by Sylvia Fox
“Oh no, nothing like that, darlin’. Let’s just say my expectations for the evening extend no further than a good lobster tail and, of course, fine conversation with you. Anything more I can only anticipate going badly, given the literal decades since I last dated.”
“What will help put your nerves at ease?” I ask as I bring my finger to my pursed lips. “I’ve got it,” I say running my finger down his chiseled chest. “You sir, have my personal guarantee tonight will exceed your expectations. My. Personal. Guarantee.”
“That’s a bold stance Miss Rogers. How can you be so confident?” he asks in a slow, deep voice.
“Like I told you this afternoon, I have a plan.”
Chapter Six
Ian
Thank God Flamingos is only a few minutes from my house. It took serious effort to keep my hands on the wheel and my eyes on the road after she climbed into the truck and slid into the seat right next to me. If this was anyone else, I’d think she was flirting.
As we walk through the doors, we are welcomed in and I’m greeted by my first name like a member of the family. “OK, maybe I’m here more than I realized,” I joke.
Sam and I take a seat at the bar to get drinks. I order a double of Jameson Irish whiskey, my usual, and she opts for some sort of fruity concoction.
“Alright, step one is complete, now what?” I ask.
“All in good time,” she says while seductively manipulating her straw.
Our conversation flows naturally and time passes quickly as we trade stories about our experiences with this or that. I realize I am only now just getting to know this person I have known so many years and each new thing I learn only reaffirms my long-held belief—she is some kind of special.
A drink or two later and my stomach reminds me with a growl I need something more than alcohol. “Shall we move to a table and get food in our bellies?” I ask, placing my hand on hers.
“Good call,” she says with one last sip of her drink.
No sooner are we seated than I look over and, in horror, spot my ex-fucking-wife and her fucking boyfriend.
“Mother fucker,” I say as quietly as I can. “OK Sam, I hate to ruin your plan for the evening, but I could use some help here.”
“Uh, sure. What’s up?” she asks with a wrinkled brow.
“Don’t look now, but Gail is over there with what’s his face. You’ll understand if I’m not interested in putting any crash and burn pickup attempts out on display for her. I refuse to give that bitch the satisfaction, and I’ll be goddamned if I’m leaving. She’d just assume I still give a fuck about her. Which I don’t. So … what are our options here?”
Without so much as a hesitation, Sam hops her chair over next to mine. Then, when we are shoulder to shoulder, she lets out a light-hearted, but clearly audible laugh followed with “Ooooh Ian,” catching at least half the room’s attention. In case that didn’t deliver the message, she places her hand on my cheek, turning my face to hers and delivers a passionate, lasting kiss for emphasis.
As soon as she sits back, I place my hand on the base of her neck, and gently pull her toward me, keeping my eyes locked on hers. I lean in and slowly return her kiss, allowing my tongue to momentarily brush her lower lip before withdrawing. Her mouth responds in kind, moving toward mine, searching for what was there the moment before. I complete the gesture by drawing my hand back, slowly sweeping past her ear lobe, and ending with it placed just under her jaw line while I deposit a small, delicate, final kiss on her forehead before I release her.
“Fuck it, would you like to get out of here?” I ask, the words dripping with desire.
She nods, the look in her eyes assuring me the feeling is mutual.
I pull a crisp hundred from my wallet and leave it on the table as we depart. That should be more than enough to compensate the server for her time and to make up for any inconvenience our scene may have caused.
Samantha’s hand is in mine as I make my way to the truck. I cannot fathom the drive home right now. It may be short on an ordinary day, but this day is turning out to be anything but ordinary and I can’t risk losing the moment.
I lead Sam to the passenger side so I can open the door for her, but stop short and draw her body into mine. I brush the bangs from her eyes, my body on fire with yearning, and take a breath before I give my confession.
“Samantha, I don’t know what just happened, but I have wanted it for a very long time. If I’m reading this wrong and you were playing a part, I need you to tell me now.”
