One Night

I shot him a dirty look. “So that’s your grand plan? Sex?”

“Just listen,” he said, and I was taken aback by his serious demeanor as he continued.

“You told me that your jerk of an ex was your first in everything. Since you guys broke up tonight, I’m guessing you haven’t had a second. You need a second, and sooner rather than later.”

I crossed my arms, giving him a skeptical look. “And what makes you think I won’t have it again?”

“Because you seem like the type who would want to be on her own for a while before even considering something new,” he said, and I hated to admit it, but he had a point.

“It’s like with pilots. If one survives a plane crash, they put him back in the cockpit the next day so he doesn’t have time to develop a fear.

“I think this approach could work for someone as headstrong as you too.”

Even as I frowned, I found myself mulling over his words, then I almost slapped myself.

Was I really contemplating having sex with a stranger, on a beach, right after breaking up with my ex? Was I seriously considering letting this guy be my second?

As he watched me intently, his eyes a smoky gray, I realized the answer. I was considering it. I was seriously considering it.

“Don’t you think you should ask my name before suggesting we have sex?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the previous topic.

This stranger seemed incredibly in tune with me, giving me a knowing look as if he understood what I was doing. I’d never had someone understand me so completely, especially not a stranger.

“I think names can give a false first impression,” he replied, catching me off guard.

“If you told me your name was, hypothetically, Amy, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from making assumptions based on that name.”

“So you’re not a fan of names,” I concluded, looking away with a haughty expression. “Maybe because yours is terrible?”

He laughed. “I don’t mind my name,” he responded, and when I looked back at him, his eyes were filled with amusement. “I just mind others.”

“Let’s use fake names, then,” I suggested. “I don’t really want to give you my real name anyway, and I don’t need to know yours. But just for tonight, let’s use aliases.”

He leaned back on the couch, giving me a thoughtful look. After a few moments of silence, he grinned. “I’m Steve.”

I rolled my eyes. “Pick a sexier name.”

He laughed, a deep, resonant sound that made my stomach flutter. “Alright,” he said. “Then I’m Wayne.”

“Are you a reformed gangster or a hardcore rapper?” I raised an eyebrow.

He shrugged. “It’s Batman’s last name and it’s better than Bruce.”

I rolled my eyes again, shrugging. “Fine. Be Wayne. I’ll be Cleo.”

“Short for Cleopatra?” He raised an eyebrow this time. “Someone thinks highly of herself.”

“Says Batman,” I retorted, grinning when he chuckled.

When he saw my grin, he paused, staring for a moment before becoming serious again.

“So,” he began, shifting closer to me. Suddenly, the air was thick with tension again, the same tension from before, a tension I’d never experienced until tonight.

My stomach did a flip when he smoothly moved next to me, his thigh brushing against mine, his arm draped over the back of the couch behind me, and his face so close I could smell the beer on his breath.

“I have to say, Cleo, not many women manage to hold my attention after just a few seconds of conversation, let alone all night.”

Trying to hide my nervousness, I forced my muscles to relax. “And I have to say, Wayne, you’re quite a character.”

He smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

I gave him a patronizing look. “I didn’t mean it as one.”

He chuckled, a low, undeniably sexy sound, that made my chest feel heavy.

“I never knew I was such a masochist,” he murmured, his face just inches from mine.

My heart pounded so loudly I thought my ears might burst. “A masochist?” I managed to get out, trying to keep the conversation going because I was starting to lose focus. I wasn’t ready to lose focus yet.

“I usually avoid women like you,” he said softly, sending a shiver down my spine as his hand reached behind me to undo my neatly tied ponytail.

Suddenly, my hair was loose, falling in its usual golden waves down to my waist. His fingers ran through it, almost brushing it, before his hand cupped the back of my head.

He brought my face even closer to his, our foreheads touching, sending a jolt of electricity through my body.

“Women like you usually clash with me,” he continued, his lips just an inch from mine.

