by Max Monroe
“Just wanted to sit close.”
“Why?”
I smiled. “It took a lot of work to get this date. You better believe I’m going to milk it.”
She rolled her eyes and sat back, facing the stage again. When the lights went out completely and the first note of music rang out as a woman in pasties and a G-string took the stage, I leaned over and whispered the rest.
“Plus, I’ll need to be close to finger your cunt. Tell me, Low. Are you wet for me already?”
She squirmed in her seat and crossed her legs, trapping my hand in between them. It took everything I had to follow through with the rest of my plan.
Just words, Scott. No touching.
Well, no touching until later when she was naked and sprawled out across my bed.
To encourage myself, I recited the reasoning behind my strategy.
Anticipation strengthens desire. Anticipation strengthens desire.
By the time we leave here tonight, Harlow’s pretty little pussy will be dripping wet, and I won’t have lifted a finger.
Two steps into Scott’s apartment and my clothes were already flying.
Between one breath and the next, my blouse, bra, skirt, and underwear were tossed haphazardly across the hardwood floor of his living room. I kicked off my stilettos a second later.
I knew he’d done this on purpose—getting me riled up to the point of insanity by teasing me with his hot and dirty words. Strategically, what started out as hot little comments whispered into my ear during the show, evolved into all out dirty—and quite promising—verbal foreplay that left me throbbing and wet in anticipation. I felt crazy. Horny kind of crazy. And if Scott didn’t start fucking me soon, I’d probably have to resort to violence.
Good Lord, I want him.
Luckily, Scott had followed my “we don’t need any fucking clothes” lead and stood gloriously naked before me. I took my time, appreciating the sight of him, and raked my eyes down his body—his big biceps, his flat stomach, the trim hips that led into a V—until I stopped at his cock. Thick. Hard. Ready.
I licked my lips. When it came to Scott naked, especially his cock, I was a fucking fan.
“You like what you see?” he asked, slowly, erotically stroking his hand up and down his length.
Every journey from the base to tip and back again enforced what I’d already been feeling tenfold. I wanted to taste him. Suck him. Kiss him. Feel him inside of me. I wanted everything, and I wanted it all right now. I clenched my thighs together, the sticky evidence of my arousal blatantly painting my skin.
“Yes,” I whispered. “But I’d like it better if you were inside of me.”
“Fuck, Harlow.” Scott stared at me for a brief second before his big body moved into action, striding toward me. His hands gripped my ass, spanning the entirety of each cheek they were so large, and lifted me up. I obediently wrapped my legs around his waist.
“I wanted to take this slow, but I can’t,” he breathed into my ear, and then his tongue sneaked out and licked along the edge softly. “I need to be inside of your tight little cunt.”
God, yes. I moaned.
Without hesitation and with me in his arms, Scott strode toward his bedroom. With every determined step, his cock slid against my already sensitized skin.
I felt delirious. Insane. Every cell craving, wanting, needing, fucking anticipating the moment he finally slid inside of me. Tunnel vision set in, and my body could only focus on the way his skin felt against mine, the way his breath sounded in my ear, the way it felt against my neck, the way his hands gripped my ass…him…us…all of it.
“Hurry,” I whimpered into his ear, and his length jerked against me in response.
“Fuck,” he groaned and pushed my back against the wall of his bedroom, directly beside the nightstand, his mouth capturing my lips in a hot and heady kiss. With his free hand, the one not gripping my ass, he haphazardly rummaged through the drawer until he snagged a condom.
He held it up to my lips, and I bit my teeth down on the foil while his fingers pulled it in the opposite direction. It tore easily, and with Scott’s apparent practiced efficiency in this area, the condom was in place in no time. Both of his hands free to grip my ass again, he moved us toward the bed with three lengthy strides.
“Hold on tight, Harlow,” he said roughly, and like a good, horny girl, I fucking listened.
My arms wrapped around his neck, and my legs clenched tighter around his waist as he crawled onto the mattress until my back was pressed against it.
And, without warning or hesitation, Scott drove inside of me, pressing himself to the hilt.
“Yes,” I moaned, my eyes rolling back of their own accord.
Good Lord, it felt good. He felt so fucking good.
The sexy setting of our outing, the foreplay, the anticipation, all of it, had built my need so high that one simple thrust had my pussy clenching around him. Stars were practically dancing behind my eyes from the intense pleasure.
“Fuck, you’re wet,” Scott groaned into my ear as he started into a deep and powerful rhythm. In and out, in and out, his cock worked the inside of my pussy with precision, building my climax up with each thrust. Most men would need a goddamn map to find the treasure Scott had located on the first stroke.
Covetous and greedy for one another after that, our lips and tongues continued to dance as our hands hungrily ran across each other’s skin—scratching, feeling, rubbing.
Time blurred or stood still or fucking passed at lightning speed as the journey to my orgasm peaked. I honestly didn’t know which, but I knew sex with Scott was unlike anything I’d ever experienced, and if ever there was an instance where time could be manipulated to do everything all at once, my climax with his cock inside me was it.
