Dinner is Ready

Dinner is Ready

She sipped her second glass of Prosecco as dinner cooked. Bubbles danced on her tongue before the cold liquid slipped slowly down her throat. Bronwyn checked her phone before sneaking into her photos. Her screen lit up with the shot she’d taken of his face as he slept the week before. His beard squashed by the pillow, and his delicate eyelashes framing his eyes. The photo cut above his chest, which she knew was covered in hair that she ran her fingers through when they cuddled. That’s when she wasn’t scraping her nails slowly down his skin, teasing him before brushing her fingertips against his growing erection.

Had it been a whole week since he’d been inside her? His work took him all over the country, but every weekend Penn came back to her. Sometimes they’d screw and sleep, and other days they’d see the city. She brushed crumbs from the tabletop, remembering that was where he’d had her the week before when they were supposed to be eating breakfast. Instead, he’d run his hands beneath the t-shirt she’d stolen from him before pushing it up and licking every inch of skin she made available to him.

For months they’d been carrying on like this. It had started as an Instagram DM, and now six months later, they spent every moment they weren’t working together. So was this the weekend to try and define their relationship, or would she be pushing him somewhere he didn’t want to be?

She didn’t want to lose him, and not because he was the best sex she’d had. It was true he understood her body in a way no one else had. He responded to her moans and let her try things her exes had been too reluctant to consider. A month earlier, they’d tried blindfolds and tying up. It had been safe and sexy and had been a reminder that he was the only one she wanted for the foreseeable future. But the reasons she didn’t want to lose him went beyond that. They laughed all the time, including during awkward sex moments like when her Fitbit had hit ten thousand steps during a blow job. He was someone she felt safe with, and when he returned to her at the weekends, she gave him a space to be himself. People had hurt him before, and he became a little more at peace with who he was with each moment they spent together. But more than any of this, she’d never felt so alive until he’d been in her world. Every day was an adventure she was excited to meet. He had done this for her, and she wanted it for longer. But what did he want?

Bronwyn rechecked her phone. Five minutes until he was due to arrive. She read his text from half an hour ago again. It was mostly made up of expletives. He wasn’t very good at talking to Siri. The messages were all the same, something attempting sexy turning into a mistake and then telling Siri to fuck off at the end. This one had an added, “let’s talk this weekend”, though. Was this the beginning of the end, or did he want the same as her? I can’t get my hopes up.

She sipped her prosecco to ease the tension that had heightened all day before lifting her feet and rolling her ankles one by one. Instead, she focused on the pain at the balls of her feet from her four-inch heels she refused to remove before he arrived. If he asked, Bronwyn would suggest she hadn’t had time to change from her blue pencil skirt that hugged her bottom and her black blouse that clung to her breasts. But she’d had enough time to change and add the underwear that reminded her she was sexy and sassy.

She rolled her ankle again, satisfied when it made a slight clicking sound. But these little attempts at distracting herself weren’t enough. Earlier that day, Bronwyn’s colleagues had accused her of being doe-eyed when in reality, she was replaying the moment she’d gone down on him in the shower. It wasn’t textbook sexy, especially the moment the water had gone up her nose when she’d wrapped her lips around his dick. But the way he flicked her hair off the back of her neck before holding it in his palm as he moaned the nickname only the two of them knew had made it impossible to focus. Having him in her mouth was a turn on that never seemed to stop. She wanted to jump him when he arrived, but he’d been in meetings all day, and dinner was nearly ready. Food first and then maybe the conversation.

His key scratched the lock. Bronwyn caught her reflection in the oven door. With some well-applied makeup, she didn’t look as weary as she felt. Lipstick in the colour of pink haze emphasised the bow of her lips, and her eyelashes were long and perfect for fluttering and getting her way.

She smoothed down her pencil skirt and dipped her hand into her bra to shift her boobs higher. The lady at the wedding dress shop where her sister had purchased her wedding gown had shown her this tactic. The slight readjustment gave her irresistible cleavage. She gave herself a quick wink in the oven and then laughed. It was just another tactic to calm her down. The wedding was another reason to define their relationship. She had a plus one but hadn’t risked mentioning it. The wedding was in less than a month, and she couldn’t avoid asking him any longer. But what if that meant the end of everything?

The creek of her front door was followed by the thud of his bags in the hallway. Her belly thumped harder. Lust was like a wrecking ball striking her so hard that she wanted to bend double. How had the presence of this man become something that clouded her entire being with arousal?

“Where’s my kiss, Bruny?” he growled from the hallway. Earlier in the day, he’d requested a picture of her outfit. He did this every day, and sometimes she’d respond with an eye roll emoji and other times, she was more than happy to oblige. It might be from an angle that showed off her chest or her thighs. That always drove him wild. She’d never understood what it was about her thighs he loved. It had been one of her most hated body parts, but she’d learnt to love them since him. That day she’d sent him a couple of shots. Each vibration of her phone when he replied had made her body hum with need. Finally, at his last message, she’d gasped loud enough to draw the attention of her closest co-worker.

“I won’t be happy until I feel those thighs on my cheeks as you straddle my face.”

He was too good to lose. Couldn’t he be a bastard instead of a secret nice guy? He carried the air of arsehole, and he’d once chuckled at how he looked for excuses to shout at his team. One had been scared to bring back his lunch because they’d only been able to buy a turkey sandwich when he’d asked for chicken. But with her, he was more than an arsehole. She couldn’t deny that he had an air of arrogance, even in the bedroom, but his understanding of her needs went beyond that. Whether it was messaging to tell her she’d made his heart flutter when she’d told him he’d made her smile or that he’d stepped out of a work meeting on “important business” because she’d sent him images while trying to decide her outfit for her job interview. He was there for her in a way that terrified her, but she craved it all the same.

“Bruny,” he called out using the nickname he’d given her. “I’m still waiting for that kiss.”

If any man from her past had asked where their kiss was, she’d have rolled her eyes and told them to fuck off. She often told him to fuck off too, but partly to make him laugh, which it always did. With his local accent and deep voice, the ripple of need pulled her out of the kitchen. She rested against the doorway and smirked as he took her in. His gaze dropped to her black heels and slowly climbed. She shifted awkwardly. His eye fuck was as much a game as the messages that had flown between them all day.

“Fuck, Princess. You kept that on for me?” Another thing that would have made her roll her eyes if she heard it between other couples. Did he think he was an Eastend gangster? And yet, when he called her Princess, it teased her as intimately as if he’d run a finger down her spine while she waited for him in the shower. He shrugged off his suit jacket, leaving him in fitted dark trousers and a white shirt. Casual or smart, she didn’t care but there was still something about the way he rolled up his sleeves, one arm at a time.

She shrugged. “I didn’t have time to change.”

“Not even your shoes, it seems,” he replied unconvinced. His mouth twitched in amusement as his gaze paused at thighs before travelling up to her eyes. “I want you on the stairs right now.”

Bronwyn locked eyes with him. “But dinner is ready, sweet cheeks, and I can’t have you going hungry.”

He cleared his throat noisily. “That hasn’t stopped you from sending me teasing photos and messages all day. Where did you say you wanted my mouth again?” he replied, his eyes burning a hole through her skirt. “Stairs now.”

She licked her lips and turned on her heel, striding back into the kitchen. “Dinner first,” she replied over her shoulder, sassily swaying her hips, confident he would be unable to resist her tease as the beep of the oven timer acted as a soundtrack to her steps.

Penn’s grumbling from the hallway made her smile as she took the lasagne out of the oven. The cheese bubbled, and her belly responded in frustration. But her thoughts remained on him. She didn’t want this to be their last weekend together, but if their thing wasn’t going anywhere, she couldn’t keep doing this. I’m falling for him. She’d planned her week to maximise distractions in case this was it between them. He had become her every day. With his morning messages and goodnight gifs, she couldn’t imagine her days without him. He helped her through her difficult days, and she hoped she did the same for him.

And what if I compare all future sex to ours? Her partners came up short compared to him. But it would have to be a goodbye. Maybe I don’t have to say anything this weekend. There was always next weekend. But she couldn’t avoid the inevitable forever.

Bronwyn took a deep breath. Aromas of freshly cooked tomatoes and hot melted cheese filled the air.

Penn’s lips skimmed her neck. She closed her eyes and moaned quietly.

“Bruny, tell me about your day,” he whispered, easing in behind her. Had he sensed she was struggling with something? How could she tell him that work had barely entered her thoughts? It was all him. Her skin tingled where the wetness from his lips remained.

