Peacock

by Nora Flite

  Showing me his inked back, he stepped into the shower. “I was talking to you,” I said hotly. I could barely see his gorgeous, carved body through thick clouds of steam. I wished I were that water, caressing his ass and his hips. But he wasn’t paying any attention to me.

  God damn it. This was unacceptable—especially if I was going to win my bet with Riley. She wouldn't believe he was falling for me—in love with me—if he kept acting like a jackass towards me. I needed to dazzle him, not be ignored. I knew what to do.

  I peeled my panties off, trying to ignore how damp they still were. Then I opened the shower door and stepped inside.

  “I didn’t say you could come in,” he said, his eyes not opening.

  “I shouldn’t have to ask,” I said back, shrugging. Suds and water were running down the front of him, making his muscles gleam in the bathroom light. My gaze strayed to his package. His cock was half-hard, a fuzz of soap collecting around his balls and dripping from the tip.

  “You’re being a naughty girl,” he said. Fuck, my pussy ached at his words. I clenched my thighs tight. This was about getting him hot and bothered, not the other way around.

  “Don’t talk to me like that,” I said. He laughed, as warm and slow as the water that was trailing over my naked back.

  “You like it,” he said. “Get down on your knees.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked, folding my arms over my body as an almost protective mechanism. This wasn’t working the way it was supposed to. None of this was going as I’d planned.

  Droplets of water collected on his lips. “I want you to suck my cock.”

  His tone was matter of fact as he gestured to his length, already swelling in the warm water. The sight of it sent pulses of anticipation through me, made me swell in response. Almost without thinking, my hand strayed to my pussy. I wanted to make myself feel like he had last night. I wanted him to watch me touch myself. I began to circle my clit, which was already slick and swelling. But he reached out and took my hand in his, leaving my body aching.

  “No touching yourself. I ate you out, so it’s your turn to put your mouth where the money is.”

  He pulled my hand close to him, wrapping it around the thick trunk of his cock. I could feel the blood pulsing under the surface as he grew harder and harder. I began to slowly stroke him, feeling desire ripple beneath the velvety skin. But he chuckled, and shook his head.

  “Not like that,” he said. “Suck it.”

  Something surged inside of me. I found myself kneeling low, kissing a trail down to the base of his prick and then up toward the tip again. He let out a muffled moan of desire as I licked my lips and took him in.

  Something about Simon was driving me wild. I closed my eyes and went with it, sucking him deep inside my mouth. His cock pulsed, and his balls tightened against his body. He liked this. He couldn’t deny it.

  But there was something I couldn’t deny, either: I liked it, too. I could already taste his precum; sweet and addicting.

  “That’s right, naughty girl,” he said, planting his hand on the back of my head and guiding my mouth around the base of his cock. “Just like that.”

  I started to suck him faster, my hand wrapped around him so that I could completely envelop every inch. His thighs were like marble pillars next to my head, as if Simon were some Greek statue. I let out a muffled moan. We were both going wild, the water raining down but not muffling our moans. As I pounded out a rhythm with my hands and mouth, I glanced up at him, hoping that it was working, that he was finally falling for me—that I was as irresistible to him as he was to me.

  His eyes were closed, and the expression on his lovely face unreadable. Somehow that only made me wetter, crazier, more desperate than ever. I sucked him across my tongue, flicking it on the underside of his cock-head. I wanted to see the cracks in his stern visage. I wanted to know that he wanted me. With desperation, I face-fucked him. At last, he let out a slow breath of air and wrapped his fingers in my soaked hair.

  “Deeper,” he growled. As I deep-throated him, his thighs shook. His mouth fell open. He let out a long hiss of air. Heat boiled inside of me as his cock pulse bigger in my mouth. I was driving him crazy, and that drove me a little crazy, too.

  I wanted to touch myself, to let out the intense pressure that was building between my legs. But he’d said not to. So instead, I just drew back and sucked him down again. Now he moaned, letting his slender hips buck against my face. My thighs, slick with desire, were trembling too. Rolling my tongue over his veins, I gripped his hips with my hands. That’s when he exploded, so much cum that I couldn’t swallow it all.

