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After Erika left, I stripped down, my arousal still raging with no outlet but my hand. With images of her sweet body tangled with mine, I jerked off until I was spent. Exhausted, I slipped under the soft white sheets, pulling the thick black quilt over me. My dreams were full of her—her laugh, her smile, her touch—not just sexually, but in every way that mattered. I was jolted awake less than three hours later, my heart pounding as I dreamt of our marriage.
“Jesus Christ, you’re pathetic,” I muttered into the darkness, running a hand through my hair. Erika was turning my life upside down in just a matter of weeks. Marriage? For God’s sake, it wasn’t even on my radar, but my subconscious seemed to be all in on the idea. I dragged my tired body out of bed, padding into the kitchen where I located the eighteen-year-old scotch in my glass-fronted cabinet. Skipping the glass, I drank straight from the bottle, relishing the burn as it slid down my throat.
That woman was driving me crazy. Who would’ve thought a simple real estate transaction could send my life careening off the path I had meticulously planned? With a frustrated sigh, I put the bottle back and returned to my room. I snatched my phone off the nightstand as I slipped back under the covers, my mind racing. I debated for a moment, then decided to take action.
Please tell me you’re up.
A few minutes later, my phone buzzed with her response.
It’s 2:30 in the morning. Why would I be up?
Because you’re as disturbed as I am.
My cell rang a few seconds later. Erika’s voice, thick with sleep and sultry as ever, came through the line. “What do you mean by disturbed?”
The sound of her voice had an immediate effect, and I shifted under the covers, trying to get comfortable. “We’re getting to each other,” I replied, my voice a little rougher than intended.
“Why are you up?” she asked, a hint of curiosity creeping into her tone.
“I can’t sleep,” I admitted, running a hand through my hair in frustration. “I shouldn’t have sent you home.”
She giggled, the sound light and teasing. “The offer was there, Elliott. You let it slip away, and now I’m the one benefiting—from my vibrator.”
My cock twitched at her admission, and I let out a groan, not bothering to hide the effect she had on me. Erika giggled again, clearly enjoying my reaction.
“Silly Elliott,” she teased, her voice full of amusement.
“Don’t silly me,” I said, trying to maintain some seriousness despite the playful banter. “I want this to work.”
“What exactly do you want to work?” she asked, her tone challenging now, as if daring me to be honest.
“Us,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I told you the truth about my relationships for a reason. I’m a work in progress, and this is all new to me. You’ll be the first.”
There was a brief pause, followed by the sound of crunching. “First what?” she asked between bites.
I frowned, momentarily distracted. “What the hell are you eating?”
“Popcorn,” she said casually. “I eat when I’m nervous.”
I smirked, feeling a small sense of satisfaction. “I make you nervous?”
“Shut up, Elliott,” she shot back, though I could hear the smile in her voice. “I asked you a question.”
“First girlfriend, first relationship,” I admitted, feeling a little exposed by the confession.
“What makes you think I want to have either with you?” she challenged. “Maybe I just want a good, hard fuck with a nice-sized cock.”
“You’d get both with me,” I replied, my tone full of confidence, “and then some.”
She crunched on a few more kernels, the sound making me chuckle. “What kind of popcorn are you eating?” I asked, trying to bring the conversation back around.
“Trying to change the subject?” she asked, a teasing edge to her voice.
“What kind? Is it spicy or sweet?” I pressed, genuinely curious now.
“Can’t it be both?” she responded playfully.
“Is it both?” I asked.
