I can see it. I see the little scrunch of the bridge of his nose as his eyes squint just slightly while he looks at me. I see the corners of his mouth cinch together and draw down in a look that's more disapproval than mere disappointment.
All he says is "hey."
The single syllable falling flatly from those perfect lips that I was hoping to feel against mine soon.
He sounds entirely unimpressed with me.
I know I'm not every man's dream girl. I'm too tall for starters. Suddenly I want to kick off the heels. I should have known better, I'm over 6 feet tall in these things. Men don't like women to be as tall as they are. And I'm skinny, some guys have called me "scrawny." I'm flat chested and entirely lacking in the booty department. Men like curves.
Blake's eyes flicker over my features quickly and I feel him checking off the internal list of every way I fall short of his expectations.
I should never have cut my hair. I did it on a whim a few months ago after seeing the cut on a celebrity in a magazine at the salon while I was waiting for my appointment. It looked sassy and fun and I'd just gone on yet another last date and was feeling like I needed something new.
Men like long hair on a woman. Sure, this bob is still long enough that I can squeeze it into a pony tail, just barely, and, better yet, Blake would be able to weave his fingers through it and grip my head firmly if he wanted to kiss me hard or guide me as I slide my mouth up and down his hard cock.
My breath hitches and I swear my heart stops. I wasn't prepared for that thought to enter my head and I feel my panties dampen at the same time my brain screams that it's never going to happen and another part of me freaks out, remembering my mother is here.
Time has stopped along with my heart. I didn't prepare an exit strategy in case the match I've been waiting for for the last 9 months happens to find me disgusting.
And then he coughs lightly and his eyes crinkle at the corners in a little smile that pulls up one corner of his mouth.
He shyly stammers an apology and then he says the most beautiful words I've ever heard, "...don't let that scare you out of marrying me."
My heart starts beating again, the hands on the clock start moving, I feel myself breathing again.
He wants to marry me.
He's going to marry me.
I'm getting married.
I'm getting married to the most amazing man I've ever seen.
The tension dissipates and that self confidence I'd planned on hitting him with returns from where ever it had gone hiding.
All I can do is smile, tipping my head up so I can really look at him clearly without my hair in my face.
"I don't scare that easily," I hear myself joke softly.
Such a total lie, I know, but if I'm lucky, I'm the only one who knows how terrified I was just seconds ago.
Our eyes meet and I feel something fully connect between us.
Suddenly I'm not nervous at all. Even though there are still butterflies in my stomach and my palms at still moist-- albeit, not as moist as my panties.
A thousand filthy ideas fill my head as he follows me closely as our entire party makes its way to our table.
I guess it shouldn't be weird that his hand isn't on my back but somehow, it is.
Blake
"I thought they weren't going to let us be alone," Courtney tells me as we wave at her mom's cab as it pulls away from the curb.
"Were they supposed to?" I honestly don't remember.
"I think so," she says.
In that case, our entourage should have gone back to their respective homes and hotels about 3 hours ago.
It's after midnight. I don't want our night to end here, with me and Courtney walking along this deserted sidewalk with my arm draped over her shoulder and her arm wrapped around my waist like we've done this a million times.
Those fancy shoes went in the trunk of Kelly's car after dinner. Turns out they were borrowed from Kelly to begin with. Now that I've had a chance to get to know my fiance a little better, I'm not surprised at all to find out they weren't hers.
Courtney replaced them with a pair of shoes that look just about the same to me. They aren't nearly as high and they don't have those red bottoms, but what the hell do I know about women's shoes?
What I do know is that she says these are more comfortable, and with a couple of inches knocked off her, her shoulder fits under my arm just perfectly so we can walk with our bodies pressed together like we were one person.
"I don't want to say good night yet," I tell her.
"No one says you have to."
Courtney's arm squeezes my waist hard enough that I know it's not because she's shivering cold out here in the early fall night and it's not one of her little playful teases.
"Well, if we don't say goodnight now I think we'll be saying good morning."
I meant because it's midnight. I didn't mean it to be a come on.
Fuck. I mean, yeah, I can't wait to get Courtney naked.
She might not have a lot of meat on her bones, but I've had my arm around her long enough to know that she's not skin and bones. This woman works out. She's got some muscle tone and I bet her skin is soft and supple.
I've enjoyed watching her move too. She walks with a purposeful stride and even in the heels, her steps are little wider than the hem of her dress was meant for. The stretchy material keeps riding up her thighs while she walks and the glimpses of skin dangerously close to being more than just leg has had me adjusting my zipper all night.
Still, as much as I'd like to see her moaning on my cock, it is our first date. Even if we are getting married.
Oh shit!
"Hey--" I stop our walk and turn toward her, or maybe she turns toward me first, I'm not sure.
What I am sure of is that what I was about to say gets lost in the kiss she plants on me before I can finish my sentence.
Courtney's arms reach up and circle my neck and it's the most natural thing in the world to lean down and meet her half way as her lips part against mine.
