Destroy (A Standalone Romance Novel) (3 page)

He looked up at me and
said, “Not yet, Ms. Williams. There’s more to come.”

He had me where he wanted
me. He knew I was on the verge of having an orgasm. And I wanted it more than I
had wanted anything in my life
.
As if
obeying a silent command, he took my clitoris in his mouth again and sucked on
it. That’s all he had to do. The orgasm I experienced at that minute sent me
moaning with pleasure and tremors of satisfaction.

As the sensation abated a
little, and while caressing my lips with his, he turned me over gently. He
climbed onto the bed and spread my legs. Still feeling a bit groggy, he began
caressing my ass and passing his fingers between my cheeks. It felt great. Once
again, I wanted more of the same, or more to the point, I wanted him, his penis,
inside me. I raised myself in a doggy position, which was an open invitation to
get in there. I was impatient. I wanted him to penetrate me until I screamed
with ultimate bliss. I knew he would be giving me the best of himself while
enjoying every minute of it.

As he fondled my breasts,
twisted my nipples between his fingertips, and then inserted his penis into me,
the sensation was absolutely incredible. It was as if I had never experienced
sex before that night. He slid his cock into my vagina very slowly at first and
then slammed it to the depth of my being with such fervor; I thought I was
going to have another orgasm right there and then. But no; he wanted me to
linger. He wanted me to languish with desire. He was smooth and gentle one
minute and then rough the next. But it felt as if a feather had caressed me.
His regular motion in and out of me increased my enjoyment tenfold. I wanted
him to come. But he wasn’t ready; he took his penis gently out of my vagina and
inserted it again when he knew I couldn’t take the waiting anymore.

The moment he came, just
feeling his warm and sweet love pouring into me, sent me onto another plain of
pleasure. This had been a dream night with absolutely beautiful sex to conclude
it.

What am I saying? No,
that wasn’t the conclusion. I got up in a rush and ran to the bathroom. He
followed me. The man was incredible. No falling asleep for this God. He turned
on the taps and let the water run down our bodies. He grabbed the soap bar from
the dish and began soaping my chest and nipples. I massaged his butt, turned
him around and rubbed his back with the soap bar he had passed to me. In a
moment, as the water and soap ran slowly between us, I could feel his cock
lodging itself between my thighs. I felt its gentle rubbing against my clitoris
– that’s all it took for me to slump in Jeff’s arms and succumb to another
wonderful orgasm. He penetrated me soon afterward and while we rinsed our
bodies linked to one another, we laughed with untold sexual delight.

Chapter
3

When the alarm on my
phone woke me, I opened my eyes to a sight I had not expected. Jeff was
standing beside the bed, a towel around his waist, a bowl of cereal in the one
hand and a spoon in the other. Obviously, he already had a shower for his hair
was wet. I looked at him goggle-eyed.

“Goodness, Ms. Williams,
you look as if this is the first time you’ve seen me. Good morning, by the
way.”

Yes, I admit, I was
staring at the god-like human being towering over me. “Good morning,” I
blurted, lifting myself on my elbows. “What time is it?”

“A couple of minutes past
five,” Jeff replied distractedly. “I got you some breakfast. I hope you don’t
mind. It’s
all ready
on the dining room table.”

“Thanks, but what’s the
rush? Aren’t we catching the same flight?”

I sat up, grabbed the
robe at the foot of the bed and slipped into it.

“No, we’re not, I’m
afraid.”

That answer stopped me in
the middle of what I was doing. I looked up at him.

He smiled. That was one
of his disarming and oh so attractive smiles.

“Would you care to
explain,” I asked, slipping my arm in the other sleeve.

As he chuckled, the towel
dropped from his waist. I averted my gaze from looking at his penis. He grabbed
the towel and almost lost his grip on the bowl of cereal as he did.

“Hum, well, yes…,” he
said, regaining a bit of his composure while I got out of bed and tied the belt
around the robe. “I got a call late last night, this morning actually, and
something’s happening at home. I’ve got to get back. So, you won’t have the
pleasure of my company on this flight. I’m sorry,” he added, slurping the last
of the milk and turning away from me.

