by Poppy Dunne
“Yes,” I breathe, and he captures my mouth with his. I moan against his lips as he traces a hand along the edge of my tank top, as he brushes his fingers along the swell of my breast. My nipples harden at the merest touch. For tonight, fuck school and everything else. It’s been a long time since my last relationship, and I’m not the type that goes out to a bar looking for a fling. My body’s ready for this.
“We’ve had a little too much to drink,” he says softly, his lips still brushing against mine. At first I’m afraid he’s going to imply I’m out of my mind with booze and that we should table this. Because my body is slamming on the internal gas, roaring down the Fury Road of sex. Whatever that means. I need to stop watching Mad Max movies before I fall asleep.
Thankfully, he continues, “We shouldn’t drive.”
“Uber exists,” I say, getting out my phone without dropping it. Score one for me, especially as I nearly do drop it when his hand caresses my thigh just inches away from the danger zone.
Kenny Loggins, I don’t need you in my head right now. I’m about to get laid.
10
Will
I don’t think about what I’m doing. Not as Chelle presses her body against mine in the car, my hands gliding over her perfect fucking breasts. She gasps and keens with that little contact, and I’m hard at the sound. I don’t think as we get out and go up the stairs to my condo, me following close behind her and watching her ass in those yoga pants. Whoever invented those sons of bitches is a hero to mankind.
I don’t think when I fumble the door to my place open, but I do think about keeping the light off. The lights from the street shine in through the windows, but other than that I want her here, like this, the place dark around us.
Chelle gasps as I pick her up, and her legs wrap around me tight when I lay her on the couch. She looks up at me, lips parted. I kiss her again, listening to her moan when my tongue thrusts inside her mouth.
“I want you like this,” I tell her, sliding my hand up under her shirt. “In the dark, begging for me.” She keens as I circle her nipple through the thin fabric of her bra. Her red hair spills across the sofa cushion as she arches her back. Fuck me, it’s taking everything I have not to come right now.
She sits up enough to help me pull off her shirt, and I start unhooking her bra while I kiss her. She tastes phenomenal, like red wine and strawberry lip gloss. The bra slips off her shoulders, revealing her breasts. Her nipples are hard and perfect as I flick my tongue across the peak, taking her breast into my mouth. Groaning, she then straddles me, wrapping her legs tighter around my waist. My erection presses up against her, begging for release. Christ, she starts moving her hips. She bucks against me.
Fuck, I need this woman now.
“Hold on,” I whisper while she fumbles with my coat. I slip it off, and her hands get to work on the buttons of my shirt. Her lips are parted with need—she’s flushed and begging for my cock. “It’ll be worth the wait,” I growl, easing her to lie back on the sofa.
In one swift motion, I slide off her pants. She lies there, wearing only her panties, and it takes all my self control not to rip them off as well. I kneel above her, fish a condom out of my pocket, and tear the foil. Chelle laughs, sounding breathless.
“You came prepared,” she says, sounding admiring.
“Boy Scout days,” I tell her as she unbuckles my belt, unzips my pants. I mean, we didn’t earn merit badges like this. While she frees my cock and begins stroking, her hot little hand running up and down my shaft, I put my hand between her legs. Fuck, her panties are damp. She’s ready for this, wants this.
Chelle gasps as I yank them down, trail my fingers up the length of her naked thigh. Then I circle her swollen clit, loving the way that she calls my name and trembles under my hand. She lifts her hips, whimpering to get me to go deeper. I take it slow, teasing her as she writhes against me.
“Please,” she whispers. “Will, fuck me.”
“When I’m ready,” I say, edging one finger deep inside of her pussy. Then, for good measure, I add a second. Moaning with pleasure, Chelle starts riding my fingers, thrusting against them. Goddamn, she’s so wet and tight. Her pussy clamps down on my fingers, her motions urging me on to take her all the way. Before I give in, I press my thumb against her clit, harder and harder as she throws her head back and cries out.
“God, I’m going to come. Oh, fuck,” she moans, grinding harder against me. Jesus, I think I’m about to lose my fucking mind as her pussy tightens on my fingers.