“They never back down, never give in, and since I’m the same way, we butt heads. But you’re different. I can sense a softness in you that women like you usually lack.”

Thinking was becoming difficult, but somehow I managed to whisper, “Softness?”

He gave me one last look before murmuring, “In all the right places, baby.”

There were no more words after that. His lips met mine, and like it had been asleep for so long, my body came alive, awakened.

My skin tightened when his lips coaxed mine to open, to let him in, and when he gained access and his tongue brushed against mine, my entire body shuddered with pure, thrilling pleasure.

This was what I’d been missing when I settled for a man who meant absolutely nothing to me.

I was eager to dive into the new feelings that were coursing through me, and I didn’t hold back.

I placed my hands on his shoulders, leaning into him, deepening the kiss with a hunger that was hard to contain.

He matched my intensity, our lips locked in a passionate dance, the beach and the cool night air brushing against our heated skin.

But it wasn’t enough. I craved more. I wanted to rewrite the script of this night, not because it was a disaster or embarrassing. No, there was another reason.

It was June fifth. There hadn’t been a gala.

Instead, my ex had thrown a lavish birthday party for me, inviting both our families, my friends, his friends, our mutual friends, basically everyone I knew and loved.

I had just turned twenty-two. It was a big deal.

He had plans for us to get married shortly after our four-year anniversary, which was only five months away.

But then everything fell apart and my birthday became…well, nothing.

But this moment, this guy, this right now…I felt like I’d been given a consolation prize from the universe, and it wasn’t a bad one. It was pretty damn good.

I needed to feel him closer, because just kissing wasn’t enough. I wanted all he had to give.

Like a woman starved, I pushed him to sit upright and I straddled him, pressing my most intimate part against the hardness in his pants.

He didn’t seem to mind that I was taking control. I certainly didn’t mind it.

His lips left mine and, with his hand still cradling the back of my head, he tilted my head to expose my neck. He kissed and licked it, and I sat there, dazed, letting him do whatever he wanted.

My breathy moans filled the quiet night as he moved down my neck, his hands deftly lowering the straps of my dress down my arms.

My chest met the cool air, the breeze making my nipples even more sensitive. He didn’t waste any time; he licked and nipped one while fondling and pinching the other.

My throat was dry and I could feel him growing even harder in his pants, while my panties were nearly soaked. Taking advantage of my position, I began grinding against him, dry-humping him.

I’d only ever done that with a pillow when I was younger and more desperate. I’d never done it with a man before, especially not my ex. Dirty wasn’t a word we used in our relationship.

I felt him growl against my skin, and then his lips were on mine again and his hands were cupping my butt. He guided me deeper onto him, grinding harder and faster against him, until we couldn’t take it anymore.

He pushed my dress up to my waist, moved my panties aside, freed his throbbing erection, and without any more foreplay, he thrust up inside of me just as I lowered myself onto him with all I had.

Our mutual enthusiasm created a friction that made me shiver uncontrollably and him freeze as he adjusted to me and vice versa.

It had been a while since I’d had sex—a few months, if I remembered correctly—and he was…he was big. Really big.

Not just long, but also thick enough to make me feel full to the point of bursting. My ex had been much smaller.

My hands, still on his shoulders, felt him tense, trying to let me adjust to him. But I wanted him to move. I needed him to move. I needed this to be perfect.

So I tried to move against him, but his hands gripped my butt cheeks tightly, warning me not to move just yet. Just when I was about to scream in frustration, I found myself pushed onto my back, him looming over me.

Then he pulled out and thrust back inside me with such force, my back arched and I moaned so loud, it echoed through the deserted beach.

Grabbing my hips, he lifted my lower body as he began to thrust in and out of me so fast, the friction drove me wild with desire.

My hands clung to the blanket on the couch, and moans escaped my lips one after another, filling the night air.

The tension in my stomach was almost unbearable. He just needed to do one more thing and I’d break…

I cried out when he suddenly rubbed his thumb against my clit, my entire body exploding from the inside out.

