Lust

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

To the man who took me through ALL

The Stages of Love

To the one who finds me when I am lost...

Grazie & Ti Amo D.C.

RB & LS Thank you for all your support & friendship
Copyright © 2012. T.C. Anthony
All rights reserved.

ISBN-10: 1479383112

EAN-13: 9781479383115

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012918015

CreateSpace, North Charleston, SC

CHAPTER ONE

Bar 360 was particularly crowded this Saturday night.

This metropolis could never be depicted as a quiet city; it is
truly the city that never sleeps, and we were part of that sleepless
existence that feeds the heart of Manhattan: wild, passionate
souls liberated by freedom itself.

“Eva, come on. Let’s do a shot,” Samantha called from across
the table. Her blue eyes and fair skin lit up the space she occupied.

She had her own natural glow, and it always served her
well, especially on our nights out; men gravitated toward her.

“Samantha, we just got here. Can we start with a drink and
then a shot?” I pleaded, trying to pace myself.

But her hand spoke prior to her demanding words. “No,
bitch. I’m paying, so when I say ‘shot,’ you say, how many?

Damn it. Let’s go, bitches. Woo hoo.” Yanking me by the arm,
she pulled me along as we trailed our group of friends and
headed to the bar for shots.

From nine to five, Monday through Friday, I am Samantha’s
boss. But when the witching hours approach, Samantha’s personal
assisting agenda holds only two tasks: how to get me
drunk and how to get me bedded. By 11:00 p.m., I was three
sheets to the wind. And Samantha had only one task unfinished.

He could have been an apparition—too good to be true. He
looked like a God and held me like a goddess.

“She is all right; she was kind enough not to spill my drink
as she dropped from the sky.” He answered for me, seeing that
I was unable and unwilling to do so myself.

My friends stood bewildered by my immobile body that
rested in the holds of this man. My dress slinked by my thighs,
revealing much of my golden skin. His eyes examined my halfnaked
body as I sprawled over him, and then he reencountered
my gaze.

Samantha broke the silence, as she always was the one to do so.

“Come on, let’s go to the back and dance some more.” But I wasn’t
registering her requests “Eva, are you listening?” she yelled.

But I wasn’t.

“Would you like me to put you down now?” he leaned in
and whispered, breathing onto my face. His voice, a gentle
groan, jolted me internally.

And being that alcohol has always been a truth serum for
me, it was no different now. I had no desire to lie to him as
I responded. “Only if you are planning on putting me down
on your mattress, then, yes, I would like that,” I blurted
out. And though the reaction on his face was still blurry, the
tightening of his hands around me signified I hit the spot.

Still surrounded by my friends, my knight dismissed them
slyly and in a gentlemen’s fashion, said, “She’s still a bit uneasy.

I’ll stay with her and make sure she’s OK. You guys go on and
enjoy. No worries.”

Had Samantha’s veins been filled with blood instead of
alcohol, she would never have left me with this hot stranger.

But considering their current state, they all left. I didn’t know
where they had gone, nor did I care.

Mystery Man’s eyes were golden brown with specs of green,
and they stood out like gems, surrounded by tan skin, a chiseled
Two raspberry Long Island ice teas and four shots of Patron
later, my associates were cheering my name, “Eva, Eva, Eva,
Eva.” And the cheering continued as I stood on the granite bar
alongside Samantha, putting on a girl-on-girl performance for
the delighted crowd. This was my proof that it is not the fault
of the person drinking but the mind that gives free range to the
alcohol to have complete control over the body. Or this is what
I tell myself as I self medicate my hangovers the day after and
try to recall who and what I did.

“Come on, birthday girl, shake what God gave you!” The
shout came from Michael, my friend slash bartender slash oversexed
twenty-eight-year-old who was waiting for me to change
my mind and give in to his sexual attempts.

But in my inebriated state, I shook it, everything I had, from
head to toe, grinding against Samantha like I was ready to explore
a lesbian relationship. But it was all in drunken good fun.

The shots were hitting me where it hurt. My equilibrium
gave out and so did Samantha’s hold on me. The thumping of
Pitbull in the background and the lights swirling in the room
spun me into darkness. Tumbling down I went, only to be
caught by a net of muscles wrapped in an expensive suit.

“My knight in shining Armani?” I giggled foolishly as this
handsome savior held me in his arms.

Running over to me were Samantha and Michael, along
with probably a dozen others to see if I had hurt myself. My
gracious plunge into the dark club floor had left me invisible
to my onlookers.

“Eva! Oh my God. Are you OK?” Laughing hysterically,
Samantha fought to get her words out without slurring foolishly,
but she was failing miserably.

I heard her question but had no desire to look away from
this dark and intensely handsome man who was feeding my
skin with an electrical current piercing me through his hold.

wake up to you and your cock’s still inside me, perhaps then
you can fill me in on who the rest of you is.”

I wasn’t asking him to fuck me, I was telling him that I
wanted to fuck him and didn’t give a shit about discussing his
hobbies or what his favorite food was; and he got the point.

“Let’s get out of here, Eva.”

