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Amber: Dang girl. I’m off to bed. Lunch on Friday?
Sally: You bet. Night shug.
I was putting my mug in the dishwasher when there was a knock at the door. My hands stopped moving—I bet I knew who that was. I didn’t know what to do about it.
The video-game noises paused in the basement. “I’ve got it,” I called down the stairs. At the door, I squinted through the peep hole.
The bolt scraped as I turned it.
There was Clint, staring at me mournfully.
“Can I come in?” he said, hands in his pockets.
I leaned on the doorframe and crossed my arms. “Is that girl ready to kill us both?”
One of his hands pushed through his hair. He’d had it cut in the last few days, so it didn’t stick up as much as before. “Babe, I tried.”
“She was gonna move to Nebraska with you?”
“That was her idea.”
I shook my head. “Did you tell her we were high school sweethearts?”
“No. I didn’t say anything about where you’re from.”
I stepped aside and he walked in.
“Want something to drink?”
The door shut and I’d just turned the bolt when he pushed me against it and kissed me. He’s a big guy, like six five. After hunching over for a minute, his hands cupping my face, he grabbed my butt and lifted me up so our mouths were level. My legs wrapped around his waist and my fingers slid into his spiky hair.
He put his face down in my neck. “I want to take you to bed.”
Saying no to him had never been one of my skills. With the damage done, I decided to go ahead and enjoy the crime—and pray that Hank would forgive me, someday. “All right, let’s go.”
He set me down and waited while I turned off lights. We walked back to my bedroom, like an old married couple getting in bed at ten thirty. I took off my robe and tossed it on the little couch. He’d already kicked his shoes off and pulled his shirt off over his head.
“You look so different,” he said, coming over to pull my pajama top off. His hands ran over my breasts, cupping and shaping them. “It pisses me off. Did that asshole force this on you?”
I blinked in surprise. Clint seemed like a pretty simple guy, his brain almost entirely occupied by football. Except, every once in a while he said something surprising. “He didn’t force it on me, just suggested it. It was a moment of vanity on my part.”
He pulled off the rest of our clothes, breathing heavily. I took his hand and got us over to the bed, then reached into my nightstand and grabbed a strip of condoms. When I laid back on the bed he crawled on top of me, his big shaft long and hard.
“God, Sally, I can’t wait. Are you ready?”
I put a condom on him, cupping and massaging his ballswhile his head tilted back. I put a little lube on him and on myself. I was hot and turned on, but I knew him—he didn’t always have the patience to focus on me.
Then he pushed me back on the bed and moved between my legs until he could thrust inside. I arched my head back as he pumped into me. We got there at the same time, both coming fast.
He pulled out and immediately started kissing me again, moving down my body. I grabbed a rubber dam from the bedside table before he could get where he was going, opened it and placed it where I wanted his mouth.
He snorted. “Babe, I don’t care about that.”
“Just use it. Yes…”
And that was sex with Clint. Straightforward and vigorous. I missed Javier for a moment, but Clint had his own separate kind of appeal. He went down on me, then wanted to do it doggy style, and after that, he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He followed me into the bathroom to clean up then fell asleep on the left side of my bed.
In the morning he woke me up early, about to slide in without a condom. “Don’t you dare,” I croaked at him. I slapped a condom on his chest. He put it on and crawled on top of me, pumping fast and hard, waiting just long enough for me to come before he did too.
