by Tilly Kane
And yet, I can’t help it. She presses into me further, and I struggle to hold myself back. The last thing I want right now is for her to feel just how hard I already am. God, she’ll think I’m such a pervert.
Just as I’m getting my boner under control, Charlie tilts her head up, her hair briefly grazing my chin as she glances up at me. The look of joy sparkling in those improbable eyes -- it does me in. I’m a goner.
“I think I found us a place,” she says, happily. “You like tacos?”
“Oh my god, these were the best tacos I’ve ever had,” Charlie says, groaning as she sits back in the booth at this little hole-in-the-wall taco joint around the corner from the bar.
I study her, unable to fight my grin as I watch her savoring the last bite of her taco. “It’s LA, it would be surprising if a place didn’t have good tacos,” I say.
“Touché,” she says, wiping her mouth and taking a big swig of horchata. I love that she’s not scared to eat in front of me. I love how adventurous she was when deciding to try some unfamiliar menu items. And I love how she offered me a bite of each of her tacos, and gladly ate some of mine. That way we can try double the options, she’d explained. And it made sense, of course.
Honestly, if someone had asked me what I was looking for in a relationship, I don’t think I could have answered them succinctly before tonight. But this... this is what I want.
“So, we’ve already established that you’re not from here, but you never told me what you’re doing in LA anyway? Just visiting?” I ask, and god I don’t know if I’ve ever been so invested in the answer to a question. I hope she says she’s planning to move out here. I hope she says she wants to see me again.
I might have imagined it, but I swear she gets fidgety when I ask her what she’s planning. I try not to read too much into it.
“My brother... uh, he lives here. And I don’t really have anything keeping me home, so I’m considering a move,” she explains. “I’m actually in town for an interview.”
“Oh? Doing what?”
More fidgeting. I’m starting to think she’s hiding something from me, which is a ridiculous thought, because we just met.
She waves a hand dismissively. “Just some office job, doing admin work or something. Hey, this is a weird question, especially since we just left a club but... how do you feel about dancing?” she asks, her expression wide-eyed and hopeful.
Which is how I find myself in yet another club. I’ve already been in more clubs tonight than I have in the past three years combined. I tell Charlie that fact and she cracks up, nudging me in the side as if I made a funny joke.
As she explained at the taco joint, she never really got to dance at the first club since she spent her time in line for a drink and then distracted by me. And she’s got the itch to dance.
But as I told her before, I’m not a dancer, so I offer to grab us some seats while she scratches that itch.
And that plan lasts about .2 seconds until I realize that a gorgeous woman like Charlie, dancing alone, is like a bucket of chum in shark-infested water. Suddenly, she’s surrounded by men, ogling her and trying to dance close to her. Oh fuck me, what was I thinking?
My legs twitch with the need to run over to her, but I’m not trying to be a prick, so I force myself to stay seated until I see some overgrown finance douche grab her by the arm, forcefully pulling her to his chest and caging her in. I’m pretty sure I have a rage blackout, but I also notice Charlie craning her neck around as much as possible... to find me?
I’m across the dance floor and by her side in record speed. I can tell she’s trying to be polite to the jackass who has her caged in, but her expression sags in relief when she sees me over his shoulder.
Despite the fact that I want to break him limb from limb, she’s all I care about right now. I unceremoniously clap the dude on the shoulder and pull him away from her, pretending I’m nothing but an extremely pissed off boyfriend and slipping quite easily into the role. He takes one look at me and bolts.
Once he’s gone, Charlie throws herself in my arms, squeezing me tight and inhaling deeply against my chest.
“Shh, you’re okay,” I say, and I don’t know if it’s for me or for her.
She glances up at me, still not letting go. “I just... I wanted to dance. And,” she says, pausing as if she doesn’t necessarily want to tell me what she means, “um... not gonna lie, I was actually hoping you’d dance with me,” she explains, and there must be a meat grinder in my chest where my heart is, because that’s the only explanation for why that organ contorts so painfully right now.
I swallow thickly, unable to keep myself from pulling her even closer to me so I can whisper into her ear. “Baby girl, I know I said I don’t dance, but I’m willing to have you make a liar out of me.”
And so, for the first time in over a decade, I dance with a woman at a club. The songs are R&B classics that lend themselves to a slow, sensuous grind, and even when the DJ switches to more contemporary tracks, Charlie and I don’t break our rhythm.
6
Charlie
We take an Uber to his place, and part of me wonders if I’m the dumbest person alive. I’ve never gone home with someone I just met. He could be a murderer, or worse, a Scientologist or something. I know I’m going to get reamed by my brother and Brooklyn later.
But for now, I try to put that out of my mind and enjoy the fact that Beau has his arm around me, tucking me close into his side as he trails kisses up and down my neck. If I didn’t think it would get us kicked out and/or arrested, I’d spread my legs right here and let him slide those calloused fingers up to where I’m wet and aching for him.
I squirm in my seat, shivering when he ghosts his palm over my exposed thigh.
