by Zoe Norman
“God, I’ve missed this,” I growl as I push her shirt farther up her body so I can kiss the swell of her breast. “I need you, Liv,” I pant out as I tug the material of her bra down and capture her hardened nipple in my mouth.
In the background, I hear Olivia’s phone ringing and feel her body instantly stiffen beneath me. Disregarding the shift, I focus my attention on her other nipple, bathing it with my tongue.
“Owen…” Olivia whispers, placing her hands on my shoulders.
Ignoring her, I kiss down Olivia’s sternum to her flat stomach.
“Owen, I should get that,” she whimpers as her phone continues to ring.
“They can wait, babe. This is much more important,” I say as I begin to loosen the top button on her shorts.
As I place a smattering of kisses from her navel down to her pubic bone, the phone stops ringing and Olivia relaxes. She runs her fingers through my hair and exhales in a delighted sigh as I work my way farther down her body.
When Olivia’s phone starts to ring again, I mentally stab the asshole who is disrupting us.
“Owen, stop. I need to get that,” Olivia whines reluctantly.
“And I need you,” I counter and sweep my nose up the crotch of her underwear.
“I need you too, baby, but”—she pushes me off her and quickly gets to her feet—“it could be Roger with last-minute edits to my article. I need to take this. I’m sorry.” She grabs her phone off the kitchen table and answers the call. “Hey, Roger. What’s up?” She is breathless from our fooling around and it irritates me that Roger is hearing what Olivia sounds like when she’s turned on.
I make an attempt to distract her by removing my shirt. My hands run across my chest and travel down to my waist, untying the drawstring on my shorts. Olivia looks over at me and tries to give me her threatening stare, but right now, it looks more like a smirk.
Suddenly, her eyes go serious and she begins to pace. “What? No. No, you’re not keeping me from anything important. You have some ideas about the article?” she asks her editor as she makes her way down to the office and out of my presence.
Nothing important, huh? I sigh heavily with defeat and settle back into the couch, left alone with a serious case of blue balls and a glass full of disappointment.
IT’S FRIDAY, FOUR P.M., and I feel like my eyes are going to fall out of my head. I’ve been staring at computer screens all week, small numbers no less, and I am completely spent. This week has been hell. I’m overworked, and much worse than that, I miss my man. Owen is what has balanced me since the day I met him. No matter how bad my days were, he was the yin to my yang. I miss my yin… I need my yin. I decide that, tonight, we are going to recapture our relationship. Damn it if it kills me or I have to paste our eyelids open—we are going to have a good time, fuck like there’s no tomorrow, and fall asleep sexually sated.
I think back to a conversation we had one night in bed about how couples keep the magic alive when they live together. Owen said that he liked the idea of being in a relationship but making it fun, sometimes doing crazy things like picking your girl up at a bar like she was a stranger. This memory has me thinking.
I grab my phone as I shut my computer off.
Me: Hey, stranger. I’m looking for a hot date tonight. Meet me at The Irish Rose at 7 p.m. I’ll be in the short, black dress with the red heels at the bar. Let’s play a game, baby. xo Your Secret Admirer
I hit send feeling very pleased with myself and start to shut everything down, hoping that it’s early enough for me to return home and get ready to meet my man at the bar. I know he’s working his shift until six thirty tonight, so I should be fine.
I picked up some dry cleaning this afternoon, so I have one of my favorite flirty black dresses in my office. I already have my red heels on, courtesy of an earlier meeting with the head of the department. As I change dresses, my phone buzzes. I look down at it on the desk and see that Owen has replied.
Owen: Dear Secret Admirer: I’m up for your game. I’ll see you at 7 p.m. with you looking fuckable. My dick is hard just thinking about it, and I’m sure you know just how to help me with that. PS: You can’t tell my girlfriend about this.
I laugh at his PS. I really hope this goes off without a hitch. We need this—badly.
After getting dressed, I fix my makeup and hair and catch a cab back to Brooklyn.
