My First Second Chance

by KB Winters

  She shrugged. “Not much.”

  “You still live in Annandale?”

  She shook her head. “No. I live around here.”

  “You do?”

  She nodded. I expected her to say more, but she didn’t. I realized right away something about her was different, closed off, like she didn’t want me finding out about her life. Instead, she said, “So what about you? You’re a big fancy app designer now? You own that big company?”

  I nodded. “It’s really not that big. We have twenty employees. And this is E-Venture’s first app. Hopefully the first of many, if it’s well-received.”

  She reached over and placed a hand behind my neck, rubbing it. “Oh, Gabe. You were always such a nerd with that stuff.”

  “And you?” I asked, navigating onto the highway. My cock twitching to be inside her. I may have been carrying on some semblance of a conversation, but my dick was doing most of the thinking. In my head, I was still licking and sucking her pussy.

  She shrugged. “I haven’t been doing much.”

  “You were a writer,” I said, remembering the stories I’d heard about. When she’d come into the computer lab, jabbing angrily on the Mac. Horror stories, mostly. She’d had a great, though warped, imagination.

  She waved it away. “I haven’t done that since high school.”

  “Why not? I bet your stories were amazing.”

  Ignoring that, she leaned toward me, and out of the corner of my eye I could see her tits spilling out of that dangerous red dress. She reached under the steering wheel, ran a finger up my thigh and grabbed my cock through my pants. “You know, I’m boring. I’d rather talk about us. About now.”

  Then she grabbed the zipper of my fly and lowered it. I shuffled in the seat, part because I wasn’t sure about this, and part because I wanted to grant her better access.

  “Do you want me to suck you off right now?” she asked and unsnapped the button of my pants and pulled out my cock.

  Yes. “Well, we’re almost there. I just —”

  I stopped when she leaned over and touched her tongue lightly to the tip of my cock.

  And then her mouth was on it, surrounding it, her tongue licking circles around the head. “Whoa. Fuck,” I said, jerking in such a way that I nearly swerved off the side of the road. “God. I love the feel of your mouth on my cock, Meg.”

  She lapped at me eagerly, making sucking sounds like she was really enjoying herself. I’d never actually had a girl do this to me with so much . . . fervor. And meanwhile, I was really enjoying myself, too. In fact, I was enjoying myself so much, I pulled over to the side of the road. My body shuddered, twitching as every nerve came alive. Sensing the challenge, she took me in deeper, until I felt my cock hit the back of her throat.

  Oh fuck, that’s good. Meg had passion. From our first kiss, I knew she’d be an amazing lover. Headlights blurred past us as she sucked me off. “Fuck,” I groaned as my cock pulsated between her lips. “God, fuck.”

  Her lips tightened around my cock as I unleashed my load into her, and she sucked up every last drop.

  When I was done, she straightened, wiping her bottom lip. “Wow. That was great,” she said with a coy smile.

  “You can say that again,” I said, smiling. We made our way toward my apartment. When I finally pulled into the lot, she clapped her hands together and looked up at the three-story brick condominium building. Then she threw open the door. “So this is your place? I can’t wait to see your apartment.”

  “Yeah,” I said, still shell-shocked. God, what a night it’d been already. My world turned upside down. Here I was, with Meg. Sweet Meg, the girl I’d thought of at least a million times since that night in the truck, doing things I’d only dreamed of.

  I got out the keys and we hurried down a long tree-lined path to my apartment on the first floor. I opened the door, then allowed her to step through first. When I entered the darkened foyer of my modest one-bedroom apartment, I shut the door, and twisted the lock.

  Now it’s just me. Me and my dream girl.

  “I’m still not convinced I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and realize this was all a dream,” I said, pulling her close.

  “Do you want me to pinch you?”

  “I’ve got a better idea.” I ripped my glasses off and lowered my mouth onto hers, slowly. She responded in kind, our mouths exploring each other in a hungry tangle of tongues and teeth.

