My mind warns me that this is just sex. Carnal and uncomplicated and short-lived.
But my heart and body speak another truth — that Amelia is my yesterday, today, and tomorrow. That our bodies were meant to be one, and that I was meant to be hers.
Amelia interrupts my distraction with a well-timed bite on my earlobe. My eyes snap to hers. Her twin blue orbs are alight with both challenge and need.
I accept it and, withdrawing, drive myself within her. She arches around me, blooming like a flower, head thrown back, knees finding her ears.
She might not be my tomorrow. But she sure as hell is my right now. And I’m going to do right by her in every way that I’m able.
I thrust again, and once more her lower back curves into me, giving my shaft better access to her deepest place. Another thrust earns me a guttural moan torn from her throat, and one more sees her clutching onto my shoulders for dear life.
I lose count then, and abandon myself to our flow. We come apart only to crash back together. My skin and sinew are alive with fevered pleasure.
Digging my hands beneath her seat, I find her buttocks and massage them with greedy hands. She is muscle and curves in exactly the right proportion, skin silken beneath my touch.
With strong arms I easily pull her hips even closer to mine so that I can sink into her from a higher angle. My cock finds fresh spots to hit within her, and she voices her approval with ecstatic abandon. We’re exposed to the night, but neither of us fears discovery — we are too wrapped up in the heat of each other.
I feel Amelia’s climax begins from within her depths. Her insides squeeze, warm and so deliciously wet, around my tip first. The tightness of her velvet walls travels outward, hugging my shaft.
By the time her vulva clamps around the base of my cock, her head is thrown back, neck exposed and her voice box convulsing as the ululations of her orgasm tear from her throat. I bury myself in her cavern and stay there, both relishing the inner pulsations and trying to stop myself from exploding right there and then. I want to ride this thing — whatever it is — out as long as I can, both literally and figuratively.
As she descends from her peak, Amelia grabs the collar of the shirt that’s somehow still dangling from my shoulders. She pulls herself close to me, breasts tickling the bared flesh of my pectorals, so that when she speaks her mouth brushes my ear.
“Faster,” she rasps. “Harder.”
I am hers to command. Withdrawing from her passage, the cool night air a pleasant shock against my wet, exposed dick, I flip her body around in a single smooth motion. Now I have her standing with her hands on the table, her ass an exquisite offering before my eyes. She peeks over a shoulder at me, and the invitation in her eyes is unmistakable.
I ram home, eyes practically rolling back in my head at how fucking good it feels. She’s slick and soft against my hardness in all the right ways, and I’m long enough to be able to nudge her G-spot without overstimulating her. And being one with this woman that has somehow managed to capture my heart in so short a time? That’s the best feeling of all.
Amelia bares her teeth as I pound into her, jaw flexing and eyes boring over her shoulder into mine. I feel a feathery touch against my cock and, shivering, realize she’s working her clit with furious fingers, supporting her torso against the table with one outstretched arm. Already I can feel her closing in ecstasy around the tip of my penis as I fly in and out of her at her command.
This knowledge combined with the heart-stopping sensation and the fiery connection that’s smoldering in our locked gazes throws me over the edge into oblivion. I clutch the welcoming flesh of her hips and plant myself, shuddering, in her. A moment later Amelia joins me in climax, and as one we crow our joining to the night.
Amelia
It’s a special feeling, returning to the dance floor with my panties damp from the cocktail of my juices mixed with Tatum’s. I wouldn’t have thought that dripping underwear would be pleasant to wear, much less dance in. But then, I never expected to have the best sex of my life with a man I just met both inside and outside of a dive bar.
It’s a night of firsts — hell, a whole day of them, considering I’ve never been left at the altar before either.
As Tatum spins me away from him only to tug me back in and tuck me against his broad chest, I don’t think I’ll mind the kinds of firsts I’ll get to experience with this man.
After we’d climaxed in synchrony, each of us pushing the other over the edge — another first — we reassembled our clothing and sat, leaning each other, gazing up at the stars whose glimmers survived the glare of the city lights. Silence that might have felt uncomfortable with Randall felt safe and peaceful and right with Tatum. Just like sex with him had.
Eventually his hand found its way to the base of my skull, tangling in my curls as he massaged my neck. With his other hand, he rubbed my thigh, as if he couldn’t keep from touching me. This is another new feeling for me, to be so wanted, and I can’t say that I mind. In fact, I feel damn certain in increasing amounts that this is what relationships are supposed to feel like, and that Randall is a piece of shit.
Tatum leaned over and murmured sweet nothings in my ear. He said he wanted to take me home, to keep me in his life forever. I told him that if he treated me like he did tonight every day of my life, and if he took me back out on Desperado’s floor before the band completed their set, I’d be his for life.
He immediately hopped down from the picnic table, offered his hand, and said, “I can’t promise that I’ll always be the perfect man. But I can promise that I’ll always try, always communicate, and always do my best to right whatever wrongs come between us. Now that you know about my mortal humanity,” he winked, “will you do me the honor of another dance?”
I’d taken his hand and eased off the table myself, muscles protesting in all the right ways from our tryst. “The honor is all mine.”
It feels strange to be so sure that the man who’s turning me around the dance floor is the one — especially since I was all set to marry another when I woke up this morning. But I’m seeing that I have a lot to learn about what makes a man right or not.
And we also have a lot to learn about each other. Hell, he doesn’t yet know how today started for me.
But as I smile into his dark eyes, his own lips snaking upward in silent reply, I can’t shake the gut instinct that a future with Tatum in it will be full of laughter, joy, and more toe-curling orgasms than I can count.
Epilogue
Tatum
When I hear Amelia roll out of bed and head to the bathroom, the Saturday morning light streaming through the windows of my house is still weak and thin. It must be early.
I roll over and tuck the blankets closer around me, enjoying my cozy cocoon while Amelia rustles in the bathroom.
It’s been a handful of weeks — maybe six, if I force my mind to focus through the blurring combination of infatuation for this woman and my current state of non-caffeination — and it’s been wonderful. I’ve always enjoyed my life and felt grateful for my many blessings. With the exception of wishing I had that one special someone to share it left, life has been good to me.