Just a little tease to get the weekend going – lots of words to edit this weekend!!!




More Than A Night - SMALL


HENRY KNEW SHE WAS gone from the moment he woke in the empty bed.  No sounds from the bathroom, and her little overnight case was missing from the chair.  As his brain came around to being awake, Henry snuggled into the mattress, breathing in the smells of lemon and Erin and sex.

Not a bad way to wake up.

It would have been better with her curvy little body against his.  Maybe he would have rolled her to her stomach and taken her from behind.  They hadn’t gotten that far last night – Henry was too busy pounding her into every available surface, his face in her breasts, his cock in paradise as she came around him, hot and explosive, again and again.

He groaned and rolled over, catching sight of the white envelope on the table.

“Shit,” he muttered, and let the guilt roll over him.

It was hard to regret such an incredible night, but if weren’t for the fact that he desperately needed this money, he’d leave it behind, an extravagant tip for the hard-working staff.  A discreet knock on the door had him scrambling up.  Too frazzled to find jeans, Henry simply wound the sheet around himself and headed to the door.

It’s not like they’re going to kick you out buck naked.  Hopefully.

The waiter at the door was too well-trained to react to the half-naked man who opened the door, and a bemused Henry stepped back to let him wheel the cart in.  The smell of bacon and coffee was mouthwatering, and the poker-faced waiter deftly set up the meal on the table and then gathered the remains of last night’s repast.

“Mrs. James instructed me to inform you that you’re to make yourself comfortable and stay as long as you wish.”

“Thanks,” mumbled Henry, “Hang on, let me find my wallet.”

But the waiter was moving toward the door, his face studiously blank.

“Already taken care of, sir.  Enjoy your meal, Mr. James.”

Mr. James.

Henry sat down at the table as the door clicked closed behind him.  Though his body was screaming for coffee, he had momentarily lost his appetite.

Erin James was a hot little stick of dynamite in bed, and though he hadn’t gotten to know her, the intelligence and goodwill that shone in her eyes called to every tender-hearted feeling Henry possessed.  He’d bet his last dime that she was as sweet and honest as she seemed when they first met, the kind of woman a guy could easily get attached to.  The kind of woman who would never hurt a fly.

So it felt a little odd that despite their night of earth-shattering pleasure, and the very clear evidence of a white envelope stuffed with cash nearby, Henry hadn’t really felt like a gigolo until just this moment.