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Once inside my bedroom, I strip, take my makeup off, and fall face-first onto my pillow.
It’s only then that the throbbing returns, and I squeeze my thighs together in an attempt to make it stop. Yeah, that doesn’t work. Having someone else touch me for the first time in forever, it’s like my body has come out of hibernation and is desperate for more. Still on my stomach, I raise my hips and place my hand between my legs, shuddering at how sensitive I am.
With the memories of his hand and mouth, I moan into my pillow, my fingers immediately coated with my wetness. It’s not the same. His were rougher and thicker than mine, and I have to use two right off the bat to feel the stretch one of his provided.
I picture him there with me, pressed against my back and pinning me to the bed as he gets me off. I wish those lips were on my neck, sucking and nibbling like he had been earlier. Demanding, challenging, relentless. God, that buff body would feel so damn good right now. The idea of being completely at his mercy has me more turned on than any other fantasy ever has or could.
When I come, my moans are muffled by the pillow.
It’s not nearly as mind-shattering as I was hoping, but it gets the job done. I’m left shaky and sweaty, yet still frustrated. Not sexually, at least. Emotionally. Who the hell is this guy who acts like a dick when I first meet him, then saunters up to me at my bar, bats those piercing eyes and has me with my panties down minutes later? A voice in my head interjects, reminding me that I was the one who cornered him, so I reluctantly take on a bit of responsibility. Meanwhile, another voice wonders if he’s still in possession of my panties.
You’d think after the hell I’ve gone through I’d be better at choosing men.
Spoiler alert: not quite.
Chalking it up to being horny and vulnerable, I sleepily bundle myself in my comforter.
The combination of a long day, a splash of alcohol, and the dwindling endorphins from a steamy hookup knock me out faster than you can say “lights out.”
All things considered, I wake up in a relatively good mood. Apparently having several orgasms really puts a pep in your step. Even though I have to meet with my new co-owner, I’m trying to be positive.
Last night’s experience was certainly enjoyable. I’m still not thrilled that Mr. Neighbor immediately ditched me but, hey, what am I going to do? I’m not about to simp and pine over someone I barely know.
It’d been a great way to alleviate some of this tension. My only regret is—despite everything—not having had a chance to repay the favor. He clearly needs it. He’s got that grumpy look on his face. I wonder what his “O” face looks like. I’m sure I can coax that look out of him.
Don’t think about him, I tell myself as I jump in the shower.
I need all my wits about me to face this new owner.
Pippin sees me coming out of the room dressed and starts shrieking in his cage, like he does every morning when I leave for work. Chuckling, I go over and reach through to stroke his feathered head.
“I know, I know, you don’t want me to go,” I tell him. “But I swear I’ll let you fly around when I get home. I can’t risk being late this morning. And as soon as the shelter gets another parakeet, you’ll have a friend.”
He nips my finger a little harder than normal, letting me know he’s not happy. I roll my eyes affectionately, drop a couple of treats through the bars, and make sure the curtains are open so the little guy has a good view outside.
On my way down the hall, I pause to look at my neighbor’s door. Too bad there’s no nameplate.
I stand there, wondering if I should knock.
It feels like the right thing to do.
You know, at some point, I need to ask for my panties back. Something like, “Hey there, new neighbor, so the panties you borrowed and mysteriously stashed in your pocket—any chance of a return?” Yeah. It’s bound to be awkward (and hilarious at the same time).
With a mix of curiosity and temptation, I’m tempted to rap on his door like I did the day before, wondering if he’ll answer naked again. Imagine his face if I gave him a cheerful good morning “Hello,” with that line above, just to throw him off. Or better yet, start with a surprise kiss! On his lips! Oh, the suspense would be unbearable.
However, it’s early, and I don’t hear any noise inside, so I assume he’s still sleeping.
Besides, we had a sweaty hookup in the back of a bar. It doesn’t mean I’m about to start throwing myself at his feet. He’s good but not that good.
Maybe next time.
Ilike to start my day bright and early, getting to work ahead of the game so I can do my usual rounds and ensure everything is in top-notch condition—today is no exception. Late yesterday afternoon, we broke the news to the staff about Norman’s retirement, and their reactions were like mine. He’s been such an integral, comforting presence, he’s going to be missed. Now that the news has sunk in, I notice they are worried about what a new owner could mean. I do my best to remain positive in front of them. They know they can trust me, and no matter what the new guy tries to do, I’m still the co-owner, and I still have a say.
No one is going to come into my hotel and shake things up without my say-so.
“The new guy is stopping by this morning, right?” Pauline asks when I stop by her office.
I nod, keeping a smile on my face and glancing at my watch. “Yup. That’s right. Norman is introducing us in about three hours.”
