No Regrets (2 page)

I grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward me again. “I’m not vulnerable. You’re not taking advantage. Aren’t I allowed to decide what I want?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes. Absolutely.” Then he couldn’t say anything because he was kissing me again.

After a minute, we were hot and breathless again. “Fuck, Leslie,” Josh rasped, his mouth still against mine. “I’m so turned on right now.”

“Me too,” I admitted, shamelessly feeling my way down to the front of his shorts to find the proof of his words. I couldn’t believe I was doing that, but I was.

I
was
.

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

I was so lost in a heated daze that the words barely registered. “What? No.”

“Are you sure?” He slid a hand down to brush against my groin in a way that made me gasp.

Then I realized what he was asking.

I didn’t do this. I
never
did this. Never once in my life had I had a one-night stand. And I certainly had never considered fucking a stranger in the bathroom of a bar.

But I’d never felt like this before, either. As I fisted my fingers in his hair, I briefly imagined myself saying “no,” going home to an apartment without Polly, trying to make it through a long night alone.

I didn’t want to be that person. I wanted to be someone else.

I’d regret not trying to be this new kind of woman, and I wasn’t going to live with more regrets.

So, instead of my normal answer, I said, “Maybe I do.”

Before I knew what was happening, Josh stood up, looking hot, sexy, and almost wild. His hand slid down my arm to hold onto my wrist. Without a word, he started toward the back of the bar, dragging me with him.

I didn’t resist—didn’t want to resist. I wasn’t going to regret not doing this, even though it was crazy. Even though it was terrifying. Even though it wasn’t
me
.

We walked together to a dim hallway in the back, which led to a women’s bathroom. The room was worn and small, but basically clean, and I didn’t pay much attention to our surroundings anyway.

Josh pushed the door shut and locked it. Then he pushed me back against the counter of the sink.

The hard edge connected painfully with my ass, and I grunted as he eased the hard line of his body against mine.

A glimmer of anxiety tried to fight its way through to my consciousness, but it was quickly drowned in the surge of resolution and excitement from the sight of Josh’s damp, handsome face, only an inch or two from mine, and in the visceral thrill of the press of his body against me.

He rubbed the bulge of his erection against my middle, with a blunt animality that really turned me on. He leaned his head down toward mine, and I thought he was going to kiss me again. But instead his face lowered to the side of my neck, which I intuitively exposed with a tilt of my head.

He bit down on the sensitive flesh of my throat, and I felt the sharpest jolt of pleasure I’d ever experienced in my life.

I cried out wordlessly in response, my pelvis jutting out in sudden need for stimulation.

My arousal had intensified so quickly—and with so little conscious thought—that I was losing my sense of balance and coordination. I wasn’t sure I could stay on my feet, had Josh not trapped me between the sink counter and his body. My eyes blurred over until the small, dingy bathroom faded into nonexistence.

All I was aware of was Josh, in all his intensity, physicality, and hot, hot power.

When Josh bit down again on my neck, and I felt another jolt of painful pleasure shooting down to my pulsing arousal, I moaned, and my head fell backward.

The sensations from his touch and from the alcohol were so intense and so overwhelming that I was briefly afraid I might pass out. But I stiffened my neck and reached around his body, squeezing him hard on the ass and using my grip to push his erection tighter against me.

This time, Josh was the one who made a breathless sound in response, and he wasted no time in pushing my skirt up my legs. I was still wearing my work clothes—I hadn’t changed since I’d left the office that morning.

He was feeling inside my panties as I started to reach into his shorts. My fingers were clumsy and eager, as the ache between my legs threatened to make me scream.

“Condom,” I gasped, remembering at least that much of my sense.

“Yeah.” He was obviously just as out of control as I was, and his fingers shook slightly as he pulled a condom packet out of his wallet, which he’d brought with him.

I figured he was still young enough that he might always carry one around.

He adjusted our bodies and found my wet pussy with his hand by pushing aside my panties. I bit down hard on my lip as he slipped one of his fingers inside me, stroking my inner walls and spreading the moisture collected there.

I lifted my thigh and grabbed at the back of his neck with both hands as his intimate massage built up my pleasure.

Before his touch could drive me out of control, I clutched at his t-shirt. Then I reached down for his cock.

His aroused flesh was hard and thick and warm under my fingers, and I squeezed him with incautious impatience.

Josh pulled his hand out from between my legs with a jerky movement, and his fingers dug hard into my thigh. He raised his head so that he was looking once more into my face.

The expression in his eyes might have been lust, or frustration, or a hard resolution that matched mine. I wasn’t sure.

Either way, he sheathed himself with the condom, parted my thighs further, and positioned himself in between them.

He paused again, but now I’d lost the last thread of my control. I grabbed at his ass and dug my fingernails into the muscles, forcing his pelvis forward.

His cock drove its way into my pussy, his upper body pressing against my chest as he sunk all the way inside.

I bit down on his shoulder—my teeth against his t-shirt—as I felt his solid substance stretch and fill me.

He didn’t give me a chance to get used to the tight penetration. With a guttural sound and a jerk of his neck, he started to thrust. Fast, short, and sloppy.

