I suppose I should have feigned some hesitation, for the sake of decorum. But I’m not one to play games, either. I’m a heart-on-the-sleeve kind of girl, and I decided that, even while I needed to explore this part of me, this burgeoning part that was purely sexual instinct, repressed for too long, I wasn’t going to pretend that’s not what I was doing. So I said, yes, I want to go to your place. Yes, I want to be fucked. No expectations, no strings. I don’t want to fall in love. I’m emotionally unavailable, but sexually, all yours.
When I said those things, they rang foreign in my own ears, and his face opened. Relief? Amusement?
I suspected we were two people in the same emotional and physical space. I suspected what we needed was comfort and release. It wouldn’t, couldn’t, go beyond that.
Once inside his very comfortable home, he looked at me. An awkward silence took hold. He took my Grandmother’s crocheted shawl from my shoulders and laid it over the back of a chair.
I smiled. It felt forced.
“Since we’re being honest, Feli, I don’t want to make small-talk and offer you a drink. I’ve been like this all night, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” He pulled his hand across the front of his jeans, smoothing the fabric to reveal the oblong bulge of himself. “I’m uncomfortable. Part of me wants to get on my knees and beg you, and part of me wants to put you on yours.”
I knew I must have flushed, but his bluntness was arousing, as though I needed any help. “How about we meet in the middle then,” I heard myself suggest as my legs carried me to him. I put my mouth on his while I opened his jeans, purposefully making contact with him… when I thought he couldn’t possibly get any larger, he did. I pulled back the flaps and he popped out, waving in the air between us, and I smiled. Thankfully, he smiled back.
“Do you have a bed?” I asked him.
For the first time in a long time, possibly in my life, and certainly with a virtual stranger, I followed my lust. I did what it told me. I pushed him to sit on the bed, and told him to stroke himself while I stripped for him. I stood in front of him, naked, and fingered myself while he watched. I took him in my mouth and licked and sucked with hunger, keeping intense eye contact with him throughout.
I sat on the bed beside him, and laid back and invited him. He returned the favor, going down on his knees beside the bed and bringing me to orgasm with his mouth. I screamed when I came. I held nothing back. I felt like maybe I wouldn’t ever see him again. And that was okay. In the back of my mind, in spite of the anger and hurt, I wanted him to be Adam.
He was over me and braced on his hands, looking down into my face. What I saw when I looked at him was not the gorgeous physical specimen he was, but a means to an end. Something to ease the pain, the hunger, a salve to a wound that would never close. I ran my hands over his muscled chest, thumbed across his hard nipples and smiled. I put my legs around him, and took hold of his cock in one hand and pushed the head of it into my wetness, slid it up over my clit, back and forth and until he growled and dove his head to bite my neck. He bit hard, and it was exquisite. I positioned him and waited.
He groaned as I closed around the tip of him. He took my mouth, and thrust with his hips. I cried out and he swallowed my sound. He pulled back, almost leaving me and plunged again. And again. And again.
He took me all the way. The second orgasm was intense, and he followed me into it. I couldn’t feel him filling me because of the condom, but it was okay; I thought perhaps I didn’t want to know what that felt like. I didn’t want that much of him. I didn’t want to take any part of him with me when I left.
He withdrew almost immediately, and lay next to me. He kissed my face, and ran his open palms over my breasts. “Who is Adam?” he asked softly next to my ear.
It was like a slap. I looked at him, startled. “Excuse me?”
He smiled. “It’s okay, Felicity. Let’s remember what this is.”
I sat up and pulled the sheet around myself. I felt his hand on my shoulder.
“Wait, honey, don’t go. Please? You don’t have to tell me.”
“How do you know that name?” I searched his face, and there was nothing but kindness there. Nothing more, nothing less.
“Because you said it when you came, silly girl.” His eyes twinkled playfully. “Lie back down. Come on. Give me five minutes and I’ll treat you to another.”
I laughed at his playful cockiness. I laid back down.
He traced the outline of my face, looking down on me, leaning on his elbow. “So? I’m guessing there’s a story of heartbreak there, or you wouldn’t be here.”
“There always is, right?” I smiled wryly.
“Yeah. Yeah, there always is.” Then he was kissing my mouth again, tenderly. His hand stroked down my body, slid between my legs, and he caressed me softly, teasing every part before sliding against my clit. His mouth moved to my breasts, and he sucked in one nipple, then the other while fingering me. He stopped to look at me and say, “Don’t be shy. Show me what you like.”
The desire building around his touch stole any inhibitions, and I put my hand over his, pressed my fingers on top of his, and guided him. He took my mouth again, deeper, and I arched into him and moaned.
I felt his cock hard against my hip. I whispered against his mouth, “Fuck me, Micah.”
He responded by pressing my fingers against my pussy in a silent instruction to keep going, and I vaguely heard the tear of plastic. Then he was rolling me to my stomach, lifting my hips. There was no teasing, and no urgency. I felt him slide in, felt his hand in my hair, not pulling, just wrapping itself in my curls, almost massaging, and he fucked me like he had all the time in the world. Every stroke of his cock sent goose-flesh crawling up my spine to the base of my neck. I positioned myself so each thrust brushed my nipples against the linen.
I was still smiling when the cab dropped me at my place just before dawn. I didn’t see the shadowy figure until I was halfway up the steps, and he stood and said my name. Or his name for me.