I hated him at that moment.
It sounded very much like a set up. He had spotted me at the airport, and, there
and then, he decided to have a one-night-stand with gullible me.
Come to think of it; I never heard him say
who he was visiting in Nebraska.
Whether it had been a set up or he was
telling the truth about the emergency at home, I would have to revise my
behavior in the future.
No more one-night
of dreamy sex with strangers,
I told myself as I went to see what sort of
breakfast he had ordered for me.

As soon as he was
dressed, Jeff came to sit across the table from me.

“I’m sorry, Heather. I
just hope you don’t think I set you up…”

“Actually, I do, Jeff,” I
flared. “The whole thing was absolutely delightful, but I have a hard time
believing that you’re called away all of a sudden.”

“Yes, if I were in your
shoes, I would not believe me either. Anyway, I better get going.” He got up
and planted a kiss on my forehead before heading out the door.

I felt terrible. Yet, I
couldn’t erase the memory of the evening we had spent together.
I’ll put it down to “a night to remember”,
I
concluded as I finished eating my bowl of cereal and fruit cup.

And then there was my eye
to consider. As I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I noticed
that it and my cheek had changed colors yet again. From yellow to purple and
every shade in between—these were now the natural hues of half of my face. I
shrugged–there was nothing I could do to erase the damage–and went to turn on
the taps in the shower. As I soaped my body down and washed my hair, I couldn’t
avoid thinking about Jeff and our wonderful lovemaking.
The man knew exactly what to do, and when to do it.
Once again, I
couldn’t escape the thought that even though it had been a one-night-stand, and
that I would never see him again, it had been a fantastic night.

While getting dressed, my
thoughts turned to my family, to my dad still working hard although all of us
kids, all three of us, had left home by now. I guess both he and Mom were
thinking of their retirement. I knew Mom was thinking of quitting her part-time
job but “Not before I get a little one to look after,” as she always said.
Meaning one of my brothers would have to get married, and his wife would have
to get pregnant before Mom would leave her job.
And they all probably think I should be the one getting married.
There
was no chance of that happening anytime soon.

I was a medical student,
just graduated from med school and on my way to an internship in some New York
hospital. In reality, I hoped it would be a New York hospital. I wasn’t sure
yet. Applying for internship in view of obtaining a residency
some day
was like playing chess with a couple or three unknown
adversaries. You hope, or even count on, one of them making a particular move
and then they write you a letter, throwing your dreams or plans right off the
rails.

As I was applying a new
coat of “paint” on the one side of my face after I had dried my hair, I thought
about Jeff again. The guy definitely had left a mark on my psyche. I couldn’t
get away from thinking about his face, his eyes, and that body of his, not to
mention his enticing and pleasurable moves.

When I reached the
airport, I was faced with the madness again: thousands of people trying to
check-in and thousands of others rushing to their departure gates or lounges. I
decided to ignore much of the kafuffle and make my way through security
patiently. In fact, patience is what you need when you are lining up to pass
the security checkpoints. You think about everything that could get these guys
to stop you in your willful progress toward your awaiting aircraft. In my case,
I knew they would ask me to open my carryon, because of my laptop. They would
need to verify that it wasn’t a bomb, but a computer. The irony is that if any
laptop, tablet, or computer was a genuine detonator for a bomb placed somewhere
in the airport, the moment I would log in, the bomb would explode. But, I’m
sure these guys try their best not to have any of us blown to smithereens or
shot on sight.

Getting to the gate, I
noticed the same faces looking at me again. They were all of the people I had
seen the day before. They all had seen me with that man, and now I was alone. I
plopped down on a vacant seat and dragged my case beside me. When I took my
Stephen King novel out of my purse, the thought of Jeff raced through my mind.
I looked down at the book in my lap and shook my head. Images of our night
together jostled for first place at the forefront of my brain. I had Jeff
on the brain
.
Stop that!
I told myself silently.
He’s gone and that’s that.
When the attendant called the passengers
to the gate, I closed my book and placed it in my purse. I followed the sheep
into the hull and took my seat after heaving my carryon in one of the bins
overhead. As luck would have it, there were two women sitting beside me. For
the next three hours or so, I was to hear all about their families, their
recipes for turkey stuffing and pumpkin pies, and every anecdote they could
think of about their grandchildren.

