Hooked #2 (The Hooked Romance Series - Book 2) (7 page)

We were nearing our apartments. His dick was so hard
in my hand. He parked the car swiftly, just outside of the apartment building,
and hurriedly put himself back in his pants. He rushed around to my side of the
car to pull me out onto the sidewalk and kiss me passionately, grabbing my ass
with his strong fingers in the September darkness. “God. You make me want to
fuck you,” he said, his eyes wet, looking only at me.

Finally, we turned toward our apartment building and
rushed up the steps on a mission. We pounded down the hallway toward his
apartment. “Marty’s not home,” he whispered and shoved the door open, allowing
me to enter.

His apartment was dark, smelling vaguely of beer and
whiskey. After he closed the door, he grabbed me and picked me up, taking me
directly to the table in the kitchen. He placed me there and reached beneath my
dress, tugging my panties down my long, slim legs. I felt my pussy come free;
it was wet and hot between my legs.

He flung my panties across the room before beginning
to unbutton my dress, revealing my supple breasts and tight stomach. I sat
before him, gleaming and naked on the table, my breasts bouncing a bit with
each heaving breath. “Baby. Fuck me,” I said.

But he wasn’t ready, and I was nearly gasping for
breath. He knelt before me and placed his lips between my legs, beginning to
play with my clit, my pussy with his tongue. He knew what he was doing, and I began
to feel so hot, so steamy on my chest, on my thighs as he fucked me with his
tongue.

“Oh, god,” I heaved. I felt like I was being too
loud, but I didn’t care. I wanted to scream my lust into the night.

Finally, he made me come, his tongue strapped between
my legs in my hot, steaming pussy. I grabbed his head and brought him up to my
lips, and we kissed deeply. He grabbed my breasts and twisted at the nipples. I
unbuckled his belt once more, tossing his pants to the ground. He removed his
boxers, his shirt, and stood before me; a tall, naked, stunning man. He pushed
my head back and
pulsed
his enormous dick inside of
me. I could feel it deep in my body, and I screamed into the night. He grabbed
at my breasts as he pushed himself into me; pumping over and over again. I
wrapped my legs around his body, forcing him closer, deeper inside of me. His
eyes were dipping back inside his head; his pleasure was enormous.

After a few moments, I pushed him back and lifted
myself up, bringing him with me toward the living room. I knelt over a chair
looking out over the churning city before me as he pushed inside my pussy from
behind. He reached around and began playing with my pussy, bringing me pleasure
from both areas. He sighed over me, and I could feel the heat of his body as he
pushed into me. “God,” I murmured, feeling him so heavy. I looked out over the
great city, imagining who else was fucking, who else had such great
passion—such brilliant manners in the bedroom.

After several more minutes, Drew gave out a large,
long cry, jerking violently with the pleasure. He pulled back, removing his
dick from my pussy, and I spun toward him, kissing him passionately. I wasn’t
done. I couldn’t be done. I led him into the shower and turned on the heat. I
stepped in as he eyed me in the water, playing with my hair, with my breasts.
He sat on the toilet, breathing heavily, resting, until my body became too much
for him.

He stepped into the shower, shocked at the warmth of
the water. He pushed me up against the side of the shower and began kissing me,
wrapping his tongue around mine. “Yeah, baby. I can’t resist your body. You
have a perfect body,” he kept saying, over and over. “Come on. Let’s fuck
again. Please, baby.”

And finally, I wrapped my legs around him and
allowed his dick back in my dripping pussy. I felt him deep inside me once
more, and my scream echoed throughout the bathroom as the water rushed over us.