I get to the bar about an hour later and find a spot where I am able to see the door so I’ll know when Owen walks in. The bartender keeps me entertained with stories about his regular patrons. I laugh as he finishes his story about a recent bar fight between a current and ex-boyfriend of a female customer. It’s amazing how out of control people get over jealousy. I should know—I’ve done it.
Suddenly, I feel electricity zing through me. He’s here. Even though I haven’t looked, I know. I lift my mojito to my lips, taking a slow sip as the bartender moves away to tend to another patron at the bar. I dip my head down and look to my left. Owen is leaning over the counter at the end of the bar. He raises his hand to the bartender, indicating that he wants to order a drink. His eyes look around the bar, and then they are suddenly on me. He smiles briefly and then covers his mouth to wipe it away—as if he’s getting into character.
I am eager to get my hands on him but more eager to have a little fun. Butterflies start fluttering in my belly, just like the first time I met him. But this time, I get to leave the bar with the stud and it has me all tingly and excited like a schoolgirl.
When the bartender goes over to him, Owen orders a beer. He says something to the bartender as I take the last sip of my drink, and then he nods my way. The bartender spends a minute working behind the bar before he comes over with another mojito for me.
“From the guy at the end of the bar,” he says, bored with what must be an hourly occurrence here.
I look again to my left and catch Owen’s eyes. I mouth, “Thank you,” to him and lift my glass as if to say, “Cheers,” from far away.
He picks up his beer, takes a long pull on it, and starts to slowly saunter toward me. My heart rate is through the roof. Let the games begin. I fidget in my seat. I am full of anticipation and it’s making me very horny.
He places his beer on the counter and pulls out the stool next to mine. “Mind if I take this seat?” he asks huskily.
I look up at him through my lashes. He looks so handsome wearing dark jeans and a white button-down shirt with his collar open and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“No. I...I mean, sure, you can sit there.” I sound as nervous as I feel, and I like that he can still elicit that feeling from me.
He slides onto the stool and takes another long drink from his beer before turning toward me. “Enjoying your beverage?”
“Yes. Thank you for this. Mojitos are my favorite.”
“My pleasure. A classy drink for a classy lady.” He regards me for another beat before speaking again. “I’m Owen”—he pauses—“and you’re beautiful.” Owen smiles, holding out his hand.
I blush, the effect he has on me still as intense as ever. “Hmmm. Thank you for the compliment, Owen. My name is Olivia,” I reply, shaking his hand.
He doesn’t let it go right away. Instead, his thumb circles the fleshy part of my hand. I smile, acknowledging the gentle touch before reluctantly pulling my hand back.
“So, Owen, are you here meeting someone or are you in the business of just buying drinks for random women at the bar?”
He shakes his head solemnly. “Nope. I’m not meeting anyone. I have a girlfriend. She’s amazing.”
Although I know this is a game, hearing this makes me grimace involuntarily.
“You remind me a lot of her, so maybe that’s why I am so drawn to you.” He gives me a wink.
I instantly relax. Then I straighten my back and give him a confident smile.
He tells me about his job as a fireman, and I enjoy hearing aspects of his job that we don’t even talk about. He shares the mundane day-to-
day stuff and some of what he’s had to do the last week or so while working overtime.
“Am I boring you?” he asks with a smile.
I look up at him, our eyes locking. “Actually, not at all. I find this really interesting.”
“Have I mentioned yet how fucking beautiful you are? If not, I need to. You’re stunning.” His face is serious.
I’m not sure how I should react. I’m used to these kind of sentiments from Owen, but this scenario is so different. I’m not sure what to do, so I just thank him. It occurs to me that I may not thank him enough when he pays me the multitude of compliments he does, and I make note to pay better attention to that.
“Do you have a boyfriend, Olivia?”
I blush and shake my head.
“No? So you’re single?”
I nod my head.
“Hmmm. That is very good to hear.” He inches his stool closer to me.
“But you have a girlfriend, don’t you, Owen,” I say flatly with a smirk. He nods. “What is she like?”
