Ante Up- V of Adonis



Inside the bar the air was thick with sweat and pheromones.  Now outside, I take a brief moment to take a deep breath and let the warm summer air invade my lungs.  I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.  With a small yank...

Inside the bar the air was thick with sweat and pheromones.  Now outside, I take a brief moment to take a deep breath and let the warm summer air invade my lungs.  I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.  With a small yank of my hand, Tate guides me out to his silver BMW; this guy obviously makes a decent living. Spinning me around he pins me between the car and the hard muscles that make up his chest and I can’t think of anywhere else I want to be than in his arms.   Closing his eyes, he lets out a breath and I feel the warmth blow across my cheeks, smelling like scotch and peppermint.  Yum.  Using both hands, he tilts my chin, then cups my jaw, and bends down, gently pressing his mouth to mine.

His lips are soft and easily mold to mine as he works his way across my lips.  The light flick of his tongue against my lips is like an invitation that I am more than willing to accept.  I sink into his embrace and let my mouth fall open as he plunges inside of me, tasting me.  Kissing him back, I stroke his mouth, eager to have my fill.  The smell of man and a fresh winter’s snowfall only amplify my experience and I grab at his shoulders, begging for more contact. Innately, he understands my need and pulls me by the hips and I can feel his growing erection against my belly.  Standing in four-inch heels, my height of five-two is less noticeable and I am more than thankful. Goosebumps begin to spread across my skin where he's touching me, feeling light headed and lost within this kiss.

A current of electricity flows through my veins from mere contact. Can he feel it too? My question is answered when he pulls away. Breaking the kiss, he pants heavily while holding my hips against his. "I've been dying to do that since I saw you on stage."

My cheeks heat from the compliment, "I hope I didn't disappoint."

Looking deeply into my brown eyes while twirling my brunette ringlets between his fingers, "It was so much more than I ever could have imagined." Eyes shining with steely determination, he ducks his head and nibbles at my neck, whispering, "Come home with me tonight."

The haze from our kiss is dissipating. My intentions with Tate were clear, but now that the moment has come, my brazen decision has made me uneasy. I've never had a one-night stand.  I’m not a virgin, but I prefer to have at least a friendly connection with the men who bed me.  My morals are at war with my physical need and I know that I need to find a way out of this. "You don't even know my name."

"I already know your name, Daphne."

With a feeling of disbelief, I begin to stammer, "How?" I know I didn't tell him my name.

"It was on the screen for karaoke before you went up to sing."

He’s right.  It was up on the screen.  Feeling like a colossal idiot, I decide to put all my cards on the table. My fingers migrate from his impossibly sexy forearms, over his broad shoulders and down to his firm chest.  Touching him is not helping my situation.  Barely finding the strength to resist, I attempt to be reasonable. "Listen, Tate, I thoroughly enjoyed our little game of cat and mouse; and that kiss was absolutely mind-blowing, but I'm not a one-night stand kind of girl."

Disenchanted, Tate drops his hands to his sides and takes a step back. I immediately feel bereft as the warm August wind blows between us, causing my dress to tickle the back of my legs.

What the hell is wrong with me?  There is a gorgeous man in front of me, why would I deny myself a night of unbridled passion? Willing to take a risk I step forward and reach my hand to the nape of his neck and bring him down to me for a kiss. Our tongues clash and stroke as liquid heat begins to pool between my legs. There is no way I can walk away from him tonight. "Okay. Where do you want me to meet you? I'm driving myself there."

A Cheshire grin fills his handsome face at the realization of his victory.  Damn, he’s beautiful when he smiles.  "A few miles down the road is the Fairmont Hotel. I have a room there on the top floor," he tells me.  Digging in his front pocket, I’m eager to discover the mystery item that his friend had handed him just before we exited the bar.  His warm hand encases mine, as he pulls out a key card and wraps my fingers around it. "I'll be expecting to see you there shortly, Daphne." Smiling, he lets go of me and folds into the front seat of his car. Revving the engine, he speeds off.

Excited but nervous, I slide into my black '67 Chevy Impala, one of the few luxuries in my life. The sound of Priscilla’s engine purring never fails to excite me. The vibration from the steering wheel gives me a sense of power that helps to calm my frayed nerves. With my heart pounding, I pull into the parking lot of the five-star hotel.

Priscilla idles while I sit in my car, just staring at the brick and mortar that once was my family's legacy.  I've never been in this hotel before nor had I known of its existence before we moved to Indiana when I was twelve.   My life has been like falling off of a cliff, hitting jagged rocks, one right after the other.  When I turned eighteen, my fate was in my own hands and I have worked hard to stabilize this free fall of hardships. I'm not about to let some old bricks intimidate me tonight.  There is the sexiest man on the planet somewhere in that building and nothing is going to stop me from seeing him naked.