I pull my hand away as Chelle sits up, knees to her chest. She looks up at me with eyes that are pleading and pleased; she knows I want this as badly as she does, maybe even more.
“You come when I’m inside of you, riding you hard,” I tell her, finally removing the condom. Chelle reaches up and takes it in her hand, circling my cock. Fuck yes, she strokes all the way to the base and squeezes me before dragging back up. I groan low in my throat as she continues, leaning forward to put her lips on the very tip of my dick. God, I could come right now, but I know her pussy will be better than anything. I have to be inside of her.
Chelle sits up higher on her knees, still working her hand up and down my cock. I press her against me, lining my body up with hers as I kiss her again.
“I need you inside me now,” she whispers against my mouth. The condom in her hand, she rolls it deftly down and over my shaft, then straddles me again. My cock rubs against her opening. She reaches down and guides it in a hot, teasing line along the seam of her cunt. Moaning, she almost edges it inside of her. Almost. But that’s my job.
I take her by surprise, laying her back down on the couch. I begin to sink inside of her while she gasps, but then I take it back out halfway. Grinning, listening to her whimper, I begin my process all over again. I drag my cock up and down her pussy, lingering on her clit. At the moment before entering her, I stop again. She bucks against me, her eyes wide and pleading.
“Beg me,” I tell her, my teeth gritted and my arms shaking. It’s all I can do not to allow myself to take this woman as hard and as long as I can. I want to know how much she wants it, that she wants it so much she can’t stand to be without my cock deep inside of her.
Chelle responds by biting down on my shoulder, just enough so that my nerves explode in pleasure. Grunting, I pull her close against me and pull her hair away, kissing the back of her neck and all the way down her shoulder. Her skin is electric against mine, and she’s gasping as I slide myself on top of her, as my cock is so hard and so ready that I can’t stand it anymore.
“Please,” she whispers in my ear, her arms wrapped around my neck. “Please fuck me. Make me come.”
Then her mouth presses against mine, and as she kisses me I drag the head of my cock down around her clit one last time. Then, slowly, I sink into her, listening to her moan as my cock claims her utterly. Christ, I’ve never known a woman this tight before. She thrusts against me, panting with need as I slide in to the hilt, until I can’t go any deeper if I wanted. When we’re joined like that, I groan.
Fuck, it hasn’t felt this good in a while. It may never have been this good before.
Slowly, I pull back and savor the sensation of her pussy tightening, trying to hold on. Then I thrust again, and again, loving how she cries my name as her hips match my rhythm. I wanted to start even slower, to make her ache for it and beg me, but I can’t control myself. I thrust harder, and deeper, and faster, listening to the perfect timing of our gasps. She fists my hair and buries her face against my neck, crying out as I drive into her. She says my name over and over, like a prayer and a release at once. I press myself close against her, feel her tits as they bounce with the rhythm. My balls tighten, and my vision starts fracturing. I’m right on the edge, but I want to listen to her moan my name when she comes. I want to see how much I can make her scream.
I pull her knees up so that they’re against her chest. Chelle cries out as I start pounding inside of her, I slip a hand between our joined
bodies and circle her throbbing clit one last time. At my touch, her entire body convulses and she throws her head back.
“Fuck, I’m going to come,” she whimpers.
Yes. That’s right. I keep teasing her, circling her clit as I pound harder and faster. I want her to know I’ve been here. I want her to remember. As she calls my name again, begging me to release her, I feel the pressure building in my own body. Her cunt clamps down tight on my dick and I know I’m lost.
Chelle shudders and screams—actually screams—as the orgasm hits her. Her eyes are shut tight, her mouth wide open as she’s pushed over the edge. That’s all the incentive I need, and then my cock jerks as I come inside of her.
“Fuck,” I growl, losing myself in her calling my name and the hot slap of our bodies coming together. Then I let myself lie on top of her a minute as the orgasm spins itself out and the world’s pieces reunite themselves. Chelle kisses my chest, my neck, my jaw, still whimpering. Her eyes flutter closed, and she gives a soft sigh of relief.
