I stand from the bed and grab my clothes off the floor, dressing hastily as Paul treads to the bathroom. Slipping into my heels, I spin to grab my clutch off the nightstand and run straight into a bare chest.
“Oh, hey, sorry,” I mumble, shifting my weight on my feet. “Just grabbing my stuff.”
He squeezes my hips, bunching the material of my dress in his hands. “Where are you going? Stay for a little while.”
“Can’t. I need to get home.”
“We can order take-out or something. Are you hungry?”
“I already ate.”
His brow furrows as his grip on me loosens, then vanishes completely. His shoulders drop. “Why do I feel like I was just used?”
A laugh rumbles in the back of my throat. I move past him, picking up my clutch. “I had a nice time tonight. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“And do what? Is this going to happen again if I do see you? ‘Cause if I’m being honest, Brooke, I’m not really feeling the love right now.”
I lift my head to look at him. His dark eyes are suddenly unsure. He looks wounded.
Wow, really? Didn’t peg you as a clinger, Paul.
Securing my clutch under my arm, I plant a brief kiss on his cheek, whispering, “don’t act like you didn’t know what this was.”
As I pad toward the door, my heels tapping against the hardwood, I wait for that moment to hit me where I feel remorse, or regret. Anything to make me turn around and reassure this man, but it never comes.
I don’t feel bad for this. I never feel bad after having an orgasm, even if some of them are brought on by my own efforts. And really? Why should I feel bad? He came. A lot, apparently. Enough to make him gaze at that condom like a proud father cradling a newborn. We’re both walking away from this experience satisfied, even if I am technically the only one walking.
Regret? Remorse? Fuck that noise. I’m Brooke Wicks, and I love sex. A lot of it. I don’t see any problem with my hit it and quit it philosophy. I’m doing what I want with the men I want to do it with.
Period.
Hand on the doorknob, I turn and give Paul one last look; a sweet one. “Good night.”
His eyes, lost in focus, slowly lift to meet mine. “Yeah . . . yeah, good night.”
With little resistance, I slam the door shut, smiling at the sound.
A hard, satisfying bang.
Nope. No regrets here.
I step inside the condo, shutting the door behind me and setting my keys and clutch down. Two sets of eyes peer curiously at me over the back of the couch.
Let the interrogation begin.
“Yes?” I ask, pulling my heels off and setting them by the door.
Billy turns around, throwing his arm behind Joey. “Well?”
I limply shrug. “Five.”
“That’s it?” Joey’s back goes rigid. His eyebrows meet his blonde hairline. “On a scale of one to ten, he was a five in bed? Are you fucking serious?”
“Oh, I thought you were asking me how big he was.”
Billy clears his throat, his wide eyes roaming the condo uncomfortably.
I look between the two of them. “Seven. Extra point for the dirty talking.”
Joey grimaces, waving me over. “A seven with a dick smaller than your vibrator? God . . . you poor, poor baby.”
“I know. I was going to bail when I saw it, but then I thought I’d see what he could do. You know me . . . always the team player. Plus, it was pierced.”
I round the couch and sit on the end next to Joey, who by the look on his face, is visualizing a pierced dick. Billy mouths the word “no” when he’s given an inquisitive stare, prompting a low laugh to push past Joey’s lips.
I twirl a chunk of hair around my fingers.
Mm. Out of the two of them, I’d peg Joey to be the one with the barbell through his junk. Billy wears too many suits, and don’t lawyers go through metal detectors when they go to court?
I can’t see him wanting to explain his Prince Albert every day to security.
My body forms to the soft leather as I relax, head tilted back, my gaze on the ceiling. “He got all clingy on me when I was leaving. Full-on puppy-dog eyes and everything. I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Humph. Are you sure he didn’t have a vagina?”
I scoff at Joey. “I think I would’ve noticed. I was all up in it.”
Billy stands and grabs the large, half-empty bowl of popcorn off the coffee table as Joey and I share a laugh.
“You want to watch a movie with us? We just started The Best Of Me.”
I smile up at Billy. “Nicholas Sparks? How very gay of you.”
He feigns a laugh, hand flattening on his chest. “Hilarious, Brooke.”
“Oh!” I shift onto my knees so that I can look between the two of them as Billy moves into the kitchen.
I almost forgot!