The Two Week Stand by Samantha Towle

thirteen

West

Fuck me. That was incredible.

She’s incredible. Even better than I thought she would be.

She’s got more sexual confidence than I initially gave her credit for. She rode my dick like a champ. And she definitely likes being told what to do during sex, which is a bonus for me because I’m a bossy fuck in bed.

I know what I want, and I say it.

I did go easy with her this first time. Let her take the lead to start with. I wasn’t sure how much she could take. But she took all of me and more. Although I was a little rough with her toward the end.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I? Kind of lost my mind a bit toward the end there.”

She gives me a shy smile. “No. I mean, you got a little rough, but I liked it.”

“Yeah?”

A blush creeps up her face. “Yeah.”

I love that she gets shy after what we just did. And that she likes it rough.

“I’m just gonna go clean up,” I tell her before easing out of her. I climb out of bed and head into the bathroom to dispose of the condom and wash up.

When I come back to bed, she’s not in it. She’s standing by the glass doors, looking out into the night, a blanket wrapped around her, covering that gorgeous body of hers.

“You okay?” I ask, sitting down on the bed.

She turns, smiling. “Yeah. Just looking at the stars. I love that you can see them so clearly here.”

“It’s pretty cool.”

“So, you finished in the bathroom? I’m gonna go clean up.”

I watch her walk past, and then I lie down on the bed, arms behind my head.

She seems uncomfortable. I hope she’s not regretting what we just did. Because I’m sure as fuck not. But I know her headspace is a little messy at the moment.

I hear the toilet flush, and the bathroom door opens a minute later.

I push myself up to a sitting position and cover my junk with a sheet.

Dillon appears back in the room. She stops a distance away from the bed. Her hand is holding that blanket to her body like her life depends on it.

“You okay?” I ask her.

“Yeah”—she smiles—“I’m fine.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then, she says, “So … I should probably go back to my villa.”

It bothers me that she’s suggesting going. I’m not actually sure why. It’s never bothered me before when a woman has wanted to leave straight after sex.

Maybe it’s because I don’t feel anywhere near done with her tonight.

And we did have that whole conversation about it before, and I don’t want her going because she thinks she has to.

I slide my legs off the edge of the bed, so I’m sitting, facing her. “Are you going because you want to or because you think I want you to? Because we had that whole conversation earlier today.”

She lifts those delicate shoulders. “I don’t know.”

“Do you regret us fucking?”

Her eyes snap up to mine.

“Because I know you’re coming off a shitty time.”

“No. I don’t regret it at all. Do you?”

“Fuck no. But I’m not the one being weird.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You are.”

“Fine. I am.” She huffs out a breath. “I’ve just never done this before.”

“Had sex? Because I’d never have guessed. You were really fucking good.”

She gives me a look, but she likes the compliment—I see it in the way her cheeks redden. “I’ve just never slept with a guy I don’t know much about. It just feels a bit”—she shifts on her feet, looking down, and lets out a breath—“strange.” Her eyes come straight back to mine. “I don’t mean the sex was strange. The sex was incredible. Best ever. When you went in the bathroom, I was just thinking and realized I only know your name, age, and that you’re from America. I guess I freaked a little bit.”

I’ve had sex with women and not even known their name before, and it’s never bothered me. But then I’ve never been in a relationship before. I don’t want her to feel weird. I want her to feel good.

She wants to know some stuff about me? Fine, I can tell her stuff. Just not everything.

“What do you want to know?”

Those small shoulders of hers lift again. “I don’t know … just like … where in America are you from? Not that I know tons of places in America, but I might know where you’re from.”

“I grew up in DC.”

She moves to lean back against the wall, taking her farther away from me, which I don’t like. “Washington, DC?”

“Yeah. But I live in Baltimore now.”

“Not heard of it.”

“It’s in Maryland.”

“Like the cookies?”

“What?”

“Cookies. Back home, we have cookies called Maryland cookies.”

I shake my head. “Never heard of them.”

“Guess they’re not named after there then.” She laughs softly. “What’s your job?”

“Sports.”

“Sports, as in …”

“Football. I play football.”

“My football or yours?”

“There’re two kinds?”

She gives me a look. “Don’t be facetious; you know there are.”

I lean back on my hands and raise my brow. “Oh, you mean, soccer.”

“Football. Yours is American football. My country and the rest of the world—”

“Except for America.”

“Call it football,” she carries on without acknowledging what I said. “So, I’m taking it, you play American football?”

