Tuesday

adult-backlit-couple-1600128“So! Good day for you today?” Damien says over a shared appetizer of hummus, falafel, and pita.

I nod at him, a polite smile plastered on my face when I finish chewing my bite. “Yeah. It was fine.”

We’re seated in a corner table for two at Bedouin Tent in Boerum Hill, and I can’t stop looking at the Technicolor tapestries hanging across the walls. I’m thankful for the distraction because tonight’s dinner is proving to be tough to trudge through.

It’s not just because of the crazy killer orgasm my text session with Harker brought me the other night, resulting in all-over-my-body soreness that lingers even through today. It’s because we’re not even to the main course and I know things are a dead end with Damien.

But Harker isn’t solely to blame. It’s the fact that this is date number four and I have zero feelings for Damien. He’s a nice guy for sure. Handsome, fit, great job, good listener, polite. As nice as all those traits are, there’s no spark.

Even our dinner conversation is proving bland. When we arrived at the restaurant, I asked Damien how his work day was, and he gave me a perfectly fine explanation. He didn’t drone on too long or fixate on obscure finance things I didn’t have a clue about. But that’s the problem—conversation, along with everything else between us, is fine and nothing more. I don’t want to kiss him until I’m gasping for breath. When we hugged and kissed on the cheek, it was cordial and friendly—nothing more.

Even if I didn’t have another prospect to pursue—a crazy hot prospect who I haven’t even met in person, who still managed to give me the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had while masturbating—I would end things with Damien because it’s clear they’re going nowhere.

Our entrees arrive and I give Damien a not-too-long explanation of my day. We eat while exchanging pleasant conversation about family and plans for the weekend.

When the check comes, I reach to lay my credit card down, but Damien waves it away. “It’s my treat,” he says with a smile.

Instead of playing tug of war for the bill, I just say thank you. As much as I’d like to pay my fair share, I don’t want to get into a tiff about it.

We leave the restaurant, then stop a few feet outside the door and do that awkward end-of-the-date dance. Comments about how nice early evening in the summer is, chit chat about how tasty the meal was. It’s all a bit stilted and nervy. When there’s a lull in the conversation, I gaze up, past the buildings surrounding us and take in the twilight sky.

Damien shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m glad we did this.”

“Nice to finally get dinner with you.”

I try to strike a balance between politeness and making sure I don’t lead him on. His smile tightens, almost like he’s trying to be professional. I wonder if he uses it on clients at work.

Before he can say anything, I speak first. “I should get going. I’ve got a stack of papers to grade.” It’s a half-lie. I do have papers to grade, but they’re not due until the end of the week.

He nods at me, zero detectable disappointment in his face. “Understandable.”

I’m relieved at his amiable response. “Thank you again for dinner.”

I refrain from saying anything about going out again or texting or calling to catch up, hoping my silence reads as disinterest and Damien picks up on it.

“My pleasure,” he says. “Have a good night then.”

We end with another platonic kiss on the cheek. He heads down the street without a second look back or an extra wave good-bye. Slowly, I let out the breath I’ve been holding. Damien seems to have picked up my silent friends-only vibe, thankfully.

I start walking, fully aware I’m heading toward Cobble Hill, the neighborhood where Harker lives, even though I have no reason to.

Unless I come up with one.

I fish my phone out of my purse and text him.

You ruined dinner tonight. All I could think about was you. Congrats. 

Two minutes later he replies. I stop walking and move to the edge of the sidewalk to read it.

Harker: I wish I could say I’m sorry…but I’m not 😉 

Me: What would happen if I came over to your place now instead of meeting up tomorrow?

I hit send before I can think twice. No way am I going to make it to tomorrow night to see Harker, and he likely knows it.

Harker: You’re nearby?

Me: Literally a street over from Cobble Hill.

Feeling emboldened, I up the ante.

Me: I’m only going to ask once, Harker.

Harker: Then come over.

He texts me his address and I turn right at the stoplight up ahead. On my way to his apartment building, I stop at a hole-in-the-wall bar and order a double shot of tequila from the bartender. I down it, wincing at the way the liquid burns an invisible hole through my throat. I slap cash on the counter and head back out into the street. I may act all ballsy over text, but I’ve never once asked a guy straight out if I could come to his apartment for an implied hookup. I blame the undercurrent of sexual tension coursing between us like an invisible live wire.