“Oh my God Ian, no. I have thought of that moment longer than I can bear to admit.”
“All I needed to hear,” I say pulling the back-passenger door open to help her inside. “I want you. Right here. Right Now,” I tell her.
“Oh God. Yes,” she says.
We pick up where we left off in the restaurant, pulling at one another’s clothing, with no concern for the tight quarters. My hand behind her head, I lay her back across the seat to get better access to her body. I remove my hand from her breast and pull her dress up to her waist revealing a tiny pink-lace thong poorly concealing the promised land beneath.
I place my thumbs under either side of her panties and slowly pull them down. She assists my efforts with a slight lift of her ass and then her legs. I take a moment to enjoy the view after carefully separating her knees. “Are you sure you want this?” I ask one final time.
“Please don’t make me wait any longer. I need you inside me,” she says, pulling at me.
“Who am I to deny a girl what she needs?” I reply, as I loosen my belt and pull off my pants freeing my cock from the prison it’s outgrown.
I take my place above her and lick my index and middle fingers before placing them in her pussy only to find the gesture was unnecessary. She’s dripping for me.
Between moans, she begs, “No, I need the real thing. Please, give it to me.”
I guide the head of my cock to her opening and rub it along the edge, top to bottom and both sides. At this point, her moans can be heard several parking spots away, but they only make me want her more.
I enter her and feel a gush of fluid, accompanied by several partial words between her gasps for oxygen.
“Don’t worry, darlin'. I’m just getting started.”
Chapter Seven
Sam
Ian pops out of the truck and heads to my door when we arrive back at his house. It’s a chivalrous gesture, but in this moment also profoundly welcome. My legs have ceased to accept commands from my brain, opting instead to shake and sputter about on their own. He extends his hand, accepting mine and then wraps my arm through his as he helps me down and inside—somehow managing to be both masculine and in control of the situation, while simultaneously aware of and attentive to my needs.
Oh my God. I just had sex in a parked truck with the man of my dreams. This is a thing that just happened. Not only did it happen, but it was fucking epic. And what exactly did he fuck me with? I couldn’t see anything in the darkness of the back seat, but I need to get a look at his equipment because, holy shit. There is exactly zero percent chance I would ever debase myself with such an act for anyone. Ever. At least, that used to be true, but here? Now? With this man? After that experience? Sign me up for that ride anytime.
Ian escorts me to the couch and takes a seat by my side, turning his body to mine. “Sam, we should talk about what just happened.” His face is warm and sincere and in this light, his beautiful green eyes have an almost hazel hue.
“Please don’t tell me it was a mistake. It wasn’t. It couldn’t have been. It felt too natural to be anything else,” I say, emphatically.
The crinkle in his brow eases, and his shoulders relax as he breathes out. “Are you sure that’s how you feel? I admitted a long-held secret to you before. I have had these feelings for a long time and I need to be certain you aren’t just a bit tipsy and weren’t thinking clearly at the moment.”
“Ha! I’m a third-year Tar Heel, I hardly think a few fru-fru dr
inks are enough to inebriate me,” I say laughing. “I’m at the peak of my drinking game mister. In fact, if it’s not too much to ask, I could go for another, while I recover.”
Smiling, he leaves my side and heads for the bar. “Well, I don’t know that I have much in the way of fruity,” he says pausing to look over the bottles. “It appears I stick to the basics, we’ve got vodka, whiskey, vermouth, and gin. Any of those doable?”
“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” I reply, unfamiliar with how to drink liquor that isn’t in a shot glass.
“Well then, darlin', how do you take your whiskey? I prefer mine neat, but that can be an acquired taste.” Ian pauses momentarily and draws his fingers across the stubble of his chin. “Hmm, I think I’ve got just the thing for you—be right back,” he says, clearly pleased with himself as he heads to the kitchen.
He returns with a glass of something in hand. “Have you ever had the pleasure of a Jameson and Ginger, my dear?”
“I have not,” I reply.
