The Last Guy

The Waterwall is an enormous, curved fountain, sixty-four feet tall at the back of a quiet park in Uptown. Even at this time of night on a Monday, tourists and visitors mill around, looking up at the thousands of gallons of water roaring past in a constant, hypnotic force.

I stand in front of it as cascade upon cascade crashes onto the concrete steps, sending a faint, chlorine-scented mist into the atmosphere around us. Everything in my life is racing at me so fast like these columns of water. I feel out of control. I don’t know the right choice.

Back at my apartment is a letter, an opportunity that would change everything.

Back at the restaurant—or I guess back at KHOT now—is something different, someone I never saw coming, someone who would change everything as well.

“Cade . . .” I whisper, thinking of the unspoken words hanging heavy between us.

He fought for me. He busted Marv and fought for me. Vicky helped him . . .

We love you . . .

“Rebecca Fieldstone!” The small voice jerks me from my confusion.

I turn to see a pint-sized princess, complete with aquamarine mermaid skirt and trident flouncing toward me.

“Petal?”

“I thought that was you.” She holds out a small hand, and I shake it.

“You’re Ariel.” I study her costume and thinking of happier times, quinoa salads.

“I was over there doing promo for Disney on Ice. It’s part of my duties as Planetary Princess.”

“Oh.” We watch the fountain a moment before she turns back to me. “I’ve seen you on those car commercials. I thought you were a journalist.”

Exhaling a laugh, I shake my head. “I did, too.”

Her chubby face scrunches. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I look up at the falling water and think about it. “I worked really hard for something for a long, long time . . . It was my dream, and someone else got it. So I left.”

“And now you’re doing commercials? With the used car king?” The astonishment in her voice makes me defensive.

“I’m considering a move to New York . . . to be a reporter again.” I think about the chance I thought had passed me by, and the last guy I ever expected to help me achieve it. “Or I could stay here and have my dream.”

“Diane Sawyer is one of my role models. After she won America’s Junior Miss in 1963, she went on to become the highest paid female anchor in television history.”

“I know,” I say, nodding.

“She said ‘The dream is not the destination, but the journey.’”

The roar of water fills the pause, and I look up, thinking about all of it. The dream, the destination, the little mermaid . . . We love you. “I wanted to conquer the world.”

“What good is that if you’re alone?” Glancing down, my eyes meet clear blue ones, shining up at me from beneath a helmet of red hair topped with an iridescent tiara. “You remind me of Mrs. Sawyer. What are you going to do?”

Like a star burning in the night, the answer shines through the darkness. I bend down and give her a hug. “Thank you, Petal. I’ve got to go.”

Turning, I tap the Uber app as I jog all the way to the entrance to the park. I’m breathless when the car meets me, and I’m pushing my feet against the floorboard, my hands gripping my knees the entire drive to the center of downtown.

Less than ten minutes later, I’m standing in the lobby of the luxury high-rise apartment building, pressing the button for the penthouse. Glancing up, I can see the security cameras trained on me. It’s after eleven, so I’m pretty confident he’s home.

Not a sound comes through the intercom, but the light flickers on above the shiny silver doors. My heart beats faster as the numbers slowly count down, as the elevator descends to the first floor and pauses with a ding. Another pause, a swift whoosh of air, and everything stops. My breath disappears.

Cade leans against the wall just inside. A smile curves his sexy lips, and he has one hand in his pocket.

“Hello, Stone,” he says in that low, luscious rumble.

“Hi,” I manage to answer.

“What are you doing here?” Steel blue eyes hold me captive.

“I-I wanted to say this in person.”

“Did you think about my offer?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“I’d be an idiot to say no,” I say with a shrug.

“That’s my girl.” He reaches out, and I take two stumbling steps forward as he pulls me close against his firm torso. My palms are on his chest, his arm is tight around my waist, and everything around us seems to fade away. “Let’s have a toast to the future.”

To dreams coming true in the most out-of-this-world way, I think as our lips collide.

THREE HOURS LATER . . .

“Yes! Right there!” I cry, gripping the headboard, my breasts bouncing as my hair flies forward on my cheeks.

Cade reaches forward to pinch my tight nipple, rolling it in his fingers, and my insides clench. “Fuck,” he groans.

He’s behind me, his massive dick hammering so deep into my pussy, my back arches involuntarily. I’m holding on for dear life, bucking against him like I never want it to end. His hand moves to my clit, and I’m on the edge, a hairsbreadth from falling over into sweet, sweet bliss.

All at once, his fingers leave me and SMACK! he slaps my ass hard. I jump and gasp. The stinging mixed with the intense pleasure causes my insides to clench around has cock again.

“You love that.” He growls and SMACK! he slaps my ass again. “How about this?” His thumb pads at the small pucker of my ass before slipping inside, and . . .

“Oh shit!” I wail as the orgasm rips through my body.

My elbows give out, and I collapse forward on the bed, boneless as the shudders ripple through me.

Cade grips my hipbones, jerking me up against his still-hard cock. He’s driving deeper, chasing his own orgasm, and I’m moaning, trying to catch my breath. It’s penetrating and punishing and so fucking sexy. His hardness stabs and withdraws from my clenching insides as they desperately try to hold onto him, milk his orgasm, when at last he breaks with a shout. It’s deep and strong, and he holds me flush against his body.

I feel his dick pulsing as he fills the condom. I finally return to Earth, and I arch up, slowly rising to press my back against his chest and wrap my hands around his neck. I tilt my face, and our lips crash gently again and again. His hands cup my breasts and I sigh, slipping my tongue out to touch the salty dampness of his skin.

“That’s what I call a touchdown,” I purr.

His body vibrates as he chuckles, and his arm goes around my waist. “A touchdown in the last seconds of a tied game headed to overtime against our fiercest rival.”

That makes me laugh, and he kisses my shoulder before giving it a little bite. Another pulse moves through my core. He groans in my ear, “Yes.”

I sigh just before placing my teeth against his jaw and biting him back. He holds me tight against his chest as he slides us down onto the mattress. We’re wrapped in dark navy sheets in his very masculine bedroom.

“Are you going to remember any of this tomorrow?” he says, kissing the back of my neck, right at the center of my shoulders.

A shiver passes through me, and I laugh, remembering the celebratory Fireball shots he poured for each of us. “I only did half a shot, and it was only because you made me.”