“So. Good meeting?” I say, still trying to catch my breath. She giggles and screws her face up at me playfully.
“You get a gold star,” she says, kissing me as I slide out of her. As I lie back on the couch, and she lines her body up against mine, I think about how important it is to stay in school. An education really sets you free.
11
Chelle
I wake up to the scent of coffee and the feel of fabulous designer sheets beneath my naked skin. This is sort of like that time I dreamed I had a passionate night with ’95 era Colin Firth, only this time, A) the décor is a lot less Austen-esque, and B) this is actually reality. A wonderful, coffee-and-sex filled reality. My phone alarm is buzzing beside me, patiently reminding me to get the hell up.
There’s a robe waiting on the chair. My god, it’s like if house elves were six foot even and ruggedly handsome. I would do the hell out of Dobby if that were the case.
Well, probably not.
The condo is two levels, and I head downstairs to a living room bright with sunlight. I hear the gurgle of coffee, and cabinet doors opening and closing in the kitchen. I pass by the sofa where Will and I had our first carnal embrace of the evening. Nobody ever calls it a carnal embrace anymore. Let’s bring that back.
Will’s in the kitchen, wearing a crisp white shirt and elegantly tailored black pants. His suit jacket’s hung on a chair. He’s been up and out, the glorious bastard. He turns when he hears me enter, and be still my heart, he’s holding a plate of fresh croissants. My stomach joins the conversation, loudly congratulating this man on being such a thoughtful lovah.
My stomach says things like lovah and fabulous, dahlink. It’s a 1930s French movie star.
“Good morning,” Will says, a smile tugging at his lips as he looks me up and down. I believe he’s undressing me with his eyes. I believe I want to slip out of this robe and help his imagination out a bit. I saunter over—sauntering never felt so good. Then I take a steaming cup of freshly brewed coffee out of his hand, choose a buttery, flaky croissant, and brush my lips against his. He finishes the kiss, sealing my mouth with his. God, I feel like letting the breakfast crash and burn on the floor while exploring every gorgeous inch of this man…
And then I remember it’s a school day. And I have a dog that hasn’t peed. And I’m almost totally naked.
“I have to go!” I say, though my lips are still on his and his tongue is flickering in my mouth so it sounds like Mm hmm hm mrrrrrr. Will does the sensible thing of releasing my lips from his. I race back up the stairs, chugging coffee and taking gargantuan bites of pastry as I go. Damn, I’m going to have to Uber it to my car, drive to my place, take care of the pooch while changing—I’m just going to have to hop into work clothes in the middle of the street. No one will mind this, I’m sure. Brush teeth, comb hair? Eh, we’ll see how much time we have.
Fuck! Why did I make such a stupid mistake last night? I should never have stayed over.
“Need help finding your clothes?” Will’s leaning in the doorway, one eyebrow cocked and his (muscular) arms crossed over his (rock hard) chest.
Ah, now I remember. Not a mistake at all. I slip out of my robe and wriggle into my clothes while he watches me with appreciative attention. When you’re raised in show biz—well, sort of—you get used to being naked around people. The people are not usually as hot as the man involved, so this is just a bonus.
“Team Voltron is a go,” I say, finally tugging the sweatshirt on and rolling across the bed, ninja style, to grab my purse. “Watch me soar.” I rub up against him in the doorway, which is hardly an inconvenience. “Sorry to eat and run.”
“And to think I got up early just to pick up those croissants.” He tsks, shaking his head. “Fucking tragedy.”
“Oh, you bought them? You didn’t manfully bake them while also grinding the coffee with your bare hands?” I flutter my lashes, bringing out another devilish smirk. That looks good on him. Then again, a tie-die spandex onesie would probably look good on him as well. Maybe it’s the confidence. Or his bone structure. Or my particular fetish.
“I had to wrestle a bear for those beans, if it makes any difference,” he says, sweeping me into his arms for one fast kiss. I feel myself melting, just as his hand trails down the front of my sweatshirt. My nipple peaks with just the pressure, so I have to remove myself from the situation before it gets, ah, out of hand. He winks. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
I never do, sir.