“Well then, prepare to be dazzled, but beware they have a nasty habit of sneaking up and biting you on the ass,” he says with a mischievous grin.
“Why Mr. Black, if you hadn’t just had your way with me I’d think you were trying to get me drunk and take advantage,” I say in a playful, flirty voice.
“Perhaps I’m trying to make up for lost time,” he says as he takes a seat across from me with his drink.
Ian sips his whiskey from an expensive looking crystal glass while I confess my feelings for him and how I’ve dreamt so many times about this moment. The conversation is magical as we both share memories of the other and how we’ve thought back to them time and again adapting them into what-if fantasy encounters. Before I know it, my drink is empty and I realize I am officially tipsy, perhaps a little more than tipsy. He wasn’t wrong, that drink will sneak up and bite you on the ass.
“Ian? Would it be alright if I stayed here tonight? It’s late and I don’t think I could slip back into the house without waking my parents, and I’m not ready for the inevitable conversation with Mom about the evening.”
“Sure, you can take my bed. I’ll bunk here on the couch,” he says.
“But, what if I want you to take your bed, with me?” I ask in the best sexy little girl voice I can manage.
“Christ, keep talking to me with that voice and you can have anything your heart desires, darlin',” he says as he bends down in front of me, slides his arms under my knees and back, and effortlessly picks me up and carries me to his bedroom.
No sooner has he laid me down on his king size bed, then his demeanor shifts, and he goes to work removing my clothes. The kindness in his eyes is replaced with fire; this is a man who knows what he wants and intends to have it.
I raise my arms, creating a path for my dress as he pulls it over my head. His hands pause to cup and lightly squeeze my bare breasts on their journey to remove my panties once more. Ian pauses, taking a moment to appreciate his work, as I lay before him bare and hungry, brimming with anticipation for what is to come.
“Please, I want you inside me again,” I plead.
“In good time beautiful,” he says as he parts my legs at the knees. He slowly runs a hand down my inner thigh, stopping just short of my throbbing pussy, causing it to clench as my hips rise—yearning for contact—desperate to feel him enter. I look up at him, my eyes wild with desire, and beg him to take me.
His focus unbroken, he slides back on the bed and further spreads my legs with his hands while his face comes down to meet my pussy. My neck strains to watch, to drink everything in, but the moment his tongue makes contact my head drops to the pillow and my eyes close, lost in ecstasy.
I can feel him against my most sensitive of places. His tongue is wide and flat and warm, touching my lips with firm, constant pressure as he licks upward, taking his time. He pauses just shy of my clit and makes a swirling motion before it begins the trek down the same path toward my asshole.
My hips push into his face and I hear a small groan of agreement before I feel his tongue changing shape as he approaches… “Oh my God!” I gasp as he swirls again, but this time his tongue is extended and firm, reaching out to my ass and playing with it. The feeling is too strong and I cannot hold back any longer, my pussy convulses and I come. Hard.
Wave after wave of pleasure rush through me causing me to buck against his mouth, but he responds only by pulling my hips down, maintaining his focus where he wants it through my release. He is definitely in control of the situation and it is so incredibly hot.
I struggle to find enough breath to tell him how turned on I am. “Please. Fuck me. Now,” I moan.
Hearing those words, his hands release my hips, and he sits up. I open my eyes to see him, to get another glimpse of his magnificent body, in time to see him unclasp his belt and pull his pants away, kicking them to the other side of the room. It’s only when he removes his boxer briefs that I understand why my pussy was so sore from our encounter in the truck. His cock is gorgeous, thick and long, complete with a perfectly shaped helmet, but it is big. It must be as big as my wrist at the base.
He crawls back on the bed and flips me onto my stomach, grabs my hips, and brings my ass back to him, biting it gently. “Jameson isn’t the only thing that can sneak up and bite you on the ass,” he says.