“Yes, I play football.” I grin, knowing I’m annoying her and really enjoying it. It’s a turn-on, watching her getting flustered and pissed off with me. And I’m also enjoying the fact that she’s more concerned with being annoyed over the football/soccer terminology than she is with the fact that I play football. Back home, when a woman finds out I play for the NFL or she realizes who my father is, she’s more interested in that than who I am as a person. Which generally works for me because I’m not interested in any woman knowing the real me or me knowing her.

Yet here I am, telling Dillon things about myself because she asked and I’m finding myself curious to know stuff about her.

“Are you a quarterback?”

I chuckle and shake my head. “Fucking TV and movies have everyone outside of the sport thinking it’s the only player that exists on the team. Nope, I’m not a quarterback.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that your American movies and shows only talk about quarterbacks. So, what position do you play?”

“I’m a wide receiver.”

“I have no clue what that means.”

“It means, I can catch like a beast, evade like a ninja, run like a motherfucker, and pass like the star I am.”

“Beast, ninja, motherfucker, and star. Sounds … modest.”

She grins, and I chuckle.

“Just telling you like it is.”

“Uh-huh. So, I’d ask what team you play for, but it would mean zero to me.”

Good. I’m not sure I want her to know. But then she’d only have to Google my name, and everything would come up. Who I am. Even outside of football.

“What about you?” I ask, deflecting the conversation from me to her.

“What about me?”

“Where are you from? I know you said your accent is Yorkshire.”

“I’m from Hull.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Not many people have.” She laughs. “It’s in East Yorkshire. At the end of the motorway. You only come there if you live there.”

“What do you do for work?”

She sighs and looks down at her feet. Her toes are painted a pale pink. I have the sudden urge to get down on my knees and lick a path from her pretty pink toes all the way up her leg to her pretty pink pussy.

“I was, uh, working as a receptionist for my ex’s family’s company. That’s how I met him.”

Ah.

“How long were you with him?”

I see a slight wince to her expression that makes me curious. “Um … six months.”

“And you were getting married?” I can’t stop the surprise that comes out of me.

I couldn’t imagine getting married, period. But marrying someone after six months of knowing them?

Fuck. That.

“I know it was quick. It was a bit of a whirlwind. He proposed after six weeks of dating. I guess … I, um … got swept up in it all. In all honesty, I’d probably been feeling low when I met him. My grandparents died within two years of each other. My grandmother’s passing was only eight months before I met him.”

“You were close?”

“Very.” She releases a sad-sounding breath. “I suppose I just wanted to feel happy. So, when he proposed, I took the good feeling that came with it and ran with it. It was stupid and naive; I see that now.”

“We’re all capable of doing stupid things when we’re in pain.”

“I know,” she says, and then her eyes widen, like she’s just thought of something worrisome. “West, I hope you know I’m not doing this with you because I’m in pain. Because I’m not in pain. I mean, I am hurting, but it’s not why I had sex with you.”

“I know,” I reassure her because she sounds so concerned.

“Good.” She smiles, relaxing. “And I know now that getting engaged and married so quickly was a dumb idea. Don’t get me wrong; being engaged was exciting, and I would have waited to actually get married, but he didn’t want to wait. Then, an opening came up at the hotel he wanted to get married in, so he booked it.”

“I’m hearing a lot of what he wanted in there.”

She sighs again. “Yeah. It wasn’t like me to do something so rash. He kinda took charge. I thought it was romantic.”

She looks embarrassed, and I feel bad for her.

“I guess I can understand how that could happen.”

I can’t. But I’m not going to judge her for her decisions. We all make mistakes. I’m the fucking king of them.

“Yeah, so we were engaged and getting married.” She looks up, and I hate the sadness in her eyes. “So, I figured I should introduce him to my mum …” She trails off.

I sit forward and rest my forearms on my thighs. I remember what she told me last night when she was drunk, about how she’d caught them together. I can’t even imagine what that was like.

My dad is a monumental prick, who had a hard time keeping it in his pants when he was married to my mom, but I don’t think even he would stoop so low as to fuck my girlfriend, if I ever had one.

“So, you don’t work there now?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I quit as soon as I found out what was going on. Probably stupid to quit a job when you don’t have another to go to, but I just couldn’t work there anymore.”

“I get it. I’d have done the same. Anyone would.”

“Yeah.” She lets out a breath. “I have some money in savings, and I earn a little from my books, but when I get back, I need to get another job to keep me afloat. I don’t want to waste all of my savings.”

“Books?”

“Oh.” She lifts her head, and I see that lightness that she lost back in her eyes. “I write them. Books. Self-published. I don’t make a lot, but yeah, that’s what I do.”

