Why was she so quiet? Did she hate it? As she read, I kept trying to get a glimpse of her expression, read her body language, but she was sort of turned toward the window. She gasped once or twice and brought one hand slowly to her mouth, but I couldn’t tell if it was because she was shocked, embarrassed, or touched. Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have written about her. Natalie wasn’t show-offish like other women, who sometimes begged me to write about them. A lot of them even asked me to use their real names too, which I never did. Not only for their protection, but also because real names suggested a level of intimacy I wasn’t comfortable with.
“Hey,” I said, tapping her head. “What’s going on up there? Do you hate it?”
“No, I love it!” she said, turning toward me with bright eyes. “Are you kidding? Thank you for saying all those things. Really, it was the best blow job you’ve ever had? The Stanley Cup of blowjobs?”
“Definitely.” I nodded, relieved she wasn’t angry. “You’re the top. And I’ve had a lot of blowjobs, I mean seriously a lot, and by some really hot women. I remember this one girl who—”
“OK, OK. Enough.” She held up her hand. “I get it. Thank you. I’m flattered, and you should stop talking now.”
I grinned at her. God, I was even starting to adore the frowny face. “Sorry. Anyway, she was nothing compared to you. That was my point.”
“So you really meant all those things you said?” She sounded surprised.
“Like I told you, I always mean what I say, Nat. Especially where you’re concerned.” I wondered which things in particular had her curious, but didn’t ask. “Now my problem is that you’ve ruined blowjobs for me forever because nothing will ever compare.”
“Oh, right.” She shook her head and sighed. “Something tells me you’ll be just fine, Miles Haas. And considering you just explained exactly what you like in a blowjob to any woman who reads your stuff, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of qualified applicants to replace me.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’ll always be my favorite.” I tugged a few strands of her hair, happy at the sweetly surprised expression on her face.
For about five seconds.
Because I realized it was true—no matter what happened, no matter how many hot girls lined up to blow me, I’d forever compare them unfavorably to her. And what about sex? Had she ruined that for me too?
Quickly I tried to think of another girl I’d rather go to bed with than Natalie, another pussy I’d rather taste, another body I’d rather be inside. And I couldn’t.
A sweat broke out on the back of my neck.
Because I realized I’d never been able to think of another girl I’d choose over Natalie. Ever.
And now that it had happened, I never would.
What the fuck was I going to do about that?
For one crazy moment, I wished we weren’t so good together. I wished the sex was average, the chemistry lackluster, the feeling I got when I came inside her something less than fucking transcendent.
For an even crazier moment, I thought about promising her everything and all of me if only she’d say she wanted it.
Then I shook it off.
That was fucked up.
• • •
We stopped once for lunch and once for more coffee and gas, and arrived in Detroit around four o’clock that afternoon. Natalie wanted to see my apartment before we did anything, so I parked in the garage adjacent to the building and took her up to the twenty-third floor. I unlocked the door and let her in first.
“Wow,” she breathed, setting her bags down. “This is beautiful.”
“Thanks.” I set my keys on a small table against the wall and kicked the door shut. “The guy who rents it to me said it was built in the twenties but abandoned for years before they renovated.”
“That’s amazing.” She walked over to the huge floor-to-ceiling windows and looked out. “I love the view.”
“Cool, isn’t it? The guy asked me if I wanted shades on those windows and I said no way.”
She turned around and took in the furniture, wood floors, and two-story ceiling before wandering over to the kitchen. “Holy shit,” she said, running her hand over the shiny granite counter. “This is gorgeous.”
“Yeah, he’s a chef, so this kitchen is totally decked out.” I went to the huge stainless fridge and took out two beers, taking the caps off before handing one to Natalie. “Actually he owns a restaurant called The Burger Bar in Corktown that I love. Maybe I’ll take you there for dinner.”
“Why’d he move out?” she asked, her wide eyes taking in the dark wood cabinets and stone tile floor.
“He got married and bought a house in Indian Village.”
“Oh.” She took a sip of her beer and meandered into the pantry. “What the hell, Miles? You have, like, nothing in here.”
“I’ve got the basics.” I leaned back against the counter and tipped up the bottle.
“What basics? Cap’n Crunch, Doritos, and Twinkies? Oh wait, I do see a bag of flour in here.”
