One Night with Calvin (One Night Series Book 2) (3 page)

“Except we’re both drenched, I left my heels back on the docks, and I have no idea what happened to your shirt.”

He felt around the waistband of his pants but came up empty. “Dammit. Guess we’re stuck here awhile.”

I knew he was a model and everything, so his abs had to be impressive, but
damn.
Back on the dock, I didn’t really have the chance to get a good look. While he was inside me, I was too focused on everything else. But now …

“Getting a good perve in, babe?”

My gaze flicked to his face. His chocolate eyes were piercing into mine.

“Uh …”

He laughed and stepped closer to me. “Look all you want. Hell, touch me all you want.” Grabbing my hand, he placed it on his chest and ran it down over his hard abs, landing at the top of the V that led to his low-hanging jeans.

My mouth ran dry, and I licked my lips to wet them.

“Just so you know”—his voice was low—“I’m going to spend the rest of the night making it up to you. I won’t be so quick on the trigger next time. First time never counts, right?”

If only he knew that was my very first time.

Before I could protest and tell him I was a little sore, he took my mouth with his again, leaving my lips tingling and my head in a dizzy haze.

When he pulled away, he crept to the edge of the bridge and peeked around the corner.

“What are they doing?” I whispered.

“They’re searching the bea— shit, well, there’s my shirt. They just picked it up from the edge of the water.” He turned back to me. “They’re shining their torches out on the canal. They must think we’re still out there.”

“What if we head this way?” I said, pointing in the opposite direction. The canal led to a residential area where houses lined the beach. “We can try to find a way back onto the main road. The bridge should cover us from the cops. My place is not far from here, so if we can get to the road, we can go back to mine.”

He peered back out at the cops and then to me. “We may have to. They’re not leaving.”

I tried to be silent as I waded through the ankle-deep water again.

“Wait. I have to make sure I’ve at least got my wallet and phone,” Ryan said, digging through his pockets.

“Shit, my phone. I didn’t even think about it when I jumped into the water.” I pulled my phone out from my bra, and my stomach completely sank when it was a black screen. “Well, now it’s just an expensive paperweight.”

Ryan grimaced. “Sorry. I forget not everyone has a waterproof phone.” He pulled his out of his pocket, still in completely working order. He also had his wallet and keys, so he gestured for us to start walking. “I’ll buy you a new phone tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to do—”

“Nope. Not going to let you argue with me over it, so shh.”

***

Getting home was easier than expected. We followed the canal about a kilometre before we found a path leading between two beach houses. From there, we only had a few blocks to walk to my tiny one-bedroom apartment.

The building was old, only two storeys tall, and had a total of eight apartments. Mine was on the second floor and one of the middle apartments. It wasn't ideal, but it was perfect for me.

“You got a dryer?” he asked as I led him inside and flicked the lights on.

“Yeah, in my bathroom.” I pointed.

“Great.” He unbuckled his belt, unzipped his jeans, and took his pants off. It was only then I realised he was going commando.

Not wanting to stare, I had to avert my gaze from his naked body. I knew if I caught sight of him, I wouldn’t have been able to look away.

He disappeared into my bathroom, and I heard the dryer start up a few seconds later. When he came back out, he laughed. I could only assume it was at me. “I’m wearing a towel. You can look at me again.”

I met his amused face with a scowl. It made him laugh more.

He approached me and wrapped his arms around me. “You should really get out of your wet dress.”

I nodded and stepped out of his arms, walking to my bedroom to find something to change into.

Throwing some underwear, jeans, and a tank top on my bed, I turned to find Ryan standing in my doorway, watching me.

“Uh … I’m going to shower,” I said, quieter than I would’ve liked.

Now that we were back at my place, I was nervous. Did he want to have sex again? Was he expecting it?

“That sounds like a good idea to me, babe.”

I had my answer.

My shoulders slouched. “Really? Still going with the whole ‘babe’ thing?”
Deflecting bitch.

“Don’t like it?”

“It’s what guys call you when they can’t remember your name.”

He grinned but looked away guiltily. “I know your name, Sara.”

“But in general, I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Maybe.” Two long strides was all it took for him to reach me. “How about that shower?”

Fess up time.