It's late, a little after midnight and the lobby is empty except for the few hotel staff members at the front desk.  The hotel has an old world feeling with architectural influence from the 1920's.  Modern updates of granite counter tops and crystal chandeliers propel it into the 21st century. 

With a few curious eyes watching me, I straighten my spine and saunter over to the bank of elevators to call for the next car. The push of a button should be all that it takes to reach the source of my dubious decision. After several punches for the eighth floor, the button won’t stay lit. On a hunch, I pull out the magical room key from my purse and slide it through a reader next to the display of buttons, and press for the eighth floor.  Voila, the doors close and I begin my ascent to the top floor, curious as to how the evening will play out.

The elevator chimes and the doors open.  Peeking my head out, I see an expansive foyer; not a long hall of doors.  When he said he had a room on the top floor, I didn’t realize he meant the entire top floor was his room!  I step into the foyer hearing the click of my heels trailing behind me.  Soft jazz music is playing in the background.  An entire wall of windows showcases the lights of downtown, giving me a view of my hometown that I never knew existed.

The suite has a very modern feel similar to the lobby, but more luxurious.  Marble flooring in a black and white checkered pattern span the massive area.  Vaulted ceilings, modern furniture, and large vibrant art work hanging on the white walls complete the look.  The colors from the paintings give the room personality, dually providing a sense of comfort.

Standing in the middle of the living area I can only hope that I'm not intruding on some stranger by walking into the wrong room.  Just then, a bedroom door off the living area opens and Tate is standing in the doorway with a towel wrapped around his tapered waist.

Obviously fresh out of the shower, I can see the water dripping from the ends of his hair on to his expansive, well-defined chest.  Looking further south, I notice his abs look like they are cut from the same marble as the floor.  Then, I see the "V of Adonis," where the abs meet the groin on the hips.  I thought that magical "V" was a myth.  He is magnificent.

I've never had a one-night stand and the etiquette for such a situation remains elusive to me.  Do I try and chat with him first or is there some unspoken understanding that words are not necessary and we just let our libidos do the talking?  Struggling to breathe and speak from the sight before me, I attempt to make conversation.  "So you won your bet.  What was the wager?"

Tate in all his glory strides toward me.  "If I won I would get to enjoy this beautiful woman in my bed with me tonight," he says, gently stroking my bare arm. 

I shiver from head to toe.  "And if you lost?"  I can't help but ask.

"Then I would go home alone and always wonder: What if?"

Definitely not the answer I was expecting.  I guess we let our libidos do the talking.  Raising my eyebrow and nodding my head in understanding, I toss my purse onto the couch and begin to walk toward the bedroom.

Grateful that today is not laundry day and I am wearing my matching pink lace panties and bra, I decide to be audacious. Approaching the door, with my back to him, I lift my jersey dress from the hem and over my head. Lying down in the bed I stretch my limbs in a manner that I hope at least appears seductive.  Or maybe I just look like I'm having a seizure.

Seduction must have been the winner.  When I open my eyes, he's standing at the edge of the bed breathing raggedly. Without speaking a word, he drops his towel. Glorious, marvelous, superb!  All meaning the same, obviously the word to describe him has yet to be discovered.  Well-endowed would be an accurate description.  He is jutting out like a homing beacon that just found its home.  Crap!!  It's been awhile since I've been with a man, will that thing even fit?

Shaking all of my outrageous thoughts from my head, he drops down on the bed and on top of me.  He begins to kiss me and the passion is pervading.  My lips are tingling as he lightly nips at my lower lip. Kissing down my neck to my cleavage, he pops my left breast out of my bra and begins to tease my nipple with his tongue, sucking gently, then tugging lightly with his teeth.  He moves to my right breast and does the same.  My pussy is aching from his playful tongue on my nipples and my panties are drenched.  Feeling his fingertips brushing over my stomach I am becoming overwhelmed with awareness of every move he makes. I might come from this alone.

The smooth skin of his hard length rubs against my leg while he keeps me pinned beneath him.  Puffing out hard pants, I can tell he is losing control too.  His mouth makes a popping noise when he releases my hardened nub. On a groan he looks up at me, his beautiful green eyes are alight with lust; his hand begins to travel further south and on top of my panties.  “Christ, your panties are soaked.  I wanted more time to feel, smell and taste you, but if I don’t get inside you now I’m going to come just from touching you.”

The muscles of his abs pull taut as he sits up and I hear the familiar sound of foil ripping.  I look up at him, watching as he sheathes himself with a condom.  The act of stroking his cock only causes my desire to spiral further into the abyss.  He spreads my thighs apart and I glance down seeing my lips glisten from my own arousal.

