by Alexis Angel
“Yeah, you are hot enough,” he says off-handedly. Hot enough? What the hell does he mean by that? And who the hell says something like that to a woman during a date? Jesus Christ, this is going worse than I expected.
You know, I had a feeling that something like this would happen. After putting on my favorite skimpy, tight, black dress, I sat in front of my bedroom mirror and I didn’t like the look I saw on my face. It wasn’t an eager or anxious one, no the expression on my face was one of reluctance and boredom. The kind of face someone would have while doing a chore nobody really wants to do. I should have picked up my cellphone then and there, and called the whole thing off. But no, I went through the motions—lipstick, blush, eyeliner—and got ready for someone who, it turns out, doesn’t even deserve five minutes of my time. Story of my life.
“Hey, listen, it’s already late,” I start, looking down at my wrist and realizing that I’m not wearing a watch. Still, I push through. “I think it’s best I get going.” For the first time since we got to the bar, his facade of overconfidence starts to crumble. He frowns, a line of confusion on his forehead, and tries a hesitant smile.
“But you haven’t even finished your drink…” he stammers, looking down at the half-full glass of red wine sitting in front of me. “I, uh, we can go somewhere else.”
“No, it’s fine. I just remembered I have some work I left unfinished, and I really should get around to it,” I continue, putting on one polite smile. I know that, by now, he has probably seen through my lies. But, hey, what the hell? He’s the reason I’m lying, anyway.
I’m about to get up from my seat when Robert reaches across the table and grabs me by the forearm. “Hey, listen, Becca. Stay a little longer… It’ll be fun, I promise,” he starts, looking at me with wide eyes. If I was uncomfortable before, now I’m way beyond that.
“I suggest you let go of the lady,” someone says from behind us, and I look back over my shoulder at a man in his late thirties. He’s wearing all black, even his shirt and tie are black, and his suit clings to his body as if he came into the world dressed just like that. Classy, but at the same time, elegant and modern.
His hair is groomed with a kind of perfect carelessness, and his full lips form a serious but relaxed line as he stares down Robert. Even though his blue eyes are two orbs of veiled threat right now, I can see the gentleness they hide in them. His high cheekbones give him the flair of royalty, and I can’t help but imagine that he’s the right kind of man born in the wrong age. A man with eyes like his… he could be a King in another life. He isn’t a king, but of one thing I’m sure: a man like him must leave a trail of broken hearts behind him wherever he goes. Oh, also, his name is Mason Kane, and he’s my boss.
Now, he probably doesn’t even know who I am; I’m just one more girl in his army or interns, but I know who he is. I mean, who doesn’t know who Mason Kane is? I’ve just never been this close to him.
“Mind your own business,” Robert tells Mason, springing up to his feet and letting go of my forearm.
“Or what?” Mason tells him with a smirk, leaning against the counter and grabbing his glass of whisky. He takes the glass to his lips and, throwing his head back, downs the whole thing at once and goes to staring at Robert with one eyebrow raised.
“I…” Robert starts to stammer, balling his hands into fists and looking from me to the stranger and then back to me. “I…” he continues, his brain seemingly shutting down as he doesn’t seem to find any words inside his pretty—but empty—head. “Fuck it. I’m outta here,” he finally blurts out, pursing his lips and turning on his heels. “Call me, anytime,” he does his final Hail Mary pass at me, looking over his shoulder before bolting out of the bar as if his jacket was on fire. Good riddance.
Sighing loudly, I sit back down on my seat and take a gulp out of my red wine. Finally, peace. Who knew that being alone could be better than being on a date? The answer flashes through my mind as I look at the man by the counter, Mason Kane. He’s already facing forward, drinking another glass of whisky as if the whole situation between me, Robert, and him never happened. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m already going up to my feet; with the glass of wine in my hand, I walk up to the counter and sit down on the stool next to him.
“Thank you,” I say, running my tongue over my dry lips. He glances at me, not even bothering to turn his body, and waves with his own glass.
