Temporary Bliss (6 page)

Now Zander...

Well, he’s a whole other story. Zander is a male stripper who I met at my friend Sophie’s bachelorette party six months ago. I’d dragged Kate along with me, and low and behold, about an hour into the night a hot piece of ass dressed up in a police uniform knocks at the door. I just happened to be the one who opened the door, and no word of a lie, I swear I stood there for a good minute with my mouth agape, drooling at the fine specimen of a man standing before me.

“Excuse me, miss, I’ve been called to a domestic disturbance at this address. Is there a Miss Sophie Newhart living here?” he asked in a very serious, demanding tone, looking down at a small black notebook. He looked very genuine and foreboding.

“Ah, yeah, she’s in the living room. What’s this all about?” I asked, a little bit suspicious at the man’s uniform and his lack of protocol. I mean, aren’t they supposed to flash their badge first?

“Good, please take me to her,” he demanded, I felt a little flutter in my stomach. He reminded me a bit of Sean, but with the body of a God wrapped in a tight policeman’s uniform.

I held my hand out, pointing in the general direction of the living room. “Right through here.”

The moment he walked through the doorway, some terrible porn star music started blasting from the surround sound unit, and without warning the police man was throwing his hat across the room and gyrating his hips in time with the beat.

After his performance where he subjected Sophie to an intense ‘interrogation’ and insisted she conduct a hands on body search of him, he hung out with us for the rest of the hour, chilling back and having a beer.

I’d gone outside to get some fresh air, and was contemplating calling Sean for a hook up, when I felt a warm hard body come up against my back. “I wondered when I’d get a chance to talk to you,” he whispered into my ear, moving down to kiss the sensitive spot of my neck that makes me shiver every time.

“And why’s that?” I replied, thinking that he probably tried this line on at least one woman a night.

“Because while it was Sophie’s hands on my body back there, I was imagining it was your hands, your body, your mouth on my…”

That was me done for!

I’ve always been a sucker for a sweet talker, and Zander...well, he’s a master of flirtation and seduction.

“And where would I do that?” I asked brazenly. By that stage, I’d had a few drinks under my belt and was definitely feeling sassy and brave. Oh, and horny as hell.

“Follow me,” he said, taking my hand and leading me down the alleyway to the side of Sophie’s two story house.

That night, Zander and I had sex up against the wall of Sophie’s house. It was quick, it was dirty, and God damn that man could do things with his hands and mouth that most women dream about. We exchanged numbers, then he left to go to another job, and I went back inside for another tequila shot. It was a fantastic night all round, one that has been repeated at least once every few weeks since then.

Aside from our physical relationships, I’m friends with all three of them. Each man provides me with a different physical need that I crave and desire; that sometimes I just want. But I’m not a slut, and I’m not easy. I don’t have the emotional connection to sex that a lot of other women do. I have three men that I have mutually beneficial, no strings attached, physical relationships with. We’re all safe, and we all know the exact nature of our relationship.

So with all these attractive, eligible, and physically compatible men in my life, how come I’m at home, lying in bed on a Saturday night, not wanting Sean, Noah, or Zander?

For the first time in four years, a man has my heart beating faster, my eyes shining brighter, and my brain turning to mush. The touch and taste I’m craving is Daniel Winters, and I want to time travel forward a week so that I don’t have to wait to see him again.

I’ve worked five night shifts in a row this week, and my body is feeling the confusion of night and day, sunshine and dark. I’ve hardly seen Kate, let alone anyone else. Zander called me Wednesday night before my shift started wanting to catch up for a drink, but I was so zombie-fied from night shift that I had to decline. I did promise to text him when I was off nights and feeling more human, though.

Delicious Daniel has been as irresistible and as flirtatious as ever. He’s sent me a random text message every day this week. Last night he sent me a text around midnight, telling me how he had driven past the lake and it made him think of me. This man is seriously swoon worthy, but I’m not supposed to swoon, I’m not a swooner. Me and emotional connections do not go together.

Daniel seems to affect me on a different level to other men, though. He seems to want to reach inside and turn me upside down; finding out about me, and what makes me tick. It makes me want him in a way that is unknown to me and scary as hell.

I’m having a break in the on call room, and my mi
nd is doing what it does best; not shutting off and letting me sleep. Instead, I’m remembering back to last week when I was in here with Noah, before my chance meeting with Daniel on the train.

He had seen me in the cafeteria grabbing a midnight snack from the vending machine and sent me a text outlining exactly what he wanted for his meal break. Five minutes later, I
was pinned against the wall of one of the surgical floor’s on call rooms, being pounced by a very hard and horny walking dildo. Too far gone for foreplay, he had shoved my scrub pants down, desperate to get inside me.

