by Kent, Julia
He forced a mouthful of something that he was afraid might still be half alive in between his teeth. And then, “Mmmm!” he groaned. “This is incredible.”
“Yeah, mine’s luscious.”
So are you, he thought, spearing a piece of fish and holding out his fork. “Do you want a bite of mine?”
He held the fork out for her and she looked at him in a certain way, eyes narrowing a bit while cocking her head, one little curl floating out of her ponytail as she tucked it behind her ear and leaned forward. Her lips enveloped the fork, her mouth tugging at the piece of food as he reluctantly pulled the fork away, those lips, those lips, closing over the fork. Right now, he wanted part of him to be that fork. A very big, throbbing part of him that no napkin was capable of covering now.
Chewing, she groaned; it was the sound he wanted to hear later at night in his bed or in hers or on somebody’s couch or hell—in the alley by the parking lot at this point. Dylan’s cock strained against his trousers, more aroused then he ever imagined possible, just from watching her eat that scrumptious piece of God knows what.
“Isn’t it incredible?” he asked.
“That’s perfection. Where does it comes from?” she asked.
He glanced over at the menu and replied, “Malaysia and, apparently, Tibet.”
“Oh, a Malaysian, Tibetan piece of perfection,” she said, then crinkled her brow with a bemused look. “Fishing in Tibet?”
He shrugged. “The monks have to do something.” A diner at one table over frowned at them and Dylan just let it roll off.
Laura speared something else on her plate and lifted the fork to him. He took it, eagerly, greedily, eating something he didn’t even understand, but, watching her, his eyes boring into hers, realizing that this meal was just the appetizer and he was going to have the main course later on.
Oh, holy cow, she’d never been treated like this before in her entire life. In fact, she was a bit concerned that she was leaving a wet spot on the upholstered bench and that she had soaked completely through not only her thong, but also her pencil skirt and pretty much through the outer layer of the bench’s covering, the pad, and into whatever store was beneath this restaurant because this guy was not just hot, he was flaming and how appropriate that he was a firefighter.
She could see it in his eyes, too. Whatever was going on, there was a kismet here that really shouldn’t be happening. After they exchanged their bites, like a cross between “Lady and the Tramp” and a porno movie, she realized that she was going to go home with this guy. Laura was going to sleep with him and she was gonna like it.
From the look in his eyes he was in the same place mentally, too. Hopefully physically. They both seemed to sort of hurry through their meal and the conversation finally resumed after they had finished eating.
“Do you want another drink?” he asked, reaching for her hand again, now that it was free from eating dinner.
She wiped her mouth with the napkin using her other hand, set it down, and said “Um, I’m still too full. Maybe we could go for a walk?”
“Actually,” he said, looking away, “I had planned something else if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, really? What’s that?” Breakfast? She stifled the thought, terrified she had actually blurted that aloud.
“Turns out there’s a really a nice cruise here in town that I was hoping we could go on.”
“Oh.” She looked at her watch, trying to hide her churning emotions. Oh, man, it was already late. A cruise. She did some quick mental math. A couple of hours on a cruise meant there was going to be no down time—she had to work, had to get up at 6:00 in the morning, and that meant blowing out the whole night. First date. Calm down Laura, don’t be a slut, don’t be a slut, don’t be a slut, she told herself.
Don’t sleep with him on the first date, don’t sleep with him on the first date if you want a second date. Okay, okay. Okay. Josie’s voice entered in her mind. ’don’t sleep with him, Laura. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it. Unless he’s incredibly hot.’
Oh, yeah he is. Oh, yeah he is.
She had this entire conversation in the period of about three seconds with herself, with Dylan looking at her with a very puzzled expression. Angel Josie and Devil Laura argued inside her head until she realized she needed to respond to Dylan’s comment.
“Okay, yeah, sure! A cruise sounds great. Did you already get tickets?”
He squinted and furrowed his brow, confused. And then his face went neutral. “Oh, no, actually, not yet. I just figured we’d go there, and, you know, climb on.”