I could feel a pressure building up between my legs, behind my eyes, and beneath my ribs. I was kind of propped on the sink counter, and the hard edge bit into my bottom. I had to wrap my legs around Josh’s body to keep myself mostly steady.

It was like a weird, unworldly dream—one where the normal world dissolves into an irrational sequence of inexplicable details. I wasn’t me anymore. I was someone else—someone who would do this kind of thing. I was a body. A body fucking another body in a bathroom.

A body made up of more unconnected details—brown hair, flushed skin, sinewed neck, sweaty clothes, and strong, needy hands.

I could feel his rapid breath against my skin, and I could feel the rutting of his hips beneath my hands. He was driving into me now with clumsy urgency, and despite the speed and the lack of real foreplay, I could feel an orgasm developing below my belly.

I was scared of it—like I wouldn’t be able to deal with the sensations, like it finally might push my heated haze into total collapse.

I forced the reaction down. I was doing this. Doing
this
. I wasn’t going to regret not taking what I wanted—not when the world always, always slipped out of your hands, no matter how tightly you held on.

I fumbled around his body, until I’d grabbed onto his shirt. The fabric was thin and warm under my damp skin, and I held onto it.

Everything about him was hot—like his shirt. The scent of him, masculine and sweaty. His skin. His cock. His urgency. The salty taste of him on my tongue.

He was grunting now, low and in the back of his throat, and he held my legs apart until I was splayed wide for his taking—his hands neither gentle nor careful.

I didn’t want him to be gentle or careful. Stretching my back, so that my face was against his shoulder, my mouth close to his ear, I whispered, “Harder. Faster.”

The first words since he’d entered me.

Josh made a primitive sound—maybe pleasure, maybe dominance—and his hips accelerated as he gave me all he had. He was hotter than ever beneath his clothes. His breathing was thick and scratchy. He held one of my legs up so high that my foot dangled and flopped.

I was so wet that the sloppy sound of suction from where we were joined was as obvious in the room as the slapping of our skin and the raspy texture of our breathing.

I hadn’t really thought I’d be able to come—not with a stranger, not after everything, not with having had so much to drink.

But my body wanted this, needed this, and it was going to have it. The muscles of my thighs and belly started to tighten, and a spiraling pleasure deepened with every thrust.

“Eh!” I gasped out, my climax catching me by surprise and coming hard and fast. My spine bent backwards, and I tried to hold on as the deep pleasure flew apart.

Josh grunted loudly, stretching the one syllable with tight effort, as he jerked a few times against the clenching of my pussy. He had bared his teeth, and his nostrils were flaring like an animal’s as he fought with his body for control.

His body won, the excruciating tension releasing in twitches and messy, long breaths.

I could feel the release shudder through his body, something primitive in my gut loving how it felt, even though the rest of me knew what it meant.

This was over. It was over now. And nothing about the rest of my life had changed.

We were both gasping when we finally pulled apart, and Josh took care of the condom.

I leaned back against the sink, barely able to support myself.

“You okay?” he asked, looking relaxed now but that lingering, searching question still in his eyes.

“Yeah.” I was okay. A little sore and a little embarrassed. And feeling a little cheap for having fucked a stranger in a small bathroom.

“Do you want to come over to my place tonight?” he asked. “I’m just down the block.”

I blinked several times, trying to process the question. “What do you mean?”

He raised his eyebrows. “My place? For the rest of the night? I thought it was good.”

The cheap feeling dissipated at the invitation. It might be a one-night stand, but at least it would last a whole night. At least it was more than just this bathroom.

I still hated the thought of going home.

“Yeah, I might as well.”

Two hours later, I was in his small, barely furnished apartment. We’d gotten takeout to eat from a place halfway down the block. After we’d eaten, I’d taken a shower first, and now he was taking a shower.

He was very easy to hang out with. No demands. No deep feelings. No awkwardness. Just interesting conversation and sex.

I was sitting on his bed in one of his t-shirts, checking my phone as he showered, and I texted my mother, since I’d missed a call from her earlier. I didn’t want her to get worried and start trying to reach me. Then I idly started gathering up receipts from the bottom of my purse and scrunching them into a ball to throw away.

As I scavenged for more receipts in my purse, I pulled out half of a dog biscuit. The cashier in the pet store had given it to Polly the last time we were there, a couple of weeks ago, and she’d only eaten half. I’d been saving the other half for later.

I’d forgotten about it and so had never given it to her.

Looking at the crumbling treat in my hand, my shoulders started to shake.

Maybe I was having a strange, hot night with a sexy man. Maybe it was different than anything I’d ever done before. Maybe it didn’t really feel like this was me doing it at all. But Polly had been mine for fourteen years. Now she was gone. She’d never get to eat the rest of her dog biscuit.

I cried silently, fighting for control, since I didn’t want Josh to hear me.

I don’t think he heard me, but he saw me, since he walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom before I noticed his presence.

I didn’t realize he was there until he sat on the edge of the bed beside me, and the mattress shifted. Very gently, he opened my hand and took the dog biscuit out of it.

