#1 Dry spell
INFO (the chapter starts right after the info)
This is book 3 in the series:
1. Sweet Caroline
2. Slutty Shaughna
3. Eager Annabel
4. Feisty Francesca
5. Caring Christopher
6. Twisted Thomas
7. Chef Quiroz
You can read this as a stand-alone story, but if you’re going to read my other stories as well, you might want to start with “Sweet Caroline”. This is the third story in the series.
Annabel hasn’t had sex in four years, she’s 38, and she’s in love with a man that doesn’t seem interested in her at all. On top of that, her co-workers don’t respect her, even though she kicks as a paralegal, and her own mother is disappointed that she’s not more like her sister Chloe. All Annabel wants is a husband, a house with a white-picket fence, and to have a baby. Instead, she lives in a small apartment on her own, none of her dreams within reach.
When she finally decides to just give up on her dreams, she meets Aston. He’s too young, too much of a player and too carefree to give her any of the things she wants. But… he’s hot, fun and after a dry spell that lasted four damn years, she is ready to just enjoy her time with him. No strings attached, no expectations, just sex. The ideal arrangement.
Will Annabel find a way to get what she wants? And will Aston be the one to give that to her, or are there other men more suited for the job? Maybe her co-worker who she used to date? Or the successful doctor she meets on a dating app?
Chapter 1: Dry spell
Tonight is the night. I can feel it in my bones. I’ve just spent three full hours getting ready for a goddamn dinner date, but it was totally worth it. My dress accentuates my breasts, my ass, and the fact that my waist is smaller than it has ever been – thank you, personal trainer. My hair falls around my face in a shiny waterfall of dark sleek perfection. The jewelry I borrowed from my sister Chloe is beautiful as well. I’m not poor, but I don’t like spending money on diamonds and pearls. I prefer saving my money so that one day, when I finally get a man to commit to me, I will have the money I need to make my dreams come true. I can just see the house with the white-picket fence in my mind’s eye. The little puppy playing on the lawn, me in the doorway with a baby on my hip…
Don’t get carried away, I remind myself. It’s just a date. Not your goddamn wedding.
I don’t often think of myself like a beautiful woman – in fact, it’s been a long time since I felt anything other than a total mess – but tonight is different. Finally, after pining for him for years, he agreed to go on a date with me. At my house. That can only mean one thing. Finally, I am getting some. After four years of nothing my vibrator coming anywhere near my pussy, I am going to be reminded of what it feels like to have a man touch me.
I can’t wait.
He can be here any moment, so I walk around my apartment one last time, making sure that there are no bras dangling from the laundry rack, or magazines lying open on a page about weight loss or how to spice up your sex life. I want him to think I’m all put together, naturally skinny instead of working out like a madwoman to remain my figure. I want him to think I’m a sex goddess, not a 38-year old who’s as nervous as a virgin about having sex tonight. I’m not one, of course, but after four years, it feels like I might as well be. My last time wasn’t exactly great, so I’m not sure what to expect tonight. Will it hurt? Or is it stupid to even think that? Is it possible I’m as tight as I was when I was 19 and sleeping with someone for the first time?
The living room looks just fine. My furniture is a little worn, but the throw pillows and the new soft rug make the place look cozy and well-cared for. I’m glad I invested in some a lighting plan a few years back, since it means I can dim the lighting to the perfect tone that makes me look younger than I am. Not that I truly need to tonight, since he is older than I am. Only by three years, and he doesn’t look it, but still. He shouldn’t be put-off by the fact that I am nearing 40… right?
In the kitchen the lasagna is in the oven, slowly heating up for our dinner tonight. The starters are in the fridge – a small salmon salad – and in the freezer is the ice cream I made from scratch. Vanilla with chocolate chips and caramel sauce. My favorite.
Maybe… maybe I should check the bedroom as well. After all, that is where I’m hoping and expecting the night to end up. I made the bed earlier and sprayed the brand-new bedding with my perfume. The scent isn’t as heady as it was a few hours ago, but it will ensure that he will smell like me for hours after leaving here. I want him unable to stop thinking of me, just like I have been when it comes to him. For three full years now, maybe even longer.
When I’ve ensured myself that my bedroom is completely clean and looking very inviting, I walk into the hallway. Just when I put my hand on the handle of the living room door, I hear voices outside, drifting through the crack underneath the front door that I still haven’t gotten around to fixing. One voice is male, the other female. I recognize the male voice at once.
Unable to help myself, I yank open the front door, eager to get our date started. The cold December night greets me, making me shiver in my clingy dress that is truly one suited to be worn inside. Nathanial is standing a few feet from me, in front of his sleek black car, looking mouthwatering as he always does. He’s in a dark green suit with a red tie, a white button-up shirt underneath. Oh, how I love a man in a suit.
He doesn’t even notice me in the doorway, though. His attention is on the beautiful young girl standing in her small front yard, gazing up at him with wide blue eyes. It’s Caroline Collins, a young teacher who moved her about two months ago. Her black coat isn’t buttoned-up, giving both Nathanial and I a view of her cleavage. Damn, she’s got great breasts. They are smaller than mine, but much firmer. Perkier. Younger.