It’s another handful of blocks before I arrive at a seven-story brick building. I press the button for his apartment. He buzzes me in and I nearly trip over the uneven tile in the foyer. Gripping onto the wooden railing, I slowly climb the stairs, careful to keep my balance. After that walk, my buzz finally kicks in. I have to stop on the second floor, I’m so dizzy. I’m actually doing this. I’m meeting up with a guy who led me via text through the most intense self-pleasure session I’ve ever had. And we haven’t even met face-to-face. Yet here I am, comfortable enough to go to his apartment and rip his clothes off if he’s up for it.

No way would I have ever done before with any other guy. This thing with Harker is equal parts raw chemistry and good feelings. He possesses an unspoken magical quality that sets me at ease one minute and has me hot the next.

I hit the third floor, his apartment door in view. My knees wobble, but I force the steps. I want this more than anything—I just need to get my nerves under control. I plant my feet firmly in front of his door and knock.

Muffled footsteps make my heart race. When Harker opens the door, I’m pleasantly surprised. He clears six feet by a few inches and is just as broad and muscular in person as he is in his photos. But the best part of seeing him in the flesh is finding out that his smile is exactly like the one in his main photo on his dating profile, only right now there’s a shy edge to it. It’s a lips-only half-smile, but just as killer as the one in the photo.

“Come on in,” he says in that low, soft rumble I’ve been craving to hear all day. In person, it’s even raspier.

I swallow all the saliva in my throat, then step inside. “Thank you,” I say, my voice a hair above a whisper.

He shuts the door then stands in front of me, that shy smile on his face. Butterflies swarm inside my stomach, all the way up my chest. A silent deep breath keeps me from letting out a nervous laugh. We don’t kiss or shake hands or make any kind of physical contact, and that’s perfectly fine with me. Yes, we’ve technically had text sex, but this is the first time we’ve met. I need a moment to get my bearings before diving into anything more. And like some unspoken agreement, Harker seems to understand. Judging by his relaxed stance and the way his hands remain in his pockets, he’s fine with taking things slow.

His cool blue eyes bore into me, his half-smile lingering. “It’s really nice to see you, Ava.”

“And it’s really nice to—”

From his darkened bedroom runs a chocolate lab. It gallops right up to me, shoving his snout between my legs.

“Otis, no!” Harker commands, his voice hard and loud.

I fall into a fit of giggles just has Harker grabs the dog by the collar, the back of his hand brushing against my inner thigh. I breathe in sharply at the feel of his skin. Calloused, but somehow soft at the same time. And so, so warm. Silently I applaud myself for choosing to wear a short flowy skirt and tanktop today. If I had gone with jeans, I wouldn’t get to feel his bare hand on my bare thigh.

Otis the dog backs away dutifully, following Harker to the couch.

“Sit,” Harker barks.

Otis does exactly that at the far end of the plush microfiber sofa. He looks up at me, his eyes bashful.

“Sorry about that,” Harker says. “He gets excited around strangers.”

I tell him no problem at all. He gestures for me to take one of the two stools at the bar on the other side of his kitchen counter. He leans on the end of the bar, maybe two feet away.

“So he’s a boy? Makes sense why he went straight for the crotch.” Silently, I thank the tequila for that last-minute quip, which earns me a hearty laugh.

“He’s my latest foster dog. I have him for the rest of the month.”

Otis yawns and falls asleep on the couch. We listen to him softly snore for a few seconds and share a chuckle.

“So…” I gaze around the space. “I love your place.”

I say it not just to break the silence. I really mean it. It’s a small apartment at just over four hundred square feet, but it’s not cluttered, which is surprising. Every other guy’s apartment I’ve been to has been a haven for dirty laundry and electronics.

It’s a minimalist setup with a single couch, coffee table, and flatscreen TV in the living room. The kitchen space is tiny, but the white hue of the walls, counters, and floors makes it feel bigger.

“Thank you,” he says, his tone bashful.

“I love your tattoos more, though.”

That same crooked smile from him photo appears. In person from just feet away, it’s a million times more lethal. I have to look away, I’m so flustered by the rawness of it.

My gaze falls to his left arm. Lucky I’ve caught him on a night when he’s decided casual dress is the way to go. His thin, white t-shirt is the perfect backdrop for the colorful rendering of the solar system taking up his entire left bicep, forearm and wrist. The bottom half of a fiery orange sphere peeks from under the sleeve—the sun, I assume. The rest of the planets and stars trail down his arm in a rainbow of vivid colors. A tiny blue dot smaller than the rest of the planets hits just above his wrist.