Her lips are as warm as her voice, parting lightly and then opening fully. Her tongue is sweet and tender at first and then our kiss deepens.
My fingers curl against her waist and pull her tightly against me. Her hands grasp at my back and I feel her pull herself up so that her body aligns to mine in all the right places.
Courtney gasps slightly and I'm sure it's because my dick is rock hard and stabbing her in the gut.
Her body rocks slightly.
OK, not gut.
Oh fuck.
She's tall enough that I don't have to bend in half to press my hard-on into the crevice between her thighs. I can feel her pelvic bone against the base of my cock and the warmth of her pussy through our clothes.
"I think saying good morning sounds like a great idea," she whispers as she catches my earlobe between her teeth.
The sharp feel of her teeth and the tickle of her breath on my neck make me groan. My dick swells again and Courtney makes a small whimpering sound as I push it against her again.
"My place is just a few blocks from here." Her voice has a breathless quality when she breaks the next kiss and looks up at me with a little smirk on her lips that's a little naughty and a little innocent and all sexy.
"I can probably manage a few blocks," I tell her.
"Good," she says, taking a step back that takes her body away from mine and leaves me feeling anxious to close the gap again, "you'll have to keep me in line." Courtney grabs my hand and pulls me impatiently in the direction she's being to walk, "I'm not sure how long I can behave myself."
Courtney
I wouldn't usually invite him back to my place on a first date.
Well, I wouldn't normally invite any guy back to my place on a first date, at least, not under such bold pretenses. But here I am, full on making out on the sidewalk like a lust-struck teenager, practically begging to get Blake's dick in my mouth right here.
Or in my hand or in my-- anywhere.
This man isn't just good looking, he also smells great. The sound of his voice hits some spot inside me that makes me want to do anything he asks me to. The way those hazel eyes hold me in their stare makes me feel naked, but not intimidated, more like caressed. I want to be naked for him so he can rake that gaze over all of me.
The way he looks at me makes me feel adored and I want to give him more.
I feel a little drunk on Blake and I know it's Blake because I haven't had a drop of alcohol all night.
I haven't met a man that made me feel like this since, well, ever. Not that I can remember.
Pulling Blake along the sidewalk by the hand, I make a conscious effort not to run, even though I'm in a hurry to get him into my apartment. I need his mouth on more than my own.
"Slow down." He laughs light-heartedly and tugs on my hand, pulling me back so I crash against his chest with my hands up so they get trapped between us when he puts his arms around me and begins kissing me passionately.
We're practically right in front of my building. A few more steps and we'd be in the lobby. A few more steps after that and we'd be in the stairwell. Two floors up and we'd be in front of my door.
Mentally, I calculate the distance and weigh it against my growing need to feel Blake's bare skin on mine. It's comes out dangerously close and if we don't get moving again I might end up stripping him down right here on the front steps.
With a reluctant groan I force my lips away from his and gulp for fresh air.
"Right here," I say, hearing my voice come out husky and deep.
Blake looks up at the building and back at me. A sexy grin overtakes his face, taking his handsome features from all-American good looks to something that makes my insides tremble.
As if I wasn't trembling enough already.
"I was thinking we'd wait till we're inside," he tells me with a dangerously sexy voice, "but if you want to do it right here..."
His humor breaks the tension and also manages to ramp it up at the same time.
I laugh and tug on his arm, pulling him up the steps with me.
"I meant right here is where I live, but if you don't start moving, right here is where we'll end up," I tell him playfully with another tug toward the door.
We manage to make it into the lobby before our next make out session begins. We're more than kissing now. Blake's hands find their way into my hair and my back finds its way against the wall of mailboxes near the stairs.
Luckily, the lobby is empty and there's no one around to catch me panting for breath as one of Blake's hands finds its way over my breast, causing me to squeak out a surprised little yelp as he squeezes firmly.
Damn this stupid dress.
I should have gone with the skirt and blouse set so he wouldn't have to pull my dress up around my waist in order to get his hands on my bare skin.
Which he's managing to do very well.
The back of my head hits the wall and I'm faintly aware that I just conked my skull against one of the mailbox hinges.
Pain registers in the back of my brain but it's drowned out by the pleasure from Blake's fingers running up my thigh where my dress used to be and sliding under the edge of my lace thong.
My moan echos through the empty lobby and Blake mumbles something against my throat.
The sound reverberating off the walls is enough to shake me out of my stupor-- the security cameras!
Oh shit!
Blake pulls back and drops my dress suddenly, looking startled when I suddenly start laughing.
"Cameras," I whisper-scream at him, shifting my eyes toward the black globe embedded in the ceiling.
Blake's eyes widen and then that devilish grin I've already fallen in love with changes the look of horror into something very very naughty.
"Does anybody actually monitor them?" He asks very quietly.
"I don't know," I answer.
I'm feeling confused, maybe a little dazed. I see his thoughts flicker across his features and I know he's thinking about giving whoever's in charge of our security cameras something to pay attention to.
