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I’m still a romantic at heart, despite my misgivings and my need to dominate. I crave that part of it, and to have it, only for it to be snatched away from me the second I wake, doesn’t sit well with me.
I searched the penthouse, even the sideboard where the hotel stationary is.
There’s nothing. No evidence that she was even here. Except… when I walk back out to the jacuzzi, picking up the foiled packet that blew off the side of the jacuzzi – evidence of where it all started – I see her black, lacy thong on the decking.
I bend to pick it up and hold on to it. Obviously, she couldn’t find it when she ran out on me in a hurry this morning. I can’t even resist the urge to bring it up to my nose to inhale.
I don’t ever want to forget her, or her scent, or how she tasted and how she responded.
But this is like a kick in the guts, and I don’t like it.
We fucking promised to exchange numbers, and now I feel like a complete schmuck.
I can’t hide my annoyance or my disappointment as I walk back inside to make myself a coffee and attempt to get ready for checkout. I take a shower. I need to wash away everything from the previous night.
I can't help but think about the moment when I first saw her; walking across the restaurant, wearing a figure-hugging dress with a deep V in the front. The way we talked and laid a lot of our lives out in the open while we ate and enjoyed the complimentary champagne. I enjoyed her company long before I was inside her and making her come. Maybe it meant nothing to her after all?
I’m hard thinking about her body and touching her nipples through the fabric of her dress before we even got into my room. Pulling her dress apart and seeing her tits on display, with no bra, ready for me, hanging heavy and needy.
Hoisting her up against the wall in the foyer and giving her an orgasm before we even made it inside.
Pushing against her as she dry humped me, making the most delicious sounds while I sucked on her darkened nipples.
My cock is begging for it as I reminisce. So I tug one out in the shower, and it’s short and sweet because our jacuzzi scene plays before me. I picture the first time I saw her naked; standing on the deck, biting her lip as she watched me undress. Then splayed out before me with her legs wide open while I ate her out.
Stroking myself, I cry out loud as I shoot my load all over the shower wall in long, hot, agonizing spurts because I want to be buried deep inside her right now. I causally wonder how that love bite is going this morning. I’m pleased thinking about how she’s going to explain that to her colleagues.
No fucking specifics. I roll my eyes at my own idiocy as I wipe the shower wall with my hand, aiming the shower head toward my mess as I wash it off.
I hate to admit it, but I’m going to be pleasuring myself for some time to come with thoughts of my wild night in New York with the most perfect creature I’ve ever met. I just need to navigate my way around why she didn’t leave me a fucking note. Something, anything. Did I suck?
Pre-married life, I wouldn’t have really cared. I’ve had one night hook-ups before, and they were what they were. Rarely in my life have I felt this way, let alone after only one night with a woman.
I didn’t lie about anything I told her last night. Including the fact that I haven’t slept with anyone since my ex. And I’m not kidding myself when I say it’s the best sex I’ve ever had. She’s the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on, and now she’s gone.
I ignore most of my messages and missed calls from last night until I’m leaving the hotel. Unfortunately, neither Lyle nor Bertram are in the restaurant this morning, not that I really expected them to be, nor did I think they’d go against company policy on safeguarding the privacy of their guests. But I am disappointed when I leave to get into my private car to the airport with nothing even remotely resembling traces of Hartley. Other than discounting the fact I have her G-string in my pocket for safekeeping, of course. I need the fucking reminder that she was even real at all.
During the ride over, I decide to make a few calls and divert my attention from Hartley. It’s only making my mood sour, and it’s not supposed to be that way when I’m moving back to Stoney Creek and starting out my new life on my own.
My first plan is to clear the land at Coyote Run.
I’ll be living in one of the cabins my parents built years ago for staff accommodation and luckily, no one is living in one of them at the moment. I could always stay with my best friend, Hudson, on his property close by. But I want to be close to the distillery and keep an eye on construction when it commences.
My family all live on the property, or what we affectionately call ‘the farm’. There is plenty of room with hundreds of acres to spare. Gabe and Brooklyn have both built their own houses on different parts of the property and live on site. Georgia and Beau both live under the main roof of my parents’ homestead for the time being, though their wings are completely separate from the main house. Both will have a place at the distillery one day when they build on the lots they choose.
Coyote Run is my little slice of heaven. They all know it. Even Gabe won't argue with that.
It’s all I’ve been living for all these years. All these god-damned years living in Nashville, building up the record label company, but always dreaming about my future dwelling on the family property. Wanting to come back here. It’s all I’ve ever wanted if I’m being honest.
And now I get my chance. I’ve made enough from the music company before I even thought about selling my share. The truth is, I could keep a share in it, even a minority one. But what’s the point if my heart isn’t in it anymore? Plus, I’d have to be there.
My heart was always in building the home of my dreams, housing my wife and children where we’d all live happily ever after. I stare out the window as my fist clenches on my thigh thinking about the conversation I had with Keira the day after I caught her on the couch…
“I don’t fucking love Deacon for God’s sake!” she protests when I try to calm my temper down. “It was just something that happened, Grayson.”
“Just happened!” I roar at her. I kicked the fucker out onto the street last night after having it out with her. I’m only back here to collect some things before I leave again. Hopefully, he has a broken nose with the punches I gave him. “You didn’t just fall on his dick by accident! He paid you attention, is that it? Am I a horrible husband who doesn’t see you anymore?”
“You’re never home!” she spits, folding her arms across her chest, like that solves everything in the world. All thrown back onto me and my work as usual. “How can I compete with you and your precious company and every bimbo in the land that throws themselves at you!”
