She couldn’t quite remember why she’d decided to drink tonight, but it was clear her inner lightweight had decided to re-emerge. She prodded her face and body for injuries and found none. That was good. She was fully dressed. Also good. Her back ached. She felt around herself. She appeared to be lying on a ridiculously hard couch. But where? And for what reason? Had she gone out and crashed at some stranger’s place? As her eyes adjusted to the dark she realised the room seemed familiar, familiar and yet somehow new as well...
“Hotel room!” She sat bolt upright. “Bendigo! Hotel room! I was nervous because it’s my first work trip! That’s why I was drinking!”
She smiled into the darkness, quite proud she’d managed to remember where she was and that she’d found her way back to her hotel suite, safe and sound. But that didn’t quite add up. If she made it back to her hotel room, why was she on the couch?
A low grunting moan came from across the room. She looked over and gasped, a little theatrical gasp that sounded like it was for show. There was a man in her hotel bed, or an enormous woman. Or a really big dog.
The thing emitted another grumbling noise, a man, definitely a man. How had he gotten here? Kate patted herself on the head, willing the thoughts to return. Had she broken her years-long dry spell and hooked up? If so, why was she on the couch with all her clothes on? She tried to retrace her steps, think back to whether or not she’d met anyone, but she could only picture the pub; old and dingy with a faded burgundy carpet. She had arrived with the other GGS employees, sitting at the edge of the group listening to the men discuss what was better—chicken schnitzel or chicken parmigiana. Tyler Henderson had been at the head of the group, his face set and his hair gleaming gold. He said very little and drank a lot. He glanced away whenever she spoke.
That he didn’t like her always would have hurt. That he didn’t like her and she was so hopelessly attracted to him burned. In the kind of all-encompassing obsession she’d only ever read about in books, but unlike books, her obsession never went anywhere or did anything. She just got sweaty palms whenever she saw him and it made her work-life very awkward.
Her obsession wasn’t even original. Everyone had a crush on Tyler Henderson. Women, gay men, straight men, more perceptive animals. It was like having a crush on a Hemsworth brother—it made you basic as hell.
Charisma, Kate had once written in an email to herself, means people are attracted to you no matter what their type normally is. It means being so compelling you transcend what people think they want and have them want you anyway. Tyler Henderson has that more than anyone I’ve ever met. Consequently, my crush on Tyler Henderson is lame and I need to get over it right now.
She’d signed the email and sent it to herself. But despite what she learned in self-development audiobooks, writing it down did not help her achieve that particular goal. If she closed her eyes she could picture him perfectly—tall and handsome as a captain in a military movie. Authority emanated from him like radiation. When he spoke, his words appeared to carry more weight than anyone else’s, as though they were made of gold. Everyone looked up to him, everyone wanted his approval. That Kate didn’t have it was a huge X beside her name when it came to her GGS status. Ty’s dislike of her seemed to predate anything she’d said or done. Her first week with GGS, they were approaching one another from opposite sides of a hallway and she’d tried to make conversation the only way she knew how. She whipped the lid of her baking tin off and smiled. “Hello, Mr Henderson, would you like a lemon-curd meringue?”
First, he had looked at her like she was a penguin that had learned how to talk, then his lip curled with the mild distaste she would come to know well. “No thanks,” he said, but his eyes delivered another message. You are stupid. Lemon-curd is stupid. Meringues are stupid. Stop talking to me and never do it again in your life.
Kate tried to oblige as much as possible.
It didn’t seem fair. Of all the men to instantly hate her, why did it have to be one who dressed like a French billionaire and smelled the way her first orgasm felt? Who had a voice like hot gravel and was so well travelled he made David Attenborough look like her mum? She’d have thought his dislike was garden variety sexism but Ty was famous (in an industry where referring to your wife as ‘the old ball and chain’ was still considered hilarious) for his progressive views. He frequently shut down regressive conversations with a curt, “if you feel that way, go join ISIS.” He was even, it was whispered in the darkest of office corners, a socialist.
