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My legs tightened around his ass, trying to pull him toward me faster…harder…deeper, meeting each thrust with a move of my hips. I’d been on edge, ready to fall over into the abyss the entire time, but when his hand cupped my balls and then began to pump my dick, I fell…hard. My body shook with pleasure as I heard him groan, his knot forming inside me, his fingers working my cock the entire time, extending my ecstasy. When he finally collapsed on me, both of us out of breath, it was all I could do to stay awake long enough to murmur, “Thanks.”
Chapter Ten
Porter
My dreams were filled with the god who had brought me to the brink of religion that night. I woke slowly, the lingering dream of Michael slowly sliding off his boxers fueling my libido. He dipped them down enough so that I saw his glorious V and the patch at the top of his groin. I came to enough to realize I was waking, and the image faded. I reached for him, ready to enjoy another round, but I grasped only cold sheets.
My eyes flew open, and I looked around the room. Nothing. No clothes, no note. He was gone. I rolled over to find I needed a shower. Of course, it was the first time I’d wanted someone to linger in the morning, too. Normally, I was a wham-bam, thank you, sir, see you never again if I can help it kind of fellow.
Michael. I hadn’t desired a man the way I did him in...years. These days, I always had to be on my guard. Everyone was looking for a step up. An inside scoop. An easy in. But not Michael. He was a hard worker. He didn’t care what I had or what I could offer...outside of bed, that is. I had offered him a job, and he had flat-out refused me.
Damn it, even the memory of his tenacious independence was riling me up. And to have tamed that independence, even if only for a while, was the kind of challenge I ran after. I would have liked to have woken him up with my mouth on his dick, my fingers in his entrance, taking the time to enjoy tasting his release the way I had last night. My hand dropped to my slowly returning erection, and I envisioned him returning the favor, that steel will softened by my attentions, his pinked, kiss-roughened lips circling my girth as he took me prettily all the way to the back of his throat.
That got me up and going quickly. I tugged at my balls as I pulled on my shaft with long strokes, attempting to imitate my fantasy. My hand was too dry. A little spit smoothed the way, and soon I was in the middle of it, watching my cock move in and out of Michael’s mouth, his pace quickening as the pressure built, energy curling into a frantic ball deep on my groin until I exploded, cum shooting up my chest and lightning bolts racing down every limb.
Why had he scurried away so fast? It was only eight in the morning. I felt a curious sense of disappointment at finding Michael gone, though. The odd sense that things hadn’t gone according to plan lingered with me as I showered and then checked out. My car was still in Nick’s parking lot, unmolested. Not that I expected anything different.
I thought about looking up one of Betsy’s other kids, not that I was close to any of them, but they were my only connection to this town, and asking who Michael was and how I could get in touch with him, but I discarded the thought. What will be, will be.
Still, there might have been a way I could run a background check on him, just to see where he lived now. I discarded that thought, too. Clearly, Michael wasn’t interested. I knew myself well enough to trust he had enjoyed himself, but he clearly hadn’t been interested in anything more than a night. Part of me wanted to keep pushing until I found him. Another part of me wanted to jump in my car and drive away from this hellhole as fast as I could, no matter what treasures it held...
I couldn’t help but look for him in the cars lined up in traffic as I left, even though I knew I wouldn’t find him. It was time to say goodbye to this town for good. Now that Betsy was gone, I had no other reason to return. I wished Michael the best. He’d escape this town easily with his drive and spunk. A buried part of me wished I could see it.
Chapter Eleven
Michael
It had been over two months since I’d seen Porter. Life had become somewhat normal, until a few weeks ago when I began having a feeling that something was not right. Pushing a cart filled with far more products than I needed, I snuck the box into it, beneath the bread and cereal. I might be an adult, but some things were not meant to be announced across the universe or even the grocery aisle. That little box held answers I didn’t want to know, yet needed so very desperately. The one time in my life I let go and followed my wants instead of my map, it resulted in stealth shopping, late at night, in the hopes that one of the five people I knew in this city didn’t see the reality of my life.
