1
WADE
FUCK.
Flopping down onto the mattress—alone—is like fucking Heaven right now.
Exhaustion permeates deep into my bones. I’m not even sure I could get it up right now if I tried. No amount of tugging, sucking, or fucking right now would rouse my soldier.
How fucking depressing is that?
My poor dick is so over-used, it’s practically ready for a coffin and burial. Six straight nights of dates. Six straight nights of fun but meaningless sex with six different women—over and over and over and over…
Against a wall, on a desk, in a pool, in the backseat of a car, bent over the sink in a bathroom at a restaurant, in an alley behind a nightclub…
Pretty much anywhere and everywhere you can fuck, I did this past week.
Most men would be thrilled and probably call me a fucking pussy for complaining about too much sex. But I need a breather, at least for one night.
Just give me a little time—away from the women, and away from the Goddamn filet mignon.
If I don’t see another tiny, round piece of steak in my life, I would die a happy man. These women all think they’re funny and clever serving it to me when we eat at their homes or ordering it if we eat out on our dates.
Yeah, real original.
I would roll my eyes, but I’m too fucking tired for even that minuscule movement.
But I need to know what time it is. I didn’t expect to be coming home this late, or early rather, since it was already well after midnight when I finally left her place.
That woman was an animal tonight. Four…no five rounds of hot, sweaty, hair-pulling, hip-slamming, nail-scratching, fucking exhausting sex. And she probably would have wanted to go again if I hadn’t managed to sneak out when she finally dozed off. But there are rules, and rule number one is no spending the night…no matter how utterly exhausted I may be.
With some concerted effort, I roll onto my side and check the clock on the nightstand.
2:30 taunts me in bright red numbers.
Christ. I roll onto my back and close my eyes.
Thank God it’s Monday. A night with the guys to unwind, and a few beers at The Bottle is exactly what the doctor ordered. Jason knew what he was doing when he required us all to take Mondays off. You can’t do this job without a scheduled break of some kind, it’s too physically and emotionally taxing.
But I can’t enjoy that respite for another seventeenish hours.
I first have to try to get a couple hours of sleep so I can make it through my two motion hearings this morning, and then a full afternoon of client meetings. But at least there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.
No dates until Tuesday, and as of right now, my Saturday night is still free. I can’t even remember the last time I had a weekend night off.
Fridays and Saturdays are prime nights, and my rates are double those nights for that very reason. Women don’t want to attend parties alone. And with Made to Order offering escort services, they don’t have to anymore.
Tonight was an anomaly. Sunday dates are usually low-key—a walk in Lincoln Park, maybe a stroll through the Field Museum. But this lady…sweet fuck was she feisty. I had barely knocked on her door before she was dragging me inside by my lapels and smashing her mouth on mine. It was immediately clear this was not going to be a casual mid-afternoon date, but rather an all-day and all-night fuck session.
I normally wouldn’t mind, but after my dates Friday and Saturday, I had kind of been looking forward to something a little less, well, physical.
Who would have ever thought I’d be tired of having sex? Not me. But after almost two years, and countless women, it’s starting to get real old, real quick. The faces all blend together, and I’m pretty sure at least half of them give fake names anyway. Having a hot, wet pussy wrapped around my cock always feels incredible—how could it not? —but just once, it would be nice to spend some time with a woman who wants to actually spend time with me, not with “Lewis.”
I stare at the ceiling and try to will myself to get off the bed.
A scalding hot shower would probably be prudent right now. The scent of her flowery perfume and our mingled sweat still clings to me, but I don’t have the energy to make it to the bathroom, let alone stand for ten minutes to scrub the filth off. I’ll just change my sheets tomorrow.
Right now, the only thing I’m going to do is sleep.