Why would a socialist hate her so much? She loved sharing. That was what the lemon-curd meringues were all about. Kate exhaled, bringing her attention back to the mystery man in her bed. She needed to focus on something other than Tyler Henderson. She tried to replay her time at the pub. She’d sat there for hours while the men around her drank steadily and she’d been so bored she’d secretly ordered a vodka raspberry. No one noticed so she’d ordered another one, then another one. Once she was pleasantly buzzed, she’d gotten up and started playing the pinball machine. It had a dragon on it. She’d been feeding the slot another dollar when...
The image of young guy burst into her mind—a nice smile, curly hair and massive shoulders. “Aha! Rugby Boy!”
The man in her bed let out a groan.
“Ooh, sorry!”
Rugby Boy groaned again, and Kate clapped her hands over her mouth. She remembered now. Rugby Boy had reminded her of the guys from home, sweet and countrified but without the surfer’s tan and sea-salt hair. He offered her a drink with such puppy dog eagerness, she’d said yes without even thinking about it.
As the night wore on and she became tinglier with alcohol, Kate had decided it was time to try again and that if Rugby Boy tried to kiss her, she would let him. He tried. His kisses had been toothy and a little too wet, but he was confident and attractive, and his body was as hard as stone. She decided she wanted to go home with him. That was where her memory reel ended, but Kate could pretty much piece the story together from there. She and Rugby Boy had come back to her room, one or both of them had decided she was too drunk for sex, and then she’d offered him her bed as a consolation prize. It was kind of unchivalrous of Rugby Boy to have taken it, but hell, this was meant to be a one-night stand. What could you expect?
Kate studied the man-bulge in her bed. It was a shame they hadn’t consummated their encounter, they might have had fun together. She had been thinking about sex all day. She’d have loved to blame that on ovulation, but the truth was being in such close confines with Tyler Henderson made it hard not to think about sex. There was something strangely intimate about seeing him in jeans and a plaid shirt, socialising with other men and nursing straight liquor in a pub like a cowboy. As she kissed Rugby Boy, she’d thought she’d felt his gaze on her. The mere idea had gotten her ridiculously excited. She knew how weird that was, she had hoped sleeping with Rugby Boy might go some way toward helping her with her dumb crush.
It still might. Maybe you just need to get into that bed and show him you’re sober and up for it?
It would be so unlike her, but that made the idea more appealing, not less. Why couldn’t she get into bed with Rugby Boy and see if he was still keen? Previous experience with any and all males said he would be.
Careful not to make too much noise, she stripped off her shoes, tights and skirt and crept toward the bathroom. There, she rubbed a little hotel toothpaste on her tongue and wiped away the black mascara smudges under her eyes. She wished she’d unpacked her bag so she could reapply concealer but she didn’t want Rugby Boy to wake up and find her rummaging through her bags like a possum in a compost bin.
Studying herself in the mirror, she pushed her shoulders back and tried to strike a sexy pose. She looked like a kid in her mum’s high heels, like she was pretending to be the woman she actually was. All her life she’d been, in the words of her friend Maria, very cute. There were infinitely worse things to be, but sometimes she longed for obvious signs of womanhood—big boobs, round hi
ps, a butt of any kind. Still, there was nothing she could do about that, aside from spending all her money injecting loads of foreign materials into her body, but screw that. Robbed of big tits, Kate tousled her hair (her favourite attribute) and pouted her lips (second favourite). Then she removed her bra and shot her mirror-self her sultriest look. With some nipple action happening under her t-shirt, she looked kind of slutty, which she supposed was as good as it was going to get.
The main room was dim, the only light source moonlight filtering through the curtains. Rugby Boy was sleeping on his side facing away from her. She slipped into the bed and wrapped an arm around his cotton-covered middle (he’d gone to sleep in his t-shirt, how adorable). Rugby Boy smelled amazing, hot and manly in a way that made her light-headed with horniness. Was that from his scent alone, or some kind of muscle memory from all the kissing they’d done at the pub?
The guy tensed, shifting against her. “Unhh?”