You can climb on me, she thought. Her eyes widened. Hopefully, those words hadn’t actually come out of her mouth, because at this point, she didn’t know what she was thinking as she squirmed and straightened her shirt again. The black lace seemed to pop out like an erection. If she could see his package from across the table, she suspected that he had his own little version of the black lace pokin’ out going on somewhere in his pants.
The waitress brought the check and she had that internal dialogue that all single women have when going out on new dates. ’do I offer to pick up the check? Do I offer to go halfsies? Do I...’
He didn’t even give her a chance. He grabbed the check, handed a credit card to the woman, and waved it off. Turned to her, he reached for her hand, and said, “Thank you for a lovely date. Or, thank you for a lovely meal.”
“Oh, well, my goodness!” she said, a little taken aback that she didn’t even have an opportunity to fight for the check. “Well, thank you so much! I mean, I, really, I, can I, I’d like to offer to pay the...”
He nodded. “You can get the next date.”
“Oh! Oh!” She said, his words sinking in, finally. “Yeah, get the next date.”
He couldn’t read her. It was driving him nuts. He just couldn’t read her. What, had he gone too far with the next date thing? Was she offended that he was implying that she should pay for the next date? Mike had suggested that there was a great way to handle women who tended to have good solid careers, but you didn’t know exactly how to handle the awkwardness of who paid for first dates. He had his own thing about paying.
When he was taking women on dates, he had more than enough money these days now that he had come into his trust fund, which he had always viewed as a bit of a curse—but now he viewed as one hell of a blessing, because if it meant that he could treat a woman like Laura right, then maybe he could have the future that he had hoped for, then it wasn’t just a blessing.
It was everything.
Discomfort gnawed away at him. How he had come into his trust fund was an issue he had not begun to explore, he and Mike the recipients of an annual income equal to approximately 2.7 percent of the $2.2 billion in the massive trust, split in half. The trust manager had laid it out in such clinical terms that Dylan had nearly vomited on the spot, the words twenty-nine million and change per year for life, minus management fees, pinging around his skull like a racquetball that never stops.
And that was two months ago. He still drove the same car, still worked his full shifts, but splurged in little ways, the enormity of his new-found—literally!—fortune not quite sinking in.
Mike had bought a cabin on the slopes. Cabin wasn’t quite the right word. Haven was more like it, a four bedroom ski palace that he knew would keep Mike happy for the rest of his life. The ski resort, too—which had been almost an after thought. Oh, yeah, I can save the struggling ski mountain I love, because I have more money than God now. Well, almost.
As Dylan caught Laura stealing shy looks at him, his money problems (twenty nine million of them per year) faded and he started to wonder if she could keep them happy for the rest of their—
“Dylan? Ready to go?” The waitress had taken the check, cleared the table, and was practically pulling out the vacuum to clean their spot.
The meal paid for, they stood and he put his arm around her waist. She leaned into him just enough to finally send him a signal that t
old him, Oh, yeah, and off they went outside. He reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers in hers. As they walked toward the boardwalk, he realized they weren’t going on that cruise.
Her scent was intoxicating. He couldn’t believe that her unique mixture of perfume, musk, and soap fused together to produce this. Even better—he knew that there were other scents, other tastes that would be even more divine if he could get there tonight.
Dylan stopped, finally, bursting at the seams with his own internal dialogue, his own body’s cravings, and just looked at her and decided that he needed to be as forthright with her as he had been with most people throughout his life, because these games weren’t cutting it anymore.
Time to make his move.
He leaned down, caressed her jawline with his right hand, and brought his lips to hers. She responded, pressing her body against his until everything, from breast to hip, was his, pushed into him, and anything he felt for her was extremely obvious right now.
They definitely were not going on that cruise.
Cruise, what cruise? She had no intentions of going on a cruise. As his kiss deepened, lips parted, as their tongues danced, she found herself roiling in ecstasy inside, going so far as to be twisted into a cliché, one leg lifting up as she stood on her tiptoes, even in high heels needing to stand on tiptoes to match him in his kiss.
