Eagle

Three hours later my cell pings and I slide out from underneath the Camaro I’m working on. I wipe my hands on the towel hanging from my waist and then get up, walk the few feet to my tool box and grab my phone. There’s three messages from Serafina, all with attachments. I open the first. She’s wearing a light blue bikini, and she’s got angel wings on her back and a silver halo on her head. I laugh. Must be from her work catalogue. I was hoping for something new, a picture meant for my eyes only.

I open the next file. Fuck. She’s topless, but her arms are crossed over her chest, squeezing her tits together. It’s a profile shot and her beautiful mouth is parted. My gaze follows the curve of her body, her perfect stomach and thighs, all the way down to her five-inch fuck-me heels. Beautiful. Innocent in some ways, blatantly sexual in others.

I rake my fingers through my hair, my cock standing at full attention. Why didn’t I ask her to meet me tonight? I slip out of my coveralls, grab my wallet, and head for my house—saving the third attachment for when I’m alone.

My home is a typical Holly Beach elevated stilt house, rebuilt after the last storm. Reinforced by concrete and designed to withstand flooding or any other natural disaster, it’s more like a bunker. I climb the two flights of stairs to get to the observation deck where my front door is located. The water is right across the street and I turn around for a quick peek. It’s warm and overcast, and after all the years I’ve lived here, I never grow tired of seeing the Gulf of Mexico and the outline of the fishing boats in the distance.

I unlock my door and step inside. The main area has a vaulted ceiling, thick beams, and skylights. The kitchen, dining room, and living room are wide open. Windows line the south-facing wall.

I kick my boots off and head to my bedroom, eager to see the last picture. Stripping off my cut, T-shirt, socks, and jeans, I lean against the doorframe of the en suite bathroom, navigating through my texts. I open Serafina’s last attachment. This one is different. She’s curled up on her bed and wearing a pair of white panties. The scrap of fabric covering that perfect pussy is smaller than a Wheat Thin.

I swallow, admiring the matching lace bra that’s two sizes too small for her luscious breasts. She’s holding a notecard and I squint to read it: FUCK ME, EAGLE.

I groan. She’s killing me. I reply immediately.

Coming over now. Be ready.

What???

I grin: it only took three seconds for her to answer. Need to feel you, Baby. Want to be inside you.

Did you like the photos?

I’m naked and getting ready to take a hot shower and masturbate. What do you think?

OMG.

Don’t believe me?

I believe you, Eagle.

You’re beautiful, Serafina.

So are you.

My first thought is to video chat with her and let her watch me jack off. Not sure if she’s into it though. I set the cell on the bathroom vanity and go to my walk-in shower, big enough for five linebackers to fit in. I turn on multiple sprayers and turn the music up. There’s nothing like Black Sabbath; Ozzy belting out “Dirty Women.”

Steam rolls over me and I let the water cascade down my head and shoulders, picturing Serafina in my bed, wearing her little white panties that I want to rip off with my teeth. I fantasize about the diamond studs in her nipples and the matching belly-button ring. The way she shakes her tight little ass—her well-defined thighs and those calves. Nothing turns me on more than the way a woman’s calves pop in a pair of heels.

I grip my cock and start out slow—my hand sliding up and down. I visualize my fingers tangled in her long dark curls, holding her while I kiss and fuck her. Lick and bite my way down her body. Even her voice gets me hot. It has a rasp to it, not one of those high-pitched ones that could shatter a beer bottle.

I lather some soap on my hand and squeeze my dick harder than before. I throw my head back and close my eyes. “Serafina,” I whisper. “Drop-dead gorgeous, fucking Italian perfection.”

Serafina

At first I didn’t believe Eagle was about to get into the shower and masturbate. But my phone has gone silent. I’ve texted him a couple more times over the last fifteen minutes and there’s no answer. The idea of him getting off while he’s thinking about me is so hot. I can almost feel his lips on mine and smell him. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was standing behind me.

Instant goose bumps.

I stretch out on my bed, still wearing the same underwear and bra I took the picture of myself in. I’ve never done that before, shared such an intimate shot with a man. Sure, my boss keeps an online catalogue of all of his dancers available for the public, but we’re in costumes.

My eyes start to get heavy, but my cell rings before I fall asleep. I reach for my phone on the nightstand and check caller ID. Its Eagle. Should I answer?

“Hello?” I ask.

“My shower didn’t take long.”

“Who is this?”

He growls. “Expecting a call from another man, Serafina? I don’t share.”

“Neither do I,” I confess. Not until after Thursday.

“I need you to know how hard this is . . .” His deep voice trails off. “Waiting. I’m not a patient man—not even a nice one. When I see something I want, I take it.”

“Is that what I am? An object?”

“You know what I meant.”

“Did you come?” I cover my mouth with one hand, shocked I’m being so blunt. Only with Eagle. His dirty talk always made me feel bolder than I truly was.

“All over your tits.”

My nipples go instantly hard. I stare up at the ceiling, tempted to touch myself while we’re talking on the phone. But if I do, I’ll want him to keep talking dirty to me. “You came in your hand.” I laugh.

“Gotta work with what I have. Right?”

“Pretty sure you can snap your fingers and get whatever girl you want.” A fact I had to live with when we were together. Not that Eagle ever did anything to make me jealous, but girls were just naturally attracted to him. And since he’s even better looking now, I know he hasn’t lived the life of a monk.

“Ditto,” he says with humor in his voice. “You must beat the men off with sticks.”

He’s so wrong . . . “I’ve never . . . it’s been a long time for me.”

“How long, baby?”

“Years.” Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything at all. Reminding myself of the life I’ve been deprived of is really depressing.

“That’s a long time, Serafina. Why don’t you let me take care of that little problem?”

Always the problem solver. I roll my eyes and can’t hold back the snort. “Thanks for the offer, Eagle.”

“What the fuck?” He laughs. “Are you turning me down?”

All joking aside, I open up a little, letting him get a taste of how serious I am. “I don’t put myself in situations where men have a chance to get too close. I’m very dedicated to my education.”

“How’d you end up working as a stripper, then? Just doesn’t seem to fit your personality type.”

I give him the basic details, sharing about how my boss tricked me into signing the contract before I knew he owned a striptease company instead of a lingerie modeling business.

“That sonofabitch lied to you?”

“More like manipulated me.”

“I can fix it with one phone call, Serafina.”

I consider it for a split second, imagining Eagle and a couple of the brothers showing up at my boss’s plush downtown office with baseball bats in their hands, ready to convince him to cancel my contract. Only in my fantasy world though. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m a big girl, Eagle.”

“Not as big and badass as you think.”

“Tougher than most.” Because I have to be, not because I want to. I sit down in the closest chair, wondering where we’d be right now if I’d never staged my own death. Would we be married with kids, living that happily-ever-after? Or divorced and hating each other?

“Maybe. But you shouldn’t have to be.”

“Thought you were a stone-cold one percenter.”

“There’s a heart buried somewhere underneath my leather.”

I chuckle. “Hope I find it on Thursday.”

“That’s one thing we should talk about.” His tone changes.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No. I want to tell you something up front, Serafina. If we do this, not sure how far it will go. I have some serious emotional baggage. Nothing I can’t work through, but it’s going to take a special woman to understand it, and to accept the kind of life I live.”

Part of me is thrilled he still loves me—Angel, I mean. But I’m also happy he seems open to moving on. Eagle doesn’t take relationships lightly. If his heart is in it, it’s all or nothing. “ I do understand. I have a shitty past, too.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds. “Like I said before, we match.”

“More than you’ll ever know, Eagle. Good night.” See you in my dreams and then on Thursday.