  When I traced my tongue down the side of her face, nibbling the exquisitely soft skin, she tilted her chin back and moaned, “Oh, God, Gabe, I need you, now.”

  “I need you too, baby,” I groaned, holding her there against the wall as I sank my mouth down on her neck, licking and sucking. Her skin was intoxicating, sweeter than honey. My hands reached down her bare thighs, and up under her dress, cupping the cheeks of her ass.

  I’d come mere minutes before, but unbelievably, my cock was already straining against my pants. She yanked on my belt, easing it open, fumbling with the button and fly, working fast but not fast enough for either of us. I helped her along, opening my pants, sliding them and my boxers down so that my cock sprang free, ready to go. She wrapped her hand around it instantly, stroking it, silently urging me on, but it didn’t need any coaxing.

  Eyes dark with desire, she pressed her shoulders against the wall, lifted a leg and hooked it around me. She tilted her hips against me, grinding her pelvis into me, and my cock slid against her pussy. Goddamn, this woman was going to kill me.

  “Condom,” I said, reaching for my wallet in my pocket.

  “Fuck the condom,” she said. “I’m on the pill, Gabe. Fuck me.”

  That was the sweetest invitation I’d ever heard.

  I lifted her leg higher, hooking my arm under it, and shifted my stance, finding purchase. The tip of my cock slipped against her, sliding between the folds of her swollen pussy. Finding her wet and ready. This is where I belonged. Without hesitation, I plunged into her. We both gasped, in my case, it was with relief at finally being in the right place, after all this time.

  God, I hadn’t come yet, but it was already the sweetest release. Deep inside her, I paused, holding her impaled on my cock, as her chest heaved against me, her heartbeat thudding with mine. I pulled out, slowly, but the need was too great. I pushed into her. Again and again, I fucked her, thrusting into her with increasing vigor as she moaned and threw herself hard against the wall.

  “Harder,” she said. “God, Gabe, give me everything.”

  I did. Sweat beaded on my temples and stuck to our clothes as we moved together, grinding against each other. She came, her body shattering in waves, and when my release followed seconds later, I shuddered into her. She grasped my shoulders tightly, falling against me, resting her head on my shoulder.

  “Fuck.”

  “You took the words right out of my mouth,” I said, holding her tight as she trembled.

  She opened her eyes and for the first time, seemed to notice her surroundings. We hadn’t gotten far; we were still in the foyer, still in the dark. I reached behind her and flipped on the lights. “Nice place,” she said, blinking in the new light.

  Reluctantly, I pulled out of her. We were still wet from the rain, still fully dressed, for the most part, just entirely disheveled. I pulled up my pants as she lowered her dress and started to walk on shaky legs deeper into my apartment.

  When she reached the kitchen, she turned and smiled at me. “Do you cook?”

  She’d obviously seen the massive collection of cookbooks I kept on the shelf above the counter. I nodded.

  “Impressive,” she said.

  “Do you?”

  “No, baby. I make reservations,” she teased, walking toward the living room. She scanned some of the pictures on the shelves surrounding the television. A couple photographs of my parents and me, one of when I was about five, and one when I’d graduated high school.

  “Have you always lived alone?”

  “Not always. I was in a relationship for a
while,” I answered. Anticipating her next question, I continued, “It didn’t work out.”

  “Oh.” I was glad she didn’t ask why. It didn’t work out was my way of avoiding telling people my ex, Tiffany, cheated on me. She’d been a perfect girlfriend up until I learned she’d been banging an attorney at the law firm where she was a paralegal. She moved out shortly after I found out, and I’d been living alone ever since.

  Meg peered down the dark hallway. “And down there . . .?”

  “My office, the bathroom, and my bedroom.”

  “Hmm.” She gave me another coy smile. “I think the bedroom is where I want to be.”

  “All right.”

  “But you could show me your office. Just so I can say I’ve had the grand tour.”

