Page 2 of More Than Anything

“Ah, acquisitions! No wonder you found me so quickly tonight!” he laughed.

“Yeah! Lots of experience finding things and reeling them in.”

“I see.” He felt his cock jump at her words. “Finish your drink. My friend is anxious to meet you.”

“Sounds good to me!” It only took her four swallows to down the liquor, and he wondered what she’d do with something besides alcohol. “Ready when he is,” she announced.

Avery caught the bartender again. “Ring me up, please.” With a ten in tip for the guy?after all, that drink had caught a live one?Avery took Shayla’s arm and led her out of the bar.

He followed her to her apartment near FortCampbell and locked his truck up as he got out. As apartment complexes near the military installation went, it was very nice, almost upscale. Some of the places around there were dives, and he’d been a little worried. But inside was as nice or nicer than outside?freshly-painted walls, overstuffed, comfortable furniture, and two very nice, very large bedrooms. Hers was painted a dark, dusty teal color with teal and gray linens and a big comfy-looking chair in the corner. And he recognized something else instantly: Tantra chair. “Oh, holy hell, I’ve seen pictures of these things, but I’ve never actually seen one before.”

“Really? Well, I suppose this is your chance to try one out, huh?” she cooed as she unzipped her dress and let it fall, giving him the full view of her long, straight spine uninhibited by a bra. That spine ended at the top of a thong, its lacy string crossing her back and another disappearing into the crack of a firm, round ass.

Then she turned, and all his fantasies were realized. The huge, colorful tattoo wrapped around the front of her torso, one of the dragon’s legs outlining a big, heavy breast, its nipple pert and hard. “Is that a fire-breathing dragon?” Avery quipped, pulling his tee off over his head and flexing his pecs.

“No, but there are parts of me that definitely breathe fire,” she said in a husky whisper. “What about you? Got a hose to put it out?”

“I’m your favorite firefighter.” Avery advanced on her, put a hand on either side of her waist, and leaned in to kiss her. Her lips were hot and soft, and his tongue had no trouble gaining access. It was like she’d been custom ordered for him, like everything about her fit everything about him, and before long, they were stretched out on the bed, his hands roaming her body, her hands looking for the only thing she really wanted from him and finding it, hard and waiting.

He was ready to take the plunge when she said, “Come over here and try this thing out.” As he watched, she waltzed across the room, still in her platform sandals, and draped herself over the high end of the tantra chair, face up.

Everything her mama gave her was on full display there, her juices glittering in the low light of the lamp on the nightstand. Avery treated both of her nipples to a hard tweak and listened to her groan, then pressed the head of his condom-sheathed monster into her slit and gave a shove. Meeting with zero resistance, it took him a split second to bury himself in her, and then he set about teasing her hard, swollen little nub until she was screaming. As soon as she tightened around him, Avery cut loose.

He pounded her relentlessly, so hard that he had to repeatedly reposition her to keep her from sliding down the tantra chair. Then he sat down in the lowest dip of the chair and told her to ride him. As well as he could recall, no woman had ever provided the friction that fireball did as she bounced up and down on him, first facing him and then in reverse cowgirl. Watching that ass lift and fall on his cock was almost more than he could stand, and yet he held off, wanting to try as many positions on the chair as he could. It was like a theme park ride for horny adults, and Avery had never had that much fun in bed, or rather, a chair. But eventually he bored of the furniture and, pressing her up against a wall, he lifted her under her legs and powered into her, pinned there as she was, listening to her cry out and beg for more.

He filled four condoms before he was done with her, and by then it was three in the morning. They lay side by side in her king bed, arms and legs tangled in the sheet, and he let her cuddle up against him. “God, that was some wild shit,” she mumbled, still panting.

“Yeah. It was awesome,” he muttered back. He just had one question.

If it was so awesome, why did he feel so shitty?

Avery waited until five o’clock and then looked over at the sleeping woman. She hadn’t moved in twenty minutes, so he felt it was probably fairly safe to say that she was soundly out for the rest of the morning. He gathered up his clothes, then put everything on in the living room and checked to make sure he had his wallet, phone, and keys. Everything seemed to be in order, and he took one more peek into the bedroom.

She lay there, naked and fine, the sheet barely covering her pelvis. That dragon seemed to be winking at him, and he wondered if it had a name. Her wavy blond hair was all over the pillow, several strands snaking across her face, and he smiled. Shayla. He’d never see her again, but he’d remember her name. And that might not be true—if he went back to that bar, he might run into her again. If she wanted to fuck him, he’d probably take her up on it. But that temporary boyfriend position was the only one he’d ever want. After Shannon, he didn’t have the courage to try that permanent thing again. He didn’t think he ever would.

With the silent stealth of a soldier, Avery sneaked out the front door and locked it behind him. He had everything, including one of her business cards from the military. If he’d left anything behind, he could call her. He could also call her if he wanted to go out. Or maybe for a booty call. But nothing more. Ever. His truck was quiet and the tank had three-quarters showing on the gauge. Life was good.

He got home just in time to turn off the alarm clock, but it didn’t matter. He’d give a lousy thirty percent at work because he just didn’t care.

Nothing really mattered anymore.

* * *

The bell rangand Avery threw down his leather gloves, then stalked off to the break room. Thirty minutes for lunch really wasn’t enough, but he’d take what he could get.

“Boy, my ass is dragging,” Robert said as they stepped into the large room, its industrial steel picnic tables waiting for them. “Some nights I have nightmares that every time we get caught up, more comes in.”

“That’s not a nightmare, dumbass. That’s real life. It’s called job security, so we’d better never get caught up or we’ll be out of work,” Marty told him. “Hey, Avery, you got change for a twenty?”

“Yeah. And I’m using it. Get your own.” He knew his tone was shitty, but he didn’t care.

“Asshole! Just because you’re miserable doesn’t mean everybody else has to be, does it?” Robert called out.

“Go fuck yourself, Reynolds,” Avery snarled. He put his money into the machine and out fell a premade sandwich. He moved to the next machine and got a bag of chips, and then the next one to get a soft drink.

“Look what my wife packed for me today. Roast beef sandwich, pickle spears, and homemade potato salad,” Marty said with a smile.

“Lucky dog. Mine sent me with lite tuna salad, carrot sticks, and vitamin water,” Robert countered.

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