Egomaniac

“What’s your favorite position?”

Emily climbed onto my lap, straddling me. “I like this one.”

I’d have to send Roman a bottle of Gran Patrón Platinum for his brilliant idea tonight. We’d met for drinks at our usual bar, but then he insisted we go next door to Maya to try their empanadas—the guy had an obsession with Mexican food. Emily DeLuca and her friend Allison were already there, enjoying margaritas at the bar. Emily was an attorney at a firm across town where I often referred estate planning work. We’d flirted a few times, and there was a spark, but for me, spark never trumped sparkle on a certain finger on the left hand. And the huge rock she wore was pretty hard to miss.

It was also hard to notice it was missing tonight, especially since she’d wiggled the fingers on her left hand at me right before asking if she could buy me a drink. Even with that obvious gesture, I still confirmed her breakup before we left together. No matter how hot or ready a woman was, I didn’t touch cheaters.

Emily ground down on my growing cock, and I reached around under her bunched-up skirt to grab a handful of ass. Then I pulled on the lacy fabric running up the crack to increase the friction on the front. She moaned, so I pulled harder.

Christ, I love G-strings.

She reached for my shirt and started to work the buttons while I sucked on her neck. “I knew the first time I met you that we’d be good together. I hope you have a full box of condoms. Because after I ride you, I want to be on all fours while you take me from behind.”

The thought of Emily ass-up was exactly what I needed. Especially since I’d spent the last week fantasizing about another woman’s ass—one I should not be thinking about. Although, the repeated visual of Emerie’s creamy, round ass with my pink handprint on it as I hammered into her from behind was a new go-to favorite fantasy of mine. I dreamed of finishing inside of her and then cupping my cum as it dripped out to rub into my handprint on her skin like a salve.

My eyes were shut, and I had to press them tighter to ward off the visual of another woman. Because thinking of one woman while another rides you is a complete dick thing to do, even for me.

Emily lifted enough to slide her hand between us and cupped my cock, giving it a good squeeze. “I want you now.” She began to frantically unbuckle my pants, which had me reaching for my wallet. And then remembering there was no condom in there. Fuck.

“Any chance you have a condom?” I asked, biting on her earlobe.

Her voice was strained. “No. And I screwed up my birth control this month, so please tell me you have one somewhere in this apartment.”

Shit. I didn’t. I’d finished off the big box in my nightstand last month and never got around to replacing it. Then I’d used the emergency one I kept in the back of my wallet in Hawaii.

But…I had a few down in my office in the top right-hand drawer. At least I didn’t have to go outside and freeze my balls off. I groaned as I pulled back. Cupping Emily’s face, I said, “I need two minutes. I’m sorry. Condoms are in my office downstairs.”

“Want me to come with you? I wouldn’t object to a little desk sex. Plus, it will save time.”

Smart girl. But…probably not a good idea to bring her to a place where we’d be surrounded by shit that reminded me of the woman I was trying to keep out of my head.

I gave her a chaste kiss and lifted her off of me. “Stay put. My office is on the first floor. There’s twenty-four-hour security down there. I don’t want to have to cover your mouth when you scream my name.”

The damn elevator took forever to make its way up to my floor, so I took the opportunity to at least buckle my pants before running into Ted, the night doorman. What I should have done was put on shoes. The marble-tiled floor was like an ice cube, and I didn’t want my body temperature cooling down.

Inside my office, I made a point of not looking at Emerie’s closed door as I walked up the hallway. I didn’t need anything else to remind me of her. Definitely not the whiteboard where she wrote sappy relationship crap and then stormed into my office looking all sexy and angry. Nope. Not going to look. Like a two year old, I held my hand up to block my peripheral view of the office across from mine as I opened my door.

Rummaging through my desk, I found three loose condoms in the drawer. Thank fuck. I shoved them in my pocket and started back down the hall toward the lobby. I’d almost cleared the hallway when I heard a sound.

I should look.

Fuck that. Let someone break in and steal whatever they want. I’d deal with it tomorrow. I had more important things waiting for me upstairs.

Then I heard it again. It almost…sounded like a sniffle.

Was Emerie still here? I tried to keep going, but I knew I’d never be able to focus if I thought she could be hurt or something. What if she fell on her way out and was bleeding all over the floor in her closed office? I jogged back to her door and opened it.

“Drew! You scared the shit out of me.” Emerie jumped in her seat and clutched her chest.

“What are you still doing here? I thought you had a hot date with Mr. Escargot?”

“So did I.”

Upon closer inspection, I could see that she’d been crying. She had a tissue wadded up in her hand, and her pale skin was blotchy. “What did he do?” I had the sudden urge to choke the little dweeb with his own bowtie.

She sniffled. “Nothing, really. He just canceled our dinner plans.”

“What happened?”

“Today’s my birthday, and—”

“It’s your birthday? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Birthdays have never been a big deal for me. I celebrated Gotcha Day growing up like most people celebrate birthdays.”

“Gotcha Day?”

