whatever it is – onto my clit and run my hand under my tank top to tease a nipple. I swivel my hips around in a circle until I find the right pressure. “Fuck that feels good, Bob.”

  I close my eyes, wishing Prescott was bending over me, and push the dildo part of the toy into my sopping wet pussy while still keeping the forest animal at my clit. The toy pulses, fucking me as I clench my legs together so it stays in place while I cup both breasts.

  Riding the cock, I open my mouth a little just as a soft knock sounds at the door.

  My fingers fumble for the off switch on the toy, but I only make the dildo pump faster. Pulling it out of me, it’s soaked with my wetness, but it hums loudly for a few seconds until I shut it off.

  “Um, who is it?” I ask, my voice shaking. Please don’t let it be Frances. Please.

  “It’s Prescott.”

  “Which one?”

  “The one that loaned you his man panties,” he chuckles on the other side of the door.

  I tuck the toy under one of the pillows and hastily pull up my pajama shorts. My legs tremble a little when I put my feet on the floor since I was so close to coming on my vibrator. I hold on to a guest chair and the bedpost as I walk to the door, flinging it open to find a dry Prescott in plaid pajama pants and nothing else.

  Fuck those abs. My eyes stare at them for a moment before I blink and look at his face. “What are you doing here?”

  “Can I come in?”

  I step aside, and he comes into the room. It’s weird having him in my personal space for the weekend, the place where I was just masturbating and thinking of him. He walks in front of me, and I stare at his back muscles as they move with his strides.

  “I’ve been thinking about the best way to apologize to you and talk to you at the same time,” he says, running his hand against the back of his neck like he’s shy. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he says, sitting on my bed.

  “Interrupt? What would you interrupt?”

  “You using your vibrator.”

  Oh. My. God.

  I shake my head and wave my hand. “What are you talking about? That’s ridiculous. Who brings a vibrator when they’re a guest in someone’s home?”

  “Hell on Wheels.”

  “Why would you think I even own a vibrator?”

  “You either own a vibrator, or there’s someone running around with a chainsaw this time of night. They make quieter ones.”

  I bite my lip. Do I deny it? Own it? There’s a look on his face, though. Lust? Want? It’s better I just own up to it and drive him crazy with the idea of me masturbating down the hall from him.

  “You got me. Um, did anyone else hear it?”

  “I don’t think anyone else is outside your door, pacing and thinking of ways to ask to come in so I can get in on the action.”

  Heat moves up my body and right back down to my feet, fixing me in place as I think about what he just said. “You mentioned something about apologizing. Do you mean for what happened with Avery?”

  “Yes, and I want to apologize,” he says, turning to look in the pillows and sheets. He reaches under the covers and looks on the end table until he finds my still-wet vibrator under the pillow. “And I think I want to team up with this fine piece of machinery to apologize properly.”

  “P-properly?” I stammer.

  “It’s my turn to apologize and treat another person right for once. That is, if you’re so inclined to let me apologize. May I?”

  He moves his eyes to the sex toy, not waiting for my answer. “What’s this thing on it?” he asks, flicking the forest creature that was buzzing against my clit only a minute ago.

  “That rubs the clit while the other part…you know?” I wave my hands in the air at nothing because I don’t know what to do with them.

  “Fucks you?”

  I put my hands on my hips and straighten my shoulders in an effort to appear confident and like a hot, wealthy guy asks to tag team me with a sex toy every Saturday night. “You have a filthy mouth, Prescott Rausch the Third.”

  He smiles a crooked grin like a comma forming on his face. His eyes darken, and he licks his lips. “Yes, I do, Peyton Calvert. Want to see it get downright foul? I bet I could lick your slit and show this toy how it’s done.”

  An out-of-character whimper comes out of my mouth. Very few people have left me speechless, but he somehow managed it.

  He pulls the covers back and pats the sheets. “Why don’t you show me how this dick part works while I take care of apologizing? Come here.”

  I obey, climbing into the bed and pulling the covers over me before I can talk myself out of it. He laughs and pulls them off again as he hooks his fingers into my pajama shorts and pulls the shorts and wet panties down in one movement.

  He holds up the toy again. “Have you ever turned it around?”

  “Have I ever fucked the handle?”

  “No…” he trails off, looking at the toy again. He bites his lip. “Have you ever put the dildo in and let the little animal thing rub your asshole?”

  “Are all Princeton men this freaky? If so, I really should have applied myself more when I was younger. Is it too late to join the Ivy League?”

