by Mia Moon
Oh great, he’s going to put this all on me.
But then, I enjoyed the amount of control I was being given. I could get used to being treated like this.
Chapter Two
DATE ONE: CLINT
It was hard to believe that it had all actually happened.
When I woke up the next day I had convinced myself I dreamt the entire thing. It was only after a few rounds of coffee that my bleary vision started to clear and my headache started to subside, and I was left staring at the damning evidence on my arm – four separate phone numbers written in bold black sharpie.
I called Clint first.
I don’t know what compelled me to do so other than I had really liked him. I kept thinking of his leather-brown eyes and his soft blonde hair – downy and short like feathers on a chick. That close-cut military shave had only made it look fluffier. I had wanted to touch it but I didn’t have the nerve to just throw my arms around his neck and press my hands against his head. A few drinks more and he might have gotten me to do it.
And God knew I had enough drinks last night.
Hours later, I’d recovered from my hangover and slipped on a dress.
Clint arrived at my house in black slacks and a royal blue dress shirt. I don’t know what I expected – I think most of me was expecting him to roll up in his casual uniform like I had seen him the night before. A smaller part of me might have been expecting something more casual, considering none of them really seemed like the type to make that much of an effort.
Yet there he was. His shoes didn’t have a speck of mud on them and he smelled fresh, like cologne. I was feeling a little under-dressed in my yellow floral pattern sundress with my cute white heels.
“Hey there,” his eyebrows went up when he saw me, and at first I thought he was going to say something about how casual it seemed. I already had my mouth open to defend myself but didn’t get the chance to. “You look really good.”
“Thanks,” that was all that stumbled out of my mouth, and I grinned up at him. He was 6’2” and towered over me. He may as well have been a tree. A very hard tree.
I ordered my mind out of the gutter.
“You look really great also.”
“I made an effort,” he brought up one hand to twist the silk tie around his neck, a dramatic little gesture as if to say yes, I am aware of how good I look. Men with too much confidence are dangerous – that is what my mom always said. Except my mom wasn’t here. She was off in Canada doing whatever with my dad. Who knew when they would even be back?
I stepped out onto the porch and shut the door behind me before turning around to fish for my key. My fingers were shaking, I was so nervous – and part of me was angry about it. Exactly why was I so nervous? Had it really been that long since I went on a date? Or was it just that I found him too damn good-looking for my own good?
Like I didn’t deserve a man this hot. Well, screw that.
No matter what, my fears were not going to keep me from having the time of my life.
I turned around and extended my hand to him and he accepted it, a perfect gentleman as he escorted me down the remaining steps and then led me out to his car. Whether it was his car or a rental hardly mattered. There was leather interior and his stereo changed colors with the music. That alone was almost enough to make the date worth it.
I barely ate. Even though we went out and grabbed sushi (one of my personal favorites). He paid for everything, including the ice cream we spontaneously grabbed on the way back to the house.
Hot date or no hot date, there was still jack to do in Virginia Beach. I felt slightly guilty, like I should have warned him. He had been here for basic training this whole time and probably didn’t have the opportunity to step out into the world and become well-acquainted with the nothing we had going on.
Despite that fact, he was nice to me the whole time. He was incredibly laid back and possessed that easy confidence that comes from actually having a personality.
He was prepared to drop me off at the door – maybe not a gentleman, but not an entitled jerk either. I was the one hanging on to the car door handle maybe a little bit longer than I should have. I was the one staring at my own door, trying to decide whether or not I wanted to let him in.
He waited patiently, but I knew he could see I was hesitating. He leaned over a little bit, and I could feel his smile drilling into the back of my head.
“Do you want me to…?” He tilted his head. I pursed my lips.
“I’ll be all right,” I said. “It’s just dark.”
“Are you scared of the dark?”
“No.”
“I see. Would you like me to walk you up to your door anyway?”
I thought about it. Thought about it really hard. Then I nodded.
He smiled and opened up his own door, turning the key so that the engine cut off and the deal was sealed. There was no going back .
I gripped my purse tight as I got out of the car and shut the door behind me, letting him follow me up the short walk towards my front door. I didn’t even speak as I fished my keys out, inserting them in the lock and giving them a sharp turn. I didn’t send him back to his car, didn’t offer a goodnight kiss – I wasn’t sure if I expected him to turn around and excuse himself on his own or what, but he just kept walking until all of the sudden, he had crossed the threshold and he was in my house…
The blood was roaring in my ears now. My face was red and all I could think to blame was the wine I had with dinner. That wasn’t it, though. I knew what it was.
The angelic Mila: It’s bad luck to fuck on the first date.
The wicked Mila: I mean, sure, but it isn’t like you’re ever going to see him again.
Second date or no second date. What the hell was I even thinking?
I was going to be long out of Virginia Beach by the time he came back from wherever they were planning to send him. He knew that, too. We were probably thinking the same thing. Or not! He was probably not even interested in anything beyond dinner and some innocent fun.
Yeah, right. I was making so many excuses. I turned on my heel to face him at last, breath coming out in one quick rush as I swung one hand behind my back and let my purse fall inelegantly to the floor right where I set my shoes.