  “You . . .” he began, as I swallowed what I could. But he let his words fade under the sound of running water.

  As he drew away, I wiped at my lips. I'd never tire of his taste. It made me think I was dining on some secret river, a place beneath the earth that was ancient with primal notes and wild scents.

  Looking up at him, I wished he'd pull me up and kiss me. Hell, I wanted him to pull me up and turn me around and fuck my brains out, pounding that luscious cock between my legs, making me come over and over again. But he didn’t. Instead, he wiped a hand down his face and shut his eyes. He turned his back to me and shut the water off.

  “I have to get ready for work,” he said, in a voice that betrayed none of the dark thoughts in his skull. Thoughts I longed to see. “I’ll drop you off at your car. Go get yourself cleaned up.”

  I took one last look at the water streaming down his muscular, tattooed back. My whole being was still aching for him, but it didn’t seem to matter to him at all. Reluctantly, on uncertain legs, I stood and stepped out of the shower.

  3

  Simon didn’t kiss me when he dropped me off back at my car. As I stood awkwardly beside his motorcycle, I fumbled around for something to say. I wanted to leave things on a good note—hook him to be sure he’d call me later. I needed to win my bet. I told myself that was the only reason I cared... the only reason I had to see him again.

  “I had a great time,” I offered carefully. And it was true. After all, my pussy had had a great time, even if I wasn’t really used to that. If I was used to anything, it was sweet, but ultimately wimpy guys who sometimes didn't have the guts to even hold my hand. Simon had held all of me.

  “Sure, sweetheart,” he said smoothly. Then he hesitated, giving me a flicker of hope that died out under the sound of his engine. He sped off, not once looking back.

  Shit.

  I watched him go before I hopped back into my car. As I fixed my disheveled hair, I told myself that Simon was nothing to worry about. A few dirty messages on Perfect Click and I’d be back on track for winning this bet.

  But a tiny voice said I was wrong.

  Simon was gone.

  And I cared. Because of the bet, I told myself firmly. That was it.

  It had to be.

  I arrived at the Perfect Click campus just a few minutes before eight. In a hurry, I streamed by the guys playing frisbee on the front lawn that still glittered with dew, hoping they wouldn’t notice my walk of shame in last night’s hot date clothes. I'd grabbed the back-up work clothes I kept stashed.

  Luckily, the elevator upstairs was blissfully empty. I ducked into the handicapped bathroom and started to freshen up. In the mirror, I caught a glimpse of myself and paused. I looked wrung-out after my night with Simon. My green top was wrinkled, and there were hollows under my eyes from lack of sleep.

  Usually, after a one-night stand, I felt perky and refreshed. Love had always come easy to me. Bagging a guy—or banging him—was no great challenge. And they’d always been one and the same to me. Fuck a guy, and he’d fall in love. Even if I hadn't fallen for him back. But so what? It was all the same.

  That’s what I had told Riley the other day, when this whole bet thing started.

  But despite having the reassurance of the company dating algorithm behind me, Simon wasn’t like any guy I’d ever known before. Somehow, sex was making me
feel something for him, and not the other way around. My fingers strayed down to my jeans, remembering the way he’d eaten me out. His tongue had been relentless, and my desire almost insatiable. I started to close my eyes and dip my fingers into my jeans when I heard a knock at the door.

  “Just a minute!” I shouted, wrenching my fingers away. I washed off and dressed quickly, then threw on some makeup and twisted my hair up into a bun in record time. Stuffing my clothes—and the memory of the night before—back down into my shoulder bag, I threw the bathroom door open.

  It was Riley, leaning against a nearby cubicle and smirking.

  “There you are,” she said.

  “Morning, Riley,” I said, trying my best to sound breezy, but I don’t think it worked. She followed me right to my desk, standing at my cube door as I sat down and turned on my computer.

  “Sooo . . .” she pressed, grinning at me. Christ, I hadn’t even had coffee. “How’d your date go?”

  I couldn’t help it. I gave her a look. She let out a soft laugh.