Her pussy twitched as he aligned himself against her curves. She wriggled her bum against him needing to feel him even if it was only for one more weekend. I need to write him onto my body as much as he’s written into my mind. Only Penn could ease the torture of her day, even when it was him who tortured her. Whether she was laughing or crying, his presence and humour were a respite from everything from callous subordinates to suffering family members. He made each day better, and she had to prepare for the moment she lost that for good.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Can I leave it at the door for tonight?” Bronwyn asked softly, hoping he would gauge her mood and not push her.

He pulled the elastic that kept her hair together in a ponytail out. Penn threaded his fingers roughly through the strands causing slight stinging sensations that reached up to her scalp. She gasped and let out a slow breath before leaning into his touch. His body was hard against hers. The twitch at his crotch was a reminder that sex was never far from either of their minds.

She bristled as Penn worked out a knot. It pulled at her scalp, causing a sting of pain. It was another moment where she focused on him and not the fear of the future. With a breath so deep that it made her chest rise and fall, she let his scent fill her. It was as if it was him and not the woody smell latching on to something oceanic and fresh filled her cells as they travelled around her body. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down.

“Princess, shouldn’t we be eating that dinner now?” he said with a growl. He’s not thinking about food.

“I don’t want dinner anymore,” she replied, flattening her hands on the oak counter. She pushed back slightly against Penn and rubbed her bum against his crotch. His dick was hard against her arse, and she ground slowly. He slid his hands to rest on hers. His body closed her into the worktop. They were aligned as she leant her head against his chest and closed her eyes.

“No?” he asked with a hint of a tease. “Are you sure, Bruny? I’ve been hungry all day. Don’t you think we should eat this dinner you’ve prepared before it gets cold?”

It’s one of his tests. He wants me to demand he fucks me. They loved arguing with each other and urging each other to give pleasure, especially when they’d spent all day craving it. But Bronwyn was as stubborn as he was and had no intention of giving in to him, even though she wanted to. The conflict was as much foreplay as his perceptive touches.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” she replied lightly before reaching for the plates. “I’d hate for things to go cold.”

She caught his furrowed brow and pouting mouth before he engaged his breezy tone and fake smile. It was the one he used with his team when he knew shouting wouldn’t work. From their first meeting, she knew they were well-matched. They both knew how to get their way which was why he was her ultimate challenge and the only man she wanted to be spending her evenings with. Getting your way was much more fun when you had to battle for it. Sometimes it was a fight of wills, and other days they both tried to seduce each other into submission.

He grabbed the utensils as she quickly dished up the lasagne that could have easily stayed warm while they enjoyed more pleasurable things, but this was their game.

“Tell me about your day,” she said, easing next to him at the small round wooden table. Her hand brushed his as she wrapped it around the pepper dispenser. The spark of need hit her in the belly, and she smiled. For the years before she met him, emptiness had been the only emotion inside her.

Over the last months, she had come alive. Others had noticed the change, and friends had commented on her everlasting smiles and the joy she took in moments that before would have floored her. Some of them had met him for a night out at the pub. He made them laugh as he told stories from his past on the streets of Coventry, but it was the way he cared for her that they admired. The glances when he was checking in on her, his support because she was nervous at being out in new places, and the whispers in her ear to remind her that she was gorgeous. It wasn’t that she didn’t know it, but the memories of years of rejection bought the odd wave of low confidence. Those low self-esteem moments had reduced since him. His instincts when managing her anxiety scared her at times, especially as their conversations played on her mind.

He topped up her glass with the bottle of the prosecco she’d left on the table. “Well, this vixen has been teasing me all day with her sexy photos and saucy messages.”

Bronwyn licked her lips. “Vixen, eh?”

“The sexiest vixen,” he smiled. “At one point during my meeting, I checked my messages and saw one that mentioned her laying on the kitchen table as I licked her slowly, followed by a photo of her skirt tight against her upper thighs. I was vaguely aware of my colleague presenting something important, but I have no idea what. All I wanted was to slide the vixen’s skirt up higher and feel how wet she was for me.”

“You fucker,” Bronwyn said before taking a deep breath. How did he make something arousing sound like a conversation about the most mundane?

“Excuse me?” he asked with a smirk.

She shoved some lasagne and green leaves into her mouth. Gooey cheese coated her tongue as she shook her head at him. She would get her own back as soon as he found what she had on under her outfit. As he looked down, she popped open another button on her blouse, playing him at his own game.

As soon as he looked up, he smiled. He didn’t miss a trick. “Have I seen that bra before?”

She shrugged, pretending to finish her mouthful. Penn’s hand brushed her knee. She usually hated wearing tights or anything like that, and he knew this. His hand paused at the nylon covering her legs as he locked eyes with hers. His lips parted as he stared at her. Bronwyn opened her legs, inviting more of his touch.

“You’re wearing tights?” he whispered, his words saturated with heat.

Air escaped between her lips. “Not exactly.”

His hand paused. His breathing was slower now, and his Adam’s apple bobbed at his throat. “Not exactly?” he repeated, his voice gravelly. His hand climbed higher. She opened her legs wider once more as his fingertips made circles about her knee.

Her teeth tugged at her plump lower lip.

The room was silent except for a song by The Weeknd playing on the speaker. The low beat matched her climbing heartbeat. It pulsated through her veins as Penn gripped her thigh tightly.

“No, not exactly. Similar though,” Bronwyn said, forming her words slowly as desire took hold. He was about to find out what she’d hidden under her work outfit.

His hand paused at the lace top of her hold-ups. He fingered the delicate material and leaned in close, dusting her lips with his. “Princess,” he growled, his lips still against hers. “I want you in bed right now. And you can leave the shoes on.” He kissed her again, but this time his lips were hard against hers. He grabbed her hand.

“I thought you’d never ask,” she teased the lasagne and difficult conversations forgotten as they jumped up and headed towards the door.

When they reached her bedroom, she pushed him against the door and kissed him hard. Bronwyn ran her hands through his hair, pulling at the dark strands and scratching his scalp as she sought to get more from him. He parted his lips, and she slipped her tongue into his mouth. Goose pimples covered her arms as his hand went to her bum and began to kneed it as she took the kiss deeper. His beard scratched at her skin. She couldn’t keep her hands still. The headiness of the kiss blinded her, and suddenly she realised she was clawing at the buttons of his shirt.

“Bruny, I have promises to keep with you tonight. Get on the bed” He pressed his lips together. The provocative act ramped her desire for him up further.

He kneeled over her as she lay on the bed. With his hands on either side of her head, he kissed her plump lips. She moaned into his mouth and fisted his shirt in her hands, but he pulled away and slowly undid the buttons of her blouse. At the turquoise lace of her bra, he growled. “I don’t remember seeing this in your photos. I guess you did have time to change today,” he said with a wink.

Bronwyn smiled coyly. “Maybe.”

“And do the knickers match?”

Heat saturated her body as she whispered, “What knickers?”

“Fuck,” he grunted. He ripped off Bronwyn’s skirt, sliding it down her legs and tossing it across the room. She lay before him in her hold-ups, bra and heels. He dived to her mouth, pressing his lips hard against hers as she wrapped her legs around him. He gripped her thigh where skin met lace. For a man who spent his spare time pumping iron, he was delicate when it came to her underwear. Bruny moaned into his mouth as his kisses became more fervent. The sharp point of her heels pressed against the back of his thighs. She lifted her hips to rub her pussy against his groin, but it wasn’t close enough.

Penn pulled back. “Time to ride my mouth, Bruny.”.

“But I want you inside me,” she murmured.

“There’s plenty of opportunity for that later,” he smiled. “Bra off.”

Usually, she’d hate someone telling her what to do, but Penn’s demands made her ache. She stripped off her bra as they swapped positions. He lay on her pillow, slowly undoing his shirt as he watched her. She ran her teeth across her lip. “Can I give your cock a quick lick first?”

“Fucking yes.”

She didn’t wait for any other words. Her heart thudded in her chest as Bronwyn undid his button and pulled down his zipper before yanking down his trousers and boxers. His cock sprung free, causing her fingers to tremble. Pre-cum beaded the tip of his cock, and she ran her finger across it with a wide-eyed stare.

“You said lick,” he grunted.

“But I like looking at it,” she replied with a smile as she winked and put the tip of her finger between her teeth to recreate one of his favourite cheeky gifs. He rolled his eyes with a smile.