  He laughs and leans over me. His lips meet mine, and I wrap my arms around his neck, melting into his lips as we kiss hungrily, savoring the taste of each other. Our tongues dance as he explores my mouth. When he finally pulls his lips away from my mouth, his kisses trail down my neck until he meets my collarbone. He nips at my tank top straps and pulls one of the straps down to my bicep with his teeth. I gasp when he pulls both straps further down my body with his hands, exposing my nipples to him.

  “Mmm,” he purrs. He plants a kiss on my nipple and my entire body quivers. “You’re so much more beautiful than I imagined, Hell on Wheels.”

  He nudges my legs apart and turns the toy on. “Do I need to lube this up and get it ready?” he asks.

  “I’m wet as fuck. I think it’s fine.”

  Gently, he positions the tip of the dildo at my entrance. “Look at me while I slide this into you,” he whispers, dropping kisses on my breasts and down my stomach. I grip his hair as he smiles against my skin as he works his way down.

  He inches the toy into me, but he makes good on his backward comment. He flicks the attachment on, and vibrations beat against my asshole, causing me to arch off the mattress and buck into his chest.

  “Patience, Hell on Wheels. I’ll get there. I’ll let you get used to this first.”

  I grit my teeth and take heaving sobs that threaten to rip my chest apart. I really should have switched that thing around before. “You’re driving me insane.”

  “Like you’ve driven me insane all weekend with your mouth? I bet that mouth is good for other things than witty banter.”

  “I think you need to work your mouth, Princeton.”

  He looks up at me and smiles. His hair is already mussed, and he licks his lips before moving down…down…down.

  He smiles at me one last time, looks at my clit, and drops a spot of drool on it. “This probably needs a little something to get it ready, huh?”

  Not really. My clit throbs, begging for attention as he turns on the pumping switch for the dildo. His lips close over my clit, and I buck into his face this time, completely unashamed as he hits every single pleasure spot on my body. His hand that isn’t holding the toy rubs a breast, moves down to my stomach, and wanders back up to a breast, swiping a nipple every time he goes past.

  Dear God, I’m going to die from pleasure. How is the coroner going to explain this to my mother? Sure, my sisters will laugh and say that they saw it coming, but those bitches will even put it in the obituary that I died while getting eaten out and fucked with a sex toy.

  He sucks. He licks. He humps the bedspread as he feasts on me, his own want overwhelming him. It only takes a couple minutes of the toy and his tongue before my body stiffens, my orgasm imminent. I run my hands to the nape of his neck, feeling the heat of his body. I need to feel all of him. I want every part of his skin on me. I want that gorgeous chest against mine.

  But not before he finishes me with his mouth.

  I rock into him as he groans each time I flinch with pleasure. The sound of his groans, this man who has everything and just wants me to come on his face right now, pushes me over the edge, and I shatter around him. My thighs squeeze his ears, and the movement makes him laugh. He chuckles into my clit but never stops licking, nuzzling, and sucking.

  The room spins for what seems like hours until every tremble is finished. I pant and pull at his shoulders. I want him up now. I couldn’t get him down there fast enough, but now I want all of him on me. I want his weight on me.

  And someone get this piece of silicone out of his spot.

  “Want something, Calvert?” he asks, reading my mind. He moves up my body until our lips meet. I taste myself as he pushes his pajama pants down. I help by using my feet, frantically trying to help him get the damn fabric away from us. “Someone’s eager for me.”

  “Shut up and fuck me.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he says.

  He pulls the toy out of me and slowly replaces it with the real thing, sliding into me inch by inch. He sighs when he’s all the way and begins pumping deep, wild with need, and I don’t miss the toy that we just there. Prescott moves above me, grunting and gripping my hips in a way you just can’t buy in stores.

  His eyes flutter above me as he thrusts into me, slowly at first. I wrap my legs around him, humping against him and frantic to meet his thrusts. He buries his face in my neck and sighs. Sweat forms on his naked back after a couple of minutes, and I run my hands through it, moving the wetness up and down his spine. I revel in it because it’s for me, earned by fucking me.

  “So perfect. How did you get me so crazy for you in just a few days?” he whispers.

  “I’m gifted.” The words are choppy as they leave my mouth. He fucks me so hard that my words sound garbled.

  I arch my back, throw my head back, and wrap my legs around him tighter as he braces himself with a hand on the headboard. His back tightens under my ankles, and I urge him on, kissing his shoulders and telling him how I’ve never been fucked like this.

  Because I haven’t. I’ve never fucked this wild. This uninhibited. I don’t have a care in the world.

  He bucks into me one last time and goes still as his cock throbs between my legs. He places small kisses all over my face and neck, and I keep my legs wrapped around him until his whisper kisses and words calling me beautiful, mesmerizing, and like no other woman he’s ever met lull me to sleep.

