Page 62 of The Autumn We Fell in Love

“God,” Laurent rasps, “you’re so damn tight.”

Because I am. I can’t remember ever clutching a man’s cock so firmly in my ecstasy. But now, he can hardly move for fear of popping free, which is the last thing I want.

Slowly, I descend from my peak, nether lips becoming pliable and welcoming once more. Laurent rams me faster than before. I push back with every thrust, grinding against him, still spiraling my fingers over my swollen clit.

His breathing changes, becoming more strained. Laurent’s motions are short and staccato now. When he speaks, it sounds like it’s through gritted teeth. “I can’t — I think —“ he gasps.

The timbre of pure pleasure in his tone ignites my core once more. I’m racing quickly up a fresh peak, every part of me molten and ready.

“Yes,” I gasp, “come with me.”

And, folding his upper body over me and wrapping his arms around me in perfect tension, he does. His cries of release are harsh and guttural and close to my ear. I drink them in, allowing them to push me the rest of the way up the mountain of my new climax.

Feeling his balls crushed against my curls, I push my hips back against him and, howling like a woman wild and free, shatter.

Iwake slowly.

First, I become aware of a sensation of softness, of being ensconced in delicious, cozy warmth.

Then I remember that I have a body. Without moving, I feel my feet, my thighs, my belly, my shoulders, the head pressing into the mound of a pillow.

Last comes the light. At first, it is an almost physical sensation, like I’ve lost some of my gravity. Then it consolidates, lighting the backs of my eyelids, morning beckoning me from the most restful sleep I can recall having.

Rolling over, I murmur, “Good morning,” to the man who made my night so splendid. I reach for him and find only the cool expanse of the fitted sheet.

My eyes snap open, heart galloping, the bliss of a moment ago quickly dissipating.

There’s no one in my bed but me and Sirloin, my cat. He looks at me and blinks slowly, not at all concerned about the panic mounting in my chest.

Reaching for the nightstand, I grab my phone to see if Laurent texted me. Maybe he’s gone out to get bagels or something. But there’s no message waiting for me.

Wrapping a blanket around my still-naked body, I pad to the bathroom to see if Laurent’s there. I already know he isn’t. There’d be a closed door or at least some noise if he was. I feel compelled to look anyway, to scour every corner of my home.

Of course the bathroom is completely devoid of Laurent, so I hurry downstairs to see if he’s starting coffee or doing yoga in the living room or something.

I wonder if he does yoga.

I wonder if I’ll ever find out, or if he’s ghosted me.

There’s no one in the kitchen. The coffeemaker is cold and silent, no note left on the counter or the table or stuck to the fridge. The living room is just as devoid of human life. Even the main floor half bath stands silent.

Setting my jaw against the tears pooling in my eyes, I know there’s only one place left to check.

Making sure I’m as decent as my blanket will allow, I open my front door and gingerly step down the stone path until I can see the driveway.

The sight of my car and my car alone greets me.

With a shuddering sigh, I relax my jaw, allowing the hot tears to spill down my face.

Laurent’s gone. Without a word.

I curse my naïveté. I was a fool to believe that a beautiful specimen like Laurent could want me. To him, I was just a single night’s conquest and nothing more.

He baited, hooked, and landed me more efficiently than any catfish I’ve ever heard of. And I lapped up every second.

What an idiot.

Now here I am, crying naked outside my home, used and thrown aside without a care. Which is almost worse than the fact that I won’t have a date for today’s meeting with the investors.

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