Spasms took over my legs, my hands, my entire body, and I felt myself melting, coating him with my release.

He groaned deep in his throat, and it only took two more thrusts before he pulled out and came on my stomach.

Then he looked down at me, his eyes gleaming silver. I was sure my blue ones mirrored his.

Something flickered in his eyes then, something I couldn’t read.

Whatever it was, it made his jaw clench and he looked away, tucking himself back into his pants, and sitting rigidly on the couch, as if we hadn’t just done anything.

As if the evidence of what we’d just done wasn’t smeared across my stomach.

But what had we done anyway? It was just sex. A casual encounter between two strangers.

I was pretty sure that he’d been aiming for this, and the whole helping me thing was just a unique way of getting me out of my panties. But whatever his methods, I had agreed and it was consensual.

Hell, I’d been more active in this sexual encounter than I ever had been with my boyfriend. Back then I’d always just laid there and waited for it to be over. Now…not so much.

I sat up, despite my body’s protests, and pulled my panties back on, adjusted my breasts back into my dress and pulled the straps back up.

I then braided my ridiculously long hair and tied it. Then I looked at him. “You were right,” I told him, “I did need this.”

He glanced at me, his gaze unreadable. “I bet you never had good sex with your boyfriend.”

“Ex now,” I corrected, and then shook my head. “With him it was just another step in our relationship. It didn’t mean anything, didn’t feel like anything.

“This…”—I gestured between us—“was something else. For the first time, I felt my body. I felt everything. I felt human.”

He grinned then. “I always knew I was good, just not that good.”

I rolled my eyes and pushed myself up. “Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, reaching for my heels.

“Any guy could’ve been in your place tonight and I’d still have had a good time. Now,” I shot him a small, teasing smile, “I think it’s time for me to head home.”

His smile didn’t waver as he stood up too. “As you wish,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I think we both got what we came for tonight, wouldn’t you agree?”

His question was rhetorical, but as we walked back to the main road, I found myself answering it in my head. Yes, we both got what we came for.

I got closure and a sweet memory to replace the bitter one from my birthday night. I got to vent about all the pent-up feelings I had about my ex.

I got to be me again—demanding, stubborn, assertive, me. I got to revert to who I was, to what I was four years ago.

And I loved every second of it.

Turns out he’d parked his car at the beach. It was a big, black Land Cruiser that growled as it sped down the road.

The drive was mostly quiet, with only the radio playing softly in the background. I didn’t mind it. In fact, I was grateful for the music and the silence.

When we reached the city, he asked me where I lived. I told him to drop me off at the pub where we’d met, since it was close to my apartment.

As he pulled up outside the pub and yanked the handbrake, he turned to face me. Our eyes locked, and I could see him searching mine for something.

I didn’t know what he was looking for, or if he found it when he blinked and all that was left was his intense gaze.

“You’re a special woman, Cleo,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Don’t let any guy make you feel less than the amazing person you have the potential to be.”

I tilted my head, a small smile playing on my lips.

“Thanks for the pep talk, but I figured that out long before you came along,” I told him, and saw surprise flicker in his eyes.

He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re one of a kind.”

Still smiling, I opened the door and gave him one last look. “Good night, Wayne. And thank you.”

He gave me a look I couldn’t decipher and smiled back. “Good night, Cleo. Promise me you won’t give up on us men just yet.”

I blinked in surprise.

After our night at the beach, all the negative thoughts I had about men didn’t seem as bitter as they had before he walked into the pub and it was just me and my whiskey.

Another barrier the mysterious stranger had managed to break down. “I won’t,” I said, and I meant it. I wouldn’t give up on men just yet.

Not after what this man had shown me was possible tonight.

Then I was out of the car, walking down the street, while he drove off, each of us returning to our own lives.

But that was just the beginning. That night had been both an ending and a beginning, and I had no idea that the ball had just started rolling.