  I led her down the hall, flipping the lights on as I went. Bathroom. Bedroom. All rather plain and lacking a woman’s touch. Even Tiffany hadn’t given the place much of that, since she’d always been at work banging that attorney. The room at the very end of the hall was my office. It was white-walled, bare, and contained nothing more than an old pre-fab desk, filing cabinet and my Mac.

  She walked over to the desk, taking everything in with great interest. “So this is where the app magic happens, huh?”

  “I guess,” I said.

  “I’d love to know more about that app. And your work. It sounds fascinating,” she said.

  There was probably nothing I wouldn’t have given the woman standing in front of me. But right then, I could give a shit about the profession I’d once valued above all else. Now, I just wanted to take her to my bed. Kiss her. Hold her. Fuck her. I’d already been inside that sweetness, and it wasn’t enough. My cock already ached to be back there.

  “I have a better idea. Come here,” I instructed. I took her dress straps in my hands and lowered them. I pushed her clingy dress, still damp from the rain, down to her hips, then slid it off so it puddled on the floor. I undressed her fully, baring her gorgeous body, revealing and taking my time with each of her soft curves, her pale, luminous skin, as she stood there, allowing me to get eyeful upon eyeful of her sexy body. I traced every one of her sexy tattoos . . . the white rabbit, the spread of cards tramp stamp, the hearts on her shoulders, the If you don’t know where you’re going any road can take you there, in fancy script on her hip.

  All the while, she eyed me, looking like the cat who’d eaten the canary. “Are you having fun?” she asked with a sly wink.

  “Alice in Wonderland?” I asked.

  She nodded. “My favorite.”

  “Curiouser and curiouser.” I stood back and appraised her. The thought of having her in my bed was almost too much to bear. I nodded. “Meg, you’re gorgeous.”

  She walked up to me and pressed her full, round tits against my body, then looked up at me from a veil of dark eyelashes. “Fuck me again, then.”

  I didn’t have to be asked twice. I reached down and scooped her into my arms. When I brought her to my bed and laid her down, kissing her hard, I couldn’t believe I was already hard again.

  Chapter 8

  Meg

  What the hell?

  When the bright sun slashed through his bedroom blinds, assaulting me, I felt like I’d been run over by a truck.

  I was sore. I knew that without moving. Every muscle in my body hurt. Even my muscle’s muscles hurt. This was different than the usual cotton-mouthed, skull-crushing hangovers I woke up with. No, this time, my head was perfectly fine . . . but every other body part was crying out in agony.

  I covered my head with a pillow and tried to go back to sleep, but then I realized I was still in Gabe’s bed.

  Thoughts of the previous night flooded back. Of course I was sore. Gabe was a machine. A sex machine. His appetite for sex was ravenous, unquenchable. The second I thought we’d be able to rest, he was ready again. And don’t get me wrong, I loved it. Here was a man who could satisfy me unlike any other man I’d ever been with. I lost track of the number of times he made me come.

  But the morning-after-cotton-mouthed-going-to-die feeling was something I could do without.

  Taking a deep breath, I opened one eye and realized his side of the king-sized bed was empty.

  Gabe. Shit. Gabe. More memories flooded back, including the deal I’d made with his partner, my Uncle Heller.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  I sat up straight in bed, every muscle protesting, screaming that I should just stay where I was. I looked at the night table. The bedside digital clock read nine-o-six. I didn’t think I’d ever been up that early since graduating from college.

  I scanned my surroundings. Yes, the bed was full of rumpled sheets. I was surprised the bed was in as good a condition as it was; that is, still standing. But everything else in the room? Immaculately clean. Almost like a hotel room, lacking anything personal. I half-expected there to be a bible in the night table. I recalled walking through his apartment, thinking about what a neat freak he was.

  His office was neat, too, almost unlived-in. I’d say it was a showroom, but the stuff wasn’t flashy or modern — it was homey, comfortable, and modest. Still, it was hard to believe he ever spent any time in his apartment; it was more like a hotel room than a home.

  I looked over and saw my dress, on a hanger, hung on the doorknob. My uselessly stretched-out thong was hanging there, too.