My eyes scan all the way up and down his arm, ending on the dot.

“Pluto?” I ask.

He nods. “The little dwarf planet has a special place in my heart.”

I let out a laugh.

“I was a bit of an astronomy nerd growing up,” he says, rubbing his arm.

“It suits you.” I cup my hand over my mouth when I realize how it sounds. “I mean—not that you’re a nerd. I meant that your tattoo looks really good.”

I play with the end of my messy braid that’s fallen over my shoulder, avoiding his eyes. His soft chuckle lets me know I haven’t offended him.

“It’s okay. I knew what you meant.”

I meet his gaze. “Can I touch it?”

It’s a silly question, but I can’t think of another way to break the touch barrier.

He wags an eyebrow, still smiling. “Of course.”

I hop off the stool and walk the two steps to where he stands. When I put my palm on his skin, I have to hold back a gasp. He’s hot to the touch. The steady rhythm of our breathing fills the silence between us as I run my fingers over the colorful ink adorning his light-hued complexion.

“They’re amazing. Do you have more?” My eyes stay on his arm as I speak. I’m finally so close that if I lean forward three inches, I could collapse into his hold. Not yet, though. Must remain cool and composed.

“There’s one on my left chest. It’s an eye.” His rough whisper makes my breath catch. I try my best to stay silent.

I look up at him, his stare unblinking, intense.

“Can I see it?” I say, refusing to break eye contact. I somehow manage to keep my voice steady.

“Absolutely.”

But he doesn’t take off his shirt like I’m dying for him to do. Instead, he brushes back the hair that’s fallen over my shoulder. Leaning in, he presses his lips to mine.

Our tongues touch and it’s like lightning igniting a forest. Never in a million years did I think first kisses could be this explosive.

Our explosion is slow, though. There are soft, teasing licks, a slow pace, but it doesn’t lose any of its intensity. If anything, it’s more powerful. With each steady, deliberate tangle of our tongues, I feel everything. The heat, the spark, the butterflies swarming inside of me, cheering me on.

Harker’s hands cup the sides of my face, holding me still while his mouth has its way with mine. Our breaths crash together every time we exhale. It’s wet and hot and so damn delicious.

I let out a moan.

Harker pulls away, catching his breath. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day. Ever since you texted me the other night, actually.”

I nibble his bottom lip, then lick it before leaning back. I can’t go too far though—his hands on my face hold me gently in place.

“Why did you stop then?”

He smirks, then pulls my mouth to his. Again, I’m lost in an endless loop of his tongue on mine. Every once in a while, he softly bites my lip; I return the favor. My heart is pounding the entire time, my breath ragged, and my entire body trembling. I’m thankful he’s so broad and sturdy that I can lean on him. I’m so turned on, so ravaged by just his mouth, I can barely hold myself up.

It’s countless seconds and minutes before we stop for air.

“Can we go to your bedroom now?” Combined with the way I pant, it comes off more like a plea.

Silent nodding is his only answer. He takes my hand in his and leads me through the doorway just a few feet away.

When he turns on the lamp by the nightstand, I’m pleasantly surprised once more. No dirty laundry on the floor. Just a clear expanse of weathered hardwood, a nightstand, a bed in the middle and a moderately cluttered desk in the corner.

Reaching up to his shoulders, I push him to sit on the edge of the bed. A small smile tugs at his lips. Harker is a tall, leanly muscled beast who is undoubtedly stronger than me. But the way he lets me shove him onto the bed is the biggest turn-on.

With my hands flat on his shoulders, I straddle him. “Can I see the tattoo on your chest now?”

He yanks his t-shirt off, and I have to bite back an impressed gasp. He is just as chiseled as I imagined he would be.

I try and fail to fixate on the palm-sized eye in black ink adorning his left pec. But I can’t help it—he’s just so beautiful to look at. Sculpted shoulders and arms, muscled chest, and one hell of a six pack. A healthy smattering of hair covers the center of his chest all the down to his navel. My eyes fall to his waist, just above the line of his tattered jeans. This time I can’t hold back my grin. Just as I suspected—the most exquisite Adonis belt.

“I love your tattoo,” I say, my eyes still on his hips.

He chuckles. “Do you now?”