“Can I get you something?” I asked him “Tea, water, coffee?”
“No, thank you,” he said.
I swallowed hard and nodded. Now that we were alone, really alone, and now that it was quiet – the blood was even louder in my ears. My heart was racing as I took a step closer to him, searching his face for some form of answer, some hint as to what he could possibly be thinking. His expression was offering me no insight. His eyes were soft and calm, the sort of passivity you only get from brown.
Am I waiting on him to make the first move?
I close enough to him now that I could smell his cologne. It really was a nice, clean scent, and underneath that, the smell of soap and shampoo. I was trying not to let it show exactly how badly I wanted to rip his shirt off, but he looked like he could tell what I was thinking anyway.
His hands moved up, agonizingly slow, and he touched the silk tie he was wearing. With a very deliberate gesture, he loosened it. He never took his eyes away from me as he slipped is fingers down and started in on the button that was fastened at his throat. My own breath caught as I watched his fingers dive down further, opening the next button, and I finally caught a glimpse of skin.
If I’d wanted to stop him, I could have done it right there. We both knew it.
And by the time he hit the third button, we both knew I wasn’t going to.
His fingers started working faster, unbuttoning all the way down, opening up to show off his muscular chest, his washboard abs – he looked like a fitness billboard and not at all human. Everything was too symmetrical and perfect.
I was almost afraid to touch him, as if somehow I would smear away all of the handsome details with my fingertips. I managed to get the straps of my dress s
lipping down my shoulders, but the zipper was in the back. There was no way I was going to get to it by myself. Not with my shaking hands.
I turned around, and his hands were immediately responsive.
I felt him grip the zipper, one hand resting on my shoulder and the other pulling it down the line with smooth, practiced ease. I shivered when his fingertips landed against my bare skin. He was warm, and his hands were strong. I knew immediately that he could reduce me to melted butter without any effort. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to be kind or if I wanted him to grab me, shove me up against the nearest wall, the nearest table…
“There,” he said, his breath skating over my skin as he slipped my dress the rest of the way down my shoulders. It fell to the ground and I stepped out of it, my hands going for my bra – I knew I could manage that by myself – but he got there first.
He went for the clasp at the back and unhooked it easily. My bra fell away, silky red cups landing on top of the crumpled sundress. I was now completely exposed, except for my underwear.
Clint took hold of my breasts in his hands, squeezing them in his big hands just a little experimentally. I pressed my lips together, but before I could say anything, he dove in for a kiss. I pressed myself closer. His lips were so firm, so very strong, and not overly wet like some messier kissers.
I put my arms around his neck and he squeezed my breasts again, more sensually this time as his thumbs slipped over my nipples. I felt them harden underneath his touch, the incredible sensation making the space between my legs tighten.
I wanted him, I wanted him so badly. And yet it had been so long since I had had any kind of sexual encounter that I felt like a virgin all over again.
Every touch was sensational. Every brush of his lips was a tongue of flame against my skin. And he just kept kissing me – pressing his lips against my throat, dragging his tongue over my pounding jugular.
He slipped it up and down the throbbing vein and I moaned, pressing myself even closer to him. He kept stroking my nipples with his thumbs, pinching them until I whimpered. My knees were shaking, and I was afraid for a minute that they were going to buckle. I was on the verge of collapsing by the time he started pulling his kisses down towards my collarbone, sliding his tongue over the sweep that led back up towards my shoulder.
I was jelly, completely useless, as much as I wanted to tear him apart in return – to dig my nails into his back and sink my teeth into his shoulder. I wanted to devour him, but here he was, reducing me to a whimpering, soft mess with only a few well-placed fingers – an adept mouth. I was loving every moment of it. I never wanted it to end.
He pushed my breasts up and his wicked mouth seized hold of one my nipples. He started sucking one the one, pinching the other until there was hardly a difference in the stimulation from his mouth and the stimulation from his fingers.
My mouth fell open and I pressed myself even closer, all but grinding against him. He still had his pants on, but I could feel how hard he was. If I looked down I could see it – the clear outline of his hard-on pressed against his slacks, thick and ready and needy.
My hand went down without even a second though and I cupped him between his legs, rubbing his erection with the heel of my hand. The sound that tore free from his throat was hungry. He abandoned my nipples after a few more seconds, grabbing hold of my hips and pulling me up until I was sitting on the arm of the couch behind me. I squealed, startled but not unhappy, and threw my arms around his neck.
Having him so close felt good. His skin was so hot. His shoulders were so broad, and my number one weakness happens to be broad shoulders. I was doomed from the beginning, really.
“Are you going to fuck me?” I whispered, a hot whisper of breath against his ear. He nodded, one hand pressed against my back as his free hand went down to unbutton his slacks.
My hand joined his, a purr rolling its way up my throat as my fingers slipped down the band of his underwear. His cock was so hard and hot in my hands, I couldn’t help but squeeze it, needing it almost as much as he needed me.