  Then I inhaled and smelled . . . bacon.

  Ah, bacon.

  Easing my legs over the side of the bed, I took my first wobbly steps across the room and felt the dress. Still damp. I scanned the floor for a discarded shirt or something of his, since I didn’t want to change into my dress just yet. Nothing.

  I opened his closet and found the slacks folded with military precision, all lined up, hangers all facing the same way. They may have been arranged by color: darkest to lightest. All of his shirts were arranged that way as well. I felt bad disrupting them. It was either that or wear a sheet to breakfast. I pulled out the first clean shirt I found. It was starched perfectly as if it had just come from the dry cleaners, but it smelled like him — his same, clean, soapy sweetness — when I put it on.

  When I went out to the kitchen, Gabe was there, flipping omelets. He did it with the ease of an experienced chef. “Hey,” he said, turning to me with a welcoming smile.

  Yawning, I leaned against the counter —I desperately needed the support, since my knees still felt like Jell-O — and watched him. He was already dressed for work, in dress pants and a button-down shirt with a tie. Our night together clearly hadn’t had any negative effect on him. He looked alert and chipper now, sexy in his work clothes, even if he looked better naked. His body had definitely filled out, his chest had become broader. It was clear from the six-pack I’d discovered last night that he worked out regularly. As I admired him I suddenly began to get aroused, so I forced the idea away and asked, “How did you learn to cook?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve always known. My dad was a cook.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Not a fancy chef or anything. He worked at a diner. But he’d always make our meals. My mom couldn’t crack an egg to save her life.” He plated the omelet and looked at me. “Sit. I hope you like eggs.”

  I nodded, then sat down at the table, and he set the plate in front of me. The omelet looked professional, the bacon perfectly crisped, and there were even two orange slices as garnish. I’d never had anything so fancy. Honestly, since my mother died, my normal breakfast had been nothing but black coffee. But he’d put so much effort into it that I couldn’t say no. He’d set the table, with little glasses of orange juice and linen napkins. I had to wonder if he was making this fuss for me, or if this is the way he always ate.

  Then he opened up a tray filled with neatly arranged K-Cups and held it out to me. I selected some fancy dark roast, since I needed all the caffeine I could get, and he started the Keurig up. When the aroma of coffee started to fill the air, I instantly felt better.

  I took my first bite, and almost let
out a moan. Who knew that eggs could taste this good? They were fluffy, and he’d added cheddar cheese that melted on my tongue. I took a bigger mouthful. “I’m impressed again.”

  He shrugged like it was nothing and set the mug of coffee in front of me. He checked his watch. “I’m sorry, Meg, but I have to leave.”

  I blinked. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

  He shook his head. “I have an important meeting at the office.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t know why that made me feel dejected. Maybe the realization that most people my age had a life, a job, a means of earning money, when I was still stuck under my uncle’s thumb. I managed, “That’s okay.”

  He leaned against the counter and took a sip of his commuter cup of coffee. “I could drop you back off at RAIN if you left your car there?”

  “No. I went there with a friend,” I said quickly, averting my eyes. “She drove.”

  “Well, can I take you home?”

  Right. Right back to Uncle Heller’s. His business partner. That would go over well. “No, I live pretty far from here.”

  “Then let me call you a cab?”

  I held out a hand. “Stop treating me like I’m two years old. I can do it, Gabe,” I told him. “I’ll get an Uber. I’m not a damsel, and I’m definitely not in distress.”

  He crouched down beside me, scanning my face, then down to the opening of his shirt, level with my breasts. He reached over and pushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “You are far from a damsel in distress.”

  Then he kissed me, slowly, gently, his tongue teasing my lips.

  Suddenly, he backed up, grinning. “But I’d better get out of here before I want to get you naked again.”

  I bit my lower lip in a sexy pout. One thing about Gabe, he was responsible. He wouldn’t be late to that meeting. Now, I was just toying with him. “Are you saying I can get you to change your mind and stay?”