“Uh … sure, but … uh …”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m, umm … a little sore. From earlier.”

He cocked his head to the side, confused.

“I think sand or something got on the condom, so I’m kind of chafed.”

“Fuck, ba— Sara, why didn’t you say anything?”

Because I knew you’d stop and I didn’t want you to.
I shrugged and looked away, hoping the warmth creeping up my face wasn’t a bright shade of red. I decided in that moment I wasn’t going to drop the whole virgin thing on him as well.

He gasped. “You’re never going to have sex with me again, are you?” He sounded genuinely worried, and it made me laugh. “Right, well, I’m going to have to fix that.” Grabbing my hand, he led me to my bathroom.

I giggled as I stumbled in behind him.

He turned the shower on and then stepped behind me to unzip my dress and unclasp my strapless bra. My underwear was back on the beach somewhere, ripped to shreds.

My clothes fell to the floor, and it was official. My first time naked in front of a man. Even when fooling around with the guys in high school, I still managed to stay partly clothed.

Ryan’s eyes raked over me, darkening in lust. I had to fight the urge to cover myself with my hands. His towel fell to the ground, and his long erection stood to attention.

At least that made it an even playing field, and I didn’t feel as self-conscious anymore.

My eyes travelled from his cock, up his chiselled stomach and lickable abs, to his chest, and then finally they reached his eyes.

“You’re staring again,” he said with an amused smile. “Not that I’m complaining. At all. But this is going to be all about you, and if you look at me with those big fuck-me eyes again, I may not be able to contain myself.”

I swallowed hard.

He pushed me into the small shower, closing the door behind us. Backing me up so I was pressed against the wall, he kissed me hard, and his erection dug into my stomach.

When he moved his lips to my neck and down farther, I grabbed a hold of his hair and pulled his mouth off me.

“Uh … can I get all clean and stuff first? I still feel like I have canal water on me and sand everywhere.”

He stood tall and handed me the soap from the shower caddy with a sexy half-smile. “Go for it.”

While I washed my hair, scrubbed myself down with a loofa, and cleaned myself off, I noticed Ryan didn’t take his eyes off me the whole time. When I was done, I hung up my loofa and turned to find him stroking himself. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen, and it sent tingles straight to my lady parts. His eyes never left mine as his hand idly moved up and down over his swollen head.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he ground out. He released himself and stepped forwards, resuming his position by crushing me between him and the wall. “I’m not going to come. This is all about you.” His words sounded so pained.

“Are you telling me or yourself?” I laughed.

He shut me up by kissing me again.

My head was tilted all the way back because of how tall he was. Even with his feet spread apart to lose some height, he towered over me.

His hand ran down the length of my body, landing at the junction between my thighs.

“Are you still sore?” he asked, pulling back a fraction.

Truth? Yes, but I didn’t care, so I downplayed it. Lifting my hand, I gestured with a so-so kind of wave.

He sank to his knees, lifting my leg and hooking it over his shoulder. “I’ll be gentle,” he murmured.

As soon as his tongue brushed against my folds, my legs felt like jelly and I needed to steady myself. My hands splayed out on the wall behind me as if that could help keep my balance.

The delicate way he circled his tongue around my clit before sucking it into his mouth made me cry out in pleasure. “Holy fuck.”

He chuckled against my skin, and the vibrations shot through me, making my hair stand on end and my skin flush.

My body thrust forwards on its own accord, and one of his hands grasped my hip to hold me against the wall. His grip was firm, pinning me, which somehow only made me crazier.

“More,” I said … at least, that’s what I tried to say. I was sure it came out more of a mumbled gurgle than anything else. Something like “Mmorghler.”

I writhed under his hold to try to get closer.

Two fingers entered me—tentatively at first. He was probably worried about hurting me, but that was abandoned when I pushed myself onto his hand.

I’d only experienced what I called mini-gasms with other guys. They felt good, but none of them compared to the orgasms I’d been able to give myself.

Ryan though … I was riding a wave of constant mini-gasms, the feeling only getting stronger and building with every thrust of his fingers inside me.

When the orgasm hit, it knocked the breath from my lungs and the strength from my legs. The only thing holding me to the wall was Ryan’s hand on my hip.