Sometime around three in the morning, after multiple
orgasms, multiple positions, Drew and I collapsed in each other’s arms in his
bedroom, completely naked. I loved the way his body felt as we drifted off to
sleep. I loved the way he grasped my back, my body, as if I belonged to him; as
if I were truly his. I felt in those moments like we were a pair, like nothing
could come between us.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

The next morning, I woke up early—around eight.
Beside me, Drew slept on in dream world. His eyes fluttered. I wanted to kiss
him, to wake him with my naked body, to fuck him once more. But I knew that I
needed to get back to real life, that I couldn’t let the events of the previous
evening change the day. I couldn’t simply get wrapped up in something when I
wasn’t sure of the stakes. Did Drew actually care about me? Or did it just seem
that way when we had been at dinner, when we had been in the shower, calling
out our attraction for one another.

I crept up from his bed, looking around the room.
The light shone in from the window, falling over the aged bedspread. It was
clearly something he had had for a long time—perhaps since childhood. I
imagined that whatever he had picked out for his “real” apartment—opening next
month—was much nicer. I wondered if I would ever see the new apartment, if this
sex
was
just part-time in the wake of him simply
living down the hall.

And yet, he hadn’t known he had been living down the
hall during all those days of text messages, of missed calls.

I crept out of the bedroom, not before seeing a
framed picture of him and who I assumed was Marty, the roommate. I guessed they
were about fifteen years old and they had their arms wrapped around each other.
They were wearing adorable baseball jerseys. I chuckled to myself, knowing that
Mel had known and loved Drew, all these years ago. Mel,
herself
,
would have only been about ten years old when the photo was taken! And she was
Drew’s aunt!

The world was strange.

I walked out into the living room, making sure to
close his bedroom door behind me. The kitchen and the dining room was a mess.
Things had been pushed to the floor for our raucous sexual activity. I chuckled
to myself, thinking that I should clean it all up—especially if his roommate came
home. But a small part of me wanted Drew to see the mess, as well; to
understand the true damage we had gotten up to last night. It was beautiful,
really; the passion behind the tossed books, the ripped pages.

I grabbed my clothes as I walked, feeling so very
naked in the light of his apartment. My green dress, my underwear. I held them
in front of my breasts as I walked toward the door, opened it, and rushed down
the hall. I felt an infinite level of adrenaline, of joy as I burst into the
place I’d called my home for the past two years, completely naked and
completely happy.

On the table sat Boomer, his yellow eyes looking up
at me with such confusion. I dropped my clothes to the ground and put my hands
on my hips, trying to give him a similar level of sass. “What’s up, Boom?” I
asked him. I leaned forward and scratched his ear over and over. Soon, he
closed his eyes, giving way to the sense of pleasure.

“I know. It’s easy to get distracted with pleasure,”
I murmured to him. I rushed to my room to find my robe and a book. I wanted an
entire day of lazy—an entire day during which I could daydream and imagine a
whole life before me with Drew by my side. It didn’t have to happen; it didn’t
have to be real. It just had been so long since I had given myself the chance
to hope for something, that I couldn’t handle it. I needed some time to think.

The next day, I went down to the lake and went for a
long run along the beach, feeling the way the sand allowed my shoes to bounce
up from the ground. I didn’t know that I was grinning the entire
time, that
people were looking at me strangely in the
whirring of the Chicago wind off the lake. I tried to replay the events of the
previous night in my head, but I grew far too horny to even keep up with
myself.

On the train back to my apartment, I called Mel. I
couldn’t take it any longer.

“Mel. Hi,” I whispered, noting that several people
surrounded me on the subway.

“Molly, darling. Hank and I—and Jackson!—were just
talking about you,” Mel spewed. “We can’t believe you found such a catch in
Drew. We always thought he—
you know—went and got a little bit
snooty in New York City
. New York just breeds a different kind of person,
as you know.”

“I thought the same thing, at first. I thought he
was a little—I don’t know. Ultra confident.” I laughed on the train, trying to
control myself. “But he’s so, so sweet. Taking care of people with his money;
being so kind and understanding about the dance studio.”

“You didn’t tell him we’re closing, did you?” Mel
asked me. I could tell she wanted me to ask him for the money.

I lost a sense of joy for a moment. “You know. I
didn’t. I—
It’s
too fresh, you know?”