His hands roamed her back. She returned the motion, her fingers splayed across the broad, muscular expanse of his shoulders, his hands cupping her jaw now, pushing, needing, craving....
“Ah,” he said, his voice gravely and thick with desire, “Can we take a pass on that cruise?”
She dipped her head down and laughed softly. “Yeah —good thing you didn’t buy those tickets after all.”
Cocking his head, he looked at her with smoky eyes and asked, “Do you have a car parked nearby?” She knew what he was asking, his words code for Can I take you home and fuck you without worrying about your car getting ticketed or towed?
How sweet. Most guys didn’t care.
“No car. I took the train today.”
Nodding, his smile widened. “I drove, so let’s take my car to my place? For drinks?”
Whoo—eee. Laura swallowed hard, knowing that this was really it. He wanted to sleep with her, was inviting her back to his place for it, and she ran through her mental inventory. Clean lingerie? Yes. Shaved legs? Yes—she’d been optimistic. No car? Yes.
Birth control?
Oh, shit. She was on the pill, but had forgotten to take it a few days ago. Missing one day shouldn’t hurt, right?
Hopefully he had a condom.
His puzzled look told her she was taking too long to think. “I would love a drink.” And then he leaned in for another kiss, the move more certain now, his hands on her more demanding and visceral, claiming her and marking her arms, her neck, her lips and ass with his hands, his touch, his caress.
She was his tonight, and that had to be enough for her. He was hers for whatever he gave, and as the kiss heated she felt her core warm, clit throbbing and eager for what his tongue was promising right now, exploring her as his hands roamed her back and neck.
People were staring now; as she opened her eyes the onlookers tittered. She pulled back and wiped her mouth, embarrassed.
Dylan just grinned, leaned in and said, “Let’s stop giving the jealous bastards a show.” Her laughter rang down the street to the parking lot where his Audi sat.
When she climbed in it smelled like a campfire.
Blasting the local 80s station on the radio, they rode back to his place in silence, his hand planted on her knee whenever he wasn’t shifting, the fingers playing a melody of lust and creeping higher up her thigh until they arrived at his apartment complex. It was a skyscraper made of glass and steel and screamed money.
How in the hell did a firefighter afford this? As if he heard her thoughts, Dylan muttered, “I have a roommate.”
“Oh.” Disappointment flooded her. Maybe he really did just want to have drinks? No guy ever, ever invited her to his place to share some vodka and Coke, though. Not even the true assholes who beer goggled their way to fucking a fat chick they despised in the morning.
Relief took over her disappointment when he smiled a wicked grin and said, “But he’s gone for the night.”
Getting out of the car, walking up two flights of stairs and wandering down Dylan’s hallway was a blur. Laura vaguely heard his keys rattling and then a fierce, hot mouth was on hers, Dylan’s thick forearms scraping her shoulders as his hands slid up her jawline, behind her ears, fingers nestling in her hair and pulling her blond curls loose.
His tongue explored her mouth with such precision and his hips pressed into hers with intent. Gasping, she inhaled sharply as he pushed her up against his open door and took her mouth greedily.
Without a word he maneuvered their entangled bodies, closed the front door, tossed his keys on the floor and had her in his bedroom in seconds. No complaints here, Laura thought, and that was the last rational idea she had as he went straight for her clit.
No pretense, no artsy coyness.
“What are you—?” she gasped. And then, oh wow, he went right for the center of her heat, the briefest of touches so profound she nearly came all over his lips in an instant. Her thong slid down her legs as if an unseen force stripped it off and then—
“Ahhhhhh,” she groaned, practiced arms reaching under her hips, establishing his power. Using his forearms, he guided himself to her clit, freeing one hand to touch her there, slipping a finger into her pussy and caressing so that it set off unexpected waves of pleasure.
It was like a dream come true. She had resigned herself to guys who went down on her like their Novocaine was wearing off. Lips flapping and trying to do one thing but accomplishing nothing more than drooling. Who was this man? This? This was like being made love to by a silk mouth.