“No problem,” he responds with a smile, and then turns forward as if I’m not here, eager to find out more about him. Yes, I said it; he intrigues me. Sure, he looks almost old enough to be my father, and he’s also my boss, but it’s not like I’m doing anything wrong here… Besides, even though he’s probably in his late thirties, early forties, he doesn’t look anything like his age. Oh, no, he looks like one of those Hollywood stars that don’t ever seem to age. And there’s something about him, an aura of… power? Dominance? I don’t know, but I wouldn’t mind finding out.
“Becca,” I introduce myself, extending my hand toward him. He glances at me again, his eyes slowly going down from my face to my hand. He doesn’t recognize me from the office, it seems, but a soft smile appears on his lips and he finally reaches for my hand with his own, giving me a gentle handshake.
“Mason,” he tells me, a spark flickering behind his eyes. “So, Becca,” he continues, turning his whole body toward me, “what’s a girl like you doing with a guy like that?” My heart starts galloping inside my chest as I realize that I finally have his attention. Smiling, I drink the rest of my wine while I ponder my next words.
“Waiting for someone better to come along,” I say, my smile turning into a veiled grin. I really don’t know why I’m trying so hard to flirt with him; I just know that I have to do it.
“I see. Well,” he smiles politely once more, grabbing his whisky and finishing it, “good luck with that.” Shit, he’s really playing hard to get. Either that or I’m too young for him and he doesn’t see me like a real woman, one with whom he’d like to… Christ, what am I saying? Am I really thinking of unbuttoning that shirt of his and seeing what’s underneath it? Am I really this desperate to find out the taste of his lips? Yes… Yes, I am. I mean, I’m having a drink with Mason Kane, the King of Wall Street, for God’s sake!
“How about you? On a date with a bottle of whisky?” I ask him, hoping to God that I’m not overstepping. I don’t why he’s sitting here by himself, but I really don’t want to ruin this.
“You got me,” he replies, raising both his hands in the air as if I was pointing a gun at him. “Sometimes a good scotch helps ease a troubled mind.”
“And what’s troubling you?”
“Nothing you would care about… Unless you also know how to ease a troubled mind, that is,” he says, smiling quizzically. We lock eyes, and I already feel my body temperature rising. Not only that, but between my thighs… Well, let’s just say that ‘dry’ wouldn’t be a term I’d use to describe the state I’m in right now.
“Maybe I know of a way to make you relax…” I hear myself saying, my heart thrashing inside of my chest. I can’t believe that I’m really saying this. What’s gotten into me?
“As long as it doesn’t involve yoga,” he tells me, that grin still dancing on his lips. “You look like the kind of girl who’d do yoga.” I blush at his words, even though there’s barely a hint of wickedness to them. Yet, I can’t stop myself from thinking that he’s imagining me in tight yoga pants and bending over…
“I do yoga, yeah,” I grin back at him. “But that’s not what I have in mind right now…”
“A special kind of yoga then?” he smirks, fully committed to the verbal spar I’ve pulled us both into.
“A very special kind of yoga,” I continue, feeling more and more comfortable with this back-and-forth conversation. It’s just words, right? Of course, the moment this thought goes through my head, he gets up from his stool and leans into me.
“Show me,” he whispers into my ear, placing one hand on top of
my knee and slowly sliding his fingers underneath the hemline of my dress. I gasp and almost stop breathing as, with his eyes still locked on mine, he runs his fingers all the way up my leg, only stopping when he finds my soaked thong.
“Yes,” that’s all I manage to say, suddenly feeling dizzy. What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t think I have ever felt this horny in my entire life! When he grabs me by the hand, it feels as if I’m floating; I get up from the stool and let him guide me. He walks through the crowded bar easily, everyone letting him through, and I follow after him in a daze. He goes all the way to the restroom and, stopping in front of the double doors, he looks me in the eye, mischievousness all over his face.
“Feeling adventurous?” he asks me, and I don’t even need to think of an answer.
