by Alex Rosa
I’m mesmerized by how serious he sounds. I nod.
He turns, nudging in the direction of the open nightclub before placing his searing stare on mine, pinning me with it. “All these people here probably live different lives outside of this place, but they come here for only one thing: to fuck. That’s all they care about, and that’s all I care about. Here, people get what they want, and exactly how they want it with willing participants. No secrets. No strings attached. No mind games. Just pure, unadulterated sex. You don’t know it, but that’s exactly what you’re here for, too, even if you’re reluctant to admit it.”
My eyes drag over the nightclub in scattered glances until I feel ready to look him in his glowing catlike eyes, and the only thing I’m afraid of is how willing I am to listen.
“Are you nervous?” he asks, tilting his head.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“What would make you relax?”
I dart my eyes to his lips, which twitch when I do. “I don’t know. You just have me so figured out. I wish I knew what was going through your head.”
He hums. “Okay, fair. If it helps, I’ll tell you what I’m thinking, but if I do that, this is officially starting. Nothing held back. You signed up for this. Got it?”
I lick my lips. Nathan is oddly forthcoming and accommodating, but he somehow finds a way to use it to his advantage even though he’s the one divulging all of the secrets.
“Okay. Spill.”
He leans in closer, his lips skimming the skin below my ear. His voice lowers an octave while he hums his confession with a finesse that makes goose bumps rise over every surface of my body. “I want to fuck you right now, in this booth, or up against that wall, in front of all these people. I wanted to fuck you in the sex shop, even when you dropped the vibrator in the aisle. I loved the embarrassed flush to your skin, and the innocence plastered all over you face. I wanted to show you how to use it. I wanted to be the one to make you blush, and I fucking love how I’m making you blush now, but I like it even more that you try to challenge me with that stare of yours, even though you’re completely out of your element. I admit, I also like you clueless, and I get some sick pleasure from your naive trust in me, and I think we’re going to have a lot of fun. You’re brave and sexy, ya know? In that untapped librarian sort of way. I don’t see much of that type here. Well, not the legitimate kind anyway. I couldn’t just let you go. I knew I wanted to have fun with you the moment I laid eyes on you.”
I’m panting. I don’t think I’ve ever panted in my entire life. Maybe after running a 5K, but nothing like this. Not with my heart in my throat, constricting my breaths, and this uncomfortable throb between my legs.
I’ve never been spoken to like that, and none of my boyfriends have ever been good at having a dirty mouth. I never considered it something I’d like, but damn, I really like Nathan Sander’s dirty mouth.
“Feel Better?” he asks, sitting back in his seat, and dare I say, smugly smiling as well.
My mouth bobs a bit, trying to find words, but I’ve never been a good liar.
“I’m not really one for baby steps,” he adds almost remorsefully. Almost.
My mouth slams shut, and I’m back to smiling. “I’m good.”
“Awesome,” he quips, and it reminds me how close we are in age. He must be successful, because when I look around, and by the way we got in, a membership here must come with a hefty price tag. I know I’m not supposed to wonder who Nathan is in his personal life, but I’ve never been so curious.
“Lauren, we’re about to do something very important.”
I snap my attention back to him. “Huh? What?”
“We’re about to kiss.”
“Oh,” I exhale, squaring my shoulders.
“I get the feeling once we get past this, it’ll be smooth sailing the rest of the way.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m pretty confident that you’ll give yourself to me with no problem after.”
He’s back to closing the distance between us fast, and I can’t help my bright smile. “Well, you’re right about one thing: You are pretty confident.”
A humid huff of his laughter hits my lips. “Ya know, Lauren? For being strangers, I think we’re going to get along just fine.”
His lips crash against mine with unabashed purpose, sparking a forest fire within me that’ll take an inconceivable amount of time to put out. Can’t say I mind.