Sneaking out of that motel room seemed a good idea at the time. We weren’t forever, or even for a while, so why ruin it with false promises and the awkward exchange of numbers? At least that was what I rationalized at the time. Two and a half months later, I would do anything to know who Porter was.
I asked around, but no one seemed to know where he was or what he was up to, if they knew him at all. I even looked up businesses he might own, but none of the ones that came up were even close to being his. The embarrassing part was that all of this was before I knew I might actually need to get ahold of him. I just wanted to see him again. How pathetic I turned out to be all because of some kind words, a heck of a lot of heat, and a connection that was probably not even real.
Two weeks after our time together when my life finally began to make some sense again.. I somehow managed to get my dream job, though I didn’t know how, only five hours from my brother. The company even paid relocation expenses. I might have a cubical in the least visible part of the office, but I was doing something I loved and getting paid well for it. Thank goodness for that because if the little box in my cart told me what I was sure it would, I was going to need every blessed penny.
I piled things onto the conveyor belt of the sole open cashier, cussing the broken-down self-check area. The last thing I wanted was for someone to interact with me as I bought it. I felt like a teenager buying his first condoms, although this was worse because this was from a choice I’d made, a bad one. Although I hadn’t, really. We had been safe. And there was no part of me that was going to bash myself for choosing to enjoy the physical company of Porter. I wasn’t living in a time where virginity held a man’s worth, and I refused to subject myself to guilt over it.
“ID, please,” the cashier said, a young man, of freaking course. Kill me now.
“For...for what?” I stammered as I pulled it out. No wonder pregnancy tests were stolen more often than purchased. I was kind of wishing I’d gone that route by this point.
“For this.” He held up a bottle of kombucha, a bewildered look on his face.
Who knew my love of the refreshing tea beverage would be the catalyst for my death by embarrassment. Wait… Why were they even carding me? Crap, maybe it was on the not to drink while pregnant list. If I even was. Denial wasn’t going to make it less true. If I was. I put research kombucha on my list of things to do.
I whipped out my driver’s license, swearing off the drink. He punched in my birthdate and handed the card back to me as he grabbed the next thing on the belt, my pregnancy test. He met my eyes briefly before scanning it and moving on, never again looking me in the eye. It was probably more my reaction to his simple request than the actual test, or so I tried to convince myself.
Chapter Twelve
Porter
“Mr. Dahl?” My personal aide buzzed me on his intercom, startling me from my thoughts. “You asked me to remind you that you have the department meeting in ten minutes.”
I leaned forward to press the button to respond. “Thank you, Cheryl.” I stood to stretch and straightened my suit coat. It wasn’t uncommon for tech CEOs like myself to take a much more casual approach these days, wearing shorts and flip-flops, even pajama pants, to the office, but that had never sat well with me. When I put on my suit each morning, it was like I was donning armor, preparing myself for the day to come. Style, or lack of it, was both a reflection of who you were and a reminder of what you aspired to be. And I had never aspired to be a beach-bum hippie type, which is what the shorts and flip-flops ensemble represented to me. I didn’t care how much those guys made, I was focused on building myself as much as I was focused on building my business.
I was grateful for Cheryl’s reminder. I’d been lost in thoughts of him again. When I’d discovered Michael missing that morning, I had taken it in stride, or so I thought. But on the drive home, my brain insisted on dwelling on it. It was common courtesy to at least leave a note. Maybe it was returning to that town, dredging up the childhood memories and feelings of abandonment, but by the time I’d reached the city, I was burning with indignation and a desire to turn right around, to track Michael down, and make him explain himself.
I knew that was crazy, though. It had been a one-night stand. I couldn’t expect him to take my personal hang-ups into account. We’d had a good night, a really hot, sexy night, and if he didn’t want to ruin it with morning-after chitchat, I should be thanking him.