She bent her head and gave his cock a lick. Her tongue stroked the length of his erection. She wrapped her mouth around it and sucked the head. His hands held her head. “You said lick. Now get over my face,” he snarled.

“Fucker,” she replied.

As she crawled up his body, he mumbled, “No one else gets to call me that. It’s only you.”

Her knees rested on either side of his face as she slowed eased herself down. Bronwyn gasped as the tip of his tongue teased her clit. The stubble on the edge of his cheeks scratched her inner thighs. Although she felt safe with him, she still got anxious when doing his act. She had to open herself up to being vulnerable and trust he wouldn’t push her off if she went too far. Penn’s intuition must have recognised her nervousness, or he was already in the mood as he quickly slapped her bum before grabbing it tightly and holding her against his mouth. He squeezed her arse, manipulating it and encouraging her to move. She ground herself against him as he licked and sucked her clit.

“Don’t stop,” she cried out, forgetting her anxiety.

The scent of her wetness combined with the musty smell of his aftershave. Even if this was the last thing they did together before the talk and end of the relationship, she knew the scent would never leave her subconscious.

She sped up, riding his face as he pushed his tongue inside her. Sweat dripped down her chest as she pressed her hands flat against the wall. One of his hands disappeared from her arse, and she knew he’d be stroking his cock in time with the thrusts of his tongue. Her head dropped down as she let go of control and gave way to the need that yanked at her belly. Desire was climbing quickly. She wanted that cock in her mouth, but it was impossible from this direction. Nevertheless, the thought of it turned her on and made her speed up and press down harder.

She grabbed tufts of his hair as she rode his face faster. Her moans rose in volume, and she looked down to see his eyes on her. He’d told her before he loved watching her breasts when she was above him like this. She grabbed one of them, leaned back and attempted to catch his eye. He winked back. A sheen of sweat covered her body. One hand pressed flat against the cold wall, and with the other, she grabbed his hair. Bronwyn couldn’t sit still. Every shift of her body was to get more of his tongue on her and in her.

Her legs shook, and a cry rose in her throat. Already she was on the brink of coming. Her anxiety climbed again, but Penn’s understanding of her kicked in, and he wrapped his hands around the top of her thighs. He set a fast rhythm, pulling her hard against him. She bit down on her lip as his tongue pushed inside her again. A sharp cry left her mouth, but he held her fast. Bronwyn’s moans filled the room, and she gasped for breath.

She closed her eyes and pressed down again. His tongue reached deeper, and she ground against him.

“I’m so close,” she cried out.

She lost herself to the moment and the temptation to overthink her body. His fingertips dug into her thighs, and she let go of all her stress. Bronwyn immersed herself in his desire. Heat filled her limbs, and her body momentarily froze before shaking. Her climax owned her entirely, and she fisted her hair as she rode it out.

With a quivering body, she slid down him and lay flat on her back, panting as he stood and removed the rest of his clothes. Penn’s cock was hard and throbbing.

His grinning mouth shone with her wetness as he climbed back on the bed and lay next to her. He leant on his side, his cock hard against her leg.

“I think you enjoyed that, Bruny?”

He laughed at her side-eye, still too breathless to make sense. She kissed him hard. He tasted of her arousal. Please don’t let it be our last weekend together.

She reached for his cock, but he held her hand in his. “What’s going on, Bruny. You’ve been distracted since I arrived. It’s more than hornyness. What’s going on in your head?” He tucked a strand of hair, now frizzy from their activities, behind her ear. The intimacy of the act made her belly flutter. He wasn’t a carefree fuck anymore; she’d invested her heart against her better judgement.

“I can’t tell you right now,” she murmured. Penn’s big brown eyes fixed hers. Although she wanted to hide her vulnerability, she couldn’t look away.

“How come?” He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers.

“Because everything I’ve read has told me not to talk about the future during fucking because men will say anything, especially if they’re hard and want sex.”

“That makes sense. But when have you known me to say anything but what I think? I only-”

“I know, “Say what I think and do what I want”. You don’t speak unless you have something to say, and no one can tell you what to say, however hard they try,” she replied cheekily, cutting him off.

He smirked. “Yeah, I’ve said that before, then?”

She smiled as he grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers. “Once or twice or a thousand times. It’s one of your many Penn-isms.”


Bronwyn sighed loudly and rolled her eyes, unable to look directly into his. “Fine. I was wondering what is this? Are we a couple, exclusive or whatever? Are we seeing other people?”

“I’m not, are you?”

“No,” she replied, her gaze flitting around the room.

“Look at me, Bruny.” Bronwyn looked back at him. “I am dating you and only you. This thing between us is for the foreseeable future, and that’s how I like it. So if you want to label it, then yeah, we’re boyfriend and girlfriend. But only if you’re happy with that.”

Her grin was wide enough to hurt her cheeks. “Yeah, I’m happy.”

He planted a kiss on her lips. It was soft and gentle and made her toes curl. “And if you think you’re taking anyone but me to your sister’s wedding, then you’re very wrong. I saw the plus one on the invitation. I’ve been waiting weeks for you to ask me. I’ve got my best suit and shirt ready to go and my shoes polished.”

A squeal left her mouth, surprising both of them.

“That was new,” Penn said with a chuckle.

Bronwyn covered her burning face with her hand.

“Oh, Bruny, don’t hide that beautiful face from me.” He took her hand off her face and kissed her softly. His lips brushed hers briefly before parting her lips with his tongue. She held his bristling jaw in her hand, nibbling at his lip before moving her tongue to massage his. She wanted him again, only this time she needed the cock she’d been craving all day. “Now to make you really squeal, but this time I want to watch you come. Kneel up and face the mirror,” he requested against her lips, giving her one last quick peck.

Bronwyn side-eyed him again as she got into position. He kneeled behind her. He moved her hair to one side and kissed her neck as he had in the kitchen, except this time, he scraped his teeth against her skin. His cock juddered against her, and she pushed her bottom into him. His reflected gaze caught hers.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you like this for a long time. Bend over, Princess,” he grunted. She looked over her shoulder and watched as he covered his cock with lube. He stroked himself slowly as he stared at her bum. Lust burnt deeply throughout her body. “I said bend over,” he growled.

She complied, grabbing the sheets in preparation. Penn grabbed her hips before sliding into her pussy. Temporarily, he rested there. Her heart swelled. Penn wasn’t just her casual fuck who she spent hours trying to work out what the different emotions meant and how he felt about her. He was her boyfriend now, and he was coming to the wedding. A naughty idea of fucking in the bathroom at the wedding reception made her giggle. She pushed against him trying to get him to move inside her as she thought about it.

“Not yet. Kneel up,” Penn growled.

He thrust deeper into her as she reached around and hugged his neck. He murmured how much he wanted her and everything he loved about her while massaging her breast, squeezing her nipple and twisting it gently.

At this angle, she could reach his balls. She held one gently in her hand, massaging it slowly as his cock moved inside her. It wasn’t a hard fuck but sensual and a testament to their chat.

“I love that I’m fucking my girlfriend. My curvy, beautiful, sexy girlfriend,” he growled before speeding up his hips.

He groaned as she kept stroking and playing with his balls in turn. “Fuck, Princess. You know how much I love it when you do that.”

Her stomach clenched at the burn of arousal. She stretched her back as he continued to push against her. “Grab your tits and look at the mirror,” he demanded. She opened her eyes and squeezed her breasts as he slid one hand down to her pussy while the other clutched her hip. He ran circles around her clit with his fingers, spreading the wetness around. The touches sent her arousal soaring.

He locked eyes with her through the mirror as he licked and sucked at her neck. His beard was softer around his lips, and his touch pleasurable. The darkness of his pupils transfixed her. She bit her lips as she watched him, pulling her bottom lip with her teeth. The corners of his mouth raised, but his eyes were still pinning her with their intensity. His fingers rubbed her quicker. Her eyes fluttered closed as she moaned his name.

“Open your eyes. I want to see you come,” Penn growled. She complied, but it was different to before. He moved quicker inside her. The intimacy of the position wasn’t lost on her. Bronwyn focused on the heat of his body burning inside hers. “My dirty Princess.”

She stroked her hard nipples with her thumbs while squeezing her breasts, her eyes never leaving his. “I’m close,” he moaned as he continued to thrust quickly inside her. He sucked at her ear lobe as he growled in her ear.

She was on the brink; her earlier orgasm and his fingers on her clit filled her with desperate need. Her breath came in short sharp gasps as she whimpered for more. He squeezed her hip, pulling her against him, scratching her with his nails. She cried out as she came. Her eyes never left his. His smirk was devilish. The alignment of their bodies was intimate, but his power still radiated through her.