His lips are unforgiving and intense, even with this being our mouths’ first encounter. There isn’t a moment where he gives me a hint of control, but I don’t try for it either. I’ve left that need in the spiraling hall of neon, and instead surrender my mouth to his, soaking in the fact his lips are soft. Yet, the way they stroke against mine is brash, possessive, and divine.
My mouth opens for his and his tongue tangles around mine. I can’t hold back the tiny moan that escapes me. I’d usually be embarrassed by the outburst, but he returns it with one of his own and squeezes my thigh, his hand inching upward.
My hand rises, and I don’t know if I’m allowed to touch him, but I can’t stop. I curve my hand over his stubbly jaw and into his thick hair. Another groan confirms this is definitely okay.
The pace picks up, and it feels like it’s in time with my heart, the thuds beating at light speed. His mouth is fevered and wonderful. His tongue drags across my bottom lip until he takes it between his teeth, tugging it.
Is this what happens when you leave your morals at the door, and choose sex without boundaries? Is it always this passionate? This ferocious? How is it possible for me to feel so comfortable with someone I don’t really know? It’s like everything I’ve known to be true about relationships and myself is blurred … like this moment.
When the hand on my thigh climbs high enough to come dangerously close to a very private part of my body that might be soaking, I gasp into his mouth. It’s more of a moan once I attempt to speak. “Nate, what’re you doing?”
He looks how I feel. Dazed, sort of euphoric. His eyes lustful, demanding, and needy. It makes me want to kiss him again.
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Lesson one is starting, and like I told you, I’m kind of an exhibitionist.”
I gulp, overheating and going mad. I need something, or someone, to soothe this insane feeling winding at the base of my spine, but tingling right between my legs. I squirm as I speak, my eyes darting around the room, trying to process everything at once. “But now? Here? What if someone sees?”
He shifts, putting us eye to eye, nose to nose, and I can tell I’ve riled him up this time by his piercing glare. He replies in rushed breaths, his lips brushing against mine with every other word. “Yes, right here. You think these people haven’t seen it before? I assure you, I’ve seen much more happen at these tables, and against these walls. Hell, some of them even like watching. These people don’t care if I have my hand up your dress, or if I bend you over this table. Plus, Lauren, it won’t be the last time I do something like this. So, yes, here, right now, I’m going make you come. This is where curiosity takes you, and it’s only the beginning.”
If he asked me what my name was, I don’t think I could remember. This is what I signed up for, isn’t it? This is part of the deal. I’m supposed to give myself to him in exchange for information. This is it. This is happening. The fight in me isn’t there, and I’m trying to find out where it went. I’m here, a panting, horny mess, at the hands of someone who could probably make me orgasm by continuing to talk to me like that.
I release a long exhale, finding that it does nothing to relieve my thoughts or body.
He nips at my bottom lip again, pulling me out of revelry. “You really need to stop acting like you don’t want it. Actually, I’m going make you tell me you want it, just so we’re both sure.”
I nudge my chin up, the tips of our noses touching, challenging him. He’s demanding I say it out loud, and my pride isn’t so willing.
“Say it, Lauren.”
My eyes
sear him with momentary disdain, but as if rejecting it, he slams his mouth against mine. I kiss him back, using my frustration to fuel our bruising lips. The low growl that erupts from him sends that wildfire in me ablaze.
“Lauren,” he groans. “Say it!” His anger only makes me more frustrated.
“Why?” I huff, my fingers tugging at his hair a little harder in time with his tightening grip on my leg. “Why would it possibly matter?”
He pulls away, sucking my bottom lip hard this time, and my whole body goes languid against his before he lets it go.
“It absolutely fucking matters.” His breaths are shallow as he speaks. The look in his eyes volatile and hot. “Because if you don’t say it, I’m not going to let you come, and I don’t think either of us wants that. It’s more than saying it, too. That’s part of this. People who come here don’t hold back. They don’t have anything to hide. What would be the point if they did? Are you saying you don’t want to tell me you want my fingers rubbing your swollen cunt, sliding inside you, hitting you in that spot you’d never be able to reach yourself? You see how I don’t have anything to hide, Lauren? Fahrenheit is about being unrestrained, uninhibited, and free. You think I’m going to judge you for telling me how much you want my hands on you, or telling me how wet you are? For fucks sake, Lauren, there’s no chance. It’s exactly what I want.”