He lifted his head and removed my leg from his shoulder as his fingers stroked me through the aftershocks. His cocky grin made me want to say something sarcastic, but I couldn’t even breathe let alone talk.

I slinked to the shower floor in jelly-like form. Ryan’s arms went around me and held me to him with the spray of the water flowing over us. When his mouth met mine and I could taste myself on him, my greedy cooch thought we weren’t done, sending more wetness to my core like an SOS beacon.
Need more orgasms. Stat!

“I knew you’d taste fucking sweet,” he growled at against my lips.

“Uh-huh.”
Yup, still can’t talk.

He laughed. “You doing okay?”

I nodded.

“Did I at least make up for that horrible performance back on the beach?”

It was my turn to laugh. “It wasn’t horrible.”
Per se.
“But”—I reached for his cock and started stroking—“if you really want to show off your true capabilities, we might have to do it again.”

I was still a little tender, but after that orgasm, I wanted more of him.

He threw his head back and closed his eyes as I gripped him a little harder. Groaning, he reached for my hand to stop me. “If you keep doing that, there will be a repeat performance of the beach.”

I laughed, making his eyes snap to mine.

“You think it’s funny?” His words sounded playful, but I think there was a slight undertone of embarrassment. “I haven’t blown my load that quick since I was sixteen and lost my virginity.”

I briefly froze at the mention of the V-word but smiled at the fact I was the one who’d affected him that way.

Trying to look smug, I challenged him. “Let’s go, Calvin. I’m ready to be proven wrong.”

3

- HUNTER -

We were out of the shower and on her bed so fast, we didn’t even towel off first. Although I was suffering mild performance anxiety, I was determined to make it better for her this time.

I wasn’t lying when I said I hadn’t blown my load that fast since I was in high school. It may’ve been embarrassing, but strangely I didn’t care. Well, not a lot anyway. Part of my pride was wounded, but she was underneath me again, and that was all that mattered. I’d make it up to her, just like I had in the shower.
First time doesn’t count,
I reminded myself.

“Condom,” I choked out between kissing her.

“Bedside drawer.”

Reaching over and opening the drawer, I tore the packet of condoms open and grabbed one out.

“I promise one day we’ll have sex when we’re not drenched,” I said, distracting her while I rolled the condom on.

She laughed. “And no more sand. Ever.”

God, I felt like the biggest asshole. “I’m sor—”

“Don’t apologise. I-I should’ve said something.” She turned her head away from me as her cheeks reddened.

I climbed on top of her and placed my fingers under her chin to tilt her head up to look at me. “That’s what our do-over is for, right?”

When she nodded, I cradled her face and lowered my mouth to hers, kissing her with everything I had. She didn’t know it yet, but I’d decided back on the beach that I was going to make this girl fall in love with me.

As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t even blame the scotch for my insane thoughts. I’d only had the three drinks, and they would’ve worn off hours ago. That still didn’t stop the crazy notion that I wanted more with this random girl. I couldn’t even pinpoint what it was that made me drawn to her. There was the beautiful thing—duh—her sense of humour, the way she seemed nervous but would come out with something confident sounding anyway … but didn’t all of that describe a lot of girls?

What I thought was going to be one night of stupid fun was going to turn into so much more. I felt it in my gut.

I went slow as I entered her. She moaned against my lips, and the sound almost made me break. I wasn’t going to be sloppy or quick like I was on the beach—especially if she was still sore from the sand—but when she made a sound like that, it made it next to impossible to control myself.

Letting out a deep breath, I pulled out of her. “This isn’t going to work.”

Her eyes widened. “Huh?”

“You need to ride me and set the pace. I’m too worried about hurting you now.”

“Ride you?” She laughed. “As in, ‘Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy’?”

“Huh?”

“Oh, never mind. It’s a song.”

“Seems like sound advice. Like that saying, save water, shower together. We’ve already covered that one.”

I rolled over and pulled her on top of me. We fumbled a bit to get in the right position for her to sink down on me, but when she did, I realised this position wasn’t going to be that much different.

Does she have a fucking magic vagina?
“Fucking hell,” I whispered, throwing my head back. “You feel amazing.”

She leant forwards with her hands on either side of my head and slowly began to move, trying to find her rhythm.

