by Molly McLain
My brain is trying to power through my current thoughts, but it’s hard. Pun intended. My body wants her, needs her like she’s water and I’ve been lost in the desert. Her brother and the relationship I have with him are the furthest things from my mind right now, and that’s enough to scare the shit out of me. I value his friendship and my employment too much to diddle with his sister.
But that still doesn’t stop the craving, the yearning.
“We do,” I confirm, turning my train of thought away from her body and towards the fight in progress. I describe several moves for her, even though I haven’t followed MMA since college.
Gavin blocks a few elbows and jabs before pivoting around and landing a solid knee to his opponent’s stomach, who doubles over on the mat. When he finally catches his breath and rises, Gavin charges. He successfully blocks one punch, then a second. As his opponent lands a crushing blow to his jaw, he counters with a hook of his legs, sending them both to the mat. Gavin wraps his legs up in some sort of human pretzel move until his opponent is screaming in agony.
I glance over at Tara once more. Her eyes are ablaze with desire as she watches Gavin land blow after blow to his opponent’s face, stomach, and kidneys. She’s so focused on the physical aspects of the brawl that she seems completely oblivious to the fact that one of them is oozing blood from the nose and mouth.
“I bet you’re wet, aren’t you?” I whisper, this time allowing my lips to caress her ear.
Her breathing hitches as her eyes flutter closed for a moment. When she opens them, they’re dark and dilated, a confirmation to my burning question etched on her face.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe I should check,” I state boldly, running my nose up the slender column of her neck and nuzzling in that sensitive little divot just behind her ear.
“You wouldn’t.” The words come out on breathy little pants.
“Oh, kitten, I most certainly would.” I run my hand up the outside of her leg, tracing the material as it meets bare skin along the slit. My hand lands mid-thigh, but goes no higher. Not because I don’t want it to but because we’re in public. And not just in public, but in the middle of a fucking MMA fight, front and center, and surrounded by thousands of screaming fans.
We’re lost in our own world, eyes transfixed on each other as my fingers glide across the satiny flesh of her leg. For a few moments? An hour? I have no clue. It isn’t until the bell sounds and the crowd goes wild that I finally pull my line of sight away from Tara and look at the octagon. Gavin is standing in the center with his arms extended above his head in victory.
Standing up with the rest of the crowd, I extend my hand towards Tara. The simplest gesture suddenly seems like so much more. Rules will be broken. Lines will be crossed. Friendships may be tested. But, in this moment, I couldn’t fucking care less.
My need, my driving desire for this one woman, means more to me than any line in the sand, any ghost from my past, and every uncertainty of my future. I need her, and I can tell by the way her eyes burn with lust that she feels the same way. So I’ll take whatever she’s offering, even if it’s just for tonight.
“Ready?”
Her hand is warm as it slips inside mine. She stands quickly, no hesitation. I’m certain we’re on the same page, a page where hunger for each other reigns supreme. One word. That’s all she gives me, but it’s the best damn word I’ve ever heard.
“Ready.”
Leather Seats
Tara
We walk swiftly through the throngs of people, my hand tucked securely inside of his. I have no clue where we’re going, but it honestly doesn’t matter. I’d willingly go to the end of the earth with this man. I’ve wanted him since I first laid eyes on him back when he was in college with my brother. All it took was spending one weekend in his presence and I was smitten.
Over the years, we played some sort of cat and mouse game. One would run while the other gave chase. We toyed with each other, most of the time waving meaningless dates under the other’s nose, all while wishing we were just with each other. I know he felt the same way, even if he fought it. I could see it in his eyes and feel it in his touch. One casual touch could spark a wildfire inside of me and keep the flames burning for far longer than they should have.
I’ve dated, but it was always him. In the back of my mind, in the depths of my subconscious, I was always waiting for Scott. I cared for a few, but never fell in love. That’s because my heart always belonged to another.
Did I ever feel guilty for being with one man and wanting another? All the time. If I could have turned off my desire, my love for Scott, I would have done it in a heartbeat. There’s no worse feeling than watching the man I want parade around with some plastic Barbie doll, flaunting her as if I meant nothing. But for as much as it hurt to watch, I knew that there was something there. I felt it. I also knew, from speaking casually with my brother, that Scott had a rocky past with his father. Every sign pointed to the fact that he wanted me, but was too scared to admit it.
So I waited.
I thought the night I drove him back to his car following my nephew Ryan’s birthday party was going to be the night, but I was wrong. Though it might not have ended the way I was hoping for (and by hoping, I mean naked in bed), it gave me my first real taste of Scott Dixon and the wickedness that is his very talented mouth. That kiss was the single best kiss of my life. It also gave me a glimpse at the depth of his desire for me. I saw it reflecting in his eyes and written on his face. I tasted it on his lips. He wanted me. Bad. And so I knew that I just needed to bide my time.
And now, here we are.
