He grinned. It was sort of evil. “Oh, I’ll think of something.” A timer went off in the kitchen and he looked over his shoulder. “Frittata’s almost done. Take a shower. You smell like what sad dreams are made of.”
That sounded like the most amazing idea to have ever been thought of. I was pretty sure there was dried lube on my ass crack. He shut the door behind him and I flipped on the shower.
It was as I was shampooing my hair that I realized that today wasn’t going to be so bad. So I got shattered and fucked a random. Who hadn’t done that before? And we obviously were in right enough minds to use condoms. My ass was pleasantly sore, so it must have been at least somewhat of a good fuck. Sure, I probably looked like death warmed over (and felt like it too), but the hangover would pass and I would eat a shitload of greasy food and curl up on the couch afterward and watch the Hallmark Channel with movies about a small-town sheriff with a haunted past who falls for the new waitress at the diner because he gets One Last Chance at Love.
It was going to be a good day.
And then I remembered Darren was coming to brunch.
“Well I’ll be fucked,” I said.
And then I screeched because soap got into my eye and I was dying.
FIRST THINGS first: I had to look amazing.
Not because I was trying to impress anyone, but because I wanted to make sure anyone that came into my house knew that I was the Queen here, too.
I wrapped myself up in my fluffiest robe and went back into the bedroom, already planning my outfit. Something that said I wasn’t trying too hard, but also said that I was the best thing to have ever existed and that certain people were lucky to even be acknowledged by me. I had this. I had this. I opened my bedroom door.
And immediately stepped on the used condom.
I choked off a loud moan of disgust.
First things first: I had to throw the condom away.
I peeled it off the bottom of my foot, feeling my gorge rise a little as the tip stuck to my heel and it stretched before snapping wetly. I held it away from my body between two fingers. If I wasn’t so grossed out and short on time, I might have been impressed with how full it was. Obviously, the mysterious stranger had been eating his Wheaties. Probably rocked with his college-boy cock and—
Oh fuck.
I looked back at the bed.
A broad back rose and fell with each breath, a shock of dark hair against my eggshell sheets.
First things first: I had to wake up my one-night stand.
I dropped the condom in the small trash can and cinched my robe tightly so that said college boy wouldn’t get any ideas (granted, I didn’t know if he even was in college, but he had tribal tattoos on his back and arms, and I thought that only college boys got such idiotic-looking things, so). My bedsheet was pulled low on his back, he had these adorable little dimples above the swell of his ass, and maybe if I had time, I might have tasted them with my tongue, but we were close to this being an Actual Emergency, and I needed him to be awake and gone. Maybe I could send him on his way with a muffin if they were finished. That seemed like the nice thing to do.
I poked him in the shoulder. “Hey.”
Nothing.
I poked him again. “Hey, you. Guy I had sex with.”
Still nothing.
“I can’t remember your name,” I told him. “Mark? Flavio? Pat?”
Absolutely nothing.
“Hey. Hey. Hey.”
He snored a little.
I pulled the sheet off him.
He was naked. Like, really naked.
“I can see your balls,” I told him. “You’re squishing them between your legs. That can’t be comfortable.”
