Page 31 of Missed Exit

“I am. Can I come in?”

She opens the door wider, and I step into her place. It smells like her laundry detergent, fresh and clean. When I hug her, I smell her shampoo, too. She’s all soothing scents and body heat.

“You been working tonight?” I ask, still holding her in my arms.

“Yeah, but I’m done. My eyes burn, and I’m pretty sure I don’t have any words left in me.”

“If I guess what you’re working on, will you tell me?”

“Three guesses.”

“A novel about a school teacher?”

“No.”

“A novel about a woman who seeks revenge on her cheating ex?”

“No.”

“Your biography?”

“That would be an autobiography, but also, no. You’re all out of guesses.”

“Well, damn. What are we going to do now?”

She tiptoes to kiss me, making it much easier to squeeze her ass.

“Have I ever told you what a great ass you have?”

“Every time you have a handful of it.”

“Which is not nearly often enough.”

“Listen, me and my great ass have shit to do sometimes. We can’t just wait around for your squeezes and compliments.”

I can’t remember the last time a woman made me laugh the way she does. Her ex is an idiot, but I’m glad he cheated. I’m sorry for the pain it caused her, but it’s what brought her to me, so I’ll always be secretly grateful. Words I’ll never let slip from my mouth, no matter how tired I am.

It’s hard to believe she’s the same woman who flipped me off through her car window. But I’ll never forget the fire in her eyes when she did that. I genuinely had no idea what I’d done to piss her off, but when I caught up to her again, a part of me hoped we’d be taking the same exit. When she passed it, I figured I’d never see her again, thought she was probably bound for someplace more exciting.

For once in my life, I actually got lucky.

I scoop her up in my arms and carry her to the bedroom. She looks into my eyes, and I can see the exhaustion in hers, but I see something more there, too. Maybe it’s all in my head, but I can’t question it because I want too badly to believe this is real. To believe she feels exactly what I’m feeling.

We’ll talk about it when she’s ready. For now, I’m just going to keep on believing it.

Setting her feet on the floor next to her bed, my eyes linger on her nipples, straining against the soft cotton of her thin tank top.

“You should strip for me sometime.”

“How many twenties you got in your wallet right now?”

“Maybe three?”

“Looks like tonight’s not sometime.” She whips her tank top over her head in one quick maneuver, no teasing gyrations, no build up at all. I drop my towel, and she drops to her knees.

Fuck, the way this woman owns me.

The tip of her hot wet tongue touches the base of my cock, and my balls and my spine tighten in tandem. I look down to watch as she attempts to throat me. Her gag reflex stops her short of the goal, but having her try feels better than the few women in my past who could. She’s good. She’s so good.

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