“Hi,” she whispered. “It’s just me. Sorry for being such a mess before. I don’t normally get that way.”
The Guy let out a grunt of what was clearly resentment, mingled with please-fuck-offness. He probably hadn't been jazzed about going to bed horny while she laid on the couch like a log. Well, she knew just how to make this situation right. Kate slid her hands down his chest and had barely passed his navel when she felt his semi-hard cock. She ran her hand up and down it, gently squeezing the springy flesh. Weird how nothing in the world felt like penises except penises. Rugby Boy let out a muffled groan. His shaft stiffened, forcing her curled palm to expand. Erect, his penis was approximately the width of a baseball bat, properly and ridiculously huge. “What the heck...?”
Rugby Boy made a sound of protest and Kate realised she’d let go. She re-gripped his swollen shaft, slowly beginning to tug. He gave a contented moan and then tensed. “No,” he mumbled. “You’re...blacked out.”
“That was before,” Kate said, pleased he remembered. “I promise I’m excellent now. Just let me make it up to you.”
A hard-skinned hand closed over hers, pulling her away from his erection. “You dunnoweme ‘nything.”
It was a little mortifying to be told to let go of someone’s dick. Ordinarily, Kate would have stopped. She’d have rolled over and tried to go to sleep, but she didn’t want to. She felt uncharacteristically bold. After all, Rugby Boy didn’t know her. He didn’t know she’d spent her whole life being called a wallflower and a prick-tease. For all he knew, she was Maria, the kind of woman who could seduce a man with her eyebrows and knew exactly what to do with an arm-penis. Her heart racing, she pressed her lips into the back of his neck, where his scent was especially sweet. “Maybe I want to owe you something,” she said in a voice so sexy she could hardly believe it was hers.
Rugby Boy’s body stiffened against hers. “Like what?”
Before Kate could psych herself out, she slid down the bed, climbing over his hard thighs so that she was face-to-penis with his penis. It was even more intimidating up close, not to mention stretching the hell out of his expensive-looking briefs. Why would anyone have a cock this big? Like, genetically? Surely it was more of a burden than anything else?
Never mind that. Concentrate on befriending it.
She inhaled the warm sweat-and-salt smell, amazed that something that should have been so nasty made her body buzz with excitement. “Can I use my mouth on you?”
“Yeah, but—oh fuuuck.”
If Kate’s lips weren’t occupied, she’d have smiled. For his token protesting, Rugby Boy was silent as she nuzzled him through his underwear. Then he rolled onto his back to give her better access, spreading his arms wide across the mattress. Kate crouched between his legs, kissing and rubbing everything until Rugby Boy pulled up his t-shirt. The head of his cock extended beyond his briefs, lying heavily on his ridged stomach.
Kate was glad they were working up to revealing his whole dick slowly. If Rugby Boy had just whipped out his massive dong, she’d have run away. Now it was kind of familiar to her, it was easier to deal with. She placed her lips around the swollen head and applied a tight sucking pressure.
Rugby Boy grunted like a wounded bull. Still feeling exceptionally bold—and a little bit bratty—Kate released the head of his cock and resumed playing with what was covered by his briefs just to see what he would do.
Rugby Boy didn’t say anything but he started breathing hard enough to blow a little pig’s house down, huffing and puffing as his cock swelled against his underwear until it looked fit to burst.
Kate could feel herself getting wet, her body priming itself in a way it had never done when she was with one of the other two men she’d done this with. She knew she was toying with him, but she couldn’t help herself, it was so sexy. She tugged down his briefs inch by inch and applied light, sucking kisses to his skin before gently licking everything that was exposed like an icy pole she wanted to last hours. She could sense Rugby Boy’s growing need, and it made her feel both powerful and vulnerable. At any moment he might reach a breaking point, seize her hair and growl that he was going to punish her for teasing him. Her backside tingled at the thought and she blushed, glad the darkness concealed her face.