“More than ever,” I respond, squeezing his hand in mine and walking past him toward the ladies restroom. I step inside, look around and, confident that the place is empty, I pull him in. Moving quickly, I step inside one of the stalls and, still pulling on him, slam the door shut and turn to face him. I’m breathing so hard my lungs might just collapse anytime now, and my heart feels more and more like dynamite about to go off.
Smiling, he tucks a stray lock of hair over my ear and, lust burning in his eyes, takes one step toward me. Not wasting any time, he pushes me back against the wall, his hands on my hips. With his body pressed against mine, he leans and lays his lips on mine. My eyelids droop as I feel the touch of his mouth, and a gentle warmness spreads all over my body.
“I never… I never did anything like this,” I pant, pulling back from his kiss and looking into his eyes. It’s true; I've never done anything quite like this. Sure, I’m not an innocent maiden saving herself for marriage, but I have never been with a man after only five minutes and half a drink.
“I know,” he tells me with a wicked grin. The look in his eyes tells me that he figured me out the moment he saw me for the first time, and that makes me want him even more. Placing both my hands on his face, I pull him into me and we kiss again; I push my tongue against his lips and, forcing them to part, I slide it inside his mouth. As we kiss, our tongues locked into a frenzied embrace, his hands go around my waist and he squeezes my ass gently.
I grow wetter with each passing second, the closeness of his body shutting out all rational thoughts and leaving only the steady pulse of desire. I take my hands to his waist and, grabbing at his shirt, I pull and untuck it. Going straight for the collar of his shirt, my eager fingers get to work and I start to unbutton it, baring his chest. I feel the hard edges of his muscles against my fingers as I go, and my heart tightens up inside my chest; he’s more ripped than guys far younger than him. Trust me, I know: I’ve dated jocks and college athletes, and all of them pale in comparison to the man in front of me.
“Like what you see?” he whispers against my ear, his long fingers hooking themselves on the hem of my dress. Pursing my lips, I look down at his chest and nod. His pectorals are so defined they look like something out of a magazine cover, and they lead the way to a perfect wall of abs… And when I say perfect, I really mean it. Forget about a six-pack, Mason has eight perfect squares of muscle covering his stomach.
“I like it… I like it a lot,” I purr, grabbing at his belt and unbuckling it. “But I want to see more…”
“You can see everything… But I want the same.” With that, he hikes the dress up to my waist and cups my bare ass cheeks. He squeezes them harshly and then, with a growl, he lets go and takes both his hands to my shoulders. Moving fast, he pulls both straps down my arms at the same time, pushing the fabric of the dress down to my waist and baring my bra.
Diving into me, he places his mouth right between my breasts, the touch of his lips sending a shiver up my spine. My hands dart to his head, and I tangle my fingers on his hair, closing my eyes as sweet pleasure washes all over me.
With his face still between my tits, he takes one hand to my right breast and, as he squeezes it softly, he pulls down on the cup of my bra. I sigh loudly as the cool air laps at my hard nipple, electricity darting from it all the way down to my pussy. I’m so wet that my thong is already sticking to my skin, the fabric drenched with my fluids. Pulling on his hair, I direct his mouth to my nipple and, offering no resistance, he wraps his full lips around my hard tip. A slight moan leaves my mouth as he starts to suck, his fingers still curled at the base of my breast.
This feels a lot like winning the lottery. To think that, just a few minutes ago, I was enduring one awful date… And now here I am, claiming the big prize, the King of Wall Street himself. You go, Becca.
As Mason focuses on my tits, my right hand slides down and over his belt, my fingers resting over his crotch. My heart starts to gallop inside my chest as I start to curl my fingers, a thick and long shape pulsing against them… Grabbing his cock harshly, I bite my bottom lip as I realize how big he is. I don’t think I have ever met a man with a cock like this… No, screw that, I didn’t even know it was possible for a man to be this huge. Oh, this is way better than winning the lottery.