  “That bad, huh? Well, hope you’re going to be ready to pay up on that bet in a week.”

  “No, no,” I said quickly, forcing a grin. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of letting her know I was worried. I reassured myself that Simon would be an easy conquest, no matter how many uncertainties were piling up in the back of my mind.

  Plus, I’d liked it. I liked him. I wanted to see him again. I couldn’t stop thinking about his eyes, his hands, those mysterious tattoos.

  “I’m not going to give up that easily,” I said with determination. “I just . . .” I lowered my voice, glancing around. The office was still pretty empty, but I didn’t want to risk anyone finding out that I’d been using company software to find a date. “I can’t believe we matched that high. He is not my usual type.”

  “Oh?” Riley prodded. She gave me a concerned look, and bet or no bet, my heart softened a little. Riley was my first friend here at Perfect Click. We’d been through a lot together: the site’s launch, the time that married senator was caught sending pictures of himself in a pair of red panties to random women (aka PantyGate16). Riley was perpetually single, but she’d listened with patience and humor about my dating exploits. She listened now, too, her eyes sympathetic. So I dished.

  “He’s . . . tough. Tattoos and a motorcycle, sure, but I knew that from his profile. It’s not that stuff. It’s the way that he talks to me, like he expects me to do what he says.”

  I didn’t even tell Riley the worst part about it, which is that I did. I’d listened to Simon’s every command like an eager, horny college party girl. And worse, I’d liked it. No use telling Riley that, though. She’d be horrified to find out what a failure I’d been at Feminism 101.

  Sure enough, Riley pulled a face without even knowing the whole story. “That sounds awful.”

  “I know, right?” I let out a long sigh, gazing at my computer. I was contemplating messaging Simon, telling him it was over. It sure would have felt good after the way he’d spoken to me. Part of me even wanted to give up on the bet, to turn on my work heels and run far away from Simon. It’s what any sane, self-respecting woman would do.

  But I didn’t want to ditch Simon. I wanted to see him again. I wanted to feel his mouth, hot and urgent, on mine, leaving a trail of kisses down my throat and then moving lower . . .

  “Well, the algorithm knows what it’s doing,” Riley said quickly, leaning forward to give my arm a squeeze. And she was right. Our dating site had skyrocketed in popularity over the last year, that slight dip from a cross-dressing senator notwithstanding. We were known for making more marriages than any other dating site. I was proud of the work we did, the matches we made. If our mainframe said that Peacock87 was the guy for me, then there was no use arguing against it. “Maybe you just need to get to know him better.”

  I wrinkled my brow. “Maybe,” I said. I bit my lip. If nothing else, I had a shit load of money riding on this. And my pride. I glanced at Riley.

  “Okay,” I told her. After all, it wasn’t as if I hadn’t been on terrible dates before. Just last year, I’d had a run in with some nerd named Eli who had become a total creep on our third date. I always went dutch. That had been my rule. I didn’t want to feel like I owed some guy something just because he’d bought me a goblet of booze at TGI Fridays.

  But Eli wouldn’t stand for it. He started making sneering jokes about what a frigid bitch I must be. As we left, and I held the door open for him, he cracked a joke about how I probably didn’t shave my legs, either. Then he had the nerve to ask me back to his apartment.

  It could have been worse. Simon could have been a sexist pig. But he wasn’t, not really. He just liked kinky sex. Who didn’t? I firmed my mouth into a smile.

  “You’re right,” I said. “You’re going down, Riley Parker.”

  She gave my arm a light punch. “That’s the Tazzy I know and love,” she said.

  Jim, who worked at the cube next to me, had just come in with a thermos of coffee and an appreciative smile. “Morning, ladies,” he said with a whistle toward Riley. She bared her teeth at him. Riley was pretty anti-man, especially when it came to old, gross, married coworkers. But Jim never took a hint, not when it came to Riley. According to her, he’d been making eyes at her since before I started working here. “What are you hens gabbing about?”

  “Matters of love,” I told him, with a flutter of my eyelashes. He laughed a little. Despite Riley’s hatred of the guy, he never struck me as all that bad. Mostly harmless, really.