Her body flushed red and hot, the fire focused on her hot nub as he teased it, slowly growing the release within, entering and pulling back with two perfect fingers. Her thighs twitched and shook, and she knew she would come like a freight train soon. She buried her hands in his hair, sinking her hands into him, pushing his face in tandem with her need to strum her to the next level—
“Oh, Dylan!” she murmured, fucking his tongue, which licked her, hard, dead center on her nub. His tongue opened up, hot flesh on hers, as he gave her focused and expansive flesh play. Two different sensations tipped her completely over as every muscle tensed, her dripping hole clinging to his finger, riding his face like a stallion, his tongue working hard to keep her frenzy going.
“There! Right there,” she groaned, hands curling into fists of orgasm, body flailing as she murmured over and over, “Oh, God! Oh, God!” She was self-conscious; most guys didn’t just do this. They might flirt a bit with the clit, but they didn’t engage so fully. So, uh, deeply. He clearly enjoyed this. Reveled in it. And as he picked some perfect rhythm for making her come, she realized she was being played by a sex virtuoso.
Give in to it, Laura. Give in, she told herself, hoping he didn’t care about her fleshy belly, her curvy ass. All worry faded as she orgasmed and realized she had never thought this was possible, had never been in the hands of a master like this. Keeping her pussy on his tongue, he maintained, tongue pushing and withdrawing, getting every last bit of her release as her muscles unclenched, her gasps subsiding, little sounds of exertion.
He looked up and grinned, and slid his hands up her body, following her curves. One hot kiss full of her taste geared her up again, her clit and pussy clenching so hard she climaxed yet again simply from the kiss, her hips pushing into him, her juices in her mouth, his mouth, the scent so arousing that she was actually coming from a kiss.
The taste of Laura was so much more detectable than anything they had just eaten at dinner. Instinct drove him to kiss her again and just as he was ready to make his next move she surprised him by taking the lead. She reached for him with a familiarity,
the skin on his aching cock so soft and eager, rising up to meet her. Laura deftly massaged his thigh with her other hand, cupping his balls, pressing against the base with her thumb, a deep groan growing out of him unbidden. Oh, man, did this woman know how to touch him.
She licked her lips with intent, boldly staring him in the eye, then looking down and drawing out the wait, making him hold his breath with the agony of anticipation.
She held the base of his cock with one hand and began licking him slowly, flicking the tip until he groaned again, hoping he could hold out until they were ready to make love, his body so ready to dive into her flesh, to grab those curves and to luxuriate in her body.
Taking him in inch by inch, she tongued him until he twitched. Licking the front of his cock below the head and then gulping him even deeper into her mouth, flicking her tongue against him, she made him tighten and release his breath, hips shifting as he moaned at the feel of her mouth around his cock.
Her hand gently masturbated him while sliding her mouth up on his cock, making sure he felt the inside of her cheek, her tongue and her lips, not really sucking but milking him. Milking him. Oh, shit, at this rate he’d come in her mouth, and as seconds passed that idea became increasingly appealing...
One of his hands touched her head, stroking her hair encouragingly even as he struggled inside, fighting the pleasure she was draining from him, torn between wanting immediate release and craving the feeling of being in her.
Building up the speed almost excruciatingly slowly, she played him like a damned instrument, and as his fingers tightened in her hair, her silky locks felt like another layer of possibility, her hair casual and comforting and just right—like everything else this night. She gently touched his balls and he felt his juices begin to ooze out into her mouth, so that she gasped even with his pole in her mouth, the combination of moist heat and cold, rushing air too much.
The sound of her voice vibrated his cock in her throat, her lips kissing her own thumb and forefinger, wrapped like a cock ring, as Dylan was completely enveloped by her. Nearly screaming, he sat up and grasped her head, grinding his hips in and out as she sucked hard, then let go, in rhythm to get him off. She completely covered his root with her lips. He panted, overtaken by this gem, his hands roaming over her gorgeous breasts, her hair falling in waves over her face as she mouth fucked him, and the better part of him stopped her, wanting to give her more.