Penn held her close, refusing to let her go as her climax tremored through her.

“Your turn now, sexy,” she said to his reflection. She lightly squeezed his balls as she spoke. “You’re such a sexy bastard, and your cock is the best I’ve ever had inside me. No one fucks me like you do.”

“Don’t stop,” he begged as he continued to thrust.

“My pussy can’t get enough of you. Once we’ve eaten, I’m going to give you a blowjob on the stairs. I’m going to take your cock in my mouth and-”.

“I’m coming,” he shouted. It was her turn to smile smugly. She loved watching her powerful man who spent his life in control let go, especially when she knew she’d got him there. “Fucking sexy minx,” he gasped.

They collapsed hot and sweaty on the bent, their bodies intertwined. “I can’t wait to give you a blowjob at the wedding,” Bronwyn whispered as Penn kissed her forehead and held her tight.


Liked Dinner is Ready? There are more short stories on my website including  The Boss, an enemies to lovers workplace story.

Office romance. Boss sex on desk.

Good Vibrations

Woman in a dressing gown. Friend romance.

Don’t forget to read part 1 & 2 of this friends to lovers romance first, you can find them here: Stories

Good Vibrations

Friday lunchtime finally came. I’d made it through my first lectures, and in between downed a sickening amount of shots while partying with housemates. I’d made new friends too. Did I party this hard during my first time at university? There had been a lot of late night’s spent studying in the library and ensuring I followed the plan. Still, I couldn’t remember going out, nor drinking until my head exploded and there definitely weren’t guys pinning me against the wall as their kisses brushed my neck.

I was still horny, and I hadn’t heard from George apart from a couple of messages checking in on me. Although I hadn’t spoken to him on the phone, I’d listened to him every morning in my shower while getting myself off. His deep voice had caressed my skin as water had cascaded down my body. Every word he spoke made me ache between my thighs. My wetness had joined with the soapy water, and I’d stroked my clit as he’d talked about some inane topic or played a random quiz. No matter what he spoke about, his voice reached inside me as I’d moaned his name. Phone sex with him would probably kill me, not that we’d ever do that because we were just friends and couldn’t be more. How many times had I reminded myself of that this week?

I recalled the one kiss we’d had when we were seventeen. We were playing truth or dare, and Erin from our class, who’d never hidden how much she fancied him and was jealous of our closeness had dared us to kiss. I don’t know what she expected, maybe that he couldn’t go through with it because of our friendship? I would have noticed her disappointment, but his tongue was in my mouth. He was never one to ignore a dare. I was knee walking drunk and had followed up the kiss by vomiting on his shoes. We hadn’t repeated our moment after that. His reason being, “I only have two pairs of these trainers, and I don’t want them both ruined.”

There was another problem in my first week of university. My housemate, Jamie, had decided that he was going to bed me. He was attractive for an eighteen-year-old. But that was the problem – he was eighteen. Jamie repeatedly called me MILF. He thought he was cute, but I was ready to punch him or show him how good sex with a grown woman could be.

But then again, did I know?

I’d had some mediocre sex before university and then Brian. He was pleasant enough, and he knew his way around my body. But I’d never screamed. I’d never woken up knowing that I craved another fuck with him. He was as efficient in the bedroom as he was with a spreadsheet; he got the job done, but it was all about finishing, rather than the fun you could have on the way.

Since moving into halls, Jamie was always by my side, especially on our night’s out. Was he waiting for me to give him the nod? He’d be waiting a long time. My body wanted George, and it was getting harder to ignore it. I needed to fuck George out of my system with a random guy, but I didn’t want to become the legendary university MILF to do it, and I didn’t want anyone else anyway. Why was everything so complicated?

During my last lecture of the week; Performance Anxiety and Motivation, I considered the teenage kiss again, or rather George’s inability to say no to a dare.  Should I dare him to go on a night out with my housemates? I could sell it as giving him fodder for his radio show and insight into his target audience.

I quickly tapped out a message to him and waited. His reply came in quick.

George: I’ll be at yours for lunch, and then I expect to have the craziest student night there is.

My face flushed bright enough to draw a furrowed brow from my lecturer. But I styled it out by pretending I’d lost my pen and then holding it aloft as if it was a prize. But how was I going to style out a visit from George? If only it were as simple as pretending I’d lost my pen. There was the other, more significant issue, too. We had a friendship that I couldn’t destroy for something as minor as a good fuck that I might be able to get somewhere else. I had to stop craving George or tonight could be the end of the most important relationship in my life.

What was I going to do?


“The thing is,” Jamie started as he thrust a hand through his quiff, “you’re hot as fuck, and I reckon you could teach me a lot. So what do you think? You could come to my room now if you want.”

I was standing in the communal area of our student apartment in just a fluffy dressing gown and a pair of my best knickers. George was due in the next hour, and I needed the time to make a lot of effort so I could look like someone who’d made none at all. Men had no idea what we women put ourselves through.

Jamie gave me a wink from the other side of the room. His back rested against the wall next to his bedroom door. All the bedrooms opened out onto the communal area I shared with two other females and three males. In the short time since we’d moved in, we’d affectionally named the space Grand Central. People were coming and going all the time. In two weeks, there had been more sex in this apartment than I’d had in the last couple of years with Brian. I’d walked in on a couple of pairs doing it on the edge of the kitchen sink on different afternoons. I was jealous, but not enough to go near Jamie.

“I’m alright, Jamie, but thank you for the offer,” I replied with a polite smile. His eyes lingered on me as I opened the fridge and reached for the bottle of wine I’d picked up after my lecture. I needed alcohol-fuelled courage to get me through today.

Jamie cleared his throat, and with a sigh, I turned back. I’d tried tough love. What else could I do? How many requests did he think it would take to convince me?

“You’ll change your mind. Already I’m one of the most wanted guys on campus. We’ve got a year together in this flat. One night you’re going to come home drunk and horny, there will be a knock at my door, and then we will have passionate sex,” he replied. Was I as confident at his age? I wasn’t even that confident now. There was nothing aggressive in the way he shared his tale of the future. It was more hopeful and had a hint of wistfulness.

“No, there won’t be, Jamie,” I replied sternly.

“Yes, there will be, my lovely MILF,” he smiled. I don’t think he realised how much of a dickhead he sounded. He believed it would happen. I couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t if the level of arousal I was fighting was likely to continue. Imagine if I had come home last week? Thank goodness for George.

“Look there won’t be because, because,” I stuttered at his hopeful face. “Because I have a boyfriend already.”

“And this is the first time you mention it? I don’t believe you. I’ll continue to wait for that knock at my door, my sexy MILF.” He gave me one last smile before heading back into his bedroom.

“He’s coming round in a bit and partying with us tonight,” I shouted to his retreating body.

Why had I wanted to move into halls? I’d wanted to experience university life properly like I’d missed out on the first time. The staff had assured me I would be in an apartment with people nearer my age, but aside from a twenty-six-year-old woman, they were all either eighteen or nineteen.

I unscrewed the wine and took two long swigs, ignoring the nasty sharp taste. It was the cheapest in the off licence.

Maybe I should move, but that would be the whole first-semester rent gone as I’d paid upfront and I’d have to fork out more for somewhere else. There was no point worrying about it now. George was due in an hour. I ticked the jobs off on my finger.

Make-up? Done.

Hair? Done.

But what was I going to wear? I took another swig hoping to clear my hangover and headed back to my room.


I froze in my doorway. That couldn’t be George; he was never early. But I couldn’t risk Jamie getting to him before I did. I daren’t imagine his face if Jamie asked if he was fucking the MILF.

I skidded across the lino to the front door and yanked it open. I swallowed noisily. George was in front of me in his night out best. A checked shirt that clung obscenely to his body, smart jeans and brown brogues brought an internal sigh of delight. He was handsome as well as hot, and my sex clenched immediately with expectation.

His gaze trawled from my head to my toes, pausing momentarily at where my dressing gown gaped at my chest. At the heat from his look, sweat beaded my neck.

“Wine already? Bad morning?” He smiled. I wasn’t sure how, but he immediately conveyed his unusual combination of shy cockiness. I heard it when he was on the radio, and face to face he was the same. George was cocky, and he charmed and amused everyone with his boy next door persona, but he had vulnerabilities too, and in groups of people, he often listened because he wasn’t sure what to say. He understood the impact of mental health struggles and had helped his brother through panic attacks brought on from PTSD. He’d been there for me during my most vulnerable moments; when I’d failed my first accountancy exam, when Brian’s parents had embarrassed me at a family party, and the night I found out my mum was having tests for cancer. I’d loved him like a best friend since I was fourteen, but this urge to have inside me while covering my body with kisses and pushing me to climax was different. Was it new or had it always been there, and I’d learnt to ignore it?