I nod, forcing my eyes back to his chest tattoo. It’s really quite tasteful with its intricate black etching.

He wraps his arms around my waist. I’m snug against his chest now and shift my eyes to his face. “Why an eye?”

His heart thuds softly against my skin. Instantly, I’m comforted. It means he’s nervous and excited, just like me.

“It’s modeled after my grandma’s eyes,” he says. “I got it right after she passed away.”

“Oh.”

I hunch my shoulders, deflated. One of the hottest foreplay moments of my life and I managed to ruin it by reminding the guy of his dead grandmother.

“Hey.” Softly, he grabs my chin and turns me to look at him. “It’s okay.”

And then his lips are on mine, and all uncertainty flies out the window. This kiss on the edge of his bed is just as heated and filthy. He runs his hands up and down my body. He pauses at my hips, my ass, my upper back, my breasts. Every time his massive hands press into my skin, I moan.

“I could listening to you make that sound for days,” he says.

I smile against his mouth. A minute later he pulls back, his bright blue eyes almost icy with intensity. “Can you get on your hands and knees for me?”

My stomach bottoms out when I realize what he wants: to live out that naughty text session from the other night.

I nod and stand between his legs. With shaky hands, I pull off my tanktop and kick off my skirt. The entire time, I avoid Harker’s gaze. Not because I’m embarrassed or insecure. But because I’m afraid if I look at him, I’ll lose my nerve. I’m about to act out our fantasy. It feels almost too good to be true.

Reaching behind me, I unhook my bra, then I slide off my panties. When I finally muster the courage to make eye contact with Harker, his brow is lifted all the way to his hairline, his mouth a perfect circle. Pure unadulterated wonderment and appreciation on his face, and it’s for me.

“You look…holy shit,” he mutters.

I fold my hands behind my back and bite my lip. “Is that good?”

He pulls my hands back to my sides. “Fucking incredible. You look fucking incredible.”

The tightness in my chest eases while a hot flush blooms in my cheeks. A beat later, Harker’s brow is back to its normal spot and he clenches his jaw so hard, the muscles look like they’re about to tear through his skin.

He clears his throat and stands up so we can trade places. When I’m finally on all fours on the bed, my head is spinning. I can’t see him, but I can feel him behind me. He’s not touching me yet, but he doesn’t have to. Just his presence is enough to send me into a freefall. Every inch of my skin tingles; already my clit is pulsing. The ache intensifies with each passing second. I want his mouth on me so bad, it’s almost too much to bear.

There’s a soft thud—him dropping to his knees, I assume. The gentle press of his mouth to the inside of my left thigh is a shock, even though I knew it was coming. I inhale so sharply, I almost cough.

“Does this feel okay?” Harker asks in that delicious low growl. Slowly, he traces a line of kisses up my thigh, then he does the same to the inside of my right thigh.

“Yes.” My breath is as huffy as his voice is growly. “So good. More. Please.”

His hot, wet breath lands between my legs, and I moan.

Eyes closed, I breathe in slowly. It’s an attempt to steady myself, to stay calm and collected. Already I feel on the verge and his mouth hasn’t even touched that part of my body yet.

When his tongue makes contact, I lose all semblance of cool. My eyes fly open and I gasp and moan at once. The warm swirls make my eyes roll back. It’s only seconds, but I’m already panting, already fisting his bedsheets, already calculating just how long I have until I burst. Harker going down on me from behind is the single hottest act I’ve ever experienced, and I want it to last as long as possible.

He keeps the slow, steady rhythm with ease. When he starts to hum against me, my knees nearly buckle.

“Fuck,” I whine. “Harker, I…”

Again he hums, and my elbows give out. I’m face-flat on the bed, grasping at the sheets around me.

His tongue swirls faster and my brain goes haywire. I lose track of time. I’m gripping tight to his bed, yet somehow I’m still barely holding on.

The pressure inside me turns hot. It’s pleasure and intensity all rolled into one. Again he hums, and this time my legs give out.

I push myself up and twist my head to him, gasping. I take a moment so I can breathe and speak properly. “This feels amazing, but I can’t hold myself up anymore.”

He flips me over so I’m flat on my back on his bed.

“Better?” he lifts an eyebrow as he looks down at me.

I nod, unable to say anything. Picking me up and maneuvering me so effortlessly was one of the sexiest things he could have done to me.