I’m trying to take all these mental notes while trying to keep myself glued together, because I’m starting to feel unhinged and confused.
He kisses me again, but this time gentle and quick. “Now, what is it you wanted to say, Lauren?”
His words are flighty, whimsical even, but almost patronizing. I smile anew. My lips pressed together hard as I let my eyes drag over his face, as if committing not only this moment, but also his face to memory, knowing that there’s no going back. I like the slope of his nose and the brightness to his eyes even though they’re demanding, but what I like the most is the way he’s still smirking at me.
“I want it,” I reply.
“And?” he hums, tilting his head as if to hear me better.
I shake my head, admonishing my pride, my smile only growing. “And … I want you.”
“Perfect.”
Then it’s game over.
He kisses me hard. His grip on my thigh is still as tight, which makes the slow drag up to my core even more tantalizing. My heart is pulsing in my ears, and my breaths are shallow in adrenaline-driven anticipation. I’m liking this, and I never saw it coming.
When my lips aren’t being as cooperative, because I’m still trying to speak, he moves his mouth over the curve of my jaw, placing sliding wet kisses over my skin, nipping the sensitive place right below my ear. I nearly whimper.
“Nate,” I whisper in a long drawn out groan.
“I am so glad you’re not wearing any panties,” he growls, licking over that thumping pulse point on my neck as his hand reaches its destination. “Fuck.” He sighs, “You’re so wet. I always want you soaking.”
His mouth is back on mine, caressing mine as his hands stroke between my folds, circling my clit before dragging back to the entrance to my sex, teasing it.
My legs spreading for him without much of a thought. I don’t remember giving my legs that directive, but I appreciate their initiative.
I moan into his mouth, begging him to touch me more.
He presses two fingers inside me, dragging out the pleasure, and I can’t fight back another whimper when I feel his thumb rub against my clit.
“I want to hear you,” he says, pulling away, burying his head into my neck, his other arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me against him. His fingers beginning an in-and-out assault.
I grip his shirt, my fingers digging into his arms, desperate to find release as the blissful sensation builds. “Fuck,” escapes me. “Oh, God.” I bite down on my bottom lip, clenching my eyes shut.
“Don’t hold back.”
My hips try and find a rhythm against his hand.
“More?” he asks, his lips hovering over mine. However, my eyes are closed, but I can feel him watching me, taking me in.
“More,” I gasp. “I want more.”
“It’s all yours.”
His fingers pick up speed, his palm rubbing against my sensitive nub in unison with the moment his mouth captures mine. His tongue dips into my mouth, tasting me. All my hands can do is bring him closer, clinging to him, desperate for the finale as my body climbs higher and higher. My juices drip down my thigh.
“So fucking hot, Lauren. If anyone hasn’t done this to you, they’re a damn idiot.”
With one final pleasure-building stroke of his palm, I clench around his fingers inside me, and my whole body rolls through an orgasm that I can feel all the way down to my toes.
“Nate,” I moan. His mouth absorbs my sounds as he kisses me stupid. He doesn’t stop kissing me until my body spasms stop, and I release a long exhale of relief.
All at once, he pulls his hand from between my thighs, and puts distance between us. Not necessarily scooting over, but sitting nonchalantly by my side.
“That’s it for lesson one.”
Huh.
“What? That’s it?” I repeat, feeling bereft and teetering on annoyed at the blunt halt in our sensual moment. I want his hands on me more. I’m still hungry for it, and it’s baffling. I roll out my shoulders, trying to understand how I just received one of the best orgasms of my life, and now he’s ready to stop. It’s too abrupt. Maybe I should be grateful, but something about it feels unfair.
Is this what crazy feels like?
