Some nights, p.4
Some Nights, page 4
It’s so beautiful. So primal. Everything inside me smashes together, my whole body going numb and probably blind. Because my vision in tunneled around the beautiful woman impaled on my cock. How the fuck did I get this lucky?
Saona
In college, I used to think it was gross to meet a guy and out of nowhere get naked, let him put his penis in you and never see him again.
And here I am. I propositioned the bartender and gave him my room number. I put Jax’s dick in my mouth and sucked him to the back of my throat the same night I met him. I let him fuck me twice and jump in the shower with me. Now, with my robe secured back in place and with those faded jeans covering his marvelous ass and shielding his mouth-watering cock from me, I should feel some kind of shame. Maybe a little disgusted with myself? What would my mother say about me? And shouldn’t there be some guilt because, even though David is a disgusting, cheating asshole, we are still not divorced?
Yet, there’s no guilt, no shame, no lecturing. There’s nothing but the humming of my satisfied body and the delightful soreness of a good pounding between my legs. The only taste in my mouth is my purple Listerine and Jax’s tongue. There is a little regret in the sense that it’s all over now. It’s been fun. An unpredictable ending to a crazy day.
“When do you come back?”
I pause with my skirt half folded. I’ve been packing as he gets dressed. My train leaves at seven in the morning and I can’t miss it.
“April. It’s my next quarterly visit.”
“Oh.” He shrugs the shirt over his shoulder, covering his beautiful torso, only letting the claws of his panther tattoo visible.
His gaze drifts to the bed. My phone is now in the middle, where I threw it after setting my alarm. He opens his mouth. Then closes it again.
I should make this easier for him and offer my number, but I want him to ask. I’m the one who invited him up here and initiated sex, but I’m still a girl. I still need to feel wanted and a little chased.
So, I wait and fold my shirt, bag my dirty underwear in a Ziploc and place it all inside the suitcase. I lay out my clothes and am about to be like for God’s sake just ask, when he clears his throat.
“Can I call you or text you some time?”
Play it cool. “Yeah.”
The smile spreads over his lips, stretching his face and I can’t help it, I smile back just as hard.
I give him the numbers and he calls my phone. I pick it up, access it and save him to my contacts. “What’s your last name?”
“Hamilton.”
“As in Alexander Hamilton?”
He sighs and gives me a tight, “Yes, exactly.”
Sore spot? “Not a fan of Hamilton, I take it?”
“It’s not that.” He drops himself on the bed to tie his shoes.
Okay, now I’m intrigued. “Then what? Did you like Aaron Burr better?”
His shoulders droop. “My mother was a big fan of Alexander Hamilton. She is also a history buff so she named me after her favorite presidents.”
Huh? And then it hits me. “Jax is for Jackson. Andrew Jackson. Hamilton is your last name… Oh my gosh. What’s your middle name?”
He shoots me a pointed look. “I think you already know.”
“Jax is your first or middle name?”
“It’s Jackson Alexander Hamilton, okay?”
I laugh and add his middle name to the entry.
He points a finger at me. “What’s your last name?”
I shrug. “Torres, and in case you’re wondering, it’s always been Torres.”
He nods and lingers. “I guess I should go so you can get some rest before your train ride. The staff changes at four and I need to sneak out before anyone sees me.”
I nod and drop my phone on the bed. I walk to the door behind him.
He turns in front of it and gives me a little smile. “I had a great time.”
“I did too.” And I suddenly need to swallow.
We stare at each other for a few silent seconds.
His hands reach for my robe, untie it and push it back.
What the hell is he doing?
The terry cloth rolls over my shoulders and down my back, hitting the floor with a soft rustle.
“I want to remember you like this, naked and beautiful.”
My heart hammers against my chest. I don’t know what to do or say, but my breath catches at my throat and I yank him by the T-shirt to crush my mouth to his. His fingers scale down my lower back and he presses me against the wall. He lays small wet kisses along my jaw, all the way to my ear. His hands sneak between us to thumb my nipples until they harden.
My head drifts back against the wall and he licks a trail to my breast. He fondles one, sucks the other, and sneaks his free hand between my legs to play with my sleek clit.
He’s my Patron Saint of Multi-Tasking and I show him my devotion by grinding my hungry pussy against his thumb. I could come like this.
But Jax drops to the floor, kneeling between my legs.
He looks up at me. “I need to see you come around my mouth.”
I almost come right there but then he lifts my leg over his shoulder and his gifted tongue settles over me, licking and swirling over my flesh, extracting words I never had in me before. Then he sucks on my clit until I explode and melt all the way down, against the wall.
5
Saona
* * *
It’s only eleven in the morning and I’m already exhausted. I’m running on less than two-hours sleep and still have plenty of items to go on my to-do list. I passed out after Jax left. He turned my bones into jelly and my belly still flutters with the memories of that skillful tongue. I checked out of the hotel at six-forty in the morning and got in the Uber to the train station in Baltimore. I made it to my seat at six-fifty-nine.
My sister, who’s been playing chauffeur all morning, finds a parking spot in front of my apartment building and maneuvers into it. “I’m coming in with you.”