“You’re an author.”

“A badly paid one, but yeah, I guess I am,” she says shyly.

“What kind of books do you write?”

“Romance. Contemporary mostly. But I’ve written some romcoms, and I even wrote a romantic suspense once. That was fun.”

I smile. “You’d like to write full-time?”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “That’s the pipe dream. But it’s a hard dream to make happen. I know so many amazing writers who still have to work day jobs to make the ends meet.”

“But still, you’re getting to do what you love even if it doesn’t pay all the bills,” I say to her.

“Yeah.” She smiles that smile that knocked me on my ass the moment I saw her, and it makes me want to stick my dick in her and do many, many dirty things to her. “When I write … I create these whole worlds where anything can happen. There doesn’t have to be sadness or shitty people or cheating fiancés and crappy mothers …” Her smile weakens, and that I don’t like. “In the worlds I create, anything can happen. And I get to write HEAs. What could be better than that?”

“HEAs?”

“Happily ever afters.”

“Is that what you were looking for with your ex?” I ask, and then I want to smack myself in the face because her smile disappears altogether.

“Probably. Maybe I just wanted to live one of the stories I wrote for once.”

“So, in these stories of yours, with these happily ever afters, do the characters have sex?” I lean back and part my legs a touch, causing the sheet to slide from my lap. I want that smile back on her face.

Actually, I want her beneath me and screaming my name again.

Her eyes zero in on my cock straightaway, and a flush covers her chest.

I fucking love how responsive she is to me.

“Yeah,” she croaks and clears her throat. “Yeah, they do.”

“And you write these sex scenes?”

“Yes.” She hasn’t taken her eyes off my cock yet, and he’s preening under her attention.

“Any particular sex scene that you’ve ever wanted to act out?” I cup my balls with my hand and then slide my hand up and palm my dick, giving it a firm squeeze.

A hot breath leaves her, but she doesn’t look away from my hand. She’s standing there, watching me jack myself off.

It’s seriously fucking hot.

“There, uh … was this one scene I wrote, where, uh …”

She licks her lips, and the action makes me even harder. I want her mouth on me so bad.

“The girl, she, uh … had sex with the guy before she even knew his name.”

“Sex with a stranger?”

“Yeah.” Her breaths are coming in fast. Lips parted. Her gorgeous chest rising up and down. The grip that she’s had on that blanket is starting to loosen.

Funny that that’s her fantasy when after having sex with me and knowing my name but not knowing other stuff freaked her out.

I guess the fantasy is always different from the reality.

Taking my hand off my dick, I crook my finger at her. “Come here.”

She walks over to me. Coming to a stop between my parted legs.

I tug at her blanket, letting it fall to the floor.

My eyes roam her naked body. She’s fucking gorgeous.

“You are stunning,” I tell her.

She stares down at me. Those insane eyes of hers are glassy with lust. Her chest flush with want. Reaching out, I hold her hip with my hand, brushing my thumb over the soft skin of her stomach. She shudders.

My other hand cups her cheek. Her face is flawless, except for a tiny mole above her lip. I press my thumb over her lips, dragging it down. She captures it between her teeth, surprising me.

I feel the touch of her tongue against the tip of it, and the feeling shoots straight to my dick, making him even harder.

She releases my thumb from her mouth. I slide my hand into her hair and tug her mouth down to mine, stopping just before our lips meet.

“You ready to forget my name?” I whisper to her right before I slam my lips to hers and waste no time in kissing her like I’m gonna fuck her. Hard.

Her tongue seeks entry into my mouth. When it slides against mine, it’s like a cattle prod to the spine.

My arm curls around her ass, and I lift her and turn, putting her on the bed and me on top of her.

No foreplay this time. I just want to fuck her. Fast and hard.

I leave her for a moment to grab a condom. I have that fucker on in record time.

Then, I’m back on top of her, my mouth ravaging hers as I slide inside her.

Fuck. Yes.

I’ve never been inside such a tight pussy. I don’t know if it’s because she’s so physically small—the women I usually fuck are taller than Dillon—or if it’s because she has the magical unicorn of pussies.

Well, whatever it is, I don’t care.

I just care that I’m inside her.

I could literally fucking live in here. She feels that good.

When I’m buried to the hilt, she moans into my mouth.

The sound of her moan vibrates in my chest, and it’s like pouring gasoline on an already-raging fire.

I don’t know what it is about her, but she has my dopamine levels going fucking crazy.

I grab her hands and pin them to the bed. “What’s my name?”

Her eyes blink open, and she stares up at me. A dirty, sexy fucking grin comes on her lips.