“We’re almost there, baby girl. Almost to my place,” he whispers, sending yet another flood of moisture to my panties.
I’m not sure what I expected -- a dingy bachelor pad with four roommates, maybe? -- but Beau’s place is definitely not that. He lives in a big industrial-looking loft that’s actually decorated in a style besides dude. He’s got supple tan leather couches, a massive TV, and actual framed portraits on the wall. Who is this man?
“How old are you?” I blurt, as I take a self-guided tour of his apartment.
He pauses in the act of pouring us some wine, as if my question catches him off guard. “I’m 36. Why do you ask? Wait, how old are you?” he says, suddenly suspicious.
Ah shit, why did I have to ask him that. He’s absolutely going to think I’m too young for him.
“I was just thinking how your place is way more mature than I expected. Most guys just live like... I dunno, like they’re just waiting for their mom or a girlfriend to come fix their place.”
Crap, what if he has a girlfriend and that’s why his place looks so incredible. I turn to him, and he smiles softly.
“No, no girlfriend. And don’t think I didn’t notice that you haven’t answered my question,” he says, coming over to me and pulling me close. His strong arms wrapped around me make me feel safe, content, and I close my eyes to savor the feeling.
He kisses my cheeks, one then the other, whispering to me as he does. “You’re older than 18, yeah?”
“Of course,” I say.
“Then why the secrecy?” he asks.
I hesitate.
“Because. I already know you’re going to think I’m too young for you. And I don’t really want to give you more ammunition for the argument that we aren’t right for each other.” My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest, and I can’t believe I’m being so transparent about wanting him this badly.
He stares thoughtfully at me, as if waiting, and I figure it’s best to just suck it up.
“I’m 22. I’ll be 23 next month, actually,” I say, not missing his sharp inhale.
He frowns, and my heart plummets.
I open my mouth to say... what, exactly? To plead my case? To convince him that my stupid 22-year-old self can
handle anything he throws at me? What exactly could I even say right now to make him believe that this needs to happen?
7
Beau
Twenty-two. She’s practically a baby. I try to think back on what I was doing at that age, but I’m pretty sure I blocked most of those memories out. I know I was deployed, but the specifics of it are lost to time.
I knew she was young, but I guess I didn’t think she’d be this young. I thought maybe she was in her mid-20s. Damn.
She glances up at me, uncertainty clouding her eyes. Does she really think I could send her away now? That I could stop myself from finding out just how sweet she tastes everywhere?
I walk over to the couch, taking a seat in the middle and spreading my legs wide so she can make out my growing erection. I’ve been hard since the moment we met, and I’m more than ready to bury myself inside her. I crook my finger, beckoning her over to stand in front of me.
“Will you strip for me, beautiful?”
She swallows thickly before nodding. “Yes,” she whispers.
I nod, holding my breath as she steps closer to me, standing just inside the cradle of my legs.
I’m mesmerized as she starts swaying seductively to a song only she can hear. She teases me with the hem of her dress, drawing it up over her thighs higher and higher before letting it fall back down, over and over until I’m mindless with need.
I grab her by the ass cheeks and pull her close to me, pressing my face into her still-covered mound.
“You going to tease me, or you going to let me see what’s been driving me crazy the whole night?” I rasp, not recognizing my own voice.
She moans as I knead her ass, molding it with my big hands.
“Off, off, take it off,” she begs, and I waste no time in pulling her dress over her head, finally baring her to my eyes.
I don’t know where to look first. She’s not even wearing a bra, so her gorgeous tits bounce free, looking incredible, with their rosy nipples budding in the cool air.
I reach up and pluck one, hard, before trailing my hand down her soft belly, and further down, to where she’s got the sexiest little thong on. I tuck my fingers under the straps, sliding them across the soft skin of her hips.
“Beau, please,” she whines, as I tease her some more, cupping my palm over her hot sex, feeling her dampness through her panties.
“Hmm, looks like someone soaked their panties tonight, huh baby?”
She nods, whimpering as I finally drag her underwear down her legs. She steps out of them, and my mouth goes dry seeing her naked like this in front of me, the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.
I place a hand between her thighs, forcing her to widen her stance before I trace my hand over her mound, She’s got a neat thatch of curls that I slide one finger over, then deeper, as she bucks under my ministrations.
Using both thumbs, I part her sweet, pink pussy lips and lightly blow over the exposed folds, relishing the way she cries out from this simple act alone.
I inhale deeply, wanting the scent of her arousal to permeate down to my bones, so that she’ll settle there and never leave. God, she’s perfect, her scent like a red flag in front of a raging bull.
“Come up here, sit on my face baby girl.”
A flash of concern passes her face and I can tell she wants to say no. It’s an intimate position, where I’ll be able to see and smell and taste everything.
I pull her toward me, thankful when she allows me to position her with her knees on either side of me. I slide down on the couch until my mouth is in line with her dripping cunt.
“You just grip onto my hair, okay? If you don’t like something, you just tell me and I’ll change it or stop, okay?”
She nods, and I waste no time running my tongue through those feminine lips of hers.
