Operation Foreplay (3 page)

“And the time before that he was stuck in traffic and the time before that—”

“I think she gets it, Sarah. Just like I think it’s time for you, my dear, to get dressed.”

Caroline stood, scooped her hands under my arms, and pulled me to my feet.

“I am in no shape to go out. I’m drunk.” My point needed a drunken girl arm flail but I was too tired to attempt it.

“It’s nine o’clock. Since when does a bottle of wine stop you? You’re fine. Besides, if you stay here, you’ll be in a food coma. Jesus”—she walked over to the dining room table— “how much did you order?”

“A lot.”

“Drunk is fine. Drunk and holed up in your apartment crying about a married man who didn’t show up is not. Don’t be silly. We’re just going to Murphy’s. It’s time for target practice.” Sarah winked at Caroline. I had the feeling they’d been planning this for a while.

Target practice. Almost a year ago Caroline’s fiancé of five years broke up with her in the douchiest way imaginable—she walked in on him banging the intern. Needless to say, she retreated, hid, gained ten pounds, and became a disheveled mess. Until Sarah and I stepped in and forced her to see herself without Steve. Target Practice: Operation One Night Stand was born. After a few bumps in the road, Caroline ended up with Brian, the owner of Murphy’s Bar. He was supposed to be a rebound, someone to pull her out of her funk. Two weeks ago, they moved in together and bought a dog.

Go figure.

“I don’t need target practice,” I moaned as the girls walked me back to my room. “I don’t need to get over anyone.”

“No, you don’t have to get over Zac, necessarily. Maybe you just need some time away to get some perspective on what’s working and what’s not working as far as your naughty bits go,” Sarah piped in.

“My naughty bits are in perfect working order, thank you.”

“They need to be distracted from their current trajectory,” Sarah said.

“Operation Distraction?” Caroline said with too much enthusiasm.

“Maybe Operation Take a Break from Sex Altogether,” Sarah added with a raised eyebrow.

“Right! Like that will ever happen.” I shook my head and laughed. “Whatever. Your brother won’t be there will he?”

“Jared?”

“Yeah.”

“Actually, he picked up some chick and took off as I was leaving,” Sarah answered as she looked through my closet.

“Of course he did.” I rolled my eyes. I tensed at the thought of him with another woman and it irritated me. “He’s been here a week and he’s already trolling for—”

“Does it matter?” Sarah interrupted.

“Of course it doesn’t. I just don’t need him knowing my business.”

“Because?”

“Because, honestly, he’s a snarky little shit with an opinion.”

“I swear the more I think about it, the more I think you and Jared are the same person,” Caroline added with a smirk.

“Shut it.” I flopped onto my bed.

That night, Sarah and Caroline convinced me to shower, dress, and head to Murphy’s. They reminded me that they’d warned me numerous times that getting involved with Zac wasn’t the brightest of my ideas, and eventually I had to agree. After much discussion, it was decided that I would stop sleeping with Zac or anyone else until I could figure a way out of my sexy-time funk. Of course, dodging calls and advances from Zac and solidifying the platonic work-only relationship was probably best but certainly not as fun.

With reluctance, I allowed Sarah to delete Zac’s number from my phone, which would have been a catchall solution had I not worked so closely with him. And had he not been the definition of tall, dark, handsome, and fucking sexy as hell.

I just needed to get through the week.

Chapter Three

A
fter scrubbing myself raw for more than forty minutes, I finally felt somewhat clean. At least cleaner than I had at four in the morning when I kicked what’s-his-name out of my apartment. So far, Operation Distraction was a bust. With five missed calls from Zac, three texts from Sarah, and a voice mail from my mother, I’d say that morning, or the night before, wasn’t necessarily something I’d write down in a memoir. A week ago, I was a sobbing mess, having been put on hold by him once again so he could attend to the needs of the wife he had promised to leave. But at least I made it through the week without ripping his clothes off.

Instead, I thoroughly wore out my favorite vibrator.

The night before, the girls and I had gone out for a few. After copious amounts of my new favorite and appropriately named drink, Adios Motherfucker, I was feeling a bit lonely and in need of a random romp, despite my earlier promises to hold off.

Gabe—I found out his name twenty minutes into our conversation—was the opposite of what I normally took home. His was well over six feet tall with sleeves of tattoos over heavily muscled arms. He was, quite possibly, the face of stereotypical New Jersey. I didn’t care, though. All I needed was a target to distract me and he was the one.

He excused himself and Caroline slid onto the seat he vacated. “I thought you weren’t going to sleep with anyone until you figured your shit out?”

I took a sip of my drink and shrugged. “I’m horny.” I shuddered as I watched Jared walk through the door with a redhead on his arm. Just the way he walked through a room made me clench my jaw. Redhead aside, I was suddenly acutely aware of the seam of my jeans.

“Right, but we said you needed a distraction, not a tune up. Besides”—she twisted around to look for Gabe before turning back to me—“he’s kind of scary looking.”

“He’s not my usual choice, I’ll give you that, but what’s wrong with him? He’s tall, dark—”

“And has more oil in his hair than I have in my car,” Sarah interrupted. “You are not supposed to be going home with anyone right now, Mel. You are supposed to figure out a way to distract yourself from Zac.”

“I’m pretty sure this guy”—I thumbed toward him over my shoulder—“will help distract me from the screams and cries of my lonely lady cave.”

“Lonely lady cave?”

I shrugged. “Sounded better than pussy.” I took a sip of my drink.

“And why is he orange? Spray tan much?” Caroline crinkled her nose.

“Oh, shut it. I’m a grown woman in charge of my own—”

“Lonely lady cave?” Sarah asked.

