The Last Guy

“Yes . . .” My back arches slightly, and I hear him make another low noise just above the hiss of the water.

He slides his fingers forward and over my clit, circling that sensitive little bud faster and sending waves of heat through my lower stomach and thighs. Closing my eyes, I press my palms against the wall of the shower, and I feel the shifting at my backside.

His hand moves to my hip, and he’s pressing his cock at my entrance again. I buck against him, wanting him inside me, and without hesitation, he sinks, balls-deep into my throbbing core.

“Fuck!” he shouts, gripping my hips hard with both hands.

I use the wall for balance, and he jerks my ass hard against his pelvis, hammering fast and deep into my core. I don’t want him to pull out this time. I want us to ride this building orgasm all the way to the end.

His hand snakes around the front of my thigh to find my clit. My legs spread wider so he can rub me off as he pounds into me from behind.

“Oh, yes . . .” I’m whimpering and bucking, rising on my tiptoes with every hit.

He’s still moving, still massaging, and I’m so close to the edge. Every muscle in my core tightens, draws up, ready to burst. His palm slides over the skin of my ass, and without warning, he gives me a firm SMACK! It’s like the strike of a match to my insides.

“OH!” I cry, as my orgasm explodes through my stomach.

My knees buckle, but he catches me, pulling me back up, continuing to pump his cock in my spasming pussy.

“Fuck, yeah!” He shouts, and I feel his orgasm start.

I’m flush against his body, and we’re matching each other pulse for pulse. My eyes are squeezed shut, and I’m not sure I can move at this point. I’m wondering if these electric waves of pleasure will ever subside. I hope they don’t.

Warm arms wrap around my chest, lifting me so that my back is against his torso. I’m firm against his body, and his mouth is right at my shoulder, kissing my skin, moving into my ear. “So good,” he murmurs.

He’s smiling, and I’m flush with heat. We enter the shower, allowing the spray to cover our bodies. I reach for the cloth and pour the lavender-scented body wash on it. Without a word, I smooth the foam over me then turn and smooth it over his pecs. Making my way down the hard ripples of his abs, I allow him to take it before I rinse.

My body feels boneless and deliciously satisfied . . . and utterly exhausted. I step out of the warm spray, lift my towel off the rack, and wrap it around me. Reaching in the narrow cabinet, I pull one out for him. He takes it, and we exchange a smile. Leading us to my moonlit room, everything feels soft and lofty as I drop my towel and push through the sheets, resting my cheek on my pillow.

I’m drifting on a cloud, floating in space when pressure on the other side of the bed tells me Cade is here. He slides closer and pulls my head onto his chest, wrapping a strong arm around my shoulders. It’s delicious.

“Remember that Beatles song ‘The End’?” I ask from my fluffy pink cloud.

“Um-hm.” The vibration of his voice tickles my ear.

“Do you think they meant you should make more love so there’s more for you to take? Or you should take more love so there’s more to make?”

“Mm.”

I lift my head and see his eyes are closed. Pushing against his side, I repeat the question. “Make more love or take more love? Positive or negative?”

He exhales heavily and rolls toward me. In the process, he turns me so my back is to his chest. “I’ll fuck you again,” he says through a thick layer of sleep. “Just give me a minute.”

“No, that’s not what I . . .” His breathing is more rhythmic, and I hear a slight snore. I let it go.

I’m exhausted, and everything is warm and cozy—yet I can’t fall asleep. Marv’s words today keep repeating in my brain. He wants me to give up my dream. The idea makes me sick, every molecule inside rebelling at the thought. Houston is where I started . . . it’s where I’ve built my reputation. It’s my home now. How many people get to build their dreams at home? Not very many, that’s how many.

Cade’s arm tightens around my middle, and I decide the answer is taking.

Maybe I should take more love and ask questions later.

I’m not sure.

I need to think about it more . . .

I’m curled up like a kitten, still in my pink, gauzy heaven where pastel-rainbow mermaids swim in glittery lavender seas. Rainbows drift in hazy beams all around me, and I’m just about to eat a sparkly cupcake when a loud, nonstop BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! Shatters everything—including my head.

I sit up quickly to stop the horrifying noise, when, “OH!” I moan.

I’ve just been hit with an invisible sledgehammer, and my skull has shattered into a million pieces. The sun is blasting through the window like a prison interrogation lamp, and I slap the clock across the room and cower into my pillows, pulling the blankets tight around my head.

“Oh, God,” I whimper, tears of pain wetting my eyes. “I’ll never drink again . . . Never never never! I promise this time! Please, please just let me die now. Please put an end to this suffering!”

A groaning sound comes from my left, and my insides freeze. Unexpected warmth is near my leg, and I carefully, cautiously slide my foot to the side until it encounters . . .

“What!” I sit straight up.

The blankets are tight around my head and over my ears, as I turn carefully to see . . .

My brain scrambles.

Cade Hill is in my bed! Cade Hill is lying on his side, eyes closed, and . . . my eyes drift down . . . completely naked!

Oh, shit! Oh, shit! It wasn’t a dream!

I move again, and I feel deep in my core the ache of every time we had sex last night. I remember our first glorious time before we got in bed, then our second mind-altering time in the shower . . . and then somewhere in the early morning hours, it seems like my ass got too close to his erection, and he instinctively grabbed my hips, sinking that enormous cock deep into my pussy and pounding out a quickie. My whole body flushes with heat.

That erotic flashback is quickly replaced with panic. “No . . . no . . . no!” I whisper, scooting away to the opposite side of the mattress.

What have I done?

Why did I do those shots? Dammit!

As gently as possible, I slide out and crawl to the towel lying on the floor where I dropped it last night. Scooping it up, I wrap it around my naked body and scurry out of the room, across the hall to Chas’s closet where I can borrow a robe.

Hanger after hanger, it’s all satin and feathers and rainbow colors. A low groan of pain from my bedroom causes me to grab the next one I touch. It’s black with white feathers all around the collar and cuffs. I’ve got to triage this crisis . . .

I take a deep breath and go to the door, pulling it open to find Cade standing in the hall in his jeans and shirt. It’s unbuttoned, and his lined torso is on full, glorious display. His dark brown hair is a sexy mess, and his blue eyes go wide when he sees me.

“Jesus! What is this place?” Just as fast he groans, reaching up to rub his forehead. “Fucking shots.”

“You’re . . . at my apartment.” Nice. He doesn’t remember a thing. Maybe I can work with this.

“You wear that around your apartment?”

Looking down, I pull the feathery lapels closer. “I-I needed something to wear. It’s my roommate’s.”

“Right.” He nods. “Sasha Fierce.”