His foreskin was so silky, slipping up and down the shaft easily. I gripped him a little tighter, rubbing him inside of his underwear, not even letting him get his pants all the way down. He made another starving sound that trailed off into a moan as he pushed himself against me, rubbing. I stroked him faster, working him up more with my fingers, pushing my hand down even further until I felt my fingers skate over his balls.
They were drawn up so tight, he was so turned on…knowing that made me even wetter. I was like a waterfall between my legs. My thighs were already slick with heat, and normally I would have been embarrassed to be so visibly turned on. But with him, it felt natural. It felt incredibly comfortable. I just wanted him to fuck me. I didn’t care about where, or how.
“God, that feels good.” His breath was coming out in fast, hard pants. “I need you…!”
“I know,” I said smoothly. “I know.” I spread my legs a little wider for emphasis. “You can have it. What are you are waiting for?”
Good question.
I grinned, taunting him with another flicker of my tongue over his ear before I pulled back. My hand slipped out of his underwear and he went crazy. Clint pushed his pants down until they rested around his knees and he took hold of me, kissing me on the mouth with enthusiasm, his tongue pushing past my lips.
His cock was so hard it was standing between his legs – the head furiously purple. I brushed my hand over it again, but I wasn’t going to make him wait too much longer. I wasn’t that cruel.
As I slid off the arm of the couch, he quickly took a condom out of his pocket and sheathed himself.
My feet were firm against the floor. He looked at me for a minute, confused until I turned around and presented him with my ass. I bent over the arm of the couch, spreading my legs wide for him, and his hands found my hips with new enthusiasm. He squeezed them, and I felt his cock brush against my skin – the head traveling over my soft entrance.
Some guys work you open with their fingers and some guys just have a lot of confidence in their ability to get you wet and worked up. In his case, confidence was not unjustified. I was so crazy-wet.
I was so slick and I could feel it as his head slipped up and down. I could have let him do that all night, just rub his cock against me. But I also wanted him inside. I wanted him inside so, so badly.
“Please,” I said. “Please, I…” I didn’t have to ask him any more than that. One of his hands landed against the small of my back, bracing himself, as he pushed himself inside of me. He kept it a nice slow, steady pace and I cried out, digging my nails into the couch cushions.
His cock was so thick, so big, he worked every inch in as slowly as he possibly could. He rocked his hips back and forth and every thrust was divine. I felt myself stretch to accommodate his girth – the widest I had been stretched in a long time. I spread my legs even wider for him and moaned again. I was beginning to worry that maybe I would claw open the couch, but god, it felt so good.
“Doing okay?” He asked, his voice husky with need. The sound of his voice in that moment was the hottest thing I had ever heard. I responded by rocking back against his cock, pushing my self further down.
“Yes!” I moaned, pushing my head down against the couch and raising my ass up as high as I could for him. “It feels so good. Keep going, keep going.”
He did what I asked him to do. He kept going, rocking his hips back and forth at a steady pace – then it started to pick up. His thrusts were getting faster.
His hand was pinning the small of my back and his other hand was in my hair – not really pulling so much as resting against the back of my head. Every time his hips crashed against me I felt like I was close to orgasming. It was going to take me a shamefully small amount of time to come because each thrust was enough to make me dizzy. I was seeing stars across my vision – blissful, the whole world spinning.
“I’m c-close,” I stammered. I couldn’t see him grin, but
I could swear he did.
“Me too,” his voice was so low, so throaty and coated with need. “Think we will come at the same time?”
“Maybe!” I whined, dragging my nails up and down the couch as if that would help me get any closer. I could feel it. Just on the edge. I was on the edge of release, wanted it so badly.
“Shi-t!” I managed to make it two syllables. I squeezed my eyes shut, a breath barely escaping through my clenched teeth as he slammed into me one last time and I could feel how tightly I gripped his cock. My orgasm ripped through me, my whole body shaking as I clenched again, throbbing around his thick length. He ground his hips against me until it was over, until I had ridden it out. I came so hard that my thighs were absolutely drenched.
He kept pumping. He didn’t pull out just because I had finished. Extra sensitive now, everything felt a thousand times better. He was going harder, and harder, and faster – and I could tell he was close, too. I could feel him throbbing inside of me. So hard, so big. So wonderful.
He moaned again and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to my shoulder as he jerked his hips back. His hips spasmed and he pressed his cock against my wet thigh.
He came so hard, spilling his orgasm onto my skin, and I could feel him dripping down my shaking legs. He collapsed against me after that, his skin slick with a thin layer of sweat as he pressed another kiss to my shoulder, to my neck. I sighed and closed my eyes again, letting him stay there a minute before rolling my shoulders and pushing back against him, prompting him to get off.
He pulled himself up and stood for just a moment, pushing his hand through his hair and rolling his neck, turning to land on one end of the couch. I pulled myself up and landed beside him, throwing myself against his chest and allowing myself to lay there.
I deserved this.
“That was amazing,” I said, licking my lips and trying to catch my breath. My mouth felt so dry, but that was the last thing on my mind.
“Yeah,” he agreed, pushing a hand through my hair and kissing my forehead. “Yeah, it really was.”