  “Well if you need any advice,” he told me, “Uncle Jim’s here to dish it.”

  “Ugh, Uncle Jim,” Riley said under her breath. Then she looked at me and added quickly, “Let’s get lunch together. We can talk about this more in private.”

  She shot Jim a glower. He held his hands up in the air.

  “What, I’m not invited?”

  “Sorry, Jim,” I said, while Riley ignored him. She turned back to the programmers’ area. “Sounds great, Riley. Mall food court at noon?”

  “You know it,” she said, giving me a thumbs up.

  As Riley hustled off to her cube farm, I settled back into my desk. But Jim stayed standing, peering at me over my cubicle wall.

  “You know, I’d really love to come with you ladies for lunch sometime,” he said, and there was a note of sadness in his voice that actually made me feel a little guilty. But my mind was mostly on other things: Simon, the bet, winning.

  “Sorry, Jim,” I said quickly. “We have some girl talk we need to hash out. But maybe next week, after the big presentation?”

  Both Jim and I were in the weeds this week. We were supposed to be putting together a huge presentation at our Valentine’s party for our investors.

  “Nose to the grindstone,” he said. “Uncle Jim knows all about it.”

  Ick. “And maybe lay off the talking-about-yourself in-the-third-person-Uncle Jim stuff?” I offered. “It creeps Riley out, and it’s corny as hell.”

  Jim gave me a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Tazzy,” he offered simply. “Humor’s never been my strong suit.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said, but I gave him a wink when I said it. Jim smiled back, and whistling, sat down to work.

  The Valley Mall food court was bustling at noon, filled to the brim with office workers and soccer moms escaping their suburban prisons, jogging strollers in hand. I grabbed a tray and a dish of mall lo mein from the Taipei Wok and settled in next to Riley, who was picking at a Wendy’s salad.

  “Not hungry?” I asked her. She tipped the bowl toward me to show me the brown, wilted lettuce. With a sympathetic smile, I gave her my egg roll. “Here, no need to starve.”

  “You’re the best, Taz,” she said, looking grateful as she dove in. “Anyway, maybe you shouldn’t be so generous. You’re going to be broke soon.”

  I grinned at the way she was egging me on. “Oh yeah? I wouldn’t be so sure. I’ve been composing the perfect email to get P
eacock87 to fall head over heels for me.”

  “What do you have so far?” she asked. I got out my phone and started to read.

  “Simon, my body’s been aching for you.” I glanced up to see Riley’s reaction. She’d gone a little pink under the collar.

  “That’s bold,” she admitted. I laughed.

  “What?” I said. “We’re both grown-ups. Nothing wrong with getting straight to the point. Besides, the best way to a man’s heart is his cock.”

  “Can I quote you on that?” she asked with a smirk. “Maybe put it in one of our banner ads?”

  “Forget print,” I told her. “Go for radio. I have the voice for it.” I made mine all breathy and seductive as I read on: “Simon, can I see you tonight? I want you to flay me with your hot man rod—”

  “Ladies,” a deep, rich voice interrupted me. A familiar voice. I turned away from my phone to see Simon himself standing there, watching me with smoldering eyes. Part of me felt that undeniable pull toward him, like I was ready to throw off my clothes and have him right on the counter of the Panda Express. But part of me felt like I’d been slapped in the face, too. What the fuck? How did he know we’d be here?

  “Don’t let me interrupt,” he added, arching his dark eyebrows. I quickly tried to hide my phone beneath my hands. I didn’t want to let him know about the bet, for one thing. For another, I didn’t want to let him know how true it all was: that my panties had been soaked all morning, that my mind kept straying back to the way his cock felt as he plunged it into my mouth. I needed to stay in control of this situation, and it felt like it was slipping away from me, fast.

  Like, for one thing, what was he even doing here, anyway?

  “Are you stalking me?” I demanded, dropping my fork on the tray. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Riley’s horrified expression. I felt a little bad for the girl—this was supposed to be just a fun bet between friends, but she’d had no idea that she’d matched me with a bad boy with a bossy streak.