He stepped back. “Well, come inside. Wouldn’t want you to get cold.”
She stepped inside, and he pressed her frame against the door. “You miss me?” he asked.
“You know I did,” she murmured, fluttering her fake lashes.
He ran his hand down her side and wrapped his fingers around her thigh, lifting it up.
She hooked her leg over his hip.
“Show me,” he said.
He flipped up her skirt and ran his fingers over her panties. The heat and dampness made him grin. “Oh, I think I can feel it now.” He slid her underwear aside and pushed two fingers inside of her slick heat. Her muscles flexed around him, and he groaned. “So damn tight and hot.” He tilted his angle, plunged in, and pulled out over and over.
Her muscles tightened, and her hips gyrated. She rose on her tiptoes, seeking more. “Oh, Enzo.”
He deployed his finishing move, hooking his fingers as he hit the one inch, hard, round area better known as the g-spot.
“Oh! Yes—right there,” she screamed, working her hips for all she was worth. She was beautiful, lost in her grand display of passion.
Now, he was in control. He continued to hit her magical spot until she splintered beneath them, quivering and calling his name. Her response gave him a temporary high. He could bring pleasure. That was something. Keep telling yourself that, the angel on his shoulder said.
“Shipping Out to Boston” began to blare from his phone. Aibhlinn. Suddenly, he felt dirty and ashamed of his behavior. He pulled back from Tracee, who leaned against the door heavily. Aibhlinn would be disappointed in him if she knew what he was doing. Not that she ever voiced her opinions on his promiscuity, but he could see it in her eyes. She thought sex was a sacred act that should only be shared by people with a serious commitment to one another. He halfway thought she didn’t believe in sex before marriage, but he knew she’d engaged in it, at least, a time or two. He peered down at Tracee.
Her face looked flushed, her lips were open as she breathed raggedly, and her hair was mused. Her skin seemed to glow. She opened her eyes and gave him a shaky smile. “You sure know how to greet a girl, Enzo.”
“I forgot I had something to do, Trace. This phone call is one I need to return.”
“Wait, what?”
“You know how it is when you run your own business,” he said with a shrug.
“Are you kidding me right now?”
“Serious as a heart attack.”
“Maybe next time I won’t come when you call,” she retorted huffily.
“You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. Whatever it is you’re looking for, I can’t give it to you.”
“You are such an asshole,” she growled.
He nodded his head, stepping back as she pushed herself away from the door.
For the second time, she left in a rage, slamming the door behind her so hard he swore the walls rattled.
He walked into the kitchen, washed his hands, and returned to the couch. Picking up the phone, he returned Aibhlinn’s call.
“Hey, what are you doing right now?”
“Fucking up,” he whispered before his brain could tell him not to.
“Then stop,” she said softly.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can, Enz. You’re one of the strongest people I know, whether you believe that or not. There’s nothing you can’t do if you put your mind to it. Look at where you are in life. You’re a homeowner, a business owner, and you’re making art good enough to earn a place in a gallery.”
“Your mom’s,” he said.