“Not to be weird, but do you have a sweater I can borrow?” I ask Emery when I run up to her in the teachers’ lounge. She’s hanging upside down from one of the circus silks, and when she sees me, she nearly falls to the floor. Great. Kill your friend, get some coffee, go to teach: perfect start to the day.
“Girl, was there a fire at your place? Everything burnt up?” she asks as she hustles me to her locker. Thank god Emery’s a pack rat who keeps half her wardrobe at school. With a bright red cardigan, I at least look chipper. It’s good I’m a theater teacher, so I can pass the yoga pants off as movement exhibitors or something else fruity.
“Now you gotta tell me,” she says, waggling her eyebrows. “Who’d you do the walk of shame for?”
“Uber of shame,” I groan. Traffic was terrible this morning. I barely got to my car before I had to floor it to school. Thankfully my neighbor looks in on Archie from time to time, so we’re covered there. Then I sigh, because can you blame me? “He was great.”
“Anyone I know? Candice said she has a brother.”
Candice is our friend from social knitting class. Her brother is a self-proclaimed cat Sherpa, just to give you a point of reference.
“It, er, step into my office.” I drag Emery into the gym, where we start setting up the mats. “This can’t go any further than you,” I hiss. Emery rolls her eyes; that’s her version of cross your heart. “Will Munroe.”
“Will—” Her eyes go saucer-wide. “Oh, you did not. Holy shit. You’re crazy. Was it good?”
“Very.” I give her my crazy smile. Crazy like a fox. A fox floating on a cloud of endorphins while it lounges by a pool in a bikini. Weird image, but we’ll run with it.
“It’s not, like, serious is it?” The way Emery says that is the nice way your friends ask if you’re really going to get those shoes, or if you’re really eloping to Barcelona with that zephyr player. It’s concern wrapped in smiles, wrapped in bacon.
I wish it were bacon.
“Not at all.” Pssh, of course I don’t give a shit about the three best orgasms of my life all happening concurrently. I can walk that off easy.
“Kay.” She bites her lip, which is Emery speak for very concerned. “I just know that his ex-wife is crazy. Even by crunchy granola standards, she takes the gluten-free cake. She tried to put Amelia on a juice cleanse. Even called the office to get them to deny the kid solid foods.”
Holy shit. “So I need to watch out for boiling rabbits on my stove? Or, you know, boiling rabbi
t substitutes?”
“Exactly. Plus, he seems like kind of a dog, doesn’t he?”
Does he? Doesn’t he? I don’t know—I showed up to an expensive wine bar wearing cartoon characters. I’m all out of good radar.
“I like dogs. I have a dog.” Good, that adds to the conversation. As the gong sounds and the kids start racing inside, slipping out of their shoes and hanging up their backpacks, Emery squeezes my arm.
“Men after a divorce are always just lookin’ to score. Good for you for getting some, though.” She winks and heads out while I set the kids in a circle and ignore the fast fluttering pulse, the suddenly icy palms, and the overall lack of control.
The wine bar, the smooth talk, the croissants and coffee, it all feels like it’s straight out of a player’s manual, doesn’t it? Will was confident—check. Dreamily confident—check check. In fact, he never seemed nervous, or like he was trying out something new. Holy shit, what if I’m the third person at Bay of Dreams he’s put the moves on? Maybe the others are too embarrassed and too afraid of losing their jobs to talk about it? Or maybe I’m the only one who’s ever been stupid enough to follow through.
Holy shit. It’s Darren all over again.
“Who’s Darren?” one of the kids asks. They’re all in a circle around me, watching with wide eyes. Please tell me I didn’t curse in front of the kids.
“Darren is my imaginary friend,” I say lamely, putting my arm around a phantom nobody beside me. “Say hello!”
While the kids giggle and wave, I realize why I was so short with Will before and why the annoyance turned to arousal in such short freaking order. It’s because I used to date Will Munroe before, back when he had another face. I don’t mean this in a Face/Off sort of way where he’s John Travolta or anything. My old boyfriend, my one serious relationship, Darren—he was a single father.
He had a harpy of an ex-wife.