The valet brings Scott’s new Porsche 911 around and stops in front of us. Without letting go of my hand, he tips the young driver and holds open the passenger door. His eyes devour me as I get comfortable inside the car. When the door closes, I run my hand over the butter-soft seats. The charcoal grey interior matches the exterior with chrome lining every feature on the dash. It’s sleek and powerful, just like the owner. Scott slips into the driver’s seat and pulls away from the casino, heading off into the unknown.
“Umm, where are we going?” I ask, wondering why we’re leaving the location of the charity event when the gala hasn’t even begun yet.
“For a drive.” He keeps his eyes locked on the road and the traffic that surrounds us. “I wanted a moment alone with you before we head to the gala.”
His answer seems so logical, yet so weird. Why leave when the evening is only just beginning? We’re both representing my brother’s company, and I’m sure it wouldn’t look good that we both left before the appetizers were served.
I’ve been most excited about the gala. Not only because of the charity in which they’re raising funds, but also because I love to dance. Knowing there’s potential I’ll have a dance partner tonight, one who is as sexy as Scott, makes it even better.
I watch, mesmerized, as he shifts gears and speeds through traffic. His hands are large and strong and all I can picture is them wrapped around my thighs has he spreads them wider and wider. My body is alive, my heart racing, and the little scrap of lace I call panties are soaked.
“I need to know.” Scott’s voice is tight and laced with something dark. Something dirty.
“Need to know what?” I ask, my breath hitching in my throat, having no clue what he’s talking about.
Without removing his eyes from the road, his teeth grind and his jaw ticks as he answers. “I need to know if you are wet.”
I gasp in shock. Is he really still thinking about that? From the fight? My mouth suddenly is desert-dry and my mind is numb. I’m about to just blurt out the truth when he speaks again. “Don’t say a word. I’m going to find out myself.”
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what exactly he means, but the feel of his hand on my leg still causes me to startle.
“Relax, kitten. I won’t bite.” With that, he takes his eyes off the road for only a moment and glances over at me. His black
eyes pierce me with the look of sex, plain and simple. I’m sure I’m flushed and panting like a dog in anticipation. “Unless you want me to,” he adds with a smirk before turning his attention back to the road.
Just as I start to slow my racing heart, Scott’s hand begins to move from its position just above my knee. He gently pushes the slit of my dress over my other leg, slowly exposing my thigh, inch by inch. So much for an attempt to calm my racing heart.
It isn’t until his hand reaches the end of the slit that I realize I’m holding my breath. With precision, he slips his hand beneath the material of my dress, which causes me to reflexively spread my legs. And considering I’m wearing a tight dress and am sitting in a sports car, it’s a rather difficult feat. Yet, I manage.
“Are you wearing panties, kitten?” he asks, his voice deep and in complete control. “I bet you are. Good girls always do.”
“Who says I’m a good girl?” Even to my own ears, my words sound foreign, as if someone else is speaking them.
“I do. But I also know there’s a very naughty girl inside of you dying to get out.” He glances over at me once more. “And I’m dying to help her emerge.”
I practically orgasm right then and there, sitting fully clothed on his fancy leather seats. Shivers of desire race through my body uncontrollably. I’m a pile of hormonal mush, wet and needy for this dirty-talking man who kisses like it’s an Olympic event and he’s taking the gold. I’m panting with anticipation; anxious to feel his fingers on the one place I’ve been dreaming about for as long as I’ve known him.
Even though he hasn’t touched me there yet, I can feel the warmth of his hand through the heat radiating from my pussy. I’ve soaked through the little scrap of red lace I’m wearing; a fact that I’m sure won’t surprise Scott. As if he could read me like a book, he knew the fight was exciting me back at the MGM. But I’m not sure if he realizes it wasn’t necessarily the action in the octagon that has me all worked up as much as the sound of his voice as he described what was happening. Deep, rich, and sexy as hell, his voice alone had me worked into a sexual ball of tension before the final bell even rang out.
My hips shift off the seat as his fingers skim across the lace between my legs. Joint groans fill the small space as he brushes lightly back and forth over the wet material. “Shit, I was right. You’re so fucking wet.” He says the words like how I picture him liking sex: raw, aggressive, and dirty as hell.
I can only whimper in reply.
The confined space doesn’t hinder Scott one bit from moving aside the scrap of lace. His hot finger burns my smooth flesh as he slides it between my folds and teases my clit. He’s like a maestro, expertly playing my body in perfect tune to the beat of some unheard rhythm. My uncontrollable whimpers of pleasure echo through the car.
Without taking his left hand from the steering wheel and his eyes from the road ahead, he slips a single finger inside my body. The tremor is overwhelming and intense as I start to feel the build of an orgasm. He pulls his finger out and my body instantly craves his touch. Fortunately, I don’t have to wait long before he slides the second finger inside of me. The tightness feels amazing, the sensations flooding my bloodstream almost too much to bear. When he grinds his palm against my throbbing clit, I’m thrust headfirst into blinding white light. Euphoria sweeps in, consuming and ravishing me whole until I’m left boneless and spent.
“That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever witnessed,” he states, his own voice tight with need. I glance over and catch his eyes, wild and hot, roving over my entire body. He’s careful as he tries to keep his eyes both on the road and on me. “Next time you come, it’ll be on my tongue.” As if to punctuate his words, Scott flexes his fingers which are still buried deep inside of me.