Nate’s smile is made for the devil as he replies, “That’s it for now, Lauren.” His eyes are light and accomplished, but pinning me to the spot, as if to make sure I’m looking at him, like we’re frozen in time as he takes the same two fingers that were inside me only seconds ago, and sticks them in his mouth, lapping up my arousal.
As if I could turn any redder, or feel any hotter, the move is more erotic than what we’ve done.
I lick my lips, wondering how I can savor this, and what more I could do. I can’t fathom when I’ve ever been so bold.
“You don’t want me to return the favor?” I ask, wondering how much he’ll let me have.
He tilts his head, leaning a little closer, and I want him to kiss me again, but he doesn’t. “Oh, you’ll definitely be returning the favor, but not tonight. Tonight was …” I want to say, “mind-shattering,” “stupendous,” but he finishes with, “A great starting point. We probably shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves.”
I nod like I know what the hell he’s talking about.
“Can I take you out again this weekend? When do you have to have your article written?”
Are we back to talking about business when my body is still rolling through the aftermath of an orgasm that he inflicted with terrifying finesse?
“I’m not sure exactly. I’d assume a few weeks,” I reply, wondering how I’m still able to form words. I want to ask him how he’s so calm. Luckily, I see him readjusting his pants, and I get the feeling he’s suffering at least a little. “Don’t you want to do more?”
He chuffs out a laugh, and rewards me with a kiss. “You’ll see half the fun is anticipation around here.”
I wish he’d let me write that down.
“A few weeks aren’t really enough time for me to get my fill. How about I see you Thursday?”
Is that a pun?
I can survive two days, I think. Then I realize that our time spent together has a dooms day. I tell myself that this is what I signed up for. Nate and I don’t have an emotional connection. It’s physical. I’m okay with this.
“Thursday works.”
“Same time, same place, but leave the roommate home. Obviously, now you know I’m not a serial killer.”
“Is death by orgasm a thing, though? Jury’s still out.”
He laughs, and I’m on top of the world when I hear the deep timber sound again.
He
can have my orgasm, but that laugh is so mine.
My knees have had a hard time functioning since Nathan dropped me off at the cafe. The rogue kissed the inside of my wrist instead of my hand before releasing me back into the wild. I smiled, but did my best to avoid eye contact. It was for my own hormonal safety.
Currently, I’m finding the steps up to my apartment more difficult than that one time I attempted them after I ate the worm at the bottom of a bottle of tequila.
I push open my front door, and for once, I hate seeing Garrett there, flipping through Netflix in our living room. It’s nearly one thirty in the morning.
“Garrett,” I greet too crisply.
Doesn’t he have other things he could be doing? Like sleeping?
His eyes fling to the doorway. He grins, giving me a double eyebrow raise. “How was it?”
What a question.
I grit my teeth, releasing an exhale as I walk into the living room, my heels clicking on the wood floor too loudly for my liking, and all I’m trying to do is not give away how wobbly I am.
I hold up my index finger, knowing I can’t avoid Garrett on this. He’ll only be more curious.
“Let me change first.”
I don’t dare look at him. I speed walk into my bedroom. I need a pair of panties and a sweatshirt stat. It might give me a sense of normalcy.
Garrett was right about one thing. I am out of my league no matter how wonderful my lady bits feel. I can’t understand how I want more—more Nathan Sanders, more information, more touchy, more feely, more everything.
I look forward to my mundane morning at work in order to ground me, but how I’m supposed to focus on the online edition of the magazine when I have Nate’s hands tattooed all over my body is beyond me. I can still feel the indentations on my thigh and the soreness on my mouth.
Focus.
I kick off my heels, and then pull out a pair of granny panties as a way to feel more like myself before slipping on my Cal Fullerton sweatpants and a tank top.
Bending over my vanity, I squint at myself in the mirror, smirking. I do look as rattled and satiated as I feel. My black eyeliner isn’t as crisp as it was when I left, but instead a little fuzzy and blurry around the edges, kind of like how my body feels.
