At 34, I’ve long since lost my cherry, but I’ve never seen a man move that fast in my life. I’ll take that as a sign that my flirting is a success so far. Simon leaves a hefty tip on the table and stands, reaching for my hand. “You coming?” he asks, his voice gravelly and a bit strained. “Cause I will be in about thirty seconds, so we should go.”
A shiver runs down my spine at his words. God, how did I not know that Simon Walker isn’t just the Hot Young Guy in IT, he’s the Dreamy Sex God of All He Surveys. Totally smitten, I put my hand in his and stand. He smiles broadly and helps me into my jacket, while slinging his own over his arm. He pulls the lapels of my coat together, drawing me forward and closer to him. The heated look in his eyes empowers me, and I put my best flirt forward as I smile coyly at him. “You sure you don’t want to stay and finish your beer? Maybe get an appetizer?” It’s almost cruel to tease him, but I can’t resist. I’ve never been much of a flirt, but banter with Simon is effortless.
He gently wraps my scarf around my neck, his fingers lingering at the base of my throat. “I’m hungry as fuck, but not for bar food.”
Not gonna lie, I like that he’s taking control. Our hands linked, we leave the bar and step out into the cool, late October air. The wind whips up, and it’s no hardship to snuggle up to Simon as we make our way to the parking lot.
The street lamps are lit and cars drive by. People walk in and out of the bar, but I barely notice. My focus is on Simon—his warmth, the musky, clean scent of him. I dare to glance up at him, half afraid that I’ll wake from an especially naughty daydream. He catches my eye, and he’s still smiling as his thumb rubs mine in a rhythm that’s perpetuating delicious fantasies. I want to bask in the loveliness of this moment, but damn my pragmatism. I can’t help but wonder what comes next. Is he really this into me? Will he invite me back to his place? Will he see my fine lines and wrinkles in the glow of the streetlights and beat a hasty retreat?
As though he senses my slight apprehension, he stops walking and turns to me, tilting my chin up, so I can’t avoid eye contact.
“Hey, you ok? What are you thinking?”
“No, I’m good, it’s just…I mean...this has all been great, but...um, I guess I just want to know what’s next?”
“This is, Lainie.” He cups my chin and kisses me like it’s his job.
I have no time to think about the fact that we’re on a main street, or that it’s decently crowded, or that only my grandfather ever called me Lainie, and he sure as hell never said it like that. Before I can register another thought, he backs me up against the brick wall of the bar, his hands hot on my neck as his lips devour mine. The sounds and people all disappear. It’s only Simon and me, and the furious pounding of his heart, or maybe that’s mine. It’s hard to tell. Our bodies are twisted together, and still, I crave more closeness. I lean forward, pressing his hard length against my core, and he growls—actually growls—as he grips me closer and sucks on my bottom lip. His hands run up and down my back until finally—finally—he pulls forward and skims the underside of my breasts.The movement makes me moan and that makes him repeat it. God. I’ve cursed my DDs since sophomore year of high school, but here, under the harsh glow of a bar sign, I vow to never utter a discouraging word about these girls again.
I TILT MY HEADback and loop my arms around the small of her back, hovering just above her gorgeous ass. I press my front to hers, my erection pushing against her belly, and fuck, I can feel my dick pulsing. “We’re about ten seconds from having sex in public and possibly getting arrested. You know that, right?”
“I know it. I’m just not sure I care.”
Jesus, I’m about to embarrass myself on a street corner, and I fully don’t give a shit. She nibbles my bottom lip. The ache is dull, but she smoothes it by running her tongue across my lips.
“God. Damn. Lainie.” I’m nearly panting.
“No one ever calls me Lainie”
“I do. And I say it’s time we relocate.”
“Bossy much?”
“When it’s called for. Does it turn you on, Lainie?” I release her from my grip and hold her hand instead, as we turn the corner and stand in the shadows of the parking lot, away from the busy street corner. I meant to walk toward my place, but my body has other ideas. I look at her, here in the dark, and I can make out her parted lips, feel her breath and trace her silhouette with my hands, stopping at the hem of her dress, dipping my fingers under when she widens her stance. I run my fingers up, up, up her bare thighs, until, fucking hell, the tips of my fingers brush the lacy edge of her panties. Maybe it’s the fact that we’re out on a public street. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been dreaming of this for months now. Whatever it is, I’m loving every second of it.
WE’RE STILL IN PUBLIC, and Simon’s hands are just inches away from my very best parts. The last—and only other—time my lady parts have been loved on in public was when Wes Detter copped a feel at the back of the bathhouse of the Pine Ridge Country Club the summer after we graduated high school. Sadly, Wes’s witless fumbling only served to annoy me. He’d rubbed up against me for a good fifteen minutes, had gotten me nowhere near orgasm, and by the time he finally gave up, the Snack Shack had closed, making it too late to get an order of cheese fries and salvage the day.
By the looks of things, there will be no need for cheese fries tonight. Simon inches his fingers close to my center, and I gasp in anticipation. It feels like my body is on fire. He keeps teasing me, feathering touches so close, but never close enough, and it feels so good, but it’s driving me crazy. I cry out in frustration and lust (lustration?) and he silences me by covering his mouth with mine and finally rewards me by cupping my center. I nearly melt into the brick wall that’s supporting me.
“Come home with me, Lainie?” he pleads.
Yes, YES! Every part of my body is screaming in the affirmative, and god, I so badly want to give in, but my mind is running on overdrive, too, wondering if this is, in fact, a terrible idea. I mean, there’s a seriously good chance he’ll have lights at his house, and lights and I don’t get along unless I’m fully-clothed. I’m a dark room, nightgown-on kind of gal, and I’m not sure Simon wants to play by those rules.
I’m a confident woman, most of the time. I’m smart and I’m fun and I’m good at what I do, and I can spot a grammatical error from 50 paces. I make small-talk like it’s my job, and little kids love me. So do old people and pets. I offend no one and ingratiate everyone. On paper, I’m a good bet. But in reality? I’m a goddamn mess at the prospect of having sex with the gorgeous man in front of me.
And I want the sex.
God, how I want it. And not just because it’s been a freakishly long time, but because my pulse is racing and I’m hot and I have the craziest urge to rip his shirt off and lick my way down his chest until…
“Lainie?” Simon looks into my eyes and brushes my hair back behind my ear. He leans forward pressing a kiss to my forehead, and I think,God, this is it. I waited too long. I stalled. He’s totally going to let me down gently because I hemmed and I hawed and…
“Lainie, come home with me. We can watch a movie or you can kick my ass at Scrabble, or I can lay you across my kitchen table and eat you for dinner. Whatever you want. Totally your choice, but I just don’t want to walk away right now.”
Killer forearms, a nice ass, and kind words. I’m doomed.
“Yes, let’s go back to your place. But no to the Scrabble. Honestly? I suck at it. I know all the big words, but I never get the right letters.”
“That’s tragic.”
