by JA Lafrance
Okay then. Apparently, I’m not the only one keeping things a secret. I can deal with that. Grinning so wide that my cheeks hurt, I hold his eyes and take a sip. All thoughts of my children and my husband evaporate from my mind while I watch transfixed as his tongue darts out, licking the moisture from his lips.
“A toast,” he says, holding up his drink. “To meeting a beautiful woman.” It’s timed perfectly, a drop of cold moisture drips from the base of my glass, landing on the exposed swell of my breasts. The air around us seems to thicken with some sort of primal electricity as his eyes follow its progress until it disappears in my bared cleavage. “And to that fucking incredible shirt.”
The grin on my face turns into a full-on laugh, my hand coming up to wipe away the wetness from my skin. I had borrowed this shirt from my sister-in-law. This entire night had been her idea in the first place. It was a black leather-like material corset that laced up in the front, propping my tits up higher than I ever remember them being. They looked fantastic, and going by the hunger in his eyes, I’d say Jake thinks so too.
“So, Chrissy. You wanna dance?”
Tipping back my gin, I swallow it down in three large gulps, letting the liquid heat gather in my belly, giving me some much-needed courage. I can do this.
With the most seductive smile I can muster, I take his hand and lead him to the dance floor, putting an extra sway in my hips as I walk. I can feel his eyes on me. On my ass. I wore my favorite dark blue distressed jeans. The ones with the rhinestones on the back pockets. The ones Jeremy always says make my ass look irresistible.
The classic rock music pours through the speakers, the room vibrating with the bass. Holding onto one of Jake’s hands, I turn to face him and throw my free arm into the air, swaying my hips from side to side with the tempo of the music. Jake’s heated gaze takes me in as he moves in front of me, making me feel sexier than I’ve ever felt before.
As one, we sway and move our bodies brushing up against each other, the high-heeled boots I’m wearing putting me at the perfect height to feel his hard, seemingly large package against my belly as we dance. One song turns to another, and then another, the tempo changing with each tune, but our bodies never part. My hands roam his impressive arms and chest, his trailing along my back and resting on the curve of my ass.
I don’t know what I’d expected to feel when I’d come here tonight, leaving the home I share with my husband and children and come to this bar, intent on finding adventure, but this overwhelming awareness of my own sexuality wasn’t it. I feel lithe and sensual, beautiful and desirable. The need growing in Jake’s eyes with every thumping beat of the music only adds to my need to act on being the woman he sees, even if just for tonight.
My breaths are coming out in pants and gasps. His scent, leather and soap with just a hint of woodsy aftershave, intoxicates me. I want his hands on me. I want to put my hands all over him. Dancing so close in a room full of people is pure torture at this point. The people around us fade from existence as we move, and all I see is him.
Leaning up, I rest a hand on his shoulder and put my lips to his ear. “Let’s get out of here,” I say, surprised at the huskiness of my voice.
He pulls back and his eyes lock on mine, mirroring my own fervent restraint. With a wicked grin that rivals the slightly deranged smile of the Cheshire cat, he wings up an eyebrow and sinks his teeth into his lip. He stares at me for a moment and then literally whisks me off my feet. Before I know it, he bends at the waist, presses his broad shoulder to my belly and carries me toward the exit caveman style, hoots and hollers from our fellow bar patrons following us as I squeal with delight.
I’m not a tiny girl. I’m not exactly what some would call fat, though. I like to think of myself as curvy. Voluptuous even. But I have never been the girl that a man could carry around effortlessly until now. My cheeks flame as I squirm and give half-hearted slaps to his impressively firm ass, loving every minute of the attention he’s giving me.
Once we’re outside, he sets me on my feet and grips my hips to steady me. When my gaze meets his, his mouth is on mine, plying me with a toe curling kiss that has me gasping for air. I grip his arms to hold myself steady, giving back every push and swipe of the tongue he blesses me with.
“I don’t have a car,” he says, his mouth still on mine.
“I’ll drive,” I say, stepping away and yanking on his arm as I pull him toward my bike. Grabbing my helmet, I slip it on and my gaze slides over to Jake who is watching me with his mouth slightly agape.
“A motorcycle?”
I grin. “Chicken?”
His head falls back as he belts out a hearty laugh. “Get on, baby. I have plans for that smart mouth of yours.”
A shiver of excitement courses through me at his words. God, I can’t wait to see what those plans are. Swinging a leg over the seat, I start up the motorcycle and wait as he slips on behind me. His broad back presses against my chest and his arms slide around my waist, hugging me tight to his body.
Maybe I shouldn’t do this. Jake’s thumb finds its way under the hem of my shirt and slowly strokes across the bare skin of my belly and the doubt I had felt again disappears.