Before I even have time to process a thought, he removes his hand and downshifts. I have little to no time to right my dress as we pull up to the same valet parking area which we left not that long ago. My mind is racing as I pull down my dress and attempt to smooth out the wrinkles I’m sure I have from our little drive. Okay, not so much the drive as the fingering.
Glancing around, I realize there are a few cars in line ahead of us. The hotel is brightly lit as men in white dress shirts and black vests work diligently to valet the cars for the New Year’s Eve ball. Unfortunately, I’m unable to concentrate much on the scene around me. My mind keeps replaying the orgasm that possessed my body only moments ago. I’m sure my face is crimson. Not exactly an attractive look for someone about to walk into a formal fundraiser.
Who would have thought I’d be capable of coming all over myself in a span of a few city blocks. But Scott has this wickedly talented knack for working my body into a sexually charged tizzy and then helping release the charge only a few moments later. Thank God for the tinted windows. I can only imagine what that would have looked like to someone passing by.
“Take off your panties.”
The words cut through my thoughts like the slice of a meat cleaver. “What?”
“Panties. Now. I need them.”
“You need my panties? You’re not wearing your own underwear?” I ask, unable to bite back my smart-alecky retort.
“My little kitten has a smart mouth,” he says with a devilishly sinful smile. “I’m going to enjoy punishing you for that mouth of yours later.” My blood starts to zing through my veins.
“That hardly calls for punishment. I’ve been a smart ass my entire life.”
“This I know,” he says while extending his hand. “And I’m going to enjoy showing you exactly what I’d like to do with that mouth of yours, but it’ll have to be later.” Scott pulls his car forward one place before turning his attention back to me. “Panties. Now.”
Some unknown thrill has me shimmying out of my red lace panties and handing them over before we move forward one final time before we reach the valet station. I don’t even have time to adjust my dress before my door opens and I’m escorted out of the car.
Scott meets me around on the passenger side and extends his elbow towards me. I go to take a step towards the entrance, but his lack of movement has me stopping in my tracks. He leans forward to whisper in my ear, his musky smell intoxicating my senses. “Just knowing that you’re at my side, without wearing anything beneath that sinful dress, has me harder than I’ve ever been in my life. All through socializing, dinner, and dancing, I want you to know that I’m fucking stone in my pants and it’s all because of you. I can still smell your scent on my fingers and can practically taste you on my lips. I promise you, kitten, it won’t be long before I have my taste. And once I have it, it won’t be nearly enough.”
Breathing. Breathing is good, yet I can’t seem to make myself do it.
“I want you in my bed tonight.” His eyes are fierce and alive as he gazes down at me. He wraps his left hand around my hands, which are holding his right arm. The touch is intimate, his skin warm. “Say you’ll come home with me.”
Without even giving it a moment’s thought, I already know what my answer is. Sure, there are probably tons of reasons why I should say no. One, and the most obvious reason, because he works for my brother. They’ve been friends for a decade. Then there’s the fact that Scott is more of a player than I’m used to. Oh, I can enjoy a cocky, slightly arrogant man as much as the next woman, especially if he delivers what he promises, but Scott seems to be out of the league of every man before him. Plus, I consider him a friend. A friend I want to screw into the mattress, but a friend nonetheless. What happens if this goes sour and we’re left with nothing but regrets and awkward conversations?
But even with all of those reasons stacking up against us, I still know what my answer is. So I say the only word I can. “Yes.”
His smile is wide and laced with something dirty. It’s as if he can already picture the later part of the evening. Oh, and I definitely can too. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it, dreamed about it, hell, masturbated to those very thoughts. I’ve spent the greater part of my adul
t life imagining the later with Scott.
“Let’s go inside. The quicker we get the rest of this over with, the quicker we’ll be heading towards my place,” he says with a wink.
My insides quiver at the thought.
Dessert Is The Best Part
Scott
It shouldn’t take too long to pass through security. The line may be fairly long, but it appears they’re moving swiftly into the ballroom. As much as I try to give my sole attention to Tara, I’m pulled into quick conversation about business and Reid with those around me. This is standard small talk for me in almost every social situation. Most people who run in these circles know my affiliation to the infamous Reid Hunter, and therefore go out of their way to bring him up in any context.
As soon as we’re through security, we make a break for the bar. The gorgeous woman at my side has me worked up to the point that my cock is throbbing in my pants once again. I can’t stop thinking about how she came all over my fingers not that long ago in my car. The mental replay makes my balls ache with want for her. There’s no way to conceal the hard-on I’m sporting. I mentally say the ABCs backwards, think about Reid in a dress, and eventually, my Grandma stepping out of the shower. I shudder at the image that’s haunted me since I was fifteen years old, which fortunately works like a charm. My grandma, not Reid.
“What would you like?” I ask as we step up to the bar.
“Champagne, please.”
The bartender nods his head and waits for my order. “Scotch. Neat.”
Drinks in hand, we turn our attention to the room. “Wow, this is beautiful.”