“The day my parents brought me home from the adoption agency. They always said everyone had a birthday, but the day they got me was the best present they ever received. So they started to celebrate Gotcha Day with me instead of their own birthdays. It just sort of stuck, and birthdays are just a number for me.”

“That’s really incredible. But you still should have told me it was your birthday.” It didn’t escape me that Emerie barely acknowledged her birthday, while my ex-wife thought her birthday was a national holiday. That had always annoyed the shit out of me even before things got really bad.

She shrugged. “Anyway, I’m just being a big baby. Baldwin made reservations at this popular French restaurant where it’s impossible to get a table, and I was supposed to meet him at eight.”

“What happened?”

“He texted me and said Rachel was pissed that he blew her off to take me to dinner the other night, and when he’d mentioned he was taking me out again, she got annoyed, so he had to cancel tonight.”

The guy was a total asshole. He was definitely stringing Emerie along. There was no doubt in my mind after everything she’d told me and then seeing how he reacted the other night when I’d suggested she and I grab a bite to eat. He was territorial about her in more than a friendly way. Yet he wanted to have his cake and eat it, too.

“I know you have feelings for him. But the guy seems like an asshole to me.”

“I just need to let go and move on.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“I should go out and celebrate my birthday myself—pick someone up in a bar and bring him home with me.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

She sighed. “I know. I’m just not a random-hookup type of girl. I’ve tried it, and I hate myself for weeks after. It’s not worth it.”

Thank God. The thought of her bringing some random guy home to hook up with made me physically sick. Speaking of which…my random hookup was upstairs waiting.

“What are you going to do tonight?” I asked.

“I’m just going to finish up this file and then head home. I’m tired anyway.”

“Okay. Don’t stay too long. We’ll celebrate tomorrow. I’ll take you to Joey’s for lunch.”

Emerie forced a sad smile. “That sounds good.” Her eyes dropped to my feet. “No shoes?”

“I just ran down quick.”

“You’re working late and forget something?”

“No…I…uh…have company.”

“Oh.” Her face, which was already sad, looked like I’d just told her a puppy had died. This time, she couldn’t even force a smile. “Don’t let me keep you. I’ll be out of here shortly anyway.”

I said goodnight but felt like complete shit walking away. Why did I feel like two hundred pounds of added weight was sitting on my shoulders as I rode the elevator back upstairs? It wasn’t me who had screwed her over. I hadn’t even known it was her birthday.

I walked back into my apartment, completely lost in thought, only to be greeted by Emily. She was standing in the doorway that led to my living room, wearing nothing but those sexy-as-shit skinny-heeled shoes and her black lace G-string.

Nothing like a pair of perky D cups to cheer you up when you’re feeling down.

She tilted her head and crossed her legs at the ankles. The shoes were definitely staying on. I could almost feel them digging into my back already. “Like what you see?”

I responded without words, stalking over and lifting her up, guiding her legs to wrap around my waist. “You can ride me later. Right now, I’m going to fuck you on my kitchen table. You okay with that, Emerie?”

She chuckled. “Emily. I think all the blood is rushing south and messing with your ability to speak.”

Fuck. I’d called her Emerie and hadn’t even noticed.

“That must be it.” I walked us to the table and spread her out so I could quickly unbuckle my pants, but when I looked back up at her smiling face, I saw Emerie.

Emerie.

Not Emily who I was just about to fuck.

I blinked a few times, and my eyes came into focus. Chestnut hair, dark Italian skin, big brown eyes. The two looked nothing alike. Hovering over her, I held off on taking down my underwear to clear my head and get back in the moment. Then I took her mouth again, and we were kissing.

But I couldn’t shake the image of Emerie crying alone at her desk. Her big blue eyes red, fair skin blotched, sad about some asshole who was probably eating escargot and would wake her up with shaking walls at two in the morning.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Fuuuuckkk.” I stood up and dragged my hand through my hair, wanting to yank it out in frustration.

“What? What’s wrong?”

I pulled up my pants as I responded. “It’s a client. She called while I was downstairs, and I blew her off. But I need to go work on something.”

“Are you kidding me? Now?”

“I’m sorry, Emerie.”

“Emily.” She covered her breasts as she sat up on the table.

“Emily. Yes. Sorry. My mind is elsewhere.” Like on Emerie, instead of Emily, where it should be.

“It’s fine,” she said.

I could tell it wasn’t. Of course, I didn’t blame her one bit. I’d be pissed as hell if a woman pulled the crap I’d just pulled on her. But there was nothing I could do about it. Except apologize.

“I’m really sorry. It’s time-sensitive, or I wouldn’t do this.”

“I understand.”

She got herself dressed, and less than five minutes after I’d walked into my apartment with a smoking hot naked woman waiting for me, I was walking her to the elevator.

The ride down was uncomfortable. In the lobby, she kissed me on the cheek and walked out without looking back. I should have felt badly, but instead, all I felt was anxious, wondering if Emerie was still here.

She’d better not be gone already.