Once I am in the position he wants, he runs a hand between my legs and gently inserts his fingers into me. I am overtaken and my juices burst out, soaking his hand. “Good,” Ian says softly. “I want you to be ready for this.” With his dick in his other hand, he brings it to my opening, moving his hand away and stopping when the crown of his cock meets resistance from my inner lips.
He has one hand on my hip and reaches the other around to the front of my pussy, pulling back on the skin and exposing my clit. Then he pushes forward slowly until I feel his groin against my ass, his cock buried inside me. Fuck, he is so big. I am stretched to my limit from my vulva to my cervix. The sensation is indescribable. It takes a moment for my walls to relax, but he moves slow as if to give me time to adjust, all the while gently rubbing my button. I’ve never had this much man before today, but as my body adjusts to the feeling, what should be painful is amazing. Pressure begins building within me again, almost immediately.
“Ian, I’m going to come.”
“Not yet darlin'. I want you to hold it,” he says.
Hold it? How the hell am I supposed to do that?
“I. I don’t think I can,” I say in between moans of pleasure.
“Hold it!” he commands, as he plunges himself into me with increasing speed.
I don’t know how, but I can feel his cock surging. It is getting harder and throwing me over the edge. “I … I can’t—I can’t hold it anymore,” I bellow.
And then, when I don’t think I can wait any longer, he lets me find release.
“Now! Come now!” he replies as we both explode into one another in what can only be described as sexual dynamite.
Chapter Eight
Ian
My body wakes at the usual time, unconcerned that it is Sunday, or that there is a stunning beauty lying naked beside to me. I resist the urge to get moving for a while, looking her over as the first rays of morning pierce the window and stretch toward the bed. Her hair covers the pillow as if it had been carefully draped, her chest rises lightly and then falls, again and again, while she dreams. Somewhere during the night, the sheet slipped, exposing one of her breasts to the morning light. Incredible. A foot pokes free at the other end of the bed and I can’t help but admire how perfectly primped it is. Her toes are expertly pedicured; the nails shaped and contoured complete with a burgundy polish on top.
This woman truly is incredible from her head to her toes.
My body is replete with joy but cannot lie still any longer, so I ease myself back to the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb my sleeping beauty, and slide away. I dig around quietly along the floor looking for my underwear and, once
in hand, tiptoe out of the room pulling the door behind me.
The plan was to return with a breakfast fit for a princess but somewhere in the calamity of banging pans and clinking utensils, I must’ve have woken her because she rounds the corner still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“Good morning darlin',” I say with a smile as I pour a fresh cup of coffee. “Sleep well?”
“Like a baby,” she replies through a yawn. “I thought I smelled deliciousness—did you make me breakfast?” she asks with delight in her voice while throwing her arms around me and snuggling in for a hug.
“Yes, ma’am. You have your choice of scrambled eggs, turkey sausage, turkey bacon. There are a few slices of French toast here, and some toast with butter cooling in the toaster oven. And, of course, coffee. You are lucky I made that trip to the grocery yesterday, or this morning’s offerings would look quite a bit different,” I say. “I meant to wake you with breakfast, but this wasn’t exactly how I envisioned—in my mind, it was going to be more of a bedside affair,” I say apologetically. “Hungry?” I ask.
“Oh, I think I could eat,” she says moving to take a seat at the table. “Lexi—she’s my roommate back home—we don’t usually take much time for breakfast, or to be honest we don’t usually have much time, so our options are a quick bowl of cereal or a protein bar on the way to class. That girl would be beside herself right now. Not only is there a buffet to choose from, but a man in the kitchen who took the time and effort to prepare it all. Definitely one for the record books.”
“Samantha, I need to tell you. I need you to know.” My thoughts are clear, but the words do not come easily. It is a strange sensation, I have always been a man who knows what he wants. I have clear goals and act deliberately to achieve them. “Last night, solidified what I want. I want to be with you,” I say bluntly. “Maybe this was a summer fling for you. A one time thing—and if so, I can respect that, but I want more. As much as you will give, for as long as you will give it.”