About halfway through, I hit a road block and started thinking too much.

This feels good, but not great like it normally does.

What the hell, Mac? Get it together. He’s the walking dildo, he always makes you come and fast, usually multiple times. So why does this feel like a long distance run rather than a short hundred meter dash? To be honest, it’s getting rather uncomfortable.

Shit, he’s getting harder, and I can feel him tensing up; his grunts are getting louder, his thrusts faster and more sporadic. I make a moaning sound, knowing he likes to hear me, and it works, seemingly spurring him on.

Right now I feel as if I’m a ride on pony outside the grocery store. Put a quarter in and hop on board! I’ve never had a problem getting off before. Hell, I pride myself on it. What is wrong with me?

Oh God. What if I’ve broken my clitoris from overuse? Misuse? Self-abuse?

I moan again.

“Fuck, Mac. Come with me. I’m close, babe. Really...”

Thrust!

“Fucking...”

Thrust!

“Close...”

Thrust!

I have to do something. Shit, I’m going to have to fake it.

“Oh, yes. Fuck me, Noah. Harder. Oooh, yes, that’s it. Right there. Fuck! Argh!” I cry out, tightening my kegels and totally bullshitting my way through a fake orgasm. Noah stiffens and growls my name through his gritted teeth as he climaxes.

Thank God for THAT!

After the countless number of orgasms I’ve had at the hands, mouth, and cock of Noah, I’ve never had to fake it. Ever. Maybe it is my body’s way of telling me that I want, no
need
more than just sex. Maybe I do need more. It has been four years since the Beau disaster. Is it time that I open my eyes and mind to more than sex alone?

Just the kind of heavy thinking I need as I drift off to sleep. But thinking of Delicious Daniel and how much I can’t wait to see him for Sunday’s game...now that is the stuff dreams are made of.

My DD, sex on the beach, kisses by the lakeside, and Superman.

It’s Sunday. Game day
.

Delicious Daniel day.

I really need to stop
adding the word delicious to his name but seriously, after kissing him as thoroughly as I did last Friday, you’d be calling
him delicious too. He tasted of beer, a touch of mint, and made me feel like I w
as lying in the sun on a hot sunny day. Yes, he transported me to another place and time. He is
that
good
.
I want that again. I’ve been craving it. Not sex, just Daniel’s time traveling kisses.

Goddammit, now I’m thinking about what
it would be like for D
aniel to do other things
,
right now while I’m lying
in bed. I sleep naked in my bed at home, have done since I moved
back to Chicago. There is something freeing about sleeping in the buff, not constricted by fabric or seams. I love it. I pick up my phone, deciding to send Daniel a text to gauge where his head is at.

Mac:
Good morning, Delicious Daniel. Sunday Game Day! Woohoo.

Delicious Daniel (should really change that):
Morning, gorgeous. You ready for some tailgating and football?

Mac:
Hell, yeah! Do I need to bring anything?

Delicious Daniel:
Only your beautiful self. Have you been up long?

Ha! Now’s
my chance to
test the waters
with Mr. Delicious.

Mac:
I’m still lying in bed actually.

Delicious Daniel:
Really? And what are you doing in there?

Mac:
Was thinking of last Friday night and how much of a gentleman you were. Are you always so chivalrous?

Delicious Daniel:
I’ve been known to have my moments, but telling me that you’re in bed thinking of me is not helping with keeping my mind out of the gutter. Or your bedroom.

Mac:
Then don’t. Let your mind roam free in my bedroom. I’m a firm believer in free thinking.

Delicious Daniel:
Is that so? And where would you like my thoughts to travel to?

Mac:
Me, in bed, naked as the day I was born, thinking of you and your kisses

Delicious Daniel:
Damn. Cold shower needed stat.

Mac:
Why’s that?

Delicious Daniel:
Because my mind is definitely going down a road leading to somewhere dangerous.

Mac:
Do tell…

Delicious Daniel
:
Eyes on the prize, Mac. Game day, football, men running around in spandex.

Mac:
Oooh, Daniel, you know how
to make a girl swoon, don’t ya? Now you’re reminding me of my Superman fantasy.

Delicious Daniel:
*bangs head against wall* Damn, Mac, I am going to need a cold shower. Now, naughty girl, how about you go have a cold shower too and I’ll see you in a couple of hours ;)

Mac:
*pouts* Okay, no fun.

Delicious Daniel:
Don’t you worry about fun, Mac. There’s plenty of time for that beautiful stranger.

Mac:
Until then, I’ll have to rename my shower head Daniel and have fun with him ;)