More importantly, how did he feel? Was I just Midge, best friend and like a sister. Everything had changed for me, but that didn’t mean it had for him.

“No. It’s not been a bad one,” I replied flustered, heat burning my cheeks when I remembered George’s question. “I, just, you’re early.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the weekend, isn’t it, and I don’t want to waste time faffing at home. Can I come in?” How was his hair bouncy after wearing headphones all morning? I wanted to touch it and run my hands through the strands, but friends didn’t do that. Instead, I beckoned him in and headed for the kettle. He always had a cup of tea around this time. It helped ease his energy after the rush from presenting his morning radio show. “Did I catch you doing something?”

I flushed again, grateful that with my back to him, he couldn’t see the guilty look on my face. I’d listened back to his show while playing with myself in the shower. It had been a great way to ring in my first proper weekend as a student, even if it left me with some conflicted feelings now that he was close.

“Just getting ready,” I replied with forced breeziness, relieved at how long it was taking the kettle to boil. The bubbles and sighs suggested it needed replacing, but I’d realised early on that risking a fire for the price of a kettle was what being a student was all about.  

“What’s the plan for tonight?” George asked. The springs pinged from the direction of the sofa. I didn’t need to turn to know he’d sat on it. His hands probably rested at his knees. I wanted those hands on me, fisting through my hair as he kissed me. I imagined his body towering over mine in bed as his tongue slipped into my mouth. Would we fit together easily? He was nearly a foot and a half taller than me. ‘You’re the same height when you’re lying down’. I’d heard that once, but from who? My thoughts were a distracting jumble of ideas. “Grace. You okay?”

“Huh?” My unrelenting arousal was getting ridiculous. George was my friend, and that was all that mattered. I faked a smile and turned to face him. “Oh yes, a plan for tonight.”

Lots of things happened at once. Jamie’s door squeaked as the wine reacted with my empty stomach. The scream of the kettle sent me into a panic. Were they the catalyst for my desires or an excuse to kiss my friend? In a flash, I straddled George’s thighs. “You need to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

I made the most of his open mouth and kissed him as if my life depended on it. His mouth paused against mine, but any hesitation was brief as his hands stroked my naked thighs beneath my dressing gown. His kiss was hard and fast. I was hungry for him, and my moan echoed between us. His hands climbed higher as I started to grind against him. His cock swelled beneath me. The roughness of his jeans against my barely covered pussy was heavenly friction, and I twisted my hips harder.

A slam came from the direction of Jamie’s door, but we didn’t stop. His tongue massaged mine as he reached around and grabbed my butt cheeks. His fingers dug into my flesh as he pulled me against him. His cock may have been constricted by his jeans, but it rubbed against my clit in a way that had me desperate for more. Shit, I was kissing my best friend, and I wanted him to fuck me.

I pulled back needing to get my breath and my head together.

We sat panting, staring at each other as doors banged and mixtures of Drake and The Weekend played around us. I brushed my thumb across his lower lip while staring into his grey eyes. It was as if they were sparkling. It was the sexiest kiss of my life. I wanted more, but was he playing the part of my boyfriend as I’d asked? His cock was rock hard beneath me, but that couldn’t tell me what was in his heart.

“Well, that happened,” he finally said.

“And?” I said softly, desperately trying to keep hope out of my voice. But my body betrayed me, and I slipped my hand into his hair and ran my fingers through it. The scent of grapefruit seemed to settle between us. I touched his hair again and smiled. Now that I’d finally crossed a barrier, I couldn’t leave him alone.

He squeezed my arse cheek before moving his hands back to my thighs, beneath my dressing gown. His hands were hot against my flesh.

I knew everything there was to know about George and yet sat on the threadbare sofa his thumbs stroking my inner thighs I couldn’t work out what he’d say next. It could be a “we shouldn’t ruin our friendship”, “I don’t like you that way” or “take me to your bedroom” with anything else in between.

“And,” he replied the side of his mouth lifting in a half-smile.

The guy who made a living through his voice had gone quiet. The dirty beat of the music around us pounded through my veins. His thumbs stroked higher. It was a matter of moments before he realised how wet he’d made me.

He stopped short of my knickers. “And I don’t know why you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend as there is no one to pretend to, we’re all alone.”

My mouth had gone dry waiting for the thoughts behind his gaze.

“But I suppose someone could walk in,” he said with a gravelly voice. I clenched my thighs at the thought of someone catching us. The public kiss had been a way to convince Jamie I was out of bounds, but now it had become a game.

“Oh, you like the idea of that, Grace?” He laughed in a voice so deep that I pushed my pelvis forward, rubbing softly against him. “I don’t know what is going on with you and right now I don’t care. I want this.”

With his eyes fixed on mine almost as if he was asking for consent, he slipped his finger through the belt on my dressing gown and pulled. The more undone my belt became, the more sensual his smile. Every movement he made was slow and considered and what could have been a quickie in Grand Central was torture. My heart thumped hard as if every sense was on high alert. I swallowed noisily as the belt came undone and fell to my sides. Even with all we had done this felt like the precipice. If someone walked into Grand Central now, we’d stop and probably never talk about it again. With one move, I would be nearly naked in front of him. But was he willing to take that step and change everything? I licked my lips and squeezed my thighs in an attempt to will him further.

“I want this, George.”

He took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving my eyes, reached up and pushed my soft robe apart. I sat in his lap, my body on display for him. I wanted to moan, yet we’d barely done anything. I ached for his touch.

He was my best friend, and my fantasy.

His gaze dropped down, and he stared in awe at my body. Brazenly I lifted my chest and presented myself to him. My nipples were pert, and my chest flushed. “Fucking hell, Grace. You’re gorgeous,” he said with a gravelly voice. I’d never felt alluring before, but with him, I was a vixen.

Anyone could walk in on us, and I didn’t care. I’d do anything for George to fuck my brains out on this tatty sofa. He dipped his head, never breaking eye contact until his lips covered my nipple. I hissed with pleasure as he sucked and bit at the sensitive flesh. I made soft circular movements with my pelvis against his jeans, trying to get more satisfaction to my pussy.

“Please, more,” I moaned as he lavished my breast with his mouth. Wetness pooled in my knickers as he ran his fingertips down my legs. His nails were sharp against my skin, and I clamped a hand over my mouth to stop crying out.

Even behind my hand, a “oh” of pleasure fell from between my lips. Suddenly George’s hands were everywhere; one massaged the breast that was missing out on his mouth while the other was between my legs. It stroked closer to my pussy. I held it fast scared he might take it away. It was so close to touching me where I needed it.

He leant back to watch me as his thumb brushed my clit on top of my knickers. Before I could respond with more pleading a familiar melody filtered through to my conscious.

It was the ringtone he used for work.

No, please, no.

He paused. I couldn’t blame him. I knew how important his job was to him. His boss rarely called unless it was significant.

“It’s okay, you can answer it,” I said softly, trying to convey that I wasn’t annoyed. Sexually frustrated, but not annoyed.

His features twisted as if he couldn’t decide what to do next. “I’ll leave it,” he said as the tune stopped. “See, all sorted.”

The melody started again. It had to be a serious call.

“It’s okay, really,” I replied with a peck on his lips.

He fished through his pocket as I stood back up and took extra care in retying my dressing gown. I didn’t dare look at him. Maybe he had regrets for the line we’d crossed or perhaps he wasn’t thinking about me at all.

I pretended to tidy up the kitchen, but all I was doing was picking things up and putting them back down again in the same place. I caught George’s end of the conversation, but it gave me no hints to what was happening.

My body hadn’t got the message that playtime was over. My knickers were soaked, and my heart ached as hard as my pussy.

“Bye, boss. I’ll see you soon,” he finished the call.

Don’t drop your shoulders. Don’t you dare look sad, Grace.

I turned to face him, hoping to see some of my disappointment on his face, but he was smiling so hard it would have been infectious if it hadn’t hurt so much.

“They want me to interview Adele. It’s the first interview she’s done in years, and she wanted me! She’s only in town for the next two hours, so it’s now or never,” he beamed as he tidied his hair and pulled his shirt back down. He was gorgeous, and I hated myself for wanting him to stay even though he was about to do the most significant interview of his career.

