Page 2 of Capitally Unexpected

“Consider me that fish, because I’m hooked.” I wrote back, and we were off from there. I’ve been so focused on school and work the last few months, so it’s been a while since my last hookup. Not having to listen to my brother and his girlfriend try to muffle their moans from across the hall for a second night in a row is a fringe benefit.

A deep breath in and I’m knocking on the door. After a second, it opens slowly, revealing a fucking specimen of a woman. The auburn waves and cleavage from the photo are present, but now I can take in the sparkling blue eyes, the freckles splashed across her cheeks, and the curve of her waist.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” I say back, still in the hall with my hands shoved into my pockets.

“Um, I guess you should come in.” She steps aside so I can walk into her apartment. “I feel like you should know my cousin knows you’re here right now, and we may not know your name, but she has screenshots of your profile. Pretty identifiable features.” She gestures to the tattoo sleeves covering my arms, running up under my shirt sleeves.

“Well, that’s just good sense. My brother knows I’m here too.Well, not necessarilyherehere, but he knows I’m meeting up with someone.”

“Glad we’re both being safe,” she says, continuing to stand right inside the door. I take the opportunity to look around her apartment, not wanting to rush her. It’s cozy and welcoming with splashes of color coming from intentionally chosen decorations and photos. The result is neat and organized, not cluttered.

“Listen, I don’t normally do this,” she says, her skin flushing under those freckles I can see myself becoming obsessed with.

“What, stand in your entryway with a strange man?” I tease gently, hoping to break the tension.

“Do anything with strange men.” She brings her hand up to palm her face. “God, that makes it sound like I’m living inBridgertonor something. I’ve obviously been around men I don’t know before, but not typically in my home, having been invited explicitly for sex, after knowing nothing about them except they’re susceptible to corny pickup lines.”

“It was cute,” I say while walking slowly toward her, making my intentions obvious. “But I have to say, now that I’m here, cute isn’t the right word. Sexy, devastating, enchanting. Take your pick.”

Her eyes open wide as I come to a stop in front of her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But if you want me to go, say the word and I will.”

My offer seems to unlock something in her eyes, her mouth taking on a sly slant. “I would like you to go... down on me.”

I bark out a laugh of surprise, which causes a smile to take over her face, her eyes sparkling brighter. “It would be my pleasure. Do you want it right here, against the door? Or would you prefer a bed?”

She mulls it over for a moment before pushing on my shoulder to spin me around, giving me a gentle push in the direction of the hallway ahead of us. “Bedroom. Door on the left. I’ll be right there.”

I walk down the hallway as my host ducks into a doorway offto the right and shuts the door behind her. More artwork and photos catch my eye, but I don’t want to ignore instructions, so I keep moving until I’m in her bedroom. The only light comes from a lamp next to the bedside table. The lampshade is a dark color, throwing muted sepia tones across the room. My shoes are still on, so I toe them off inside the door. If this were one of my regular, well formerly regular, hookups at home, I’d probably wait for them naked on the bed. Something tells me that’s not WeatherGirl’s style. Besides, she seems like she needs a release, and I intend to give her as many as she’ll let me.

A few more minutes pass with me standing next to her bed, and I wonder if she’s getting cold feet. I untuck my shirt from my jeans and take the condoms out of my wallet. Should I put them on the bed? The table next to the lamp? Is she ever coming out of that bathroom or do I not need to worry about condom placement at all?

The bathroom door creaks open and I drop the foil packets onto the bedside table out of panic.

Her shadow enters the room first, drawing my eyes to the floor. Bare feet with pink polish appear and my eyes follow a trail up to discover naked shins, then naked thighs. My heart rate picks up as my eyes touch on the jewel green lace, a similar color to the shirt in her Tinder photo, making up the bottom of the sheer body suit she wears. It hugs every curve over her hips and stomach, the V between her breasts pointing low and angling wide, showing off a pair of fantastic tits. By the time my eyes reach her face, she’s leaning against the doorjamb with a knowing smile. A hint of pink tinges her cheeks from my perusal.

“Wow,” I start. “You look ... I mean, just ... that color with your hair, and the ... well, your tits?—”

“Look insane, right?” She finishes my sentence word for word, which snaps me out of the trance her sudden appearance put me in.

A growl emits deep from my throat, and I cross the room ina few strides. One hand wraps around to her lower back and I bury the other in her hair. “I’d very much like to kiss you now.” I grit out, warring between wanting to devour her whole, but making sure she’s on board with being consumed.

“Yes, please,” she breathes, and then my mouth is on hers. A groan reverberates in my chest as she matches my enthusiasm, working my mouth open with her tongue and tangling it with mine. Her hands pull on my short blond hair, the roots of which seem to be routed straight to my groin, as my hips thrust into her. She moans into my mouth, releasing the strands and sliding her hands along my shoulders to the front of my shirt. It appears multitasking is a strength of hers, as she brings her mouth to kiss on my neck while undoing the buttons.

“Shit ... No, don’t stop,” I say, when she pauses her work after my curse. “I ... I don’t even know your name.”

Her hands pause on the final button holding my shirt together. They rest above where I’m rock hard, testing the restraint of the denim of my jeans. She looks up at me with appraising eyes.

“You said you don’t live in the city?”

“No, I’m visiting family. Here for the weekend.”

“Then what about no names? You be RidgeMan and I’ll be WeatherGirl. Or Bonnie and Clyde. Whatever works for you.”

I wink at her, even as my heart sinks. Realization I’ll never know the whole self of this vixen setting in. “Be sure you don’t steal my heart, Bonnie.” Not that I’m sure there’s anything in my heart worth stealing.

“Who says I’m Bonnie?” she says, winking right back. The final button comes free, and she pushes my shirt off my shoulders until it falls to the floor. Her hands run over the colorful tattoos covering my arms onto my shoulders, the edges of the sleeves ending below my collarbone. “These are gorgeous.”

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