With one hand on his hair and the other on his cock, I throw my head back and press it against the tiled wall. As he sucks on my nipple, he moves one hand up from my waist, his fingers brushing against the ridges on my spine, and he only stops when he finds the clasp on my bra. With a simple flick of his fingers, he unhooks it, making both cups droop over my breasts.
“That’s it…” I moan in a low and subdued tone as his mouth goes from one nipple to the other, his tongue lapping at it hungrily. The sound of my voice is still hanging on the air as, with a quick movement, he uses his body to part both my legs. Placing one hand on my right knee, he slides it slowly to my inner thigh and then, looking me straight in the eye, he flattens the palm of his hand against my drenched pussy.
“I like this…” he grins at me, pressing harder with his hand. “And I’m going to own it. Your pussy… is now mine,” he leans in, whispering his words into my ear. The sound of his voice caresses my eardrums, embraces my mind, and unleashes the whip of desire inside of me.
“Yours…” I whisper. “Make it yours and --”. With a quick flick of his fingers, he pulls my thong to the side and shuts me up. Moving his wrist, he places his index finger against my wet folds and, with just one quick movement, he slides it all the way in. I hiss through my gritted teeth, my muscles tensing up as I feel the tip of his finger brushing against my G-spot. Now this is a man who knows what he’s doing; there’s no trying or fumbling around, there’s just flawless execution.
I gasp as he presses his finger against my G-spot, applying just the right amount of pressure. With my back pressed against the wall of the small toilet stall, I rock my hips forward by instinct; replying to the movement of my body, he starts to slide his finger in and out of me, hitting that sweet center of pleasure each and every time.
“This feels… This feels so good…” I whisper between hard breaths, barely able to keep my eyes open.
“This is nothing…” he whispers back, leaning into me and laying his lips on my neck. With gentle kisses, he traces the contour of my jaw and finally crushes his mouth against mine, parting my lips with his tongue and sliding it in. We kiss in abandonment as he works on me with his finger, a whirlwind of lust and desire lashing out at my mind. With a grin, he pulls back from our kiss and lays his free hand on my mouth, cupping it; at the same time, he presses hard against my G-spot and rubs me there until my body can no longer stand it.
I open my mouth and moan but, mercifully, his hand muffles the sound of my voice. God, I can’t believe that I’m actually being fingered by Mason Kane in the bathroom of a bar. This is a new low for me—or, shall I say, this is a new high for me? What? This is the 21st century, hun. I’m a woman, I like sex, and I’m not ashamed of that.
My eyelids droop as my muscles finally relax, high voltage running through them and making them spasm. I see white lights behind my closed eyelids, and my pussy cramps around his fingers. I can almost feel
pleasure crawling under my skin, nibbling at my nerve endings with tiny but powerful electric fangs.
“Oh, God…” I let out as Mason takes his hand out of my mouth; at the same time, he slides his finger out and brings it up to my face.
“We have to be quiet,” he whispers, looking me in the eyes as that irresistible grin dances on his lips. Gently, he presses his wet fingertip against my lips and brushes it left and right, coating my mouth with my own fluids. Without thinking, I part my lips and let him slide his finger over my tongue. As he slides it back out, I suck it dry, the flavor of my wetness dancing its way up to my brain.
“Quiet… I’ll be quiet,” I tell him, a grin dawning on my lips as his finger pops out of my mouth. My fingers are trembling, but I still manage to still them with one deep breath; with barely steady hands, I go back to his cock and curl my fingers around it. His thickness makes the flames of desire dance high inside of me again, and I have to let go of his cock, just for the time it takes me to hook my fingers on his boxer briefs and tug them down. As I push his pants and boxers down to his knees, his cock springs free and slaps down the palm of my hand.
I only notice that I’m holding my breath when I curl my fingers around his thick mast, his long inches pulsing against my hand with ravenous desire. Unable to resist it, I look down at his cock and bite on my bottom lip, only now realizing how truly massive he is. Swear to God, my hand looks like the hand of a doll when next to his tree trunk of a cock.
“You’re so big,” I tell him, my brain brimming with so much lust that it’s now unable to filter out the words coming out of my mouth.
