Bachelor No More
“Thank God,” she says, jumping up. Her torn pajama pants are a stark reminder that I have zero patience when it comes to her. I follow her down the small hallway to the bedroom. There are clothes strewn everywhere, but the bed is clear. It’s unmade, and I love how disorderly the room looks. It looks actually lived in, unlike the mausoleum I live in downtown.
I watch her as she pulls off the tattered remains of her pants and tosses them in the trash can by her makeup table, and then climbs into bed. She rubs her pussy while I remove my cufflinks. I forget to breathe for a moment, but then I take my shirt off, followed by my pants, shoes, and socks. Then I join her on the bed.
We stay up all night making love and talking. The more I get to know her, the more I never want to leave. Sometime after dawn, I fall asleep. When I wake up, it’s afternoon, and Hilda’s not in bed anymore. I pull my boxers on and walk out into the living room. She’s sitting on the couch watching Dirty Dancing and writing on her laptop.
“Good morning,” I say. She jumps a little.
“Good morning. Was I too loud?” she asks.
“Not at all. I never sleep this late,” I say.
“Oh, no worries. Can I get you some coffee?”
“Sure,” I say. She gets off the couch and walks into the kitchen, and fires up the Keurig.
“How do you take it?”
“Black is fine.” She smiles at me and pulls a mug down from the cabinet.
“I’m afraid I only have what I like to call fun mugs.”
“Fun mugs?”
“This one is Garfield,” she says, smiling.
“That’s just fine,” I say, accepting the cup when she hands it to me. I take my first sip of the strong Columbian coffee and wake up even more. She’s dressed in a pair of black yoga pants and a cropped t-shirt that says odio todo. “So you hate everything?”
“What”
“Your shirt,” I say, gesturing to it.
“Oh, lol. My sister gave it to me for Christmas about ten years ago. I was in a phase. I still love it, though.”
“I love that you are so comfortable.”
“That doesn’t sound like a compliment,” she says, frowning.
“It is, I promise. I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
“What does that mean?” she asks. I set my coffee down on the counter and pull her close to me.
“It means that in all my years, I’ve never met a woman so down to earth, so sexy, or so genuinely nice before. You are a stunning combination of sophisticated, grungy, and erotic, and I want to get to know you better.”
“I’d say you know me well enough now. I swear I don’t typically have sex with a man the same day I meet him, and I certainly never had sex like that before.”
“You’ve never met a man like me before,” I reply, causing her to grin.
“I’d have to agree with that, Warren,” she says, nodding her head. Her hair tumbles down out of the loose knot on the top of her head. She looks like a decadent angel. One that I have to mess up in the best possible way.
Lowering my head to hers, I kiss her. Her arms go around my neck. It doesn’t take much for me to lift her up and put her on the island. Her tight pants perfectly outline her pussy lips. I trace my fingers over them. She moans and spreads her thighs wider. I rip them down the middle again.
“You gotta stop ripping my pants. I won’t have any left at this rate.”
“Then stop wearing them. Don’t hide this pussy away from me, and I won’t have to destroy your pants,” I say, shrugging. She giggles. I kiss her again, quickly before dropping to my knees and eating her cunt. I’m greedy for her. I slide my hands up her short shirt, palming her bare tits, squeezing and pulling on her nipples while I eat her. Her hands clench at her sides, and I can tell she’s close, but I don’t stop. Even after she comes, I continue to lap at her sweet juice.
I’m never going to get enough of her.
Chapter Four
Hilda
The last two weeks with this man have been nothing short of amazing. For the first time in my career, I’ve let a deadline pass, and I feel nothing but happiness. I’m sore from the sheer amount of sex we’ve had and the amazing positions he put me in. We’ve done things that I honestly thought I wasn’t flexible enough for, but I feel like I can do anything with him. I’m exhausted from the lack of sleep too. If we aren’t having sex, we are talking about absolutely everything. I know more about him than I know about anyone. I never thought anything like this would ever, ever happen to me. I thought thirty was too old to fall in love for the first time, but I was so, so, so wrong. Warren, named after Warren G. Harding, the 29th president of the United States, showed me what love is. I also learned that all first-born sons have been named after the man of peace since his grandfather was born in 1923, the year the president passed away.