“God, you’re so close,” he whispered directly into my ear, his breath hot and erratic from the exertion, and a guttural moan left my lungs. “I can feel that tight pussy gripping me. Fuck, you feel so good, Low. So. Fucking. Good. I don’t want it to end.” He groaned as his thrusts became faster, uninhibited, fucking deeper, and even if I wanted to, I couldn’t stop myself from falling over the edge.
The rhythm of my orgasm took me by surprise, starting out quick and intense, and then hovering in a slow afterburn that enveloped my entire being and suspended it. My vision blurred, and my heart beat like a kick drum inside my chest. I struggled to remember how to breathe.
I felt high from it. High from him.
Lost in the abyss of mind-altering pleasure, moans, whimpers, fucking noises I’d never heard leaving my lips, I barely heard Scott’s grunt in response as my pussy rippled around him.
“Fuck. Yes,” he moaned loud enough to shake me from my trance. His thrusts became faster and erratic as he rode out his climax inside of me.
And as we lay there on his bed, our bodies strewn across one another while we worked to catch our breaths and slowly come back to reality, my mind—finally freed from its pleasure chains—took off at a run.
I’d never in my life experienced an orgasm like that before.
This is, like, more than sex…
I internally sighed. Not this thought process again…
Before I could get lost in a mental sparring match with myself, Scott moved onto his back and removed the condom, quickly tossing it into a small trash can beside the bed. His big warm body was back beside mine a moment later.
“Go on another date with me tomorrow night,” he whispered into my ear, and I couldn’t stop myself from giggling.
“You’re just saying that because, for some reason, our dates always end up with sex.”
“That’s definitely a positive.” He grinned and wrapped his arms around my bare body and pulled me into his side. “But it’s not the only reason.”
“What are the other reasons, then?” I asked and moved my gaze up to meet his eyes. “I mean, you know that I don’t date, and I definitely don’t do long-term relationships.”
“I’m curious,” he st
ated and quirked a brow. “Is there a reason you don’t do long-term relationships? Or have you always felt like that?”
I shrugged. “I had a long-term relationship a while back, and let’s just say, it didn’t end so well. I learned a lot from that relationship, specifically the fact that I’m just not a relationship kind of girl.”
“Mind if I ask what happened?”
“I lost myself,” I answered honestly, and for some insane reason, I found myself giving even more details. “It wasn’t a healthy relationship. I gave, and my ex took, and before I knew it, my entire life path had changed because I was always putting him and his priorities first. I’m sure you’d be surprised to find out that I was actually pre-med in college. I had big dreams of being a pediatrician.”
“You would be an amazing pediatrician.”
I studied his resolute gaze. “You really think so?”
“I know so,” he answered without hesitation. “You’re extremely intelligent. You’re easy to talk to when you’re not trying to read me the riot act,” he teased, and I laughed. “And I can imagine you’re amazing with kids.”
I sighed. “Well, too bad there’s no going back on that one.”
“No going back?” he questioned. “You’re not even thirty yet, Low. If becoming a physician is something you’re passionate about, you can still do it.”
“Pretty sure that’s a dream I need to let die,” I muttered. “Anyway, now I’m curious,” I announced because, hell, I needed to change the subject. We were talking about me way too much. “Why do you want to keep going on dates with me? I mean, you’re not exactly a relationship kind of guy.”
“Because I like spending time with you,” he answered, and his words dripped of genuine honesty. “And deep down, I know you like spending time with me, too.”
I scoffed and laughed at the same time. “God, you’re so full of yourself.”
He grinned again. “You know you like hanging out with me,” he retorted, and even though he was right, there was no way in hell I was going to give in to his argument. “We have fun together.”
“Naked fun,” I corrected. “The parts where we’re both dressed is usually just kind of meh.”
He chuckled and tickled my rib cage. I tried to squirm out of his hold, but he just held on tighter.
“Admit it,” he said. “You like spending time with me.”
“I like having sex with you.”
“And spending time with me.”
“I like when you cook me pancakes.”
“And spending time with me.”
I stayed silent, and he tickled my stomach this time.
“Jesus Christ, stop it!” I said once the tickles became too much.
“Say, I like spending time with you, Scott, and I’ll stop.”
“Never,” I said through panting and giggling breaths. “Stop it!” I shouted and tried to wiggle myself out of his arms, but his biceps flexed tighter.
“Say it, Harlow.”
“No!”
He didn’t say anything after that. Instead, he flipped me onto my back with ease and straddled my hips with his naked body. He grinned down at me while his strong hands held my wrists gently to the bed.
“You know what I think it’s time for?” he asked, and I rolled my eyes.
“For you to let me go?”
“Nope.” He shook his head.
“Sexy times?”
He chuckled. “Not that either.”
“Then what?” I asked and tested his hold on my wrists with a few impatient tugs.
His charming smirk urged a smile to my lips, and my reaction only made his smirk grow wider with amusement.
Sexy bastard.
“I think Dr. Hickey needs to make the rounds.”
“No. No. No.” My eyes went wide. “Dr. Hickey needs to leave my skin the fuck alone.”