I hesitate. It’s not a good idea. David is petulant and can fly off the handle like a maniac. My sister has no tolerance for that. God only knows I don’t need the drama with my soon-to-be ex-husband to escalate but I’m not naive. I’m not in the mood for a screaming match. I just want him to leave.
“I’m bringing my taser.” Sierra steps out of the car and closes the door.
“You watch too many murder shows.” I tease her.
He made it clear last night he wasn’t leaving the apartment. I’m not relishing the idea of being the one to leave, but I’m more than willing to do what’s necessary for my sanity. “I spoke to my coworker, who has an apartment available in one of his rentals. It’s mine if I need it and I can move in today.”
I like to believe in human decency but am prepared for bullshit.
“Are you ready for this?” Sierra is chewing on her corner lip, a sign of worry, and takes one corner of the elevator when we get in.
“Not really but I need to get him out of my immediate space. Carina sent her assistant to file the divorce paperwork to City Hall. He will probably try to contest it, but we have proof of adultery.”
I say the word so easy, like a fancy delicacy or something I can do without. Like it doesn’t gall me that it means that I’ve been a fool for years.
“What about all the stuff you own together?”
My chest constricts. I’d kept a secret from my sister and my mom since I’d gotten married. I didn’t want them to think badly of David and his family. I swallow. There’s no longer a point in keeping something they’d find out about anyway. David doesn’t deserve my protection. “We had a prenup.”
Sierra’s eyes round almost comically and she shakes her head. “He made you sign a prenup? What the fuck— No, I’m not going to react. Spill it quick, the elevator is almost here.”
I sigh and vomit the secret. “His mother insisted we have a prenup. They had that land in Santiago his father left them and supposedly her lawyer pressed them to protect the whole family.”
My sister’s mouth drops and her hands fist. “That old bitch…wait a minute. Didn’t they find out the father had like ten other kids scattered around after you got married?” She barely finishes the sentence and is already laughing.
“Fifteen kids and it was a month later.” I press my lips together. As it turns out, all those new siblings also had rights to the land. When they sold it, what David had gotten was barely enough to cover the trip to the Dominican Republic to settle the sale. He had to turn around and ask me for money.
“Why would you not tell me?”
Her voice yanks me back to the present. “I was mortified. It was the day before the wedding and if I had told you and Mom, it would have turned into an all-out war.”
“Fuck, yeah.” Her hand wraps around my wrist. “Don’t feel bad about anything or try to be good in this divorce. These people tried to fuck you over. His mom was in on the lie about that bitch in their hometown. I got it out of Edwin last night. So, when she fucking calls you with that mamita, sweetie bullshit, tell her to go put a plantain up her—”
The elevator door flies open and David is waiting for me in front of it. He’s wearing slacks, a button-down shirt, and the watch I gave him for his birthday. Not a messy inch in his six-foot-tall frame. I was always so proud to be on his arm. It was a farce. It always felt like one. I just let myself get confused by the visual.
“You’re home.”
I stroll past him, down the hall and into the apartment with my sister tailing close behind. “When are you leaving?”
I don’t bother looking at him, but my sister is eye-stabbing him from where she stands.
“I told you I’m not going anywhere, Saona. Give that shit up.”
“I filed for divorce already. The rent and bills are in my name. I’m not going to keep paying them for someone who doesn’t respect me. Please go, unless you’re ready to foot those bills on your own.”
“I’m not going anywhere. This is my place too. We got all this together.”
My sister is staying quiet but she’s playing nervously with her hand like she used to before she sucker-punched someone in high school. This could get nasty real fast and I don’t want her involved.
“Fine, David. You can stay. I’ll be the one to leave.” I stroll into the bedroom, wait until Sierra gets in, and slam the door and lock it.
She grabs the suitcases and pulls the clothes from the closets. I text my coworker, telling him I need the apartment today. I apologize and say it’s an emergency. God, this is embarrassing.
“Open the fucking door, Saona.” David pounds on the door. “We’re going to talk this out and no one’s leaving.”
The heat sears my skin because he’s screaming and banging on stuff, which is how he always gets his way. Tantrums are his thing and not making scenes is mine. Not today and not ever again. “I’m packing my fucking clothes and I’m getting the fucking fuck out of here.”
There’s a long pause. He hates it when I swear. Because I’m his wife, not a street skank…like the kind he apparently likes to bang.
“We’ll see about that.” He kicks the door but it’s solid wood and doesn’t budge.
I’m so angry I could chew on glass. How dare he?
My sister pulls out her phone. “Should I call my people?”
Sierra’s people come from all walks of life. From hustlers to church regulars and all in between. One of her exes, Pedro, is a cop. She’s kept in touch with him and they’re good friends. Because my sister is one of those women that dumps men and they still stay around and do stuff for her whenever she calls. I never have the same luck. The newest exhibit is currently screaming outside the door about me being an inflexible bitch.
“Call Pedro.”