And he helped me off of the stool and out of the bustling
bar into the sights, smells, and sounds of the Manhattan
nights—those sights, smells, and sounds that only a true New
Yorker could love.

I breathed deep as I turned to walk down the block, when
the knight’s voice stopped me. “Ah, Eva, right here.” He motioned
to a black town car that waited at the front of the bar.

I turned, steadying my feet, and slid myself into the backseat
as he climbed in beside me. “There really is no need to
go far. Confined spaces are amazing for hot and spur-of-themoment
sex. What do you say? The partition is up, and the
windows are black. Fuck me now?” I had no time or patience
for game play, at least not the kinds of games that allowed for
us to still be dressed.

“Look, I get that it’s your birthday—and happy birthday,
by the way—but I am not going to let you do something
that you will surely regret on Monday morning.” His smile
was sincere as he stroked his thumb over my cheek. And as
he drew closer to my lips, I turned, yearning to taste him,
any part of him. But, he moved quicker than I could, as my
reflexes were a bit sluggish; he reached for the seat belt and
strapped me in.

“Why would I regret getting fucked by Mr. Gorgeous on
my birthday? Hey, I didn’t even have to make a wish; it just
came true.” I growled as I undid the restraints and threw myself
onto his lap, straddling him, begging that he end his resistance
and take me immediately.

strong face, and black hair. His shoulders, broad and firm, were
postured, and his embrace could have enveloped my entire upper
body.

He eased me up close to his face, and my hand went to his
chest, ready to hold on for dear life. I was craving his lips; I was
horny with the thought of how he could flip me into an orgasm.

Dismissing the flush on his face and tightness of his grin, he
didn’t appease my needs, but he clearly showed that he felt my
want.

He whispered, inches from my lips, “I’m going to sit you
up and get you some water.”

I nodded as he began to move me onto the stool adjacent to
his. Sitting up, I held my stare, lips parted. I flipped my long,
black locks off of my shoulder, baring my chest and bare back,
and moved into him.

“Who are you?” Unable to wait for a reply, I added, “You
have got to be one of the most gorgeous men I have ever met.

And I must say I am having trouble restraining myself from
ripping that suit off of you and riding you right here in this
bar.”

I was surprised at the apparent shock on his face. This was
not a man who was uneasy with women throwing themselves at
him wherever he went, and he couldn’t be surprised that I was
throwing myself at him.

“What does it matter right now who I am? You won’t remember
in the morning anyway. Why don’t we wait for fate to
have us meet again, when you are sober, and then I’ll divulge
myself to you?”

His unwillingness to disclose his identity should have shot
up a red flag, but instead of seeing it as unusual, it made me
hotter and more desperate to have him.

“Well, that’s no fun. I don’t bring fate to my poker games
nor to my bed, so how about we get out of here, and when I
unknown deity of beauty and muscles wrapped in fine fabric
and a divine scent of raw skin and lust.

I lay in bed for the rest of the afternoon, only opening my
eyes to check the time and my iPhone when a calendar reminder
beeped me out of my sleep. I had made plans with my unfortunate
victim at the time, Derek. I guess you could say he
was my boyfriend, but his expiration was closing in quickly.

Considering there were no better fish to fry at the moment, he
sufficed; I desperately needed to be satisfied.

Around seven I decided I needed to wash the stink off of
me and my bed from last night. After a steaming shower and a
clean-up of my room, I started feeling like myself again, ready
and raring to go for my date tonight.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

I was startled by his voice breaking the silence in my bedroom;
I just stared at Derek’s dark figure, and I thanked God
the lights were off, hoping he couldn’t tell that I wasn’t making
eye contact.

Lying beside a man after sex isn’t exactly a time when a woman
can proudly lie to him about her thoughts; it just wouldn’t
be right. Especially when the thoughts were about another man
and how he probably could have fucked me seven ways from
Sunday instead of this lame-ass poking I had just had.

“I’m thinking nothing, just relaxing.” And there it was. I
knew it was bullshit, but how easy the lies come out. I counted
the minutes, waiting for him to move, to speak—anything that
would symbolize he was leaving. But, no. He lay there, running
his thumb up and down my arm annoyingly.

His breathing was rapid, though after so little movement,
I couldn’t understand what the hell was he so tired from. God,
even the twenty-eight-year-olds don’t have stamina these days.

The thought of that is so annoying and just plain pathetic.

But he didn’t and he wasn’t going to. “Come on, birthday
girl, let’s get you home, rest a little. And if you still want
me when we get you home, I promise you you’ll have all your
wishes fulfilled.”

Slipping off of him and onto the seat, I smiled tiredly.

Unable to fight the need to rest, I sunk into his chest, breathing
him into my lungs, and leapt into a deep, luscious dream.

Sunday came, along with a pounding inside my head and
a nauseous feeling that took over my entire body. I dared not
move. I ached from my birthday outing extravaganza the night
before. I recalled drinking everything I was handed and then
taking the dive into my wet dream. And, along with the ache,
deep inside was a feeling at the core of me that burned for
something or someone.