“Yeah, I think he left that.”
“Oh my God.” She came out, shaking her head. “Let’s go to the grocery store while I’m here. I’ll help you fill up your pantry and show you some easy things to make.” She put her hand on the fridge handle and looked at me. “Do I even want to open this? Is six months’ worth of moldy takeout food going to attack me?”
“It might.”
She opened it up and sighed. “No mold. But what do you live on? Beer and cereal?”
I shrugged. “I could probably live on that.”
She shut the fridge and stuck a hand on her hip, looking adorably concerned for me. I let myself fantasize for a moment that she lived here too, that we shared things like beer and Twinkies, that she’d cook for me and I’d…well, I’d think of something to do for her. There must be something I had to offer.
Your dick! That’s what you have to offer, asshole. So stop with the stupid silly shit and go have sex.
“That diet cannot be healthy.” She threw a hand up in exasperation. “How are you in such good shape? It’s so annoying!”
Smiling, I set my beer down and tugged her toward me by the hem of her shirt, setting her hips against mine. “How about cinnamon buns? Are those healthy?”
“No.”
I buried my face in her neck, kissing her hungrily, licking her throat. “But they taste so good.”
She giggled. “I suppose they’re all right for a treat. Every once in a while.”
“How about now?” My hand slid up her stomach, palming her breast as I kissed my way to her mouth. My dick came alive, pushing against the crotch of my jeans. “Can I have some now?”
She set her beer on the counter and took my face in her hands, sliding her tongue along my lips. “Yeah. Want to show me your bedroom?”
Without another word, I took her hand and led her up the stairs to the loft bedroom, which was above the kitchen.
“Aha. You have a shade on this window, at least.” Natalie went over and pulled it down, and the room into shadow.
“Only because I like to sleep in, and that window gets morning sun.” I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her away backward. “Come here, you. It’s been hours since I’ve seen you naked. That’s not right.” Lifting her shirt at the bottom, I pulled it over her head, then undid her shorts and yanked them down.
She turned to face me, sliding her shoes off her feet before taking off my shirt. For a moment, she stood silently, looking at my bare upper body. Then she put her hands on me, running them up my arms and down my chest. “I used to look at you,” she said, her fingertips brushing my nipples, which made my cock surge with lust. “That last summer before you left, I used to look at you and wonder what it was like to touch you this way.” She unbuttoned my jeans and slid a hand inside them. “And I felt so guilty,” she whispered, bringing her lips to my chest, her fingertips playing with the tip of my cock. “I knew it was wrong, but sometimes I saw you looking at me, and I wondered what you were thinking.”
“Uh, safe to say I was thinking about fucking you.” I reached between her legs and stroked her softly through her panties. “I used to imagine your body naked under mine, your back arched, your legs spread.” I slid my hand inside her underwear, teased her open. “I’d think about touching you this way, making you wet.”
Her breaths coming faster, she wrapped her fingers around my dick and worked them slowly up and down. “And then what?”
“Then I’d have to go take a shower so I could jerk off.”
She looked up at me. “Show me. I want to watch.”
Oh, fuck. Was she serious? “You do?”
“Yes. Let’s take a shower together.” A devilish little glint flashed in her eyes. “And I’ll let you watch me too.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “You are such a bad girl right now.”
“I know.” Rising up on tiptoe, she whispered in my ear. “You can punish me later.” Then she took her hand off me and sauntered through my closet into the adjacent bathroom, stopping to look over her shoulder in the doorway. “Well, come on, cowboy. You brought me all the way here. Don’t you want to play with me?”
I stared at her in complete fucking disbelief. What the hell was this? She was out-Miles-ing me! She was so hot and had me so off-kilter, I didn’t even know what to do with myself!
Get it together, Haas. Natalie Nixon is standing in your bathroom doorway in a little white lace bra and panties, and she’s asking you to play. This is what you do—you play. You don’t have Emotions, you don’t have girlfriends, and you don’t have time to stand here wondering if the life that’s being upended here is yours. Now get the fuck in there and do your thing.
But even as I grinned and ditched the rest of my clothes while she watched, biting that juicy bottom lip of hers, the floor seemed to tremble beneath my feet.