Jake directs me toward his hotel, and thankfully it’s only a few blocks away. We make it there in record time and the entire drive, his thumb circles and strokes the skin just below my navel. The gesture is simple and small, but by the time we reach the swanky hotel, my senses are on overdrive and I know that my tiny little joke for panties are soaked with my arousal.
Jake slides off the seat behind me and holds out his hand in a gentlemanly gesture. I take it and step off the bike, my eyes never leaving his, my pulse skyrocketing at what I’m about to do. Together, we walk into the hotel and I avert my eyes from the concierge, worried about the shame she might see deep in my soul. The shame of a married woman about to immerse herself in someone that is not her husband. Immerse herself in Jake.
Stepping inside the elevator, Jake tugs on my hand and pulls me closer to him, pressing the button for the top floor. As the door slides shut, he turns his body toward mine and presses his lips gently to the sensitive place below my ear. “Mmmm, you smell fucking delicious, Chrissy.” His lips slide further down my neck, his teeth nipping at my skin. “Do you taste as good as you smell?”
My heart batters in my chest like the hyper-speed beat of a hummingbird’s wings as my eyes roll back in my head at the sensation of his mouth and teeth on my skin and his deep voice rumbling in my ear. The ding of the elevator pulls me back to reality and with his arm around my waist, Jake leads me down the long corridor to our room.
Once the door closes behind us, the brave sensual girl I’d become fades, and insecurity begins to take hold of me with sharp, black claws.
You’ve put on a lot of weight. He will be disgusted when he sees you without these clothes. And when was the last time you rocked a man’s world? You’re not sexy. Who are you kidding?
“Hey,” Jake says, bending his knees until his eyes are level with mine. He takes my chin in his hand. “Stay with me, gorgeous. Get out of that head of yours and be here, with me.”
I take in his stare and realize that he isn’t just seeing ‘Chrissy’, but he’s seeing me. The real me. The one that would never usually do something like this, but needs it so fucking bad. The one that hates her body. That feels unattractive and insignificant more often than not.
With a mighty shove, I push the negative thoughts from my mind and reach for Jake. His lips crash into mine with a kiss that feels like fire, burning away the last few self-deprecating thoughts that still linger in the shadows.
“Jesus,” he growls as he turns, slamming my back into the wall hard enough to make me gasp. His mouth covers mine again, his hands coming down to grip my ass. My head spins as his lips trail down my neck with fluttered kisses and nips.
“Jake,” I moan, wrapping one leg around his hip. I can feel his arousal and my breath hitches at the idea of what’s beneath his artistical
ly fitted jeans.
Jake rolls his hips, sliding his hardness along my most sensitive place again and again and I struggle to remember to breathe as the pleasure builds inside me. I gasp as his hands come up and tear at my shirt, tugging and loosening it until my breasts are out in the open, resting high on the top of my corset-style shirt.
I feel a momentary sense of shyness as he takes them in, but that disappears when his eyes flash with arousal and his lips suck in one nipple and his thumb drags across the other. His hands are calloused and rough, but his hands bring me only pleasure.
I writhe against the wall, needing more. More contact. More friction. More Jake. And then his hand cups my sex. He presses the side of his hand against the seam of my jeans and slides it back and forth, gliding over my clit, again and again, causing starbursts and fireworks to explode behind my closed eyes.
“Please,” I gasp into his ear.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispers. “Tell me how to make you scream my name.”
I can’t catch my breath. My head rolls from side to side as his tongue swirls around my nipple and his hand strums against my clit.
“I need to feel you.” I tug at the hem of his shirt and pull it up under his arms. “I need your skin on mine.”
Jake rips his mouth from my breast and has his shirt over his head in a flash. But he doesn’t stop there. He tosses the shirt behind him and then reaches for mine. He tugs and he pulls but it doesn’t come off.
“In the back,” I tell him, barely paying attention as I drag my fingers along the ridges of his chiseled chest. “Untie the laces at the back.”
“Fuck,” he growls.
I gasp again as he spins me around and presses my front against the wall. His nimble fingers scamper up and down my spine, tugging at the laces and pulling until I feel the air on my skin.
Eager to press my chest against him, I make a move to turn, but Jake stills me with a hand on my shoulder. With the other hand, he works at the buckle of my belt, followed swiftly by the button of my jeans.
When he tugs them off, I don’t move, but my entire body trembles as he steps back. I’m naked before him now. Not a thread of clothing to hide behind. And I can feel the heat of his stare.
“Bend over for me, gorgeous,” he says, trailing a finger along my spine.