I opened my mouth to try to say something—anything—but couldn’t form a word.

He just shook his head. “You don’t have to say it. I get it.”

He really did seem to get it, and I didn’t resist when he pulled me toward him and wrapped an arm around me. I shook against him for a minute until the emotion had tapered off.

“You can go home if you want,” he said. “Or call a friend. Or just sleep here, if you’d like. We don’t have to do anything else.”

It was unexpectedly sensitive, since I’d come over here for sex. I shook my head and looked up at him. “No. I…I need something different tonight.”

He nodded, appearing to understand yet again that lostness inside me. It must somehow be inside him as well.

He wore a towel around his waist and nothing else. His body was gorgeous—strong but not bulky, well-developed but efficient. I wanted to touch it. Feel it against me. Make this void in my heart go away.

I wanted to be someone other than me.

I started to kiss his shoulder, then his neck, then his jaw. Until I found and claimed his mouth.

He opened easily to my kiss, adjusting my body over his so I was straddling his hips, and then pressing my upper-body against his. The kiss was slow and deep, and I felt like I was drinking him in. His hands stroked over my hair and my back until they finally settled on my bottom.

After a few minutes, I felt him harden against my groin, and I moaned as I wedged a hand between our bodies to find and squeeze his erection through the thin fabric of his towel.

Josh grunted against my mouth as I fondled him. My nipples were erect beneath the cotton of the t-shirt, and they brushed along the hard lines of his chest. I squirmed above him, trying to drown myself in the sensation so my heart wouldn’t hurt so much.

He flipped us over without warning and started to kiss his way down my body, taking off my shirt and panties until I was completely naked beneath him.

He caressed me until I was deeply aroused, until I couldn’t hold still.

Then he moved up to kiss my mouth again.

“Leslie,” Josh rasped at last, pulling his mouth away and leaning his forehead against mine. His breathing was hot and uneven. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah. I want you now.”

My emotions were still close to the surface, so I whimpered helplessly as he put on a condom and then slid himself inside me.

We both moaned at the full penetration. Then I twined my arms around his neck and we fell into another kiss, our lips and tongues clinging and stroking as I started to rock rhythmically beneath him.

He felt so big against me, above me. So strong. So hot. And, letting my need and the sensations guide my motion, I felt like I could never get enough of him.

It was just the one night. Both of us knew it. But this, right now, felt like something real.

“So good,” I mumbled against his mouth, holding him as tightly as I could and feeling tears still aching in my eyes from before. “So good.”

He made a guttural sound, his fingers digging into the flesh of my bottom. His neck jerked slightly, breaking off the kiss. Then he buried his face against my neck. “Fuck, you feel so good, Leslie,” he said, panting against my skin. “You feel so good.”

I clung to him desperately as the sensations rose up. I clung to him with my arms, my legs, my lips, my pussy, and I tried to hold myself back from climax.

Didn’t want this to end quite yet.

It would end. I would leave. I would be me again. In a few hours, I would head home to my apartment, to little Polly’s empty dog bed. I could feel its pull, its inevitability heavy in my heart. My rocking became faster, clumsier as I pressed messy kisses into his hair, on any part of him I could reach.

“Fuck,” Josh said, lifting his face to capture my mouth again. His voice was thick and hoarse, the sexiest thing I’d ever heard—but somehow aching like I did. His hips jerked against my pelvis, and his body grew tighter and tighter as the frantic motion of our bodies intensified.

My head fell back as pleasure welled up inside me, Tears streamed down my face when my spine arched involuntarily. “Oh, God.”

Josh kissed me one more time with clumsy, unfocused passion. Tremors had started to run through his body as he tried to rein in his release.

Then I came, clutching him, riding out the waves of pleasure as his control broke and he fell into climax too.

We gasped and slumped together against the pillows, holding each other in an urgent grip that softened as our bodies relaxed.

I felt that same weird ache afterwards—the one that reminded me that I could pretend to be someone else, but I was always, only me—but I ignored it and focused on the post-orgasmic languor.

After a few minutes, I actually fell asleep.

***

A few hours later, I was dressed and getting ready to leave.

“Thank you,” I said to Josh, who was walking with me to my car. “For the night. It was…it was what I needed.”

He nodded, his face sober again, both the wry cleverness and the passion gone. “Me too,” he said quietly.

He looked tired in the early morning light. As tired as I felt.

“I wish you the best—with your vet practice and everything.”

“Thanks. You too.” He opened his mouth as if he would say something else, but then he shut it again.

I didn’t know what he’d been going to say, but there wasn’t really any need for it. The night was over, and it was what it was. Nothing we said was going to change it.

I’d never really felt like a grown-up, although my age certainly told me I was. But I’d at least learned one thing in the years I’d been alive. Pretending something was something else didn’t actually make it so.

I leaned over and pressed a light kiss against his mouth, feeling exhausted, worn, and aching in more ways than one. “Goodbye, Josh.”

There was a vague ache in his eyes that matched mine. “Goodbye.”

I got in my car and drove away, and he was standing in the parking lot watching until I turned out of sight.