With a giggle, I said, “I'm going to suck it like it's a diamond ring.”
He didn't respond verbally, but I thought it was the funniest thing. I guess, in the abstract sense, I meant that his c**k was special, and that he was precious. I opened wide and licked his head quickly before bobbing down on his shaft with my mouth. His c**k throbbed as I sucked it, getting even harder, so rigid that it forced my face closer and closer to the chiseled muscles of his stomach.
With one hand on the base, my other hand roamed around, exploring his body for my own gratification. Even my hands were pleasure receptors, with his beautiful, muscular body.
When I pulled him from my mouth, he grabbed my whole body and shifted me up on top of him. He deftly grabbed the condom and got read, then gripped me by the h*ps and pressed the tip of his c**k between my slick folds. The fullness pulled at my skin, pulled everything tight and firm.
I was so turned on from giving him head that I started to come before he was even all the way in.
“You are so hot,” he said, driving into me.
I came, sooner than expected, but still with some fireworks. My throat was tight as I cried out in pleasure.
He kept moving, working me up and down his hard shaft. The air around us was dense and rich with his musk.
As we kept up this dance, waves of pleasure rippled through me, my inner walls and cl*t incredibly sensitive. As he thrust into me, moving my body with his strong hands and arms, his h*ps pulsing rhythmically, his motions dragged out the edge of my orgasm, and it went on forever.
When he came, grunting and tensing, I was still right there with him.
After the feverish movements, we came to a rest, and I collapsed onto him, my strong, sturdy, good friend Jacob.
My breathing had just returned to normal when the buzzer in his apartment buzzed.
He pushed me off him. “That'll be the Chinese food.”
“What? When did you order Chinese food?”
He crossed the room and pressed the intercom button to let the delivery guy up, then he raced over to get his jeans and tidy up. Following his lead, I did the same, getting back into my clothes much more quickly than I'd gotten out of them.
I repeated the question, “When exactly did you order the food?”
He pointed to the clock above the mantle. “Right on time,” he said. “I timed it out from when you phoned me, figuring we'd be ready to eat right about now.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but the delivery guy was already at the door. Jacob chatted with him for a few minutes as he paid for the food.
Once we were alone again, I pulled up a stool at his kitchen counter—the only place in the tiny apartment to eat a meal like a civilized person.
I said, “Did you time the food to arrive … after we had sex?”
“Yes,” he said plainly, looking innocent. “Was that wrong? Tell me what I did wrong, Lexie. I didn't mean to offend you, it's just ...” He pointed back and forth between himself and me.
I opened up my packet of chopsticks and rubbed the wooden sticks together, laughing. “I don't know why I'm being so silly,” I said. “Of course it's fine.”
He leaned across the forehead and kissed me on my forehead.
“You're the best,” he said.
I opened up the steaming food containers as Jacob grabbed some plates and napkins.
We ate dinner in contented silence.
After, we watched some inane TV shows together, stretched out on the fold-out bed. He said I was welcome to spend the night, but I thought about my own bed and my own shower, plus having fresh, clean clothes for the next morning, so I thanked him and got ready to leave before midnight.
At his door, he kissed me goodbye and said, “I'm glad you called.”
“Sorry for twisting your arm, but I had a good time.”
“Any time,” he said, and he gave me another peck goodbye.
The drive home was even faster, with no traffic, and I got my teeth brushed and was back in my own comfortable bed within half an hour.
I let out a long, satisfied sigh and settled in for a very pleasant sleep.
3: Dining in the Dark
On Saturday, I was finally free of Mrs. Chong and her collectibles, and I planned to spend the entire day in my pajamas.
The intercom buzzed, and I thought it would be my elderly neighbor needing help with her groceries. To my surprise, it was a messenger.
I ran down to the front entrance rather than buzz up a stranger, and was greeted by the most adorable young man on a bicycle, who handed me an elegant bundle of flowers and a card.
I thanked him and returned to my condo, buzzing with excitement.
Inside the card was an address, a time, and … nothing else.
I stuck the flowers in some water, grabbed my laptop, and sat on my vintage teak sofa, where I googled the address.
Turned out, the address was from this weird new restaurant. The waitstaff were all people with vision impairment, and the patrons dined in the dark.
Absolute, pitch-black darkness.
So as better to enjoy the food, apparently.
Seemed like a big pile of what my grandfather would call horsepatooie, but the invitation had to be from Mr. Thorne.
My fireman, Jacob, would never think to pull something like this off, and I wasn't dating anyone else, casual or otherwise.
Although … there had been the husband of the personal shopping client, the silver fox. I'd kept him out of his wife's way by letting him watch me get changed inside the luxury boutique's changing room. He'd helped me out of my panties, then he took me to heaven. Several times.
I'd returned the favor, and I even adhered to his share-happy wife's strange rules, by making clever use of a sock.
That had felt like a one-time only deal, and I didn't think this dinner invitation would be from him, though it was a possibility.
I thought about Mr. Luthor Thorne, and the first time we met.
I'd been working in his mansion, banned from seeing him. He'd climbed in his own bedroom window like a burglar, like a gardener gone rogue. He pretended he was just a man doing work around the mansion, but his manner and his too-even tan gave him away, not to mention that gorgeous dick. I'd seen his dick the day before, when I'd been hiding under his desk. (Kind of a weird story, I know.) That day, I'd had his delightful manhood inside my pu**y, but not in my mouth, and I'd hungered for it ever since.
Mr. Luthor Thorne.
In his custom-made shirts, and one of those expensive, luxurious suits.
I stroked the fabric of my vintage sofa, but it was no substitute. I wanted the real deal. The man, the suit, that deep voice, that giant, throbbing …
I rubbed my thighs together in eager anticipation. My nub needed only a gentle prodding to awaken, firmed up and ready for action.