“I’m so happy for you,” I replied breezily. I looked down to his crotch that hinted at what we’d been up to. “I think I’ve left a wet spot on your, umm, jeans.”

He looked down and back up, and I saw a hint of arousal and conflict in his eyes. It was the only sign that what was affecting me had got to him too. “It’s okay. I’ll get my boss to bring a spare pair to the interview.”

He headed to the door, pausing for a second. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I can be. I’ve got to go and prep. See you, Grace.”

The door slammed, and I was left horny, sad and ready to guzzle the rest of my wine before my night out. Would I hear from him again and if so would it be like nothing had happened between us? What if the sexiest moment in my life was already his biggest mistake?


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Last Night a DJ Saved My Life

Grace wakes up in the home of her favourite radio presenter.

Don’t forget to read part 1 first, you can find it here: Part 1

Last Night a DJ Saved My Life

The bang of a door dragged me from my sleep.

“Oh, God, no,” I grunted. It was like a gang of bikers swinging metal chains were at a rock concert inside my head. I tried to swallow, but my tongue was thick and dry against the roof of my mouth. Please, I need water. Maybe Brian had done the thing he never did and left me a glass.

Suddenly everything came rushing back to me. There was no Brian in my life or job or apartment. Where am I? Had I gone home with the Aussie barman? No, he was gay, I think. I had propositioned him, though. I rubbed my face with my palms. Did I return to university and sleep with an eighteen-year-old? I’d never live it down. Oh shit, they’re going to call me a cougar, or worse. I groaned louder.

Slowly I opened my eyes, scared where I’d find myself in. Crisp cotton bedding that was as soft as a cloud on my hanging head and blinds that hid a window stretching from the ceiling to the floor made me gasp. I was in George’s bed. A safe space. When we were younger, I used to sleep next to him at all the parties, and we were always platonic. But we weren’t young anymore. I eyed the space next to me, but it was untouched. Where had he slept?

On top of the round bedside table was two full glasses of water and paracetamol. George knew me too well. I gulped down the pills and both drinks before flopping my head back on the pillow. I pulled the duvet up to my nose and breathed in the mixture of vanilla and grapefruit. He always smelt so good. Even his scent on the bedding made my headache better.

Snippets of last night returned like a haunting. I’d propositioned the barman and asked George if I could see his cock. For fuck’s sake. I buried my head beneath the covers.

A soft knock came from the door. What time was it? Lectures started today, and uni was a train ride away. I tried to distinguish outside noises to give me a hint at what time of day it might be, but his windows muffled the sounds of London. How many women had slept in this bed, waking up to his warm body beside them? Did he wake them by stroking between their legs and caressing them gently or did he pin their hands above them and lick down their bodies before thrusting inside them? My body seared as he knocked again. Fantasies about your best friend weren’t allowed.

“Come in,” I replied sheepishly from underneath the duvet.

“Only if you’re decent,” he replied. I pulled the duvet back to see what I was wearing. Shit. When did I take my dress off? It had to be in the night. I wouldn’t have done it in front of George. We’d had some boundaries even when we were younger. So why can’t you remember what you did? And why are you hoping he removed it?

I hid back under the duvet now desperate for answers.

“I’ve hidden my decency for now, but I’m going to need answers. Come in.” He strode straight to the windows and pulled back the curtains. Daylight forced its way inside the bedroom, and I sunk deeper into the bed.

“Not feeling your best?” he smirked as the sunshine burnt my retinas.

I peaked out from beneath the duvet and marvelled how good he looked in comparison to my slummy self. His long-sleeved baseball shirt was tight enough to remind me that I’d touched his solid pecs the night before. My gaze travelled down to his jeans that hinted at the package beneath. Oh shit, I talked about his cock. Did I dream about it too?

Why did he have to have such a sexy voice? My colleagues had often talked about his sexy voice. I’d noticed it, but now I wanted him to whisper filthy things in my ear as he pushed inside me. I couldn’t stop staring at his package. Did it move when I was staring at it? Why do I suddenly care about his cock now? Maybe it was because I was dealing with a long term build-up of hornyness or because I was around students who never stopped fucking.  I remembered again the way George said dick. I needed to get laid as soon as possible and not by my best friend.

“Finished staring?” My eyes flipped to his, and I was relieved to find them crinkled in amusement. “What’s going on with you, Grace?”

I paused and took another breath, filling myself with his scent. That only made things worse. I should leave as quickly and politely as possible.

“I think that breaking up with Brian and then surrounding myself with students who shag like rabbits has made me horny as fuck,” I confessed. Don’t stare at his dick again. But it drew me in, and my gaze flicked that way. His package twitched. It definitely twitched that time!

“You told me all about your hornyness last night. I thought that was you in drunk mode.” He sat on the edge of the bed. Was he trying to hide his cock from me by sitting down? Had I stared that much? Nah, we were friends. Midge and Big G. Oh shit, now I’m thinking about his Big G again. “Especially when you tried to barter with me so that you could see my dick.”

“What?” I covered my face in shame and also because he’d repeated the word dick. The heat was coursing through my body.

He eased the duvet back so he could see my face. His grey eyes were dancing. Was I still drunk? Eyes don’t dance. They seemed to sparkle like never before. “You told me that I could undress you if I showed you my, and I’m quoting here, ‘massive, panty-dropping cock’.”

The heat was now between my legs, and I didn’t want it to go. Even with a hangover, I felt alive like never before. My stomach flipped, and my pussy pulsed. I had missed out on so much with Brian, but I didn’t want George really, I couldn’t. But I had to admit that a big part of me, and not just the part that was wet and aching, did.

Why did his voice have to be so deep and seductive? I knew it was his job to entertain millions with his voice as a radio presenter, but this was me trying to hold on to any dignity I still had.

“And did you undress me?” The idea excited me. My heart rose as I imagined his finger slipping inside my dress and undoing the knot that kept the material together. Was his skin against mine as he lifted the hem and cupped my bum. Did he squeeze it briefly to see my reaction? I wanted his hands pushing the material off my shoulders and revealing my breasts hidden by the thin lace material of my bra. I fought the pull to squirm against my knickers.

I fixed him with a gaze. Humour left the room. Why had we never got together? In sixth form he was too busy screwing anything, teachers included, but never me. It was like our friendship was the most important thing to both of us, and we didn’t want to risk it. Then at university, I met Brian, and that was that. But I’d never been attracted to George before, had I?

“Did you undress me, George?” Please say yes. Maybe I’m still drunk because this isn’t me.

“No. I let you do that once I’d left the room. I needed my sleep for work,” he said quietly. His emotion was indistinguishable. I was too old to be having these feelings about my best mate. He was one of the few friends I had, and I couldn’t risk that.

“Phew.” I forced out my laugh. “You weren’t late for work, were you?”

As one of the best radio presenters in London, I knew nothing mattered more to George than his job. He’d reached his dream of being a breakfast radio presenter a couple of years earlier. It was the most coveted show. Only the best got to be breakfast hosts, and he was undoubtedly the best. The only problem was the way it fucked with his life. That was his other reason for hook-ups. Breakfast presenters were famous for being too exhausted for proper relationships. He was up every weekday morning before sunrise. He got invites to the best parties but was too tired to attend them.

“No, I was fine. I did tell my millions of listeners about my night and how my best friend was propositioning me.”

I sat up straight. “Please no, tell you me you didn’t.”

His gaze dropped down. The duvet had fallen, and my bra was showing. In the old days, it would have meant nothing, but there was heat in his eyes. His gaze seared my skin, and I licked my lips in anticipation, holding my sigh tightly. Something had changed between us and I wanted more. My nipples hardened, and he looked at my face before rubbing his hand across the stubble on his chin. What would that stubble feel like between my legs? I wanted him to scratch my thighs as he licked my pussy. I ached at the possibility of his soft lips against my nipples.

The ticking clock brought me to my senses. “Hold on, if you’re just getting home, that means it’s nearly lunchtime.” I jumped up; my blushes already forgotten.

It was Monday, and I had my first lecture in a couple of hours. I couldn’t miss that.

George was silent as I ran around the room. He stared between my legs. I dragged my dress from the floor and briefly glanced in the mirror to see what had caught George’s attention. The pink lace of my knickers was darker at my pussy. Was I that wet? Had George made me wet before?