It was so easy to get lost in her, watching her as she moved above me. The concentration lines on her forehead were somehow adorable and sexy at the same time. Her tits bounced with every rotation of her hips, just inviting me to touch them. I palmed one of them, which made her rock faster and moan louder.

My thumb traced over her pebbled nipple, and her walls tightened around my cock.

I was trembling from trying to restrain myself, and it wasn’t long before I lost all control and my hips pushed off the bed, driving myself deeper and meeting her thrust for thrust. “You all good?” I asked, my words coming out more like a breath. I was praying that it wasn’t hurting her because I didn’t want to stop, but I would’ve slowed if she asked me to.

“Uh-huh.” Her voice was strained and even more breathy than mine.

Thank God.

My thumb went to her clit, rubbing in little circles. I felt her start to contract around me, and I could no longer hold in a moan of my own. Her movements became frantic.

Her long dark hair clung to her skin from the wet, and I started imagining what it would be like to fist while she sucked my cock.

Next time.
Because, fuck, there was definitely going to be a next time.

“Ryan,” she panted as her whole body convulsed around me, milking me as it did so.

I gripped her hips to keep her moving until I had nothing left. I came hard for the second time in one night and began to wonder how it was possible to have anything left.

After what seemed like an eternity of an orgasm, I pulled her down to lay on top of me and wrapped my arms around her.

The way she called out my name ran through my head as our breathing slowed and synced.

I hated my name, I always had, but coming from her lips? I wanted to make her scream it over and over again. I contemplated telling her my name was actually Hunter, but I didn’t think that would go down well.
How do I even bring that up?
I told myself it didn’t matter because I was strangely fine with her calling me Ryan. And it wasn’t
not
my name. She’d find out one day, just not yet.

Her breathing settled and started getting longer and deeper.

“Sara?”

“Mmm?”

“You’re not falling asleep, right? Because we still have stuff to do on the list.”

She rolled off me, her eyes closed, and mumbled, “It’s not my fault you fucked me into a coma.”

I ran my thumb along my bottom lip to try to hide my smile. “Pretty sure you’re the one who fucked me, but okay. Come on, we have to get going.”

She opened one eye, staring at me. “Where?”

I grinned. “Tattoos.”

Both of her eyes shot open. “Nuh-uh, no way.”

“It was on your list.”

“I substituted it for public sex.”

“Nice try. We’re doing it.”

She rolled over and looked at her bedside clock. “It’s three AM, where the hell are we going to get tattoos?”

“Those all-night places on the main strip. They make most of their money from drunk tourists.”

Sara leaned up on her elbows. “Tell me why first.”

“Same reason I gave you at the start of the night. Biggest contract of my career.”
Best night of my life doing crazy shit with the girl of my dreams.
I
so
wasn’t going to say something that insane aloud.

“Are you even allowed to get a tattoo? Don’t all you models have to be unmarked?”

“Unmarked?” I chuckled. “There’s a thing call Photoshop these days, you know. Makeup to cover tattoos, airbrushing … there are ways around tattoos.”

“I don’t know … I mean, I’ve always wanted a tattoo, but I wouldn’t even know what to get.”

Jumping out of bed, I went to the bathroom to ditch the condom and retrieve my phone and wallet that I left on the vanity. Zipping up my now dry jeans that I took from the dryer, I headed back to Sara. “I already thought of that.”

She pulled her comforter over herself and sat up, rubbing her eyes.

I took it as my opportunity to keep talking. “Where’s your family from?”

She yawned and glared at me the same time.

“Like, originally. My mother’s side is Maltese, my dad’s side is Scottish.”

She snorted.

“I know, I’m lucky I take after Mum’s side of the family or I could’ve been a ginger.” I shivered exaggeratedly for effect.

She laughed but then furrowed her brow in thought. “I think I remember my mum saying something about Croatian relatives, but I can’t be sure.”

I shrugged. “Close enough is good enough for what I had in mind.” Pulling up Google on my phone, I put in my search and then showed her the result:
divlji
. “It means ‘wild’ in Croatian.”

Her lips curved up into a smile. “I like that.”

I typed something else into Google and came up with:
selvaġġi.
I handed her my phone. “The Maltese word for wild.”