“Goddamn, this all for me?” I ask, but don’t wait for a response as I dive in deeper, licking up and sucking every drop of her arousal. She tastes like heaven and sin and everything I’ve never let myself dream of having.
I groan as I go at her messy, letting her juices coat my whole face, just like I want. I need it. I need her to come all over me, and I tell her so.
She bucks wildly, “Oh god, oh god, what are you even doing to me. Shit, shit, I’m so close,” she whines, and I slap her thigh, encouraging her to let go as I attack her clit.
She tenses for a brief second during which I keep going, before she absolutely shatters over me. Her pussy gushes on my face and I have to fight to keep from coming in my jeans. It’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever witnessed.
8
Charlie
After I come embarrassingly hard on Beau’s face, only partially slaking my unquenchable thirst for him, he picks me up like I weigh nothing and carries me to his bed.
He gently sets me down, naked as the day I was born, and climbs in beside me. I can’t help but notice that he’s still mostly clothed, and disappointment washes over me even as he holds me close and soothes me in a way I didn’t even know I needed.
“Why do you still have your clothes on?” I ask, sleepily reaching for his belt buckle.
He catches my hand and brings it up to his lips. “Shh, baby girl, just rest okay? I’m not going anywhere.”
And he says it so sweetly, and I find so much comfort in his arms, I can’t help but fall asleep.
When I wake again, it’s to find him staring at me, a slight smile on his face. I struggle to sit up. “What time is it?” I ask, slightly panicked that I slept for hours.
He chuckles, shaking his head as he kisses my forehead, nearly making me melt with the gentleness of the gesture.
“You were only out for about twenty minutes,” he says, alleviating my fears.
“Did you sleep?”
His smile fades as he shakes his head. “Nah, I just enjoyed holding you,” he says.
I raise a skeptical eyebrow.
“Baby, I’m not sure if you’ve ever tried to sleep with a boner as long as a baseball bat, and about as hard, but let me tell you -- it’s impossible.”
Suddenly, I’m wide awake, and acutely aware of the fact that I’m butt naked in his bed. My desire to make him happy, to bring him pleasure, unfurls like a living breathing thing in my belly. A need so desperate, I’ll do anything to please him.
“So,” I say, sitting up and letting the sheets fall off me, baring my tits to his hot gaze. “What’s a girl gotta do around here to see you naked?”
His grin is wolfish as he yanks his shirt off, followed quickly by his pants, until he’s standing next to the bed wearing just a smile and a pair of boxer-briefs that do nothing to hide his massive erection from me.
My mouth waters. I’ve never given a blow job, but suddenly I want that big part of him in my mouth more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I reach for his waistband, but he stills my hand, waiting until I look up at him.
“You know, we don’t have to do anything, right? I didn’t mean that I was waiting for you to wake up so we could fuck. I can easily go into the bathroom and take care of myself real quick,” he says, sending even more moisture to the apex of my thighs.
“Are you trying to be perfect, or were you just born this way?” I ask. I don’t wait for a response as I yank his boxers down, relishing the sight of his big, heavy cock jutting out of his riotous dark curls.
I thumb the slit at the head of his cock, savoring his deep moan as I spread the moisture around and around. He’s forged steel covered in the softest velvet, and I’m in love. Can you fall in love with a cock? Cause I’m in love with his cock.
I must say that last part out loud, because he laughs and pulls me close for a kiss, letting his hand trail down my back to squeeze my ass until we’re both sitting -- him positioned against his headboard, and me straddling him -- both of us naked and panting and grinding on each other as much as the space will allow it.
“God, baby, you’re too fucking beautiful. I can’t even handle it.”
My slick pussy l
ips part over his hard length, and I shift to allow the intrusion, letting my wetness coat him as I rock back and forth on it.
“Oh fuuuuuck, you’re a bad bad girl, aren’t you?” he asks, tossing his head back with a moan of pleasure as I increase my pace. “You going to let me put this cock in that little pussy of yours? You going to let me make you feel good?”
Good god he’s sexy as fuck. I’m pretty sure my response is incoherent babble as he licks his thumb and strums my clit like he owns it.
In the rational part of my brain, I know that I should stop this right now. Tell him I’ve never done this before. Some guys are weird about it, and I just should come clean right now. But then he flips me onto my back, thrusting his cock against my clit, and I temporarily forget my own name.
It’s not until he reaches into his nightstand for a condom that I gather my bearings and my courage.
“Hey I uh... need to tell you something,” I start, suddenly so nervous that he’s going to bail on me or something.
He seems to sense my worry, because he sits next to me on the bed, the condom forgotten, as he holds my hands.
“Whatever it is, it’s okay. If you want to stop now, that’s more than fine, I -- "
“No, no!” I protest, way too horny for us to stop. “This is something that isn’t all that important to me, but I needed to tell you because it might be important to you, and I don’t want you to get mad after.”
“Okay... you’re scaring me,” he admits.
“I’m a virgin!” I blurt, my face flushing as I watch him take in this piece of information.