All at once I feel horrified at the thought that my landlord might see me getting finger-banged in the lobby and incredibly turned on by the idea that some anonymous night shift employee at some unnamed security company might see me getting finger-banged in the lobby.
I'm not an exhibitionist, but I admit there's a primal thrill running through my blood at the thought of playing a little dangerously right now.
"Let's not find out the hard way," Blake whispers with a wink, "Where's your apartment?"
He takes my hand in his and pulls me gently away from the wall and against his body. One hand presses into the small of my back, holding me tightly against him so I can feel the bulge in his pants pressing into my hip while the fingers of his other hand tangle in my hair again as he plants another searing kiss on my lips.
When his lips part from mine I can barely remember how to breathe again, let alone how to give directions to my apartment.
I don't want to let go of him long enough to climb the stairs, but it has to be done, so I make a garbled noise that's supposed to sound less like a sick squirrel and more like, "this way" in a come-hither voice.
It definitely sounds more like a sick squirrel and nowhere near like coherent language at all.
Still, Blake manages to correctly interpret my meaning and he lets me lead the way to the first door on the left at the top of the stairs.
Blake
The idea of pinning my woman up against the wall in the lobby of her apartment building in front of the security cameras and where anyone could walk by and catch her moaning for me while I stroke her velvety pussy lips has a lurid appeal.
Something about the possibility of getting caught makes my dick throb with anticipation.
I want to play dirty with Courtney.
Maybe it's because I've always had a thing for pushing the limits, but it's probably because Courtney is a good girl.
I've only known her for a few hours, but I know her well enough to know she doesn't break many rules. So seeing the lust wash over her face when I suggested it, knowing I could have pressed my luck-- and pressed my dick right inside her-- while I had her up against Mable Harrison's mailbox for unit #B4 makes me so crazy with need that I almost do it.
But Courtney is a class act and, what's more, she's my class act. Knowing my future wife has a slutty streak running under her prim and proper exterior is hot as fuck-- but I don't need anyone else getting a glimpse of my woman's slutty streak.
Hell no. That's for me and only for me from now on.
So I let her skirt drop back down her toned thighs and let her lead the way to her apartment. But as soon as we're safely inside with the door closed and locked behind us, I lose my grip on my manners.
That dress is over her head and on the floor before Courtney has a chance to find the light switch.
The light from the street lamp outside shining through the glass door in her living room is enough for me. So when she reaches toward the wall, I pull her hand back toward me instead.
Courtney gasps as her hand presses against my erection but it's an enthusiastic little noise that's immediately followed her fumbling to quickly unbuckle, unzip, and undo my efforts to keep my composure.
We're both working hard and fast at undressing each other. I want to stand back and admire the sexy little red push up bra that's working hard to bring her perky tits together to give her some cleavage but I want the damn thing on the floor with her dress more.
I'll admire her fucking underwear later, right now I want to admire her body.
As soon as I get it off of her, I grab her around the waist and pull her against me. Her pussy's even hotter against me when my pants are in the same pile with her bra and dress and there's nothing between us but the fragile lace of the little red thong that matches the bra.
Courtney's mouth is as hot as her pussy as it crashes against mine. She's managed to unbutton my dres
s shirt and her nails drag lightly down my chest with her lips close behind.
I barely got a chance to get my hands on her breasts before she started making her way down my body.
It's a hard decision to make; pick her up and take her into the bedroom where I can lay her down and have her as my perfect midnight snack? Or stumble back against the wall here in the dimly lit living room and let her slide her mouth over my pulsing cock?
My back's already against the wall.
Courtney's hands rake down my abdomen, her fingers playing over the muscles like I'm a musical instrument. Making me wish I was.
Her nails are short but they're sharp enough to make me feel it when she grips my hip with one hand and circles my dick with the other.
I can feel her smile when I groan from the sensation of her tongue circling the tip while her hand squeezes the base, then slides up my shaft to meet her mouth.
It's hot and it's wet and her mouth feels like heaven. I let her pin me against the wall while she works her magic.
She's so fucking into the blow job, when I look down at her I see her eyes are closed like she's concentrating on matching the rhythm of her strokes with the pressure and suction and the combination of looking down at her with the feel of what she's doing to me has me ready to explode. But that's not how I want this to end.
I mean...oh my fucking stars...this is how I want it to end! I rest my head back against wall and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to give in to the feeling and trying to fight the urge to come down her throat at the same time.
She's got my rod so slick now, and with both her hands working my length, my ears are filled with the gentle sounds of wetness and sucking and that makes it harder to keep my control. Then I open my eyes and look down at her sweet face, just as she opens her eyes and looks up at me.
"Get in the bedroom," I order, barely managing to pry her off my tool before I lose it.
There's a soft popping sound as her mouth releases me and a sharp gasp as I pull her to her feet with my fist in her hair.
A New Resolution: A Modern Match-Maker Romance Page 7