Hovering over me, he squeezes his eyes tightly and then shakes his head as if ridding himself of wayward thoughts.  With precision, he begins to slowly rub his tip against my throbbing clit, eliciting my moans.  Hissing through his teeth, he looks to the ceiling and closes his eyes as he pulls back his hips.  With a swift jab, he slams his pelvis into me. A small cry erupts from me as he releases a grunt of declaration that I have never heard from a man before, like he just planted his flag on the moon. 

His rhythm starts out fast and chaotic as if he has been inundated with sensation.  Small wrinkles on his forehead form as he concentrates to find a slower, easy rhythm.  Finally opening his eyes to look at me, “You feel amazing, Beautiful.  You’re so hot and tight.  I’ve never felt anything like it.”

We stare at each other as he glides in and out of me. On the crest of my orgasm, he begins to increase his tempo, searching for his own pleasure.   He feels amazing, it's a perfect fit.  The need to have him closer and deeper is irrepressible.  With my back arched, he hits the spot and I can barely contain myself. 

The stubble on his chin scratches my sensitive skin while he nestles the crook of my neck.  Kiss, bite, lick, repeat; only serves to make me wetter.

“Oh my God, oh my God!”  I cry.  Akin to Mount Vesuvius, I can feel the massive eruption brewing just beneath the surface.

Beautiful emeralds stare deep within my soul, slicing me wide open.  Emotionally, I am at this man’s mercy.  “Let go, Beautiful.  I want to feel you come around me.” 

With his words of encouragement, the waves of my orgasm crash and I let out a throaty scream as I contract around him.  His thrusts begin to hasten and he becomes more relentless with each stroke.  I cry out again as another orgasm ensues.  He finds his own release, shouting out my name as he empties himself deep inside of me. 

Out of pure exhaustion his heavy body falls on to me, and I feel trapped.  Literally and metaphorically.

Rolling off of me he sits on the edge of the bed to dispose of the condom.  I turn onto my side facing away from him remaining uncertain of the rules of such a rendezvous.  The bed shifts as he lies down on his side and pulls my back into his chest.  He's spooning me? 

Pushing my tangled curls away from my face, he kisses the shell of my ear.  "I can't even begin to describe to you what you made me feel tonight.  You are amazing."

We stay like that for several minutes when I hear his soft, short breaths and realize he has fallen asleep.

The whole experience only lasted about thirty minutes but with a level of intensity I have never encountered. Two orgasms back to back, now that was a novelty.  The physical connection to this man next to me is electrifying. Did he feel it too?  The fleeting thought that this could develop into something deeper is enough to make me jump ship.

Intent on leaving immediately, I gently remove his arm from my waist and sit up.  Expensive, plush carpet squish between my toes as I pluck my dress from the floor.  Every nerve in my body is over-excited and I can feel every thread that makes up my dress as I slip it on.

Scanning the room quickly, I don't see my underwear.  I don't even remember him taking them off; the moment had been filled with immeasurable amounts of passion. Screw it, I don't need underwear.

I opt not to put my heels on so as not to wake the Adonis in bed. With my heels dangling from my fingers I turn around to look at him one last time – he looks so peaceful, so... perfect.  He grabs the pillow I was laying on and rubs his face into it as he pulls it to his chest. A slight pain tugs at my heart from the sight in front of me.  I need to leave now, nothing good can come from staying.

I find my purse lying on the sofa where I had left it. Grabbing my bag, I scurry toward the elevator. I can't get out of here quick enough.  A silver pen on a table in the foyer catches my eye as I try to make my escape.  Lying next to it is a pad of paper. Leaving the card key on the table, I scribble a quick note:

Thanks for an amazing night.

Now you will never have to wonder:

What If?


It's 2am when I pull into the driveway of my small two-bedroom house.  I park my pride and joy in the garage and head into the kitchen. Parched from trying to swallow too much pride, I fill up a tall glass of water.  The pitter-patter of feline feet lightly echoes throughout my kitchen. 

Looking down I see my orange striped cat, Atticus and his small meows demand my attention. Filling his bowl, I scratch behind his ear just how he likes it. I'll take the unconditional love even it is from my cat.

I'm exhausted and the warm water from my shower helps to relax my aching muscles.  I play back my encounter with Tate, regrettably washing away his masculine scent from my skin. Did I overreact?  Maybe I should have stayed the night.

Sated and relaxed, I lie awake in bed just thinking about my evening.  I had never imagined my night ending in the bed of a man, especially a man of Tate's caliber.  I find myself wondering about his life.  Does he live in that hotel?  What does he do for a living?  Oh god, is he married?  I cringe at the thought of being a home wrecker.  Maybe he's just a playboy.  Am I just another notch on his bedpost?  That thought doesn't make me feel much better.  I guess having a one-night stand will end with unanswered questions and even regrets, but I don't regret a moment I shared with him.  On that last thought Atticus cuddles up to my chest and with his contented purrs we both fall asleep.

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