I threw the dress on and shoved my fingers through my hair as I attempted to detangle the knots. Where were my purse and shoes? George remained frozen on the bed, his legs wide. He watched everything I did with raised eyebrows. I didn’t have time to worry about it, although it would consume me later.

“I guess I’m going to do the walk of shame,” I joked giving one last look to his parted lips as I dashed out the door.

“You wish,” he called back although it seemed like he was on a delay. He was right, though. I wished it more than I wished I had time to get to my halls before the lecture. I wanted to stay in that bed and scream louder than any of his conquests had before. The reality would struggle to live up to my fantasies, but I wanted to give reality a chance and find out for myself.

What the fuck was going on?

Chasing Rainbows

Somebody That I Used to Know

Night at the bar

“Homeless, dumped and fired.  Sorry I took “voluntary redundancy”, i.e. leave, or we’ll fire you because the company can’t afford to keep you or the rest of hundred people we’re offering voluntary redundancy to.

“My life couldn’t get any worse right? Oh yeah, I lost half my friends, and my parents wouldn’t speak to me. I’ve followed my life plan since I was twelve years old. I used my £25 birthday money and opened my first bank account to save for university. Then I watched my best mate, George, who was born on the same day as me, waste all of his birthday money on CDs from HMV and the biggest McDonald’s ever.

“At university, I met my fiancé, ex-fiancé, Brian. We were studying accounting, and it was his ultimate dream to be a wealthy accountant. I was interested in psychology, but that didn’t fit into my long- term plan of comfortable job, married by twenty-five and first child by twenty-eight so I chose accounting. George rolled his eyes when I told him I’d applied to study accounting. He nearly disowned me when I told him that Brian and I were an official couple. “University is about sex and having lots of it,” he’d shouted down the phone as in the background giggling ladies had screamed his name at his sixth party that week. Maybe university life was about sex for lots of people, including George, but I had a plan.

“Over time, my plan got harder to stick to. I didn’t have the wedding ring or baby by twenty-eight, but as Brian said, we were both completing our qualifications to be certified accountants. We were climbing the ladder. “There isn’t time to do everything,” he reminded me at an old school friend’s wedding as we’d watched George avoid the advances of one of the bridesmaids. It was George who’d sat with me when Brian was called into the office late that Saturday. I’d drank a lot of tequila, cried on his shoulder about not loving Brian that much anyway and then he’d held my hair back as I’d chucked up the contents of my stomach behind the marquee. I’d refused to talk about it after that, assuring George that I did love Brian and it must have been the evil drink talking. But he knew me well enough to know when I was honest. I should have done something about it then.

“Instead, I’m thirty-one, Brian and I have decided we don’t love each other and I’ve moved out of his apartment. Our friends have picked sides, even though it was amicable, and my parents aren’t speaking to me because I’ve diverted from the plan and it must be my fault “because Brian is just the best, isn’t he?”. He was sensible, good at saving and had a brilliant job. What more could a woman want?

“Sex! I haven’t had sex in a year, and before then it was mediocre. That’s what a woman wants; incredible, mind-blowing, headboard breaking sex. The sort that makes you scream if you’re a screamer, that makes you take a photo of yourself in the toilets at work because you’re soaking wet, and that makes you stay in bed all day because you need to do it again and again. But that doesn’t exist beyond books. Right?

“And now, thanks to my godfather who is a university chancellor I’m back at university studying Sports Psychology and living in halls. Over the last week, I’ve felt ancient around these freshers. I reckon at least twenty of them have propositioned me, but I’m way too old to sleep with them, aren’t I?”

“That’s great, lovely, but why are you telling me this? I asked if you wanted another glass of wine,” the Aussie bartender, who’d been supplying all I needed to drown my sorrows that night, stated. Glasses clinked together as he tidied up the now quiet bar. It was depressing to be alone in a bar at eleven o’clock on a Sunday evening, but I was too drunk to care. I toyed with the hem of my wrap around summer dress. It hit just above the knee, except when the wind got up, and I flashed anyone lucky enough to be watching. That might explain the come-ons I had today. Maybe if it blew up in front of the bartender, it would turn him on. I contemplated giving him flash as a taster. “Except now I’m cutting you off. No more alcohol for you, in fact, it’s time you went home.”

“You don’t want to have sex with me either?” I slurred before pursing my lips and giving him a wobbly-eyed wink.

His eye roll wasn’t subtle. “I’m gay, and even if I wasn’t, you’re way too drunk. Is there someone I can call to get you home safely?”

Who did I have? Not Brian, not my parents, and hardly any friends. They’d all be in bed getting ready for the Monday morning grind. One name popped into my head, and I slid my phone over to Scott, the bartender with George’s name and number on the screen. Scott’s sleeves rose slightly to show his tattooed forearms.

“Oh, I like those,” I’d whispered before I dropped my head to my arms and let my eyes drift closed. My dark wavy long-bob hid the world from my eyes. I was so tired. It had been a manic couple of months since the worst day of my life, and now it was the end of Freshers week. I was exhausted keeping up with eighteen-year-olds while wondering how my life went so wrong. The chatter from the remaining patrons lulled me to sleep.

The next thing I remembered was the voice of an angel whispering in my ear. “Grace, can you hear me? Wake up, Grace.”

With his soft home counties accent, he called my name a bit louder. I let out a breath that made my full lips vibrate noisily. Then I drifted off and returned to the lovely dream I’d been having about a sexy, straight bartender who held me against the wall with his thick tattooed forearms.

“GRACE!” the angel had turned to a devil and was hollering in my ear.

I lifted my head slightly and side-eyed the devil. A grin spread across my face when the fluffy, brown hair came into view. “George, you’re here. When did you get here?” My enthusiasm was like that of a teenage girl at a pop concert. I turned to the barman. “Aussie dude, meet my friend George. He’s the tallest man in the world. How tall are you, George?”

“The same height I’ve been since school,” he replied with a roll of his eyes. I wasn’t so drunk I didn’t notice. I coughed into the sleeve of my denim jacket. Gross. When did my mouth fumes get so bad? My stomach dropped as I reached for my wine glass. Damn, it was empty.

I remembered I was talking to someone about my bestie. Of course, the hot bartender. “George peaked early. When we were at school people called us Midget and the Giant. Cause I’m 5 foot nothing to his 6 foot 4. Take off your shoes, and I’ll walk around in them like we used to. It will make Aussie Dude laugh. He needs a laugh; he’s had a hard day. This crazy drunk woman has been telling him her life story.” I giggled at myself.

What did they say about men with big shoes? Oh yeah, they had big feet. No, that wasn’t it. Something about their dicks? I side-eyed George’s crotch. It had to be massive. Why didn’t I know, though? He was my school bestie who at parties I’d share a bed with. He was too busy getting with any female with a pulse to look at tiny, yet curvy me. I’d once been in bed pretending to sleep, after my eighteenth birthday, when he’d had sex with some guy’s older sister on the floor. He thought I was asleep, but I could see what was happening through the reflection in the mirror. I’d never told him about that. He’d kneeled against her as she played with her clit, whispering filthy things as he thrust into her. As she’d screamed his name, he’d covered her mouth, probably worried they’d wake me. But it was his eyes tightly closed and teeth clenched as he came that I’d stared at. I’d wanked over that memory a couple of times at university, even after I met Brian.

George was squatting so that he’s grey eyes were level with mine. All my accounting friends had wanted to fuck him at some point, including my very married boss, but he had kept them at bay. From what I could gather, George had semi-regular secret hook-ups that had no connection to his everyday life. And these days if he wasn’t busy working he was busy exercising. He’d decided to do an ironman competition and was working to be at his peak fitness. “Grace, sweetheart, have you been telling the poor guy about your plan?”

At the reminder of the plan, my face fell. Oh no, I was going straight from happy, annoying drunk to maudlin drunk. “I told Scott that I broke the plan. Everything is broken, Georgey Boy.” I liked to call him that sometimes because I knew it annoyed him. It tended to be a drunk thing.

I dropped my head against the bar, not caring about the bang it made as it hit the wood. Surely that should hurt? I caught Scott’s whispers as he caught George up with what I’d told him. George knew most of it, and he’d been the one who’d convinced me to go back to university. Maybe I should take a leaf out of his book and be shagging my way around uni, but they were all so young! They didn’t even know how good Craig David was the first time around or what a pager was. I laughed loudly to myself, but I wasn’t sure why. I was bladdered. I sensed a couple of people looking over, but I ignored them and played with the cord from my burgundy dress instead. The V at my chest wasn’t low enough to be indecent. How low would I have to bend to show George my boobs? Would he even care? I was too horny, and he was my bestie. I flashbacked to him having sex on my floor. If he was as good at it as I remembered when he was eighteen, he must be Cassanova now. Maybe he’d be the one to give me that one-off experience?