“Yes. And the last thing I need is the vagina patrol fucking up my mojo.” I tilted my head and checked Gabe out once more. “Besides, with hands that big, there is no way he isn’t packing serious junkage. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see if he would like to go somewhere not so crowded.”

“What’s up ladies?” Jared leaned into the bar, pressing his shoulder into my boobs.

“Excuse me.” I huffed and looked around. “Where’s the redhead?”

“Jealous?”

“Hardly.” I hopped off my barstool and readied myself for the night’s distraction.

“Drink this first.” Sarah handed me a shot.

“What is it?” Like I cared.

Jared leaned back with his elbow on the bar and his shirt rode up a little bit. Giving me a peek at the small patch of hair that led from his belly button to below the waistband of his jeans. I sucked in a breath as the thought of my tongue trailing along his stomach flashed in my mind.

“It’s called a One Night Stand. Brian thought it up after, well, you know.”

“Perfect.” I looked over at Jared and he winked at me while raising his beer bottle in salute. I couldn’t understand why he unnerved me.

The girls and I clinked shot glasses and downed the creamy beverage before I saluted, elbowed my way from the bar, and grabbed Gabe by the arm.

“Hey you.”

“Hey.” His eyes narrowed and he leaned down to press his lips to mine.

I should have known then that the night was going to be a disappointment. It was like kissing two dead fish with a side of corn chips. But I was a grown-up. I could see past all the not-so-great nuances. After all, it was only for one night, only a distraction. I could avoid kissing him as long as his package was delivered directly to my door.

“Wanna get out of here?” I hitched my designer handbag over my shoulder and cocked my head toward the door.

“Absolutely.” He growled and smacked my ass hard enough to leave a semipermanent handprint.

I screamed the requisite girly scream and giggled. My friends rolled their eyes in pseudo amusement. Jared’s mouth dropped open. They were displeased with my choice for the evening. Served them right, I figured. In my heart, I knew Zac and I were meant to be together, but in my head, I knew it wouldn’t work. I liked to say I was a no-relationship girl but let’s face it, it’s easy to say that when the one you want to be with is married, so there isn’t much to hope for.

Jared pulled me aside. “You’re going home with
this
guy?”

“Jealous?” I threw his words at him.

“Hardly.” And he lobbed mine back at me.

“You
do
have a redhead to get back to.”

“Yeah. I guess I do.”

I couldn’t read his face and I was ready to get into it with him when his redhead for the night curled against him. My stomach dropped. “You two have fun.”

I looked to Gabe as he high-fived a few friends on the way out and said, “Let’s go.”

His large hands dwarfed mine. I smiled. I was ready to test out his equipment.

The walk home was short and my key was barely in the lock when Gabe’s testosterone took over. Fine with me. If it got out of hand I could always spray him with mace and shove the heel of my pumps into his crotch.

He pressed up behind me and twisted my hair in his fist. Pulling my head back he leaned down and licked my neck, leaving hot nerves firing in my stomach. So far, so good. I reached behind and pulled him closer as I opened the door to my apartment. I threw my purse on the floor and grabbed him by the waistband of his jeans, pulling him toward my bedroom.

I pulled off his shirt and marveled at the amazingly chiseled abs he brought to the table.
So he has dead fish for lips
, I thought to myself,
with a body like that, who the fuck cares?

He clumsily tripped over the shoes I’d just kicked off and fell on top of me. At least the bed caught our fall. He kissed my neck and pulled my shirt over my head. I fiddled with his belt until I was able to unfasten the thing and slid my hand under his pants and squeezed his ass. It was tight and hard. My kind of ass. He moaned before abandoning his clumsy attempt at unhooking my bra and settled on ham-handing my boobs out of the structured cups.

And then things got weird.

“You have great titties,” he said between sucks that sorta, kinda felt like a dentist working on an extraction.

I could only mutter, “Thanks.” There was good pain and there was bad pain. The Hoover job he was doing on my nipples was bad pain.

At that point I just wanted to get it over with, so I unbuttoned my own pants and slid them over my hips, kicking my legs until they flew across the room. Gabe took the gesture as an invitation to rip my underwear with his teeth. I squeezed my eyes shut. The gesture should have been a turn on, but those panties cost me thirty bucks and I wasn’t sure he even appreciated them.

He settled between my thighs, the inefficient nipple foreplay his only attempt at revving my engine, which was still stuck in first.

I’m not quite sure what he thought he was doing down there but he clamped onto my clit and sucked. He didn’t stop sucking. There was no licking, no finger-fucking, no ass-tickling. He was a straight up sucker and it, well, sucked. After a minute or so, I knew it was going to go nowhere so I did what any girl would do. I faked it.

Moaning like he was the best thing to happen to me since the last call sale at Neiman Marcus, I sang like an operatic songbird. Looking back, I don’t think I should have been so emphatic. All it did was egg him on to suck harder. He sucked until I swore to God my clit was going to pop off and shoot down his throat like an errant pea.

Jesus Christ. I hated foreplay.

“Oh God! Gabe!” I gave it one last faux crescendoing moan and pulled his hair hard enough to remove him from my vagina. Once again, I needed to remind myself that just because a man couldn’t perform with his mouth, there was no reason to think his cock couldn’t win a championship. After all, sex was kind of like a relay race. A good rule of thumb is to pace yourself and when no one’s looking, defy all expectations with a perfect closer. Or something like that. I never did make the track team, unless you counted the few members I met under the bleachers back in high school.

I clamped my legs together as he yanked his tighty whities down. The world slammed painfully into a brick wall of what-the-fuck-edness.

Gabe pulled out what could only be described as a mini cock.

And suddenly the slowest runner on the team began the last leg.

As big as Gabe was, one would expect no less than an average-sized dick. I checked out my big toe for a moment to confirm that it, indeed, was larger than the cocktail wiener he pulled from his underwear.