He graces me with one of his brightest smiles. “She is everything, Olivia. She is beautiful. Like the kind of beautiful that is almost painful to see. It blows your mind. Physically of course, but inside...she is just... She’s like knowing an angel. She has no idea how beautiful she is, no idea how special she is. And she’s so smart… So fucking smart. I’m a lucky man.”
I feel myself tear up. “She sounds like a wonderful woman and probably feels equally as lucky.”
“I hope she does. I hope she knows how much I love her.”
We gaze at each other for just a moment before he bends over and whispers into my ear.
“But there is something about you that I can’t step away from. Maybe it’s how good you smell.” He buries his face in my hair and inhales deeply. “Or maybe it’s how soft your skin is?” He runs the back of his knuckles down my cheek to my neck and then down my arm. “Oh no, that can’t be it. It must be how good you taste…” Leaning in, his tongue licks the sensitive point between my shoulder and my neck before hovering his lips over mine. “Yeah, that must be it. Although I have to say… I wonder what else tastes that good on you.” Owen lifts an eyebrow with a wolfish grin.
I take a deep breath, trying to get my nerves straight. I want to play the part, but I’m struggling to think of what my game plan would be if I were really in this situation. My body is melting beside him. I want to tell him to shut the fuck up and take me home. That his ‘girlfriend’ wants him to hit it, that I’m a sure thing—let’s go! But that wasn’t the point of tonight, now was it? So, I steel my nerves, take a deep breath, hold it in, and then slowly let it out.
Game on.
When I open my legs a bit so he can slip more comfortably between them, I feel his obvious erection on the inside of my thigh. I look down between us and he presses into me a little more.
“Would your girlfriend approve of this right here, Owen?” I take one finger and rake my nail over the stretched jean material covering his bulge. His whole body twitches. “Would she be very happy if she knew you were seducing me? Talking to me about how good I taste? Thinking about dipping your tongue in the honeypot?”
He shudders. He actually shudders. An enormous grin comes over my face.
I lean up and nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck, his hand slowly slinking around my waist. I give him small, licking kisses at the base of his neck and whisper, “Do you think I’m worth taking that risk?”
Owen pulls back slightly and looks into my eyes. He’s not smiling. He looks...intense. This is devastatingly hot, picking-up-a-chick Owen. I’ve never met this Owen. Our meeting was serendipitous. Other than our few moments in the airport bar, he didn’t need to ‘pick me up’ as it were. For a fleeting moment, I wonder how many women he employed these same techniques on and who he won over this way. I stop my thoughts, knowing they aren’t going to get me where I want to be, which is in bed with this man.
“I don’t take risks, Olivia. I take what I want.” He pulls his wallet out and drops fifty dollars on the bar before grabbing my wrist and helping me to stand. With one arm, he draws me into him and plants a solid, wet, deep kiss on my lips. “And in case I wasn’t clear—it’s you I want.”
Yikes.
With that, he takes my hand and drags me out of the bar. At the curb, several cabs are already waiting, anticipating the people who are too drunk to get home. He opens the door to one and guides me in, following right behind me until I’m pushed against the opposite door. Owen forcefully palms the back of my neck and presses his lips to mine again, my mouth opening for him and letting his tongue in. He kisses me hard and passionately before pulling away to give our address to the cabbie.
Owen puts some distance between us and slides to the opposite side of the bench seat, a lazy and confident grin on his face. I can see him in this same scenario, knowing that he has this woman under his charms and he’s going to get laid. It’s an interesting insight, actually.
“Do you always bring home women you just met, Owen? How do you know I won’t turn into a stage-five clinger?”
He turns to look at me, his face serious until he throws his head back and laughs. “With you, it’s a chance I’m willing to take. Something tells me you may be sticking around for a while, though.” He chuckles, shooting me a wink.
The cab pulls up in front of our apartment and Owen pays the fare. His tall, muscular body clambers out of the back of the cab, and then he offers me his hand. I take it as he helps me out of the car, pulling me toward him, his confident grin returning.
