Our kiss ends, and she turns her whole body to me now. My fingers slip from her and I remove my hand from beneath her dress. I rub my fingers together, relishing her slick juices on my digits.
“Let’s go.” Her words are a command, her eyes bright but demanding.
I don’t hesitate. I emerge from the booth, and turn to offer her my hand as she slides to standing at my side. She presses close for a fleeting kiss, and I inhale the musk of her arousal. My blood thrums, singing for more of her, all of her.
As quickly as she stepped into me, she whirls away, catching my hand and pulling me after her. I again don’t know where she’s leading, but gladly follow. It is becoming increasingly apparent that this might be the woman I’m willing to do anything for, go anywhere with. I’ll walk through fire and ice and everything in between to be with her.
Amelia pushes through Desperado’s back door. Outside, she ignores the handful of bar-goers enjoying a smoking break and heads around the side of the building. I keep step, curious about where she’s going.
This side of the building is somehow quiet, the thump of the country band within muted and distant. I follow Amelia as she makes for a small stand of weedy shrubbery emerging from the place where the exterior walls meet the spread of pavement. There, I see a small alcove in the building, big enough for a picnic table. It must be a place for staff to go to take their breaks, I realize.
Amelia rounds on me, taking each of my hands in hers and backing us into the alcove until her bottom meets the short edge of the table. She hops up on the wooden surface and spreads her legs, dress riding up her thighs.
Heart beating a cacophony against the inside of my ribs, I step between her opened legs. The table is at just the right height that my dick rubs against Amelia’s mound for the first time. I shiver, even though it’s the barest contact.
She notices, and smiles, winding her arms around my neck. “I’ve always wanted to bring a guy back here,” she murmurs, laying kisses along my throbbing jugular. She squeezes her thighs around my waist, wriggling her hips.
“Won’t someone come back here?” I’m not sure that I really care, but my brain and body aren’t quite connected, and the question emerges without my permission.
“Not at this time of the night.” Her eyes spark through the dark. “Want to take advantage of that fact?” She tips her hips up into me. “Because I want you. Maybe more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.” Her voice turns thoughtful for a moment before hardening with decision. “I don’t want to wait. I want you now, if you want me.”
“I want you,” I breathe. I didn’t realize that she was holding her breath until she exhales, torso melting into me, breasts pressing against my wide chest. “I want all of you, for tonight or longer.”
Her lashes flutter as her eyes find mine. “You mean that?”
“I’d never lie about something so important to someone who’s so quickly captured my heart.” My lips curl upward and I brush her cheek with a thumb. “I want to know all of you.”
Her hands drop to my belt, unthreading the leather strap, and the mischief returns to her face. “Start with my insides.”
Amelia
The quiet, demure woman that I’ve trained myself to be over my years with Randall protests at my brazen invitation to Tatum to fuck me good behind Desperado’s. She wants to be shocked at my behavior, wondering who I think I am and what the hell I think I’m doing.
But I know exactly what I’m doing — I’m reclaiming myself. I’m reclaiming my desires, and my body. For so long, I played nice to keep Randall happy, compromising what I wanted so he could get all of what he wanted. Which, I’m realizing now, was foolish. I was so afraid of losing him that I was willing to give up a decent amount of my own happiness to avoid it.
And in the end, it didn’t work. He left me anyway.
It’s difficult to feel quite so upset about that now, though, with Tatum sucking my neck, hands tugging the straps of my dress down my arms and kneading my exposed breasts. I could’ve been sharing another tepid evening with my groom, and instead I’m getting positively indecent with the hottest man I’ve ever seen.
I’d say that the day, although challenging and one I’ll be recovering from for some time, has sorted itself out solidly in my favor.
I throw my head back, surrendering myself to Tatum’s work. His kisses on my neck leave me gasping. My pussy lips are throbbing in appreciation of his attention.
I’m aroused in a way I thought only happened in romance novels.
But this is real life, perfect, and just what I need. I’m so grateful.
And yet it’s not enough.
I widen my legs, gyrating my sopping vulva against Tatum’s jeans. His erection has blossomed out of the top of his open pants. I rub it through his boxers. The version of me that mourns the loss of Randall feels tentative, unsure. But the part of me that has been liberated by my fiancé’s rejection is gleeful, hungry, and ready for anything.
I let her take over.
Nibbling at Tatum’s ear, I slip a hand inside his boxers and take his hardness into my palm. His cock is an organ of contrasts — hard, but with skin like velvet, and hot against my skin, ready to blow, but wholly under his command.
I pull my panties to the side. I’d purchased the black lace thong specially, hoping to entice Randall, but now the fact that he’ll never get to enjoy them is a victory. With hands that are somehow sure and steady, I guide the tip of Tatum’s dick to my soaked opening. Lost in our love-making, he allows me to pull the first inch of him into me.
All at once, the muscles of his back tense as he realizes what we’re doing. “Wait,” he rasps, his tone telling me how much he wants to do anything but wait, “I don’t have a condom.”
“I’m clean.” I reach around behind him and massage his balls. He shivers, and I smile at the power I have over him.
As quickly as they coiled in doubt, his muscles unfurl once again beneath his skin. “Me too.”
He finds my clit with a thumb and swirls it until I’m helpless and squirming beneath his touch. “Now,” he growls, making goosebumps race up and down my arms, “are you sure you want me to fuck you right here and now? Because that’s what I’m about to do.”
In answer, I lift my thighs and, in a deft move I didn’t know I was capable of, rid myself of my lacy undergarment. “I’m all yours.” Body and soul, I add silently, meaning it. But I don’t want to spoil the moment. If this is the only time I get with Tatum, I’m going to make it count. We can talk about forever if he’s still around tomorrow.
He emits a sound that’s somewhere between a sigh and a snarl and pushes himself deep within me. I clutch at his low back as if that will give me a few more centimeters of this fullness that sets my nerves on fire and my heart brimming over.
His presence within me feels like coming home.
If I didn’t know it before, I know it now — Tatum is my everything. I shove aside the question of whether or not he feels the same and let my body ride the rhythm of his journey into and out of my body.
Tatum