  Goodbyes and Kind Gestures

  “This sucks,” I say to the silence in my room, throwing a sweatshirt into my duffle bag without folding it. My mother would be appalled, but it would probably be the least appalling thing to her that I’ve done this weekend.

  Using a sex toy with my friend’s brother comes to mind.

  I came with Avery to get out of town for a few days and see Nashville. I did that. I also had a great time with a guy that I wouldn’t have given the time of day to if I saw him walking down the street. Sure, I would have admired his looks, but I would have kept walking, especially if he was on the other side of a protest. A tear trickles down my face at the unfairness of a five-hour drive separating us after I leave this morning.

  Avery knocks on the doorframe. “You all packed and ready for our pee pants flight?”

  “A girl pisses herself one time, and it never dies. Will it forever be referred to as a pee pants flight?”

  “Absolutely. You’ll never live that one down. And I also intend to rub it in your face that you hooked up with my brother.”

  “What do you mean we hooked up? Kissing him in a bar doesn’t mean anything.” A blush moves up my neck. Shit.

  “I have the room next door, Peyton. I assume you weren’t jumping on the bed and knocking the headboard into the wall at one in the morning…and then again at six.”

  “I just felt like jumping on the bed. I couldn’t sleep and needed to get the blood pumping, you know?”

  “Sure.” She laughs and picks up my duffle bag. “Let’s never speak of it again. I’m disgusted at the thought of my brother getting some from my friend. Let’s just leave.”

  I glance at the bed one last time as I leave the room, the bed where Prescott and I had sex last night and again this morning after I woke up with his body curled around mine like a parenthesis. Have I ever felt so warm? So protected? If I have, I can’t remember.

  I also can’t remember the last time I got hit from behind twice before breakfast. I rub my hips where his fingers dug into my skin, leaving bruises that’ll last a few days.

  I follow Avery from the room, down the stairs, and out of the house. Should I knock on Prescott’s door? He knows what time we’re leaving, but he’s nowhere in sight. He’s not at the bottom of the staircase, outside on the porch, or even at the Uber taking us to the airport. Did he forget? Go off to shower my scent off him and shrug? Does he not care that I’m leaving?

  I could get his phone number from Avery, but I don’t want to be the one that initiates this. If he can’t even come to say goodbye to me after we shared a night together, I’m not going to call him first. My stomach roils with thoughts of what we did last night and this morning. The things he moaned into my ear when he came.

  I’m quiet the entire way to the airport as I work my fingers against my clothing in frustration. Why wouldn’t he say goodbye? I answer Avery’s questions about what I’m going to do with the thousand bucks I won from the mechanical bull contest by giving her a bullshit answer that’s more of what she expects from Peyton Calvert. In truth, I have other plans for that money.

  The Uber lets us off at the airport, and I take deep breaths as the driver gets our bags out of the trunk. Another scary plane ride home. I should use the contest money to rent a car or upgrade our tickets to a normal plane.

  As we grab our bags and head into the terminal, a familiar voice stops us in our tracks, and both Avery and I turn slowly toward the sound. My heart pounds in my chest, and my hands start to sweat.

  There he is.

  Prescott sits on a bench like he’s been there all night. He’s reading The New York Times and holding a paper cup of coffee from a coffee company that looks too pricey for my Chili Shack salary. He’s wearing his usual dress pants, dress shirt, and green tie. I’ll probably never get him to change that, but I love seeing him in pajama pants slung low over those hips.

  How long has he been here?

  “What are you doing here?” Avery and I ask in unison.

  Prescott stands and folds the paper, takes a sip of coffee, and smiles. “You girls were having breakfast, and I decided to do something nice for you.” He leans forward and drops his voice, staring at me. “I wouldn’t want you to pee your pants again. The thought of you borrowing another man’s underwear put me into a tailspin.”

  “Well, we’re going home, so I’d have my own underwear to change into,” I deadpan, not getting that he’s obviously done something nice for us.

  He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out two pieces of paper, handing one to each of us. “A real plane. I left the house before you to get you on something a little safer.”

  I gape at the Southwest boarding pass and almost pee my pants with relief this time. No puddle jumping, off-brand airline. A real plane. With bathrooms. It probably has a pilot that isn’t in charge of luggage. The flight leaves in forty-five minutes, so we don’t even have to rush or wait around for it. It’s like winning the airport lottery.

  Avery smiles and mumbles a thank you, but I don’t say a word. I drop my duffle bag, walk slowly to him, and throw my arms around him. I let him pull me as close as humanly possible, and I let him bury his face in my hair. I inhale him, breathing in everything I can to commit it to memory. “You did this for me?”

  “Mostly you. I also felt bad my baby sister had to ride on that plane with someone in danger of peeing everywhere.”

 

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