“Sure. Sure. He’s family, to me, but I understand
why you wouldn’t tell him. I kept things a secret from Hank for years. No
secrets now, I don’t think. But that’s just because nothing is sacred anymore
when you have a kid together. Everything just sort of—goes off the wayside.”

“Sure. It’s just. Last night—” I gushed into the
phone. “I feel like I want to get really serious with him. Do you think this is
a bad idea?”

Mel paused for a moment. “I don’t know if I’ve ever
seen Andrew become serious with anyone. But everyone gets serious, eventually.
Why wouldn’t it be with you?”

“No, you’re totally right,” I said, my heart
pounding. But the doubts started to creep in. “You’re totally right. Hey. I
have to go.”

I hung up the phone before telling her I loved her,
like I normally did. I decided to exit the train early in order to walk past
the dance studio. I hadn’t been thinking about it since yesterday’s dinner,
since I had been taken on the wildest sex adventure of my life. But slowly,
surely, I was descending back into real life.

I walked down the weary street toward my beautiful
dance studio. I remembered how happy I had been when I had started renting it.
During the first two months of owning it, I had actually LIVED in it, in the
back room. I hadn’t been able to afford an apartment yet, and I had made do.
Perhaps, in hindsight, this was what I should have been doing all along. Living
in my dance studio; devoting my life eternally to dance.

I reached the corner as the sun set along Le Moyne
Avenue. I realized that the next day was the first day of October, and it felt
strange, like the month had passed me by too quickly. On the side of the
brilliant brick building was a sign that said; “SOLD.” The letters were big,
red, and stark. I wanted to tear the poster down. I wanted to do
something—something loud, something zealous. But I didn’t know how.

I walked up to the window and peered in, noting that
everything—the desk, the back bookcase—had been removed. I wondered what they
were going to do with this old
building?
Convert it to
a frozen yogurt shop? Another coffee shop? God. Around me, things were becoming
so similar. I wanted everything to be unique, individualized. But Chicago was
going the way of the dogs.

I walked back toward my apartment, pausing at a
Chicago dog stand to grab a snack. I watched as the man administered all the
ingredients, spreading the mustard far across the meat. I thanked him and paid
him. I walked down the street with the steaming dinner in my hands, looking
forward to getting back to my bed, to my daydreams. At least in bed away from
the cruel world, I could pretend that everything was going to work out—that
everything was fine. At least there, tucked away with my cat, I could forget
about my nagging mother and my failing business. I could just be.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

Several days went by, and for some reason, I didn’t
hear from Drew. I watched my phone for the entire next day, remembering that
every other time he had been a consistent
texter
, a
consistent caller. He had wanted a second and then a third date so badly. And
now, after we’d fucked so supremely in the apartment just down the hall, he
didn’t want to contact me.

Was I supposed to contact him? I wondered. I felt
like I had messed up somewhere down the line, but I couldn’t be sure. I wanted
to think that he was simply too busy taking care of homeless people, taking
care of Chicago’s many children. He was, after all, both building a new
bookstore and trying to be a philanthropist all at once. Maybe he didn’t have
time for a girlfriend?

After a few days, I knew I had to get back out into
the world to try to make it again. I knew that if I didn’t get moving soon, I
would lose the last drabs of money I still had in my account. I knew I would
have to retreat back to Indianapolis, to my nagging mother, and probably work
at some dumb bar, pouring drinks for other sad losers who didn’t make it
either.

I wrapped myself in warmer layers, because October
swept over Chicago like a cloud. Everyone around me was shivering, wrapping
their scarves around their faces. I walked semi-confidently down the street,
writing down addresses and wondering—wondering—if I should just get a random
job in Chicago and keep trying, keep working. I could do anything, as long as
it was in Chicago. I rushed into a random restaurant and filled out a resume; I
filled out another to be a bartender at a brewery. I smiled at everyone, acting
ever-chipper, ever confident. The entire time, however, I had a shadow over my
eyes; I was certain of failure.