This is an excerpt from Geek Actually' Season 1, Episode 1: 'WTF' by Cathy Yardley

It was one o’clock in the morning when Aditi finally made an effort to get some clothes on and make her escape.

She’d meant to text Druv, but frankly, she’d gotten distracted. Said distraction was currently stretched out on the plush king-sized bed, making the soft whooshing noises that she hoped meant he was sleeping.

Filtering through Tinder had been tedious, as always, but the way she was now feeling, it was worth it.

Not that it was hard to find guys who wanted to hook up on Tinder. That was simple. Just say “I want to get laid” fairly early on, and most of them would snap to attention. But it was tough to find guys who weren’t shallow and hung up on the fact that 1) she was Indian, and 2) she was overweight. Even guys who were ugly, totally out of shape, and living in their moms’ basements seemed willing to call her out when she’d send the first picture. That’s why she did it early on. She didn’t have her face on any Tinder pics - she sure as hell didn’t want anyone she knew to find out. But even as a “big girl,” her body pics were sexy AF and she knew that they communicated just what she was interested in. Once contact was initiated (and the guy didn’t seem like a complete troglodyte) she’d go ahead and send a selfie with her face.

If a guy was turned off - or worse, if they said some stupid shit like “you’re pretty for a fat chick”—she was over it, no harm no foul. They didn’t know what they were missing. She did. And she wasn’t going to waste it on an asshole.

When she found guys who were into her, the next step was to weed out the desperate and cluelessly horny, and the dangerous. It took time, unfortunately. Some quick sexting and gauging how they responded (and how often they responded) was the next order of business. She’d sexted with three guys this afternoon before settling on this guy . . . what the hell was his name? Chet? Chad? Something like that. He’d won the toss because the first guy was woefully unimaginative, and his dick pic, when it finally arrived, showed a curving twig. The second guy had been a little too needy, saying he wanted to meet, meet immediately, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, please could he call her, he thought they had a connection. The guy was one step away from boiling bunnies - pass.

But Chet/Chad/Whatever had been witty, with a filthy mouth, something she liked in sex talk. And when he’d sent her the requested dick pic (and waited for the request, good for him) - well, unless he had tiny hands . . .

Oh, yeah. She could definitely work with that.

The fact that he’d arranged a relatively swank hotel room had been another plus. Better for safety (for her), but it also showed that the guy wasn’t desperate. A guy who could afford a room like this could no doubt afford companionship, either the paid kind or the women who simply liked a guy who could pay.

Then she’d met him. His face was nice: dark hair with a slight wave, square jawline, piercing eyes. But his body . . . Holy. Shit. The guy was chiseled out of granite, a Grecian statue crossed with a spank-me wet dream.

And when they’d actually had sex . . . yeah, baby. He knew how to work with what he had - and what he had was impressive.

She came three times in their first interaction: first when he finger-banged her, “getting her ready.” (Seriously? Who outside of romance novels did that?) Then missionary. Then when he turned her over, grabbing her braid like the reins of a horse and tugging as he plowed into her, until he had her coming so hard she was practically sobbing. Oh my God, the guy had moves.

She’d been ready to thank him and head home right then, but he said he wasn’t done. He’d ordered up room service, and she’d gotten a wonderful vegetarian meal, and even had a pleasant conversation with him. Which was in and of itself a rarity, although it made her uncomfortable. She wasn’t there to date; she was there to fuck. Thankfully, as soon as he’d refueled, he had her on the dresser.

Her pussy felt bruised, but in the best possible way. She shivered as she pulled her panties on. Her skin tingled. This would be one she remembered. In fact, this was one that other guys would fall woefully short of, which made her sad.

To her surprise, he rolled over with a soft grunt, then hooked his arm around her waist, tugging her back to the bed with a startled squeak. She giggled as he wrestled her gently to the bed, burying his face in her chest. “Mmmm. Man, I love these tits,” he said, kissing one, then the other - then giving her a quick motorboat. She snickered at the sheer goofiness of it.

“You cannot be serious,” she said around a chuckle. “What the hell did you eat for breakfast today? Viagra flakes?”