But then he lowers his head between my legs and I am corrected. This is much, much hotter. From this position I’m able to run my hands through that thick, sandy blond mass on top of his head every time he hits a particularly good spot, which is often.

When he slips his finger inside me, I gasp. Immediately he finds my g-spot, giving it generous attention. His mouth matches every gentle but firm thrust. His tongue flicks with the perfect mix of speeds, the perfect amount of pressure. It all results in a sensation so heavenly, it’s agonizing. The pleasure spreads from between my legs to the farthest reaches of my body, like I’m on fire.

Every breath I take grows more ragged. I only have moments left until I’m done for.

Harker seems to know because he slows his pace.

I lean up to look at him. “But…” I pant. “So close.”

Mouth still on me, his stare connects with mine, and he winks. He resumes his even speed. My head falls back, the sensation so intense. Then he hums as he increases the rhythm of his fingers. The explosion hits, and I unravel. My eyelids snap shut, my mouth falls open, and I’m yelping, practically shouting at the mind-blowing ecstasy of his mouth and fingers.

There’s no room to think or process, only to react. And my reaction is purely carnal. I’m yelling and gasping, tugging Harker’s beautiful moptop for dear life.

When I finally come down, I’m desperate for air. I can’t breathe fast enough.

“That was…” I try and fail to find the right words.

Harker wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking at me like he’s harboring some dirty little secret.

“Just wait.”

He flips me onto my stomach. I giggle into the mattress, my head heavy. It’s like I’m drunk—pleasure drunk. There’s the soft sound of foil ripping behind me. I twist my head to peek at him, my eyes bulging at his impressive length. I cannot wait to feel him inside me.

“What have you got planned for me, Harker?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

His gaze meets mine, his hand on my hip. “You know exactly what I’m going to do to you.”

Just like he promised in his text the other night, he wraps a massive hand around each of my wrists, pins them behind my back, and slides slowly in. The deliberate pace helps me feel every glorious inch of him.

The divine oral he gave me was the perfect warmup. All of my inhibitions have disappeared. I don’t care that I’m screaming so loud I’m probably waking his neighbors. I don’t care that I’m breathing so hard into his mattress, there will most definitely be a damp patch on his sheets when we’re finished. It’s hard to care about anything when he is this good.

“Harker,” I gasp.

“Ava,” he growls back.

It’s the briefest conversation we could possibly have, but it works. The rest of the sounds between us are screams from me, moans and grunts from him. When they grow louder, when he grips my wrists tighter, I know he’s close. Good. So am I.

He lets go of one wrist and reaches around to palm my clit. The warm press of his hand combined with the steady rhythm of his thrusts works wonders. Just when a low growl rips from his throat, orgasm number two rips through me. This time when I lose it, I’m an utter mess. Every single muscle in my body cramps and quivers as I climax. I thrash against the bed, against him, until the tsunami of pleasure has washed away, leaving behind my limp, sweat-soaked body.

Behind me, there’s a shudder, the tight pull of his body against mine. Harker’s groan signals his own climax. I nuzzle the bed, smiling to myself. Our first time together was a whole new level of epic.

Slowly, gently, he pulls away. Warm lips land on my lower back, showering me in gentle kisses, like whispers against my skin.

He rolls to one side of the bed, tucking me under his arm. I rest my head in that crook below his shoulder and breathe in. Sweat and musky cologne. Delicious. Closing my eyes, I hum and smile.

“I’m so glad you came over,” he says.

I chuckle as he pulls the thin cotton bedsheet over us. “Me too.” I blink until my vision focuses. “I’m going to be visiting you often after this, you know.”

Harker laughs before cuddling me tighter and I nuzzle into him. Every muscle relaxes. I am content, comfortable, and so, so satisfied.

“Anytime you want.” He grins down at me, his eyes glazed over and sleepy. His own brand of pleasure-drunk. “We’re practically neighbors.”

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4 thoughts on “Tuesday

  1. HOT DAMN. What a wild ride. Really loved the chemistry between these two. And things tapering off civility with Damien was lovely too ☺️ A respectable, non-toxic end. Fantastic story, Sarah! I really enjoyed this.

    Like

    1. Oh wow, that means the world knowing you enjoy it, JL! Thank you for taking the time to read and comment!! ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  2. This is such a lovely sweet and hot story! ♡♡♡

    Liked by 1 person

    1. OMG thank you, Stefanie!! So happy you enjoyed it!!

      Liked by 1 person

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