It takes Sierra’s ex, another cop car, and two hours to diffuse the situation. No one gets arrested but David’s mom has to come with his brother and sister to calm him down so he doesn’t get arrested. I tell them I don’t want to press charges, but I will if I’m forced to. His mom tells me we’re a family. That she loves me and we should work this out together. I ask her how her “niece” in the Dominican Republic is doing. Sierra and I laugh about how wide her eyes went while we drive away.
My day ends at nine in an empty apartment except for my clothes, a newly delivered sleep-number bed, the seventy-five-inch smart TV from my old place, groceries I bought at Garden Gourmet and my laptop.
“I can stay with you. We can get drunk and celebrate your new freedom. Edwin can be a single dad tonight.” Sierra went home to check on her kids and came right back to make sure I was okay. She brought me dinner and helped me clean the new place.
I’ve been struggling for the past hour, but I need to be alone. “No, your babies need you and I have to work tomorrow. I’m going to take a hot shower, maybe watch something on Netflix and sleep.”
Her I-don’t-believe-you look is fully pasted on her face, but she nods and hugs me so tightly she almost squeezes the tears out of me. The same tears I can barely contain when she says, “Love you. Call me if you need anything.”
The tears break free when I close the door. I shed them fast as I yank the clothes off my body, get in the shower and attack my skin with a washcloth. Each sob shakes my entire body and when I can cry no more, I’m left to dry heave.
I always prided myself in being drama free but look at me now. My soon-to-be ex-husband has been cheating on me since we met and we got into a domestic altercation where the cops had to be called. I filed for divorce and am alone in an empty apartment, crying while he’s chilling in my hard-earned comfort. I’m a walking Jerry Springer episode.
I wait for the emotion to subside. At least I’m crying it out and not in the emergency room, barely breathing. That’s a good thing, right? I take a deep breath to prove to myself how far I’ve come. I step out of the shower, shrug on my robe and head barefooted to the small kitchen.
Sierra brought me what she called the essentials. A bottle of my favorite rum, Oliver’s. I asked her for a couple of bottles of ginger beer, a bag of limes, and one of her kitchen knives. I mix myself a drink like the recipe on Google dictates. I put the TV on low. It’s on the far side of the room since I don’t have a stand for it but it’s huge, so I see all of it. David loved that TV, but I bought it and since he got to stay with all my pretty furniture, I get to have his pleasure baby. Thank God for Sierra’s friends and their trucks.
I sit in my bed and sip. My version of a Dark and Stormy came out pretty good. My phone flashes from the windowsill. I’ll need to go furniture shopping this weekend. I hop off to check it. I’ve been neglecting the world to clean this place.
There are twenty-five messages from David. That restraining order Pedro suggested is starting to sound really good. I ignore them and skim through the messages from work, missed calls from Mom, and just as I finish messaging my sister to stop worrying because I’m okay, an incoming text message chimes in.
It’s from one Jackson Alexander Hamilton. Hi. It’s your favorite bartender. Hope you made it home safely.
I suck in a breath and reply with a smiley face. I did, thanks. How are you?
He replies with only three words. Still smiling. You?
Having a Dark & Stormy.
He replies with a swearing face Emoji. You’re cheating on me with another bartender already?
Never. New drink to celebrate new beginnings in new place. I add a drink emoji and a winky face.
Congrats. He adds two clinking glasses Emoji.
Thanks, and U? What did you do all day?
The three dots appear on the screen indicating he’s typing. Then disappear only to appear again.
Hand to heart?
I frown not knowing what he’s going to say. Always.
The three dots appear again and the words right after.
Worked, sanded floors… fantasized about a hot girl with a sexy birthmark.
It happens fast, before I can question it, and I’m smiling.
PART II: BETWEEN THE SHEETS
1 ounce Cointreau
1 ounce cognac
1 ounce light rum
1/2 ounce lime or juice
Ice cubes
A chilled cocktail glass
* * *
In a shaker mix together the light rum, ice cubes, Cointreau, juice, and cognac. Shake well and strain into the chilled cocktail glass. You can always garnish with a lime or orange wheel.
6
Saona
* * *
"Sierra is going to be here soon. She's bringing a bottle of Brugal, which means she needs to talk. I need to be ready for her, so stop baiting me into an argument where I have to tell you things you don't want to hear."
Jax continues prepping his powder room for painting and, like it's become way too frequent, I'm watching him via FaceTime and chatting away. At least we're not arguing about the Herringbone and floor finish, which I was right about and it looks gorgeous.
"Is your sister okay? You were trying to reach her earlier."
I don't know how he can remember that. Our conversations whiplash between home improvement, baseball, heavy flirting, sex and everything in between.
"Yeah, she's probably having issues with Edwin. He's staying home with the kids so she can come chill with me tonight."
"With a bottle of Dominican Rum?"
I laugh. "Some people pour themselves a cup of chamomile when they’re edgy, my sister prefers something with a lot of bite."
"I like that. She would probably like the drinks I mix and would actually drink them."
"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"
"Nope." He shakes his head.
"My sister would drink them but make no mistake, she would give you as much shit as I do."
"Is she also as irrational as you are about baseball? Or would she recognize that Ramirez is every bit as essential a player as Judge even if not in the same way?"