Scott shook his head. “He definitely needs to check a few spots. See how things are looking…”
I tried to buck his body off of mine with a few upward thrusts of my hips, but it was useless. Not only was Scott Shepard’s body sculpted like a fucking Greek god, but those drool-worthy muscles served a purpose. The man was strong.
His lips moved down my jaw to my neck until they reached the spot between my breasts. His mouth sucked a little at the skin there, and I squirmed under his hold.
“Do not give me another fucking hickey,” I demanded, and he grinned up at me.
“You know…” he started but paused to suck gently at the skin of my left breast. “I could maybe be convinced to stop if you…”
“If I what?”
“If you admitted something…”
“Not happening.” I shook my head. “I know you think the sun rises and sets on your cocky ass, but that is not how it works.”
“Okay.” He shrugged. “If you insist…” he whispered, and his lips found the top of my right breast. His tongue sneaked out and tasted my skin before his mouth formed a gentle suction on the now sensitive skin.
My thighs clenched in response.
Jesus Christ, this is making me horny again…
He sucked harder, and I knew if I didn’t put an end to it soon, I’d be gifted hickey number three in a matter of seconds.
“Fine!” I shouted, and he immediately pulled away. “I’ll admit it! Just stop giving me fucking hickeys.”
He leaned back and quirked a persistent brow in my direction.
“God, you drive me crazy,” I muttered, and he smirked.
“Are you going to say it, or should I continue my mouth’s perusal of your delicious skin?”
“Ugh.” I groaned. “Fine. I like spending time with you.”
He grinned down at me. “Aw, thanks, Low. I like spending time with you, too.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You know what sounds good right now?”
“What?”
He rubbed his nose up my jaw and stopped at my ear to whisper, “Eating out.”
Yes. Yes. Yes.
“Keep going…”
“Specifically, my mouth on you, sucking out all the juice you can handle. Does that sound like something you’d enjoy?”
Holy hell.
“I’m definitely…intrigued.”
“I thought you might like the sound of it.”
I nodded, and he moved down my body until his face was mere inches from the apex of my thighs.
“God, this cunt,” he whispered, his warm breath brushing across my heated and aching skin. “I fucking love this cunt.”
His gaze met mine as he slowly, gently, licked his tongue against me.
“You taste so fucking good, Harlow,” he moaned into my skin, and his lips found my clit, sucking me into his mouth and flicking his tongue against the sensitive bud in rhythmic waves.
I moaned, everything inside of me vibrating with anticipation all over again, and my hips jackknifed toward his mouth on their own accord.
“First, you’re going to come on my tongue,” he demanded and tasted me again with his persistent tongue. “And then, you’re going to come on my cock.”
Yes. Please.
The day had finally come: I was becoming a man.
No, I’m kidding.
It was the day of my meeting with the mayor—the one I’d weaseled my way into by sleeping with a woman. Though it hadn’t been my original intent, I’d taken it all the way. Flirting had led to kissing and kissing had led to undressing and her grabbing me by the dick had led to…well, you know. My Dr. Erotic reputation had gotten the best of me.
I’d like to say it was a low point for me, but to be honest, it wasn’t even close. I’d done some very questionable things in my tenure, and having a little sex with a consenting adult wasn’t all that high up on my list of offenses.
Of course, it didn’t feel all that great right now, knowing I was going to have to deal with the consequences during this meeting—a meeting Pamela had made expressly clear in her email she’d be attending.
But, wha
tever. I’d try to do better from this point forward and shit. That was really all any of us could do. Right?
I pulled my phone from my pocket and walked a block away from St. Luke’s. I’d just come off of an overnight shift, and I was a little tired, but it wasn’t anything I hadn’t done before.
I put my hand in the air to hail a cab and typed out a quick message to Harlow. It’d only been a month since I’d first met my new favorite woman, and yet, with the way I wanted to integrate her into every aspect of my life, it felt like I’d known her longer.
Me: I have a meeting in an hour at Jane in SoHo. It shouldn’t take more than an hour.
Harlow: Uh… Good for you?
Me: Smartass. Meet me there in two hours, and we can walk around and shop afterward.
Harlow: Why does walk around and shop feel like code for something?
Me: Probably because you’re smart, and you know that I’m not asking you to shop because I like to shop.
Harlow: You’re asking me to shop because you like the sex.
Me: Yes.
I loved the sex, wanted the sex…would even go so far as to say I needed the sex with Harlow. I had a huge knot of tension taking over my body piece by piece, and the kind of orgasm I had with her was the only cure for it. Trust me, I knew. I’d tried jerking off multiple times in between our dalliances without satisfaction.
Harlow: Lucky for you, I like the shopping and the sex. I’ll meet you there in two and A HALF hours. I’m not gonna be dropping in on some stupid medical meeting.
Some stupid medical meeting. I didn’t bother correcting her.
Me: Fine. 2.5 hours. Jane. See you there.
Harlow: Order me some crepes to go.
I laughed as I sank into the seat of the cab. The driver looked back at me with distrust. Apparently, I’d laughed loudly.
“It’s just the text message,” I explained for some asinine reason. “It was funny.”
The cab driver said nothing.