“I don’t know.” She plays along.

“You wanna know?”

She shakes her head.

It’s my turn to smile. “Good. Now, hold on tight ’cause I’m gonna fuck you hard.”

Her legs lift and wrap around my back, and her fingers slide between mine, gripping my hands.

“Kiss me,” she whispers, so I do.

And then I start to fuck her.

Hard.

“Oh my God!” she cries as I pound into her. Her nails dig into the skin of my hands, but it only spurs me on. “Feels so good. Don’t stop.”

Like I would ever. I’ll fuck Dillon for as long as she wants me to.

I mean, for the two weeks we’re here. I’ll fuck her as many times as she wants in that time.

“Are you gonna come for me?” I pant, staring down at her tits bouncing with every hard thrust I give her.

“Yes. Just keep doing that.”

But I don’t. I angle my hips so that my dick hits deeper inside her and the base drags over her clit.

“Oh my God!” she cries. “No, keep doing that … please …”

I increase my tempo but keep the angle.

I can feel my balls drawing up tight, and the telltale feeling of heat spreads at the base of my spine. I’m gonna come real fucking soon if I don’t do something to slow myself down. A woman has never come after me, and I don’t intend to let that happen now.

She just gets me going so fucking bad.

I grit my teeth and clench my ass cheeks as I focus on getting her there first.

Knowing that her tits are super sensitive, I lower my head to them and take a nipple in my mouth. One good suck, and she goes off. She cries out my name, forgetting we’re supposed to be strangers in this little scenario. Her muscles tighten around my dick, squeezing the shit out of it, and I couldn’t stop my orgasm if I tried. And I ain’t trying.

My dick jerks inside her, and I start coming. And I keep coming. I’ve no fucking clue where all this spunk is coming from, considering I came like a motherfucker not that long ago.

When I’m done, I collapse on her. A huff of air comes out of her.

I forget how small she is compared to me.

Rolling over, I take her with me, putting her on top, keeping my dick inside of her. He’s not ready to leave the warmth of her quite yet.

“Better?” I ask her, smoothing her hair back from her face, which is plastered to my sweaty chest.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “That was … epic. Even better than the first time. And that had been amazing.”

“Yeah,” I murmur.

She’s right. It was better than the first time, and the first fuck had been incredible.

But that …

It was fire.

Again, something I’ve never encountered in all my years of fucking. Nothing has ever beaten the first time with a woman before. You know the excitement of knowing what it’s like to fuck someone for the first time? It’s usually downhill for me after that.

But apparently, not this time.

“West?” she whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re thanking me for sex?”

She laughs softly, and the sound tickles my chest. “No. Well, yeah. But no. I’m thanking you for telling me that you wanted to have sex with me. If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here right now, feeling the best I have in a long time.”

I’m happy she feels that way. If anyone deserves to feel good, it’s her.

“Well, I’m really fucking glad you said yes to us fucking.”

She tilts her head to look at me. “You have such a way with words.” Her eyes are smiling at me.

“It’s a gift.” I shrug.

Then, I thread my fingers into her hair, bringing her face to mine, and I kiss her. Gently. Slowly.

Complete contrast to the way I just fucked her.

We kiss for a while. It’s the first time in a long time that I can remember kissing a woman without it ending in sex.

Because I never kiss a woman like this after sex. I usually leave or fall asleep.

Our kisses slow until they stop, and she lays her head back on my chest, snuggling into me.

I stroke my hand over her long hair and down her back. After a few minutes, I feel her breaths start to even out.

“You tired?” I ask her.

“Mmhmm,” she murmurs. “You want me to move?” She sounds reluctant, and to be honest, I’m kind of liking having her lying up here on me.

“No. You’re good. Just let me get rid of this condom.”

I shift my hips, so my dick slips out of her. She makes a noise of displeasure, and I wonder if it’s because my dick is no longer inside her or if it’s because I moved her a little.

I reach down and tug the condom off my dick, and then I blindly reach for the tissues on the nightstand, wrap it in one, and toss it on the nightstand to dispose of in the morning. I reach behind me and flick the light switch off, plunging us into darkness, and then I grab the sheet and pull it over us both, covering us.

“Night,” I murmur to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Night,” she whispers, her lips pressing a soft kiss to my chest.

She’s asleep a minute later.

While I’m still lying here wide awake five fucking minutes later. Which is another weird thing. Because I can go to sleep in a nanosecond. Especially after sex.

I stare down at her dark head and wonder just what it is about her that has me doing things I don’t normally do.

It takes me a hell of a long time before I fall asleep.