Page 73 of Hammered (Dad Bod Contracting 1)
They don’t even notice me at first.
Actually, they don’t notice me at all, and I’m too stunned to move.
He finishes with one last hard slam, grunting, biting her, and pulls out.
She gasps, spitting out the pillow, straightens—and shrieks in surprise when she sees me. “Imogen! Holy shit! What—what are you—?”
The guy is blanking totally. His jeans are around his ankles, his shirt hanging off the back of the couch—he’s still hard, the condom full, and he’s dazed, staring at me, and then at Audra, and then back to me again.
My mouth is open, and I’m struggling to look away.
Audra recovers first. “Price—go clean up,” she snaps, shoving her skirt down.
He blinks at me, and then her. “Uh. Yeah.”
He tugs his jeans and underwear up most of the way—awkwardly, clumsily, and vanishes into the bathroom.
I blink at Audra. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking. I’ll leave.”
Audra snorts. “Don’t be stupid. Just give me ten seconds to get rid of this guy.”
“Audra, for real, I’m leaving. I’m sorry I interrupted.”
Audra grabs my arm to prevent me from leaving. “Imogen, please, it’s totally fine.” She grins at me. “He got his O, I got mine, and we’re good. One and done, babe, you know that.”
I’d normally give her friendly grief about that, but under the circumstances, I dare not.
A moment later the guy, Price, emerges from the bathroom, and beelines for Audra, snagging his shirt on the way and digging his phone from his pocket. “So, can I get your number?” he asks. “So we can meet up later?”
Audra pats his cheek, her tone cold and condescending. “We talked about this before I brought you up, Price.”
“But I thought—”
“That I’d change my mind once I got a taste of the D?” she interrupts, her tone amused; he clearly did think exactly that. “Nope. You can go, now, buddy.”
“Audra,” I hiss. “At least be nice.”
She rolls her eyes at me, but offers him a nice smile and a less bitchy tone of voice. “I really did enjoy myself, Price. Or rather, you. But I’m not really in a place for anything more than that, okay?” She rolls the excuse out with practiced smoothness. “It’s just where I’m at. It’s nothing personal.”
He nods. “I gotcha.” He offers her a grin that’s probably meant to be sexy and charming, but just seems goofy, at least to me. “If you change your mind—”
“You’ll be the first person I call,” Audra says, ushering him to the door and out of it. “Bye, Price. Thanks!”
He waves and grins and tries to get another word in even as she closes the door in his face, turns the lock and attaches the chain and the deadbolt, and then whirls on me.
“What the hell happened, Imogen Catherine Irving?” Audra demands. “You vanished on me! No calls, no texts, no details, nothing. You ignore me for three days, and when I hunt you down at your new job your boss says you took time off to go visit your folks? Spill it, bitch!”
I head for the couch, but think better of it considering what I just saw. “You couldn’t even get to the bedroom with him?”
Audra laughs. “Oh, we made it to the bedroom. And the bathroom. And the kitchen. He was getting ready to leave and I decided I wanted one more. He’s young and virile enough that he had one more in him.”
I cringe. “Oh.”
She looks at me like I’m stupid. “You think I’d go to all the trouble of bringing a dude to my condo for one measly fuck? Forget the one and done motto. If that’s all I’m after, I’ll jump him in the car. No, they don’t get to come up here unless I’m sure they can go the distance.”
I make a face. “Audra.”
She just laughs. “What? I met him at the gym a week ago. I let him take me to his place after a workout for a nooner, and we got it on like Donkey Kong. He had the goods and the stamina, so I let him take me on a date, and I brought him home. He’s lucky. Most guys don’t even get a date out of me.”
I laugh. “God, you’re crazy.”
“Hey, I have very high standards. My condo is a sacred space, and I only allow the best sex up here.”
I sigh. “I wish I could be more like you right now.”
“You wear your heart on your sleeve, honey.” She frowns, and then turns her attention to me. “Oh. Ohhhhh. Something happened.”
“You think I’d vanish to Florida for no reason?”
Audra eyes me. “Do I need to order Thai and open a bottle of wine?”
Too overwhelmed to care anymore, I slump onto her couch—on the opposite end from where the action took place. “Yes. Order everything on the menu, and a case of wine.”
“Oh boy.”
While we’re waiting for the food to come, Audra takes a quick shower and emerges in her bathrobe, hair wet around her shoulders, makeup gone—without makeup and her hair loose and damp instead of in a tight updo, she looks both older and younger than usual. Softer, less polished, less perfect, but more beautiful in a personal, informal sort of way. I realize the face she puts on for just about everyone—even me, most of the time—is a careful mask meant to hide a facet of herself I think few ever see.