“I forgot to ask you, Olivia. Are you wearing underwear that you’d like to keep?”
I reach up on my tiptoes and whisper into his ear, “I’m not wearing underwear at all.” I lean back and wink as he groans loudly and mutters something that sounds like, “Fuck me.”
He grabs my hand and leads me up the stairs toward our apartment. When we get to our door, he wraps an arm around my middle, brining me close. His eyes search mine and I realize that he’s asking if we’re still playing.
I nod and whisper, “Don’t stop.”
His answer is a quick, almost imperceptible nod followed by him pressing me against the door. He cages me in, his hands on either side of my head. He leans down to kiss me but pulls away just as I lift my lips to his. Bastard. His lips skim down over my jaw and neck, close enough for me to feel the heat coming off his body but not enough to touch. It drives me insane. He reaches behind me and slowly turns the door knob. As he pushes it open, he backs me into the apartment, his arms dropping from the door to my waist and guiding me in. His eyes are locked with mine; they are a dark blue, stormy, and passionate.
He follows me in the rest of the way and kicks the door closed with his foot. His eyes have not left mine, and if the action behind the promise in them is even half as good, I’m in for one hell of a night. He throws his keys on the side table and kicks off his shoes before he continues to walk me backward toward the kitchen. With my back is against the wall and his hands on either side of my head, he leans down, his lips just barely touching mine. I can feel his breath, smell his cologne. My entire body is on fire.
I turn my head up to his, catching his eyes again. “Are you going to sit there looking at me all night? Or are you going to fuck me?”
He slowly shakes his head at me and grins. “Such a smartass. Are you like this with every man who takes you home after knowing you for”—he looks at his watch—“an hour and a half?”
I bite my lower lip and shake my head from side to side. He stands back a bit, straightening his posture. His face has gone dark, almost sinister.
“Strip,” he commands.
My eyebrows rise at the request. Strip? Oh I can strip.
He backs up and leans against the opposite wall, crossing his arms across his broad chest, waiting. I take one step from the wall and slowly kick off my heels. I always feel so small around him when I’m not in heels.
I reach for the hem of my dress and
slowly pull it up my body, revealing that, not only am I not wearing panties, I’m also not wearing a bra. I hear his intake of breath, accompanied by what sounds like a growl. There is something so powerfully sexy about being secure with yourself and standing naked before a man who is fully dressed, his only job is to look at you and drink you in. This game is the best of both worlds—fun flirtiness coupled with a comfort level that lets us do what everyone wants to do on their first date but doesn’t have the guts to do.
I put my hands out to my sides. “There’s nothing left to take off…”
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Olivia,” he whispers as I watch him drop his hand to rub his clearly rock-hard cock. His bulge is straining against the seam of his pants, making me salivate. He continues to rub himself, simultaneously kicking my shoes back over to me.
“Put them on and turn around. Let me see your perfect ass.”
I slip on my red shoes and move further into the kitchen. Putting my hands on the granite countertop, I bend over slightly, sticking my ass out towards him. I jiggle my butt back and forth teasingly just before I hear the telltale sound of a zipper being pulled down and the clank of a belt hitting the kitchen tile. He’s taken his pants off. Oh God. Here it comes.
I suddenly feel his presence behind me, and then his hand is on my ass, sliding from one cheek to the other and back again. He growls and I moan as his hand trails down the back of my leg and then back up the other.
“Goddammit, woman. You have me so fucking hard.”
I shiver as I feel his finger traces the inside of my thigh and slide along my slit. I know I’m dripping wet; he won’t need to tell me that. I know because he makes a sound. It’s a mixture of passion, awe, need, and surprise. It’s a sound I know he makes just for me.
I push back, arching myself against his hand searching for the rub my body craves. He continues to stroke me softly between my legs, rubbing my wetness all over as he kisses up my spine. I can feel his erection against the back of my thigh, and he’s not kidding. He could drive a nail into hardwood with that thing. Wow, that’s going to feel really, really good.
