Night with Sole Regret

TOUCH ME XII

Owen rested his head on Caitlyn’s belly, one hand gently stroking the inside of her thigh as he took deep, calming breaths. Caitlyn’s body continued to shudder with aftershocks of pleasure as she slowly reconnected with earth. It was a long way down from nirvana.

“Wow,” she said after a long moment. “Just… wow.”

Owen chuckled softly and turned his head to place a suckling kiss just above Caitlyn’s navel. Her flesh quivered. Goose bumps rose to the surface of her skin. It seemed every inch of her wanted to be physically closer to the man—even her damned hair follicles.

“I’ve never…” she whispered, unable to find the words to express the depths of her pleasure, but feeling the need to try. To let him know he’d been amazing, although amazing just didn’t seem like a strong enough description. Nor did phenomenal, earth-shattering, or fantastic.

“You’ve never what?” The deep timber of his voice made her n*****s pebble. He noticed—bless him—and rubbed his lips over the sensitive tip of her breast. She shuddered. Her body wanted more of him.

“I’ve never…”

His tongue flicked out, teasing her into wanting still more. She lifted a weary arm and ran her fingers through his hair, toying with the soft, slightly sweat-damp strands at his nape.

“You’ve never…” he prompted.

She took a deep breath, her body quivering as she exhaled. “Come so hard that I felt it in the soles of my feet. You’re something special, Owen… uh… Owen… Um…” Dear God, she’d just had the most amazing s****l experience of her life, and she didn’t even know his last name.

“Mitchell,” he supplied, as if he were a mind-reader.

“Owen Mitchell,” she said. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“You’re supposed to save your regrets for when we’re awkwardly putting our clothes back on and avoiding each other’s eyes.”

“But I don’t regret it,” she said. “Not at all. I only regret that I didn’t find you sooner.” She flushed, realizing too late that it wasn’t the kind of thing you said after having s*x with someone you didn’t know.

“Were you looking for me?” he asked, amusement in his tone. She knew he’d be smiling. Wasn’t sure if he’d laugh at her or not, but what the hell? She liked him. And she wanted him to like her too. Would being frank scare him away? Or make her intentions clear? She wasn’t sure. That’s what she got for marrying the first man who ever paid her any attention.

“I must’ve been. If not, I should have been.” She took another deep breath, her heart thudding with nervousness. “I’m sorry if I’m going about this all wrong. You probably do this kind of thing all the time.”

“If I’m lucky.”

She laughed and hugged him with as much strength as she could muster. “So what do we do now? Are we supposed to put our clothes back on and go our separate ways immediately? Or can I stay with you longer?”

“We do whatever we feel like.”

“What do you feel like?” she asked.

He lifted up on his elbows and stared down at her with such intensity, it stole her breath. She hoped their night together wasn’t about to end prematurely because she was such a novice when it came to one-night stands.

“Pastrami on rye,” he said.

Having thought he was going to say something profound, she laughed. “Do they serve sandwiches here?”

“No,” he said, “but I’m sure we can find one somewhere. Are you hungry?”

She wasn’t really, but she did want to spend more time with him. Preferably in a horizontal position. The man had definitely earned himself a sandwich. And despite her best intentions to keep this as impersonal as possible, she wanted to know about him. Know everything about him. Beside the fact that he was a-maz-ing in bed. And might be sexually attracted to his best friend. She couldn’t let herself dwell on that though. Owen obviously knew his way around the female anatomy. It would be a horrible tragedy if he switched teams.

“Yes,” she said. “I could go for a sandwich.”

“I like the bread lightly toasted and double pastrami. And don’t forget the dill pickle spear on the side.”

He wasn’t really expecting her to get up and make him a sandwich was he? She lifted her head and caught the smirk on his lips, right before he kissed a trail along the bottom of her ribcage. The man was a consummate tease, she decided.

“Would you like a cold beer with that?” she asked.

“That sounds heavenly,” he murmured against her skin. “And some waffle fries.”

“With cheese?”

“Ketchup.”

“Anything else with your order, sir?”

“Make yourself something real nice while you’re up,” he whispered, trailing soft kisses down her belly toward parts of her that could still feel the effects of that delightful c**k piercing of his.

“No problem. I’ll just make my way to the nearest kitchen. I should probably take off these stockings so I’m barefoot.”

He lifted his head and grinned. His blue eyes twinkled with mischief. “I’d prefer if you wore those and those sexy as sin white high heels while you prepare my meal.”

“And nothing else, I presume.”

“That’s a decent presumption,” he said. His hands skimmed the skin along her sides.

“Glad you approve.”

“You might as well put your clothes on. It will be at least an hour before my s****l appetite matches the hunger in my belly.”

“So why are you still touching me?”

“Because you’re beautiful,” he told her, as if to say duh.

And he was doing a great job at making her feel that way when she had felt anything but beautiful for the past six months. “Thank you,” she said, grateful that her voice didn’t c***k from the emotions welling in her throat.

“No, thank you.” He slid up to gaze into her eyes before capturing her lips in a hungry kiss. After several toe-curling moments, he tore his lips from hers and scooted off the edge of the bed. “If I don’t get up now, I’m going to end up getting up again.” He glanced at his glorious c**k to let her know which part of him would be up again. “And if that happens, we’ll be at this place all night. I don’t think I can stand to listen to the guy in the next room make those distracting sounds for much longer.”

Caitlyn hadn’t noticed until Owen mentioned it, but coming through the wall was some sound between grunting and yowling. She’d had almost forgotten where she was, why she’d come here, and that Owen was just some pick-up at a s*x club.

“Oh yeah, little p***y cat,” their wall-mate hollered, “reach under there and scratch my balls.”

Caitlyn giggled.

“That’s it, p***y cat.” The words penetrated the wall. “Now meow for me.”

Caitlyn couldn’t hear the woman’s meows, but the man’s sudden and startling barks sent her into hysterics. She laughed until tears sprang to her eyes and her belly ached.

“Okay, yeah,” Caitlyn said, forcing her body from the bed. “Let’s get out of here. Find some place for me to make you a sandwich.”

“I don’t really want you to make me a sandwich, Caitlyn.”

She grinned. “I know that. I can tell when you’re teasing.”

“And you were teasing me back?”

She nodded. Owen drew her into his arms and held her close. She smiled against his shoulder.

“Can’t seem to keep my hands off you,” he said.

“I don’t mind,” she assured him.

“Well, here, no, but in a restaurant? I might embarrass you.”

“We could get room service in a hotel,” she said. “Then you can put your hands anywhere you like.”

“I sort of want everyone to see that you’re with me,” he said.

She crinkled her eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because you’re a smokin’ hot babe and I get off on the ego trip.”

She stepped back, one step and then two. What? He’d taken his constant stream of compliments one step too far. No man said things like that unless… Caitlyn scowled and leveled him with her best glare of doom. “Okay, how much did Jenna pay you to make me feel like a million bucks?”

“Pay me?”

“You’re a male escort, aren’t you?” No wonder he was so good in bed. Women paid him to be good in bed. She slapped him in the chest with both hands, pretending not to notice his look of astonishment. “I should have realized it sooner. You’re really smooth, Owen Mitchell, if that’s even your real name.”