Sexually inexperienced as she might be, Kate was and always had been kinkier than a bag of zig-zags. It felt like she’d been born that way, craving things she didn’t understand way before she reached sexual maturity. The dad in Taken had a particular set of skills, she had a particular set of fantasies. Unlike her, they weren’t polite, they weren’t nice, and they didn’t leave when they were asked. Instead, they dominated her romantic desires so fully she couldn’t have an orgasm without thinking about spanking or date a nice, vanilla bank manager called Paul. Her fantasies steered her, full-force, toward men like Tyler Henderson, near-mythical embodiments of male authority who—surprise, surprise—weren’t the slightest bit interested in having very depraved sex with her.
In her effort to rid herself of this handicap, Kate had tried celibacy, therapy, self-loathing, and prayer; it was no use. Her kinks were like that weirdly sinister kindergarten rhyme about the teddy bear picnic and the thick dark mud that deterred attendees. Her kinks chanted in her ear; ‘you can’t go under it, you can’t go over it, you have to go through it.’ So, she went through it. Not as proudly as she’d liked, but she went through it. She had an account on a kinky personals website, even though the only messages she ever got were from nutcases and couples looking to have a threesome. She went on dates with nice, attractive guys and when the time came for them to go to bed, she told them what she liked, even though it usually resulted in bad foreplay followed by a ghosting. She understood where they were coming from. That she wanted a man to smile with pleasure as he caused her pain was weird to her, too.
In bed with this big stranger, Kate gave herself permission to pretend. She teased Rugby Boy and imagined him growing frustrated enough to make her comply with his demands, to lay her across his lap and blister her backside. To call her the things she longed to hear. She was so lost in her fantasy that when a heavy hand descended on her head she was so startled she let out a yelp.
“Enough,” a rasping voice told her. “Suck it. Now.”
Kate had half-forgotten Rugby Boy could talk, but he had a beautiful voice all dark and deep as a marble quarry. She frowned. “What?”
“Happy to play with it, weren’t you? Well, my dick’s not a toy. You’ve wound me up good, now it’s time to finish what you started.”
He pulled his t-shirt over his head, exposing a ridiculously defined chest, then he yanked down his briefs one-handed. His cock slapped down onto his bare stomach—thick as Thor’s hammer. “Put your mouth on it.”
Kate body thrummed with nerves. Was this really happening? Was she finally in bed with a man who could give her what she wanted? She edged forward, brushing her mouth across his shaft, testing him. Rugby Boy’s palm became a fist in her hair. “I told you we’re done playing. Wrap your hand around my dick.”
A shiver went down Kate’s spine. She immediately cupped her hand around the base of his cock. “Like this?”
“Harder. Tight as those little fingers can go.”
Kate complied, trusting she probably couldn’t hurt him without some kind of utensil in her hand.
“Very nice.” Rugby Boy’s said in a rasping tone. “Now put your lips around me, I need to come.”
She shivered. It was hard to tell if he was playing her game or just being a bit of a dick, but she decided she didn’t care. It felt real and that was all that mattered. She opened her mouth and leaned down to start sucking when Rugby Boy put a big palm in her face.
Kate paused. “You don’t want me to anymore?”
Her nameless lover lay there, breathing hard, his cock throbbing in her hand. Even in the darkness, she could see a pearly drop was welling at the tip. She bent around his hand and sucked it away. Rugby Boy hissed like a cut snake. “Fuck it.”
His rough hand cupped her cheek and urged her mouth onto his cock. Kate swallowed as much as she could. His cock felt like she had a smooth tennis ball between her teeth, one she knew would be far less forgiving of bites.
Oh, Rugby Guy’s penis, she thought, sucking hard. I’m sure you have a long and illustrious career of making women happy in front of you, but tonight, please let it be my turn.
“Deeper,” he growled. “More.”
She slicked him down with her tongue and, inhaling deeply, tried to take him deeper. He was so large she was practically unhinging her jaw. Her digestive system, no doubt confused by her attempt to swallow an entire leg of ham, was producing an unworldly amount of saliva. Spit began to run through her fingers, smelling and tasting of toothpaste and raspberry lemonade.
Sweeter Page 10