I feel jealousy surging up in me, but I shove it back down. Nathanial is here to see me, not her. I’m a little suspicious about the two of them, but I must be mistaken. She’s so much younger than he is – twenty years or so, maybe a little less – and he just doesn’t seem like her type. I just hope that my intuiting is wrong. Because if she is interested in him… Yeah, I’ll be done. No one will ever pick me over someone like her.
“Nathan,” I manage to get out, plastering a smile on my face. I need to say something before they catch me staring at them like a creepy stalker. “I thought I heard you!” His eyes are still on Caroline, so I move my attention to her, pretending to notice her for the first time. Like I haven’t been enviously gawking at her boobs. “Oh, hey, Caroline. Isn’t that outfit a little cold for this time of year?” It’s a mean thing to say, especially since I am in a dress just as skimpy, but I don’t care. She needs to get the hell away from my man. Now.
She tears her eyes away from Nathaniel and smiles at me. “I’m going out for cocktails,” she explains. Right on cue, a car pulls up to whisk her away.
“Oooooh…” I wink at her, trying to keep up the ruse of being happy for her that she’s got such an exciting dating life. Stupid bitch. I wish I had guys wanting to take me out for cocktails. “Hot date. I get it.” I say, trying to keep my voice light. “Have fun!”
I swear that Nathanial’s body stiffens at my words and his eyes travel over Caroline’s outfit, taking in everything from her high heels to her carefully styled hair. Is it just me of does it seem like his attention lingers on her neckline? Ugh. Men. If he really must ogle someone, why can’t it be me? Please, God, let it be me for once.
“Nathan,” I say, my voice sounding less pleasant now. If I don’t cut in, they are going to stand there eye-fucking each other for the rest of the night. “Are you coming in?”
“Yeah,” Nathan replies, reaching behind him to shut the door of his car. “I’m coming.” He gives Caroline one last glance before closing the distance between us, giving me a kiss on the cheek before following me into the hallway and closing the door behind him.
“Hi,” I breathe, totally thrown by the way my cheeks are heating up just from the brief contact with his lips. Now that he’s so close to me, looking the way he does, the scent of his expensive cologne tingling in my nostrils… All thoughts of Caroline leave my mind. Sure, she’s hot, but I am the one who’s spending the night with this godlike man. Screw her. Or well… screw him, hopefully.
“You look beautiful tonight, Annabel,” he says with a smile, his eyes moving over me in what I imagine is an appreciative gaze. “I hope you didn’t dress up on my account?”
What kind of question is that? Of course I dressed up for him. Certainly he doesn’t think that I spend every Friday night holed up in my apartment in a skin-tight black dress that makes breathing uncomfortable? Plus, he’s in a goddamn suit. He dressed up as well… right? Then again, he’s a high-end realtor and I’ve hardly ever seen in him anything other than a suit, even when we run into each other in a store or something, so maybe this is just his go-to outfit.
“Just something I threw on,” I say, cursing myself for being so lame. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a proper date. I’m on a whole bunch of dating sites – yeah, I’m desperate for sure – but I usually meet a man over coffee in a bistro or something, so I can bolt when they turn out to be twenty years older than they said, or a sex-crazed creep, or both.
“So…” Nathanial says with a little smile. “Are we going to eat in the hallway or should we move into your living room anytime soon?”
“Oh, right.” Damn, he’s going to think I’m an idiot if I don’t get my act together. “Of course.”
He inhales deeply when he walks into the living area, making a low throaty noise that’s somewhere between a moan and a grunt. That little sound has my panties dampening within a second. “Hmm, something smells good,” he says hoarsely, rubbing the stubble on his gorgeous face.
“I hope you like lasagna,” I say, like I don’t already know that he loves it. I got the recipe from his mother, after all.
Nathanial walks into the open kitchen like he owns the place and peeks into the oven. “Wow, that smells just like my mom’s patented broccoli lasagna,” he muses. “It brings back memories of my childhood. Jennifer hates this dish, so mom usually made it when she was out with friends.” He closes his eyes for a moment, his mood plummeting. He must be thinking of who his sister Jennifer used to go out with back when he was still a kid. I know the story well, since I’ve known Jen, Nathan and their parents for years now. Jen got raped by a guy she was dating, Nathan beat him to a pulp and he went to jail for two years.
Fuck. And now my goddamn lasagna is taking him back to that time. I’m so stupid. Why did I think that this was a good idea?
“Hey,” I say softly, moving over to put a hand on his arm. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
He opens his eyes and looks surprised to see me standing so close. He takes a step back, making me feel even more horrible. He doesn’t want me comforting him. Then, a smile lights up his face and his green eyes twinkle in the dim lighting, taking my breath away.
“Water will be fine,” he says. “Thanks, Annabel.”
While I pour both of us a glass of cold water with some mint leaves and cucumber slices in it, he sits down on the couch, looking perfectly at ease in my small apartment. He’s been in here before, of course, but never at night. Never with me in a dress like this. Never on a date with me. My apartment feels smaller with him in it.
Come on, Annabel, I tell myself silently. You’ve got this. Bring you’re A-game tonight. This is goddamn Nathanial Storm. Make this night count.