K. Bromberg: Hard Beat

“Right there. Yes!” She draws out the moan in that throaty voice of hers that sounds like satisfaction.

I pick up the pace. My balls ache so damn bad and my dick swells to the point of pain. I try to hold back so that I can bring her there first. Make her writhe and moan and milk my cock to help me reach mine. But when I look down at my thumb on her swollen clit, her tits jiggling with each thrust I make, her hands at her sides gripping the sheets, and the mist of sweat on her chest reflected in the moonlight, the mixture of her beauty and the intensity of the act itself pushes me to work at this a little harder.

In order to please my partner, I usually try to hold out as long as possible. That’s just not gonna happen this time. No fucking way, because the minute I hear BJ moan out that she’s going to come, I lose sight of everything else in the room.

Usually I take pleasure in watching my companion ride that high that seems so goddamn intense for a woman, but this time I don’t have the wherewithal for that. She tenses around me and pulls me to the edge hard and fast. My vision goes white, then black, as the ball of energy churns in my gut and branches out to my limbs like the beginning of a lightning rod. The combination of her crying out and me pressing her legs back so I can get as deep as possible drives me to the point of no return.

I climax with a hard groan as the electricity bursts through me, my nerve endings singed, my muscles tensed, and my body riding that sexual high. My dick is so goddamn sensitive that her muscles’ contracting causes me to pull out quicker than usual.

As I gaze down at her lying on the bed, a blanket of hair framing her flushed cheeks, and her body still quivering, I smile shyly with awkwardness at her and get a smile in return, but it’s the look in her eyes I can’t read. She looks conflicted, guarded, like she wants to tell me something but isn’t speaking up.

I shrug away the feeling because my fingers are still gripping the flesh of her thighs and my dick’s coated from her pleasure, so does it really matter what the hell she’s thinking? Maybe she’s just uncertain what to say, because what’s considered polite conversation when we’ve just fucked after meeting for a whole twenty minutes max?

We both startle when the ring of my cell phone cuts through the uncomfortable silence. And I swear I catch my sigh of relief before I blow it out; although I’m relieved to be saved by the bell, I want to mitigate any inevitable discomfort between us.

A gentleman would ignore his cell, and normally I’m just that. But in light of the situation and the fact that I’m waiting for a call from Rafe, I’m going to take the convenient out. When I glance to the floor where my phone sits faceup, I can just make out his name on the screen.

“Sorry. I can’t not get this.” I feel like such a dick, but it doesn’t stop me, and I squeeze her inner thighs in a show of regret. “I’m sorry,” I murmur again, meeting her surprised eyes as she unwraps her legs from around my waist. I take a step back, and I quickly avert my eyes as I toe the edge of embarrassment.

She murmurs something about understanding that I’m not sure I believe as I pick up my phone and head toward the bathroom to try and get some privacy in this tiny room.

“Dude. Do you have any clue what fucking time it is?” I ask the question to save face on why I sound winded, but then I look at my watch and realize it’s two o’clock in the damn morning.

“No. No damn clue, but you picked up awfully fast, so I know you’re not sleeping.” His statement hangs on the line like a question, but I just ignore it.

“What do you need, Rafe?” I glance over my shoulder to see BJ lying on the bed but covering herself up with the sheet. Shit. Well, I guess I can look on the bright side; more sex might be in my immediate future. That’s never a bad thing.

“Got your new photographer lined up. Name’s Bo Croslyn. I set it up for you two to meet in the normal place,” he says, referring to the hotel’s one pseudo–conference room all of us correspondents have taken over as our place to do official business when we need privacy and we’re not out in the field.

I knew this phone call was coming, knew I was going to get a new photog, but for some reason having it actually happen makes me feel like I’m betraying Stella. Ridiculous.

“Experience?” I ask as I take the condom off and toss it in the trash can next to the toilet. The line fills with silence while I turn the faucet on and clean up. “Rafe? What are you not telling me?”

“Nothing abroad just —”

“Nothing abroad?” My voice escalates. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re sending me a goddamn newbie? Some fresh-faced kid that’s going to get himself killed… or better yet, get me killed. What the —”

“Calm down. That’s not what —”

“This. Is. Calm.” I grit the words out. The false calm from the whiskey and the orgasm that were like a salve to soothe the invisible wounds is now gone. “Jesus H., man. After Stella… after how that went down, you’re gonna do this to me?”

“It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. Bo’s pictures are killer.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I catch a fleeting glimpse of BJ in the mirror, but I don’t turn to look because I’m so damn busy being pissed at Rafe.

“That’s not what I meant, Tanner.”

“I know what you meant.”

“Just wait. I think you guys will really click.”

“I don’t need you to bullshit me. I really don’t. The only click I need from Bo is the damn camera’s.”

Rafe chuckles into the line, but I know he’s just humoring me. I don’t have a damn leg to stand on since I’m the one who begged to be back here.

“Oh wow. I didn’t realize how late it was there. I’m so sorry,” he says, feigning apology to change the subject.

“Uh-huh.”

“Meet Bo at ten a.m. I’m late for a meeting.”

“Rafe —” The rest of my comment dies on my lips when the line goes dead. Fucking hell. Seriously?

I slam my fist against the cheap bathroom counter, but I haven’t even been here long enough to have any products on it to rattle. Something about the thought hits home. Why? Because I’m back and it’s all so different but the same too. I toss the phone onto the towel there, brace my hands on the Formica edge, and let my head hang down for a brief moment to rein in my frustration.

“I’m sorry about that,” I say as I walk back into the room. My steps falter when I take in the empty bed and my clothes as the sole items strewn on the floor. My immediate reaction is to stride toward the door, call her back, and apologize. Hell yes, it was a one-night stand, but my mother raised me to respect women.

Then I laugh at the thought, finding humor in the notion, considering what BJ and I just did: wham, bam, and not even a thank you, ma’am .

When I realize how stupid I am for almost chasing after her since I don’t want anything more, I take my hand off the door, turn around, and stand there naked with my hands on my hips. I glance around my room to see if anything was disturbed. People are ruthless trying to get a leg up on a story in this industry, but shit, I’ve been here for less than a day; it’s not like I have some big scoop worth stealing. Besides, I’m smart enough not to leave anything out if I did.

Look at me, paranoid already, and I’ve only been back in the game for less than twenty-four hours. Just like riding a bike . I sigh at my stupidity and make my way to the bed, but with Rafe’s words still ringing in my ears, BJ’s kiss still on my lips, and perfume on my sheets, I know sleep will be hard to find.

I sit on the edge of the mattress and lie back, scrubbing my hand over my face. What a fucking day. Back in this land I love and hate all at the same time with ghosts I need to let go. Except I fucking can’t. Add to that how goddamn good it was to see all of the guys again and the unanticipated bout of sex.