“Isn’t that a little too matchy? As in, one step away from tattooing our names on each other? Pretty sure it’s about five years too early for that.” Her eyes widened at her own words. “Not that I mean we’ll be together in five years or that this was anything more than one night … I didn’t mean … oooh boy.” She covered her face with her blanket.

Fucking adorable.

I decided not to torture her but kept a mental note that five years from now, we’d get our names tattooed on each other. “Getting the word ‘wild’ tattooed on us isn’t exactly proposing to one another. I’m sure there are a lot of people out there with a similar phrase marked on them. And when we’re old, we’ll look back at our tattoos and remember the crazy night of scotch, midnight swims, near arrests, and public sex. It even rhymes and everything.”

“Dammit.”

“What?”

“Just when I start to think you’re insane again, you come out with another reasonable justification of your actions.”

My entire face lit up. I flopped onto the bed and started pulling up the taxi app on my phone. “I’ll call a cab, you get dressed.”

“You’re just going to sit there and watch me get dressed?”

“Fuck yes.”

I loved how her faced flushed, but she stood and dressed in front of me anyway.

She changed into the clothes that she’d laid out on the bed earlier—but were now on the floor after our little romp—simple jeans and a tank top. No bra.
Damn, that’s hot.

Watching her lace up her chucks, with her hair tussled and her face devoid of any makeup, I realised this was the real her. No tight dress and no makeup. Simple yet so beautiful. And also very eighteen. I pushed that thought aside though. Five years wasn’t a huge gap in the big scheme of things.

“You’re not wearing a shirt,” she said.

“My abs take offence that you’re just realising this.”

She laughed. “Naw, does someone’s abs need some affection?” Climbing on top of me and pinning me to the bed, she peppered kisses from my mouth, down my neck and chest, and then made circles with her tongue on my abs.

“Jesus-fucking-Christ,” I hissed as I began to harden again. “As much as I want this to continue, I think I’m spent. I’ll be lucky if I can come again in a year.” A horn from a car blasted outside. “And our cab’s here.”

She giggled and climbed off me. Walking to her drawers, she pulled out a T-shirt and threw it at me. “Here, you can wear this.”

At first, I thought she’d given me a girl’s shirt—I wouldn’t have cared if she did. If it was big enough, I could’ve pulled it off—but it was a guy’s shirt.

“I’m not wearing some ex’s shirt.” I threw it back at her.

She laughed as if I’d just said the most hilarious thing in the world. “It’s mine. I buy guys’ shirts to sleep in. They’re bigger and comfier.” She handed it back to me, and I relented, shrugging it on.

The taxi honked again and I winced. “He’s determined to piss off your neighbours, isn’t he?”

We rushed to the cab and pulled up to a tattoo parlour less than fifteen minutes later.

***

“Painful?” she asked me.

I tried not to wince. “Not at all.”
Yeah, real convincing. Next time try it without your voice cracking.

“Liar.”

They were tattooing my left arm on my triceps so it wouldn’t be too visible. Even though tattoos were easy to work around, I’d be more likely to land a job if it was mostly hidden.

The tattooist had been at it for about an hour and a half and was almost finished. The whole thing nearly took up my entire underarm.

Selvaġġi.

Sara’s eyes darted around the small room, and she kept shifting her balance from one foot to the other, even though she was leaning against the long tattooing bed against the wall.

“There’s no emergency exit, if that’s what you’re looking for,” I said, smirking. “I’ve already done it, so you can’t back out now.”

“Maybe I should’ve gone first. Then I definitely would’ve done it.”

“You’re doing it either way because I’ve already paid them.” I was totally bluffing—I wasn’t going to force her into doing something she didn’t want to.

“Dammit.”

At least it worked.

The buzzing of the needle stopped for the hundredth time, and the tattooist—who called himself Chook—wiped more of my blood away. Every time he paused to do that, I got my hopes up, thinking he was done.
No more pain.
But then the buzzing would start back up, and the torture would resume. So this time when he said, “You’re all set,” I was relieved it was all over.

“I just have to wrap it, and then I’ll get cleaned and set up for your girlfriend.”

“Oh, umm, I’m not—”