“With tits like these in front of me, I don’t need ’em,” he answered, tugging off her panties and tossing them back on her pile of clothing. She was about to protest, but he took her mouth roughly, weaving his fingers in her wavy hair. He pressed her into the mattress, and she felt the thick rod of flesh against her stomach.

She should say no. She should’ve been home hours ago. That said - it was there, all deliciously solid and insistent. It would be such a waste to just leave it. Like throwing away perfectly good food.

There are poor, horny, crazy cat women who would just love this, and you’re going to refuse it?

She kissed back, hard, gripping his broad shoulders, reveling in the feel of his fingers digging into her ass as he suckled hard while nudging at her opening. She moaned, angling her hips . . .

“Whoa. Condom . . .” she muttered, quickly yanking away.

“Already on.”

She reached down, ensuring it. Not that she didn’t trust him, but . . . well, no. She didn’t trust him, or any man she hooked up with. Wasn’t worth it.

As long as she had him in hand, she stroked, then squeezed until he was groaning against her skin, biting her shoulder. He pulled her hips up off the mattress, and they both let out animal growls of pleasure as he pressed his not-inconsiderable length all the way in, until his hips met flush with her widened thighs. “So . . . good . . .” she breathed.

He nipped at her breasts, pulling one nipple in his mouth as he kept pressing up. Her ankles hooked around his legs. The guy had amazing muscle tone, and stamina for frickin’ days, she thought, before he hit her G-spot, and all thought fled. She was gasping, writhing with all the force she could muster.

She came first, on a low shriek. He shook slightly in response, but clenched his jaw. Then he slowly let her slide down, withdrawing.

She was out of breath, still quivering from her orgasm. But he hadn’t come, or at least, she didn’t think he had. “Didn’t you . . .”

Before she could finish the question, he turned her over, piercing her from behind, holding onto her hips, kneading them as he slowly, deeply penetrated her. He was grunting, sexy animalistic sounds that, impossibly, revved her engine back to life. She didn’t think she could come again so soon, but she felt so hot as his rhythm went uneven, his grip got tighter, his thrusts harder until she was pressing back, her palms flat on the headboard.

Christ!” He shuddered, and she could feel his cock tickling inside her as it jerked and spasmed. They stayed there for a minute, the only sound the quiet hum of the hotel heater. Then he pulled out, cleaning himself off.

When she finally got herself together, she rolled over, retrieving the panties he’d discarded.

Late. She was soooo late. She really had to move it.

“What’s your rush?” he said, sneaking up behind her and nibbling her skin, toying with her nipples before she pulled her bra on. She stepped away and tugged her dress over her head.

“Fun’s fun,” she murmured. “But I have to get home. How are you not exhausted?”

“I’m not quite ready to go again, but I don’t want you to leave,” he said against her skin, making her shiver a little. “Stay. Sleep here with me.”

“Tempting, but no.” She nudged him, sitting on the edge of the bed and putting on her shoes. He was getting a little clingy. Yeah, the sex was amazing, but good grief. Really?

“Come on,” he said, wrapping his arms around her.

“I never thought I’d say this,” she said, with a rueful chuckle, “but I am all sexed out. I am going to need to get some Vitamin E shots before I get back in bed with you . . .”

Chad? Chet? Shit. She still couldn’t remember his name.

“Stay,” he repeated, stroking her neck, kissing behind her ear. “We could just cuddle.”

What the fuck?

“What? I like cuddling,” he said, noticing the look on her face. He tugged at her waist, stroking her breasts, her hips. Kissing her softly.

She looked over at him. His eyes were low-lidded, sleepy, not surprising considering their exercises and the time. But there was something else there. Fondness? Affection?

More than that? God, how would that be possible? She’d known the guy for, what, a few hours?

That made her skin shiver in a more unpleasant way. She moved a little, putting some inches of space between them. “I can’t. I have to go home.”

“You live with your parents?” He said it like it was a foregone conclusion.

What exactly did he think was going on here? She frowned.

“No.” She stood up, getting her purse. “My husband.”

She saw that little bombshell register.

“It’s been great. Thanks for everything. And I do mean everything . . . Cuddlebug,” she said, smiling.

She left him sitting there, staring at her in shock.