I tried concentrating on
my reading, but I did not succeed; my left ear seemed honed on the ladies’
conversations. I didn’t want to butt in, but on a couple of occasions I felt like
screaming, “
Shut up for heaven’s sakes”
before throwing a tantrum that the whole plane would never forget. But, in the
end, I retreated as far back into my seat as I could and shut my eyes. Sleep
never came, of course, but I had made it nonetheless without incident or
igniting a riot in mid-air.

If one wanted to describe
a typical holiday season in America, I am absolutely certain they would pick my
family and my parents’ house as their backdrop. Our home is generally the pride
of the community. And this year was no different. Dad had pulled out all the
stops on the outside decorations and lightings by adding some intermittent
music to the show. As the taxi came to a stop in front of the house, I was in
awe. Even the cabbie asked me to congratulate my dad for “A great job. Looks
good, lady!”

As for the inside of the
house, Martha Stewart had nothing on my mother. Of course, Mom had many
years experience
in that domain. She did not need Martha to
tell her what to do or how to do it. It was all lovely.

After spending a week
with my parents and a few days with my brothers and their girlfriends, I was
ready to go home. My Christmas present, a new beanie and gloves that Mom
thought would be useful in the cold New York winters, came handy when I ran
from the door to the cab. It was freezing out there. Minus fifteen was nothing
to laugh about. If Mom thought I would be cold in New York, she needed to get
out in her own backyard for a bit. She did, I’m sure, but coming from her, it
sounded as if New York was located above the sixtieth parallel or something.

Getting to the airport, I
made sure not to look at anyone. I wanted to get to New York unaccompanied. No
instant boyfriend or Mr. Hunk for me. My face was back to normal and I had
other things on my mind than Jeff Aldridge. He was now definitely part of my
past, never to resurface again.

On the plane, I was surprised
to find an empty seat beside mine. It was the middle of the week, between
Christmas and New Year, and not too many people were going back to their New
York lives yet.

Looking out the window as
we flew over the city, I thought of our Christmas dinner. Mom had outdone
herself once again. Nothing was missing. Turkey cooked to perfection, all the
trimmings (and then some), a fantastic dessert, and then the cognac and
chocolates with Dad. My brothers and I always relished that hour with my
father. He sat in his big chair and we sat around him while he told us stories
about his own childhood or experiences. Sometimes the conversation would veer
to a political subject, which would engender an inevitable debate between the
three men in my family. But nothing like that happened this time. I guess my
brothers were getting older and perhaps the presence of their girlfriends had
something to do with them being respectfully silent. Of course, the subject of
me having no boyfriend–or not one good enough to bring home–came up. I had to
smile inwardly. If Jeff had been willing to come for a drink with the family,
that is if he hadn’t been called on some kind of home emergency, I would have
invited him. But there was no use crying over spilt milk, was there?

Chapter
4

I suppose there are
always upsides to any of life’s tribulations. Mine was the day I received a
letter from one of the best hospitals in Washington, D.C.
 
As I said, you never know which of your
applications will be considered positively or even make it anywhere near the
top of the pile. But mine did and in a big way. I was now to be called Dr.
Williams or Ms. Heather Williams, M.D. Wow! That sounded fantastic. But what
did not sound so fantastic was the fact that I had to leave New York, start a
brand new life in Washington, D.C., and I had to find somewhere to live not too
far from the hospital. Getting a car, on my prospective salary was still out of
the question. Besides all of that, I had to leave my roommate, my friends, my
apartment–such as it was–and everything that had been playing a part in my life
for the past six years or so. I would miss my tutors, professors, and all of
these people that had furnished my existence with a diversity of interests and
a career for which I was to be very proud.