“Okay, Grace. I’m not taking you back to uni now. You can stay at mine,” George helped me off the chair. I got a whiff of his hair, it smelt of grapefruit and was damp at the ends. Had I got him out the shower? I must have been horny because instantly I imagined him soaping himself up as the water cascaded down. What was going on in my head?

My feet hit the sticky floor. What had happened to my heels? As I looked up, I found myself staring at George’s chest. I reached out a hand. When did his pecs get so hard? Even his t-shirt couldn’t hide it.

“Damn, George. You’ve been working out.” I stroked a hand down his chest to his abs and giggled when he sucked in a breath.

“Looks like I’m going to have to deal with you the same way I did when we were at sixth form,” he said with a smile. He took my hand in his, and before I had the chance to ask if we were going to dance, he tossed me over his shoulder. “Let’s go, Midge.”

Ah, the sweet version of my nickname from school. “Don’t forget my purse, Big G,” I chuckled. At school, I’d started calling him Big G when he called me Midge. Our mates thought it was because I’d seen his cock, which according to his exes was big, girthy and every woman’s dream. “Or my shoes. And don’t let anyone see my knickers, they’re my favourites, Big G.”

I giggled again.

“Why do you keep laughing?” he replied, popping a hand on my bum to keep my dress down while striding to the door. The heat from his hands caressed my bum. I gave Scott a wave as we headed outside. The rumble of traffic filled the air.

“Because Mr Strong Man, I’ve just realised I’ve never seen the real Big G close up and I’m wondering how big he is. Can I see it tonight? I’m sure he’d cheer me up,” I tried to coo.

He gave my bum a tap, and I covered my mouth to hold back the moan.

“No, Grace, you can’t see my dick tonight. I’m sorry you’re not having the best time at the moment, but I think it will improve. And just so you know, I’ve missed drunk you. You’re always the most innocent, so when you get drunk, it’s even better. I’m glad you’re not with Brian, he didn’t deserve you,” he replied, but I wasn’t listening. There was something in the way he’d tapped my bum and then said dick that made me ache to have him inside me. Would he spank me if I asked nicely?

I don’t know if it was the thought of his dick or just the alcohol, but I must have passed out soon after with his voice repeating the word dick over and over in my head.

His Scent Lingers

“No, you tidy the house. I’ve got to go and buy food for dinner, which I expect I will be making again,” I shout as I slam our front door.

Is this what love means? Unreasonable levels of patience just to get through the day. It’s his friends, Harry and Chris, who are visiting and yet I’m doing all the work. My heels clack against the concrete as I storm down the steps.

It’s not enough that I’ve been to work and back by bus. No one gets the bus in my village except Herbert with the false teeth that fall out every time the bus goes around a corner. It’s like the movie Speed, but with the threat of getting slapped across the face by a pair of gnashers. Then there’s the Karen who I overheard on the phone this morning. She loudly told the caller about her latest wax appointment. Apparently the hair round her “vag”, her words, was as stubborn as her orgasm the other night. She used every toy known to man, including “the one that does both my holes” and still couldn’t get there. What with Herbert and Karen on both my journeys I should be horizontal in a hot bath with a large glass of something red right now.

But we promised Harry and Chris dinner so here I am.

I reach for the handle and offer a silent prayer to no one in particular. He promised he fixed my car today and that was why he hasn’t cooked dinner. If it’s still making that rattling noise I’ll be sneering through a night of social platitudes.

I yank open the door and suddenly I’m hit with his scent. A musky vanilla saturates the inside. With a deep breath I fill my lungs with him. I can taste him on my tongue. My anger flows out of my body and is replaced with something that makes my pulse race. I shiver as my skin tingles. The effect is immediate and so quick it nearly floors me.

Sliding into the driver’s seat I get highlights of our times together. His lips brushing against my neck, his fingertips grazing my inner thighs. Flashes of him tease me as notes of sandalwood and vanilla climb into body easing any remaining tightness in my shoulders. I swallow loudly as I recall the last time we were together; his naked body beneath me as I straddled in him in bed. He’s the perfect stress reliever.

He must have been working on my car all day, maybe he was inside it immediately after his shower. A wisp of memory fools me into thinking he’s sitting beside me. I turn to the passenger seat, but he’s not there. My car radiates with his presence. I start the engine and drive slowly down the road, my thoughts a blur as I head towards the shops.

I regret saying goodbye without kissing him hard enough to leave him thinking of me and what we might do when his friends leave. Why didn’t I stroke him slowly over his jeans or run my hands under his t-shirt? He’s been training a lot recently in preparation for a 10k. His body is tight enough to kiss each ab. The reminder of his endurance when he had me bent over his desk last week sends shivers down my spine.

A trickle of sweat runs down my chest when I remember his hands gripping my hips as he thrust inside me, but I don’t want to open the window to cool down. The air doesn’t deserve the heady smells fanning my lust. The scent of him fuels fantasies of going down on him as he pulls into a layby. His cock in my mouth as the lights from other cars flash by us, strangers oblivious to the agonising need in his eyes as he cums in my mouth.

I slam on my brakes, grateful that no one is behind me. Scrolling through my console I find the name he used when he put his number in my phone a couple of years ago. We met in a club, both of us merry. The number for Sexy Lobster starts ringing and I bite back a smile. The only thing sexy about his lobster costume that night was the body beneath it.

“What now?” he says gruffly, his voice on speaker throughout my car.

“I’m picking you up, meet me outside the house,” I respond without hint of my plans. “I need you in the car with me.”

“It can’t still be broken. There was no noise when I tested it,” he replies, mistaking the reason for my call. “It was the air con. I fixed it.”

I hang up without revealing my intentions.

Without delay I reverse back up the street. I stop so suddenly outside the house that my seatbelt yanks me into my seat. Impatiently I honk the horn.

He strides out, his brows furrowed. I breathe deeply again as he saunters towards the car. He’s only wearing jeans and a t-shirt and yet I’m salivating at the sight of my sexy lobster. I wriggle in my seat, my knickers tight against me reminding me how much I want him inside me. He rolls his eyes when I nod towards the passenger door. Knowing he’s annoyed turns me on more. I want him frustrated and taking me hard.

Thank god I wearing a floaty dress. I had no idea how easy it would make my evening adventure. The soft cotton rests against my naked thighs and I part them slowly while offering him a smile.

He sits down and slams my door. “What-”

I’m kissing him hard before he finishes his question. It’s barely a beat before he responds.  His hands fist my hair as my tongue parts his lips. I’m pulling at his t-shirt desperately dragging him closer. A moan vibrates the back of my throat and my thighs tremble against the leather seat. The gearstick bars my access to him.

Suddenly I pull back. He’s panting hard and his eyes are wide. The last time I caught him wild like this it was at his parent’s house and I surprised him coming out the bathroom. We had sex on the edge of the cabinet while everyone was downstairs playing Christmas games. His brother winked at us when we returned, and the wild look remained on my sexy lobster’s face all night.

I breathe in the lingering smell on his neck. It’s the same smell as the car, but at his natural musk combined with it my guttural moan is released.

“I want you inside me,” I whisper in his ear slipping my hand to his crotch.

His cock twitches against my hand and he licks his lip with the tip of his tongue. “Let’s go inside.”

“No, I want you in the car,” I reply reaching for his hand and sliding it up my thigh. “But not here. I know the best place. Are you up for it?”

I continue to slide his hand higher until it’s against the wetness that has seeped through my knickers. At his barest touch I whimper.

“Fuck yes,” he replies as he dips his hand inside my knickers. “But I get to do what I want with you.”

He fingers me gently, no doubt aware of our neighbour’s security cameras. Will any of them watch it back and enjoy what we’re doing? I’d love to give them a show one night, maybe next time.

His finger moves deeper. “Poppy, I get to do what I want,” he says again adding his thumb to stroke my clit. I can’t deny him anything when he rubs me there, not that I would deny him. His skills, especially with my body, are never ending.

I nod as he takes his finger out and pops it in his mouth. He sucks it hard before pulling it out with a pop. My heart thumps in my chest.

“Come on then, let’s get going. By the way, Harry and Chris cancelled as you left. We have all night.” His grin is broad as he secures his seatbelt.

His musky vanilla scent is everywhere as I speed back down the road.