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. Jake’s hand is still on my shoulder, pinning that part of me to the wall, but his free hand lands on my waist as he pulls my ass backward, sticking it out and exposing my excitement.
“Don’t fucking move,” he growls, and his hand disappears.
I can’t see him. I can’t feel him. But I can hear him. I listen as he wrestles out of his own jeans and drops them to the ground. Without meaning to, I move—just a little—just enough to squirm and relieve a bit of the heat building in my core.
I wait for him. I need him to fill me and ravish me and take me for his own, even if it is just for one night.
His nose hits my core at the same time his lips suck on my clit. His face is buried between my legs and I’m helpless to his touch. The sounds he makes and the rapid flicking of his tongue has my knees growing weak, but still I stand, moaning and rolling my hips, pressing back and fucking his face in a way I’ve never known was possible.
“Do you like the way I lick you, Chrissy?” he asks between licks. “Do you like fucking my face with that sweet pussy?”
“Yes,” I gasp.
“Do you want me to make you come this way?” he asks me, and I can’t even answer. I’m so close to coming and it’s been so fucking long. So long since I’ve come at the hand—or lips—of another, and I don’t want him to stop. Not ever.
“Answer me, Chrissy. Do you want me to make you come?”
I groan and press back, getting more blessed friction against his perfect mouth.
“Fine,” he says, pulling away.
“NO!” I cry, and try to stand, but his hand lands on the back of my neck, holding me down. And then he fills me.
He fills every fucking millimeter inside my pussy and suddenly I can’t recall why I don’t do this with him all the time. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, this man needs to be fucking me.
“Yes,” I cry, as his hands move to my hips and turn me, taking extra care not to hit my head on the wall, but at this point I wouldn’t care if it did. I can’t concentrate on anything other than the feel of Jake’s perfect cock and the heat that’s about to blow a hole right through me.
“So tight,” he growls, his pace picking up. “Fuck me, Gina.”
I don’t correct him. He can call me whatever the fuck he wants to, as long as he keeps fucking me the way that he is.
Pressing my hands against the wall, I close my eyes and shove back, over and over again, fucking Jake’s cock and reveling in the feel of my growing release. “Yes, Gina. Jesus fucking Christ, don’t you stop.”
I don’t. I go faster. I roll my hips in bigger motions and grab his hand. I take his finger and guide it to my pussy, and then to my clit. Together we roll his fingertip against my clit and I take him impossibly deeper.
“Come, baby,” he orders. “You’re so fucking sexy. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.”
I can’t hold on any longer either. When I come, I curl my fingers into my palms but keep my knuckles pressed against the wall for support. A cry rips from my chest and out of my throat that would put a wildcat to shame, and when Jake’s cock pulses inside of me, I know he’s right there with me.
Together, we jerk and jolt and moan, never daring to part. And when it’s done, we don’t move. Not a muscle. We stay locked together, our bodies trembling with aftershocks of our pleasure.
“Jesus Christ, Gina,” he whispers, dropping a kiss just behind my ear. “I forgot how amazing it is to fuck you like that.”
I grin as he pulls out and turn to face my husband. “Never again,” I tell him and giggle a little at the alarm on his face. “Never again will we wait this long to be together. We need to make each other a priority. Not just the kids.”
“Definitely,” he agrees, pulling me to him and burying his nose in my hair. “I love you so fucking much, babe.”
I hug him tight and my heart soars at his words. Months of self-isolation with our children have worn on us. For a while, we’d forgotten why it was we were together. We’d forgotten how to romance each other. How to live out our fantasies together.
But tonight reminded us—at least it reminded me. I’d married Jeremy all those years ago, and we’d built a beautiful life together. But we’d lost our spark.
Being Chrissy reminded me that I am sexual—that I’m sexy. And seeing Jeremy as Jake reminded me that my husband is a fucking fox, and I’m crazy not to take advantage of his prowess in bed.
“Ready for round two?” he says, pulling me toward the bed.
I drop to my knees before him and stare up into his eyes. “Are you?”
About Geri Glenn
Geri Glenn writes alpha males. She’s best known for writing motorcycle romance, including the internationally bestselling series, The Kings of Korruption MC.
She lives in the Thousand Islands with her two young girls, one big dog and one terrier that thinks he’s a Doberman. Before she began writing contemporary romance, Geri worked at several different occupations. She’s been a pharmacy assistant, a 911 dispatcher, and a caregiver in a nursing home. She can say without a doubt though, that her favorite job is the one she does now–writing romance that leaves an impact.
She loves homemade cookies, copious amounts of coffee and Diet Coke by the case. You can connect with Geri on her website where you can sign up for her newsletter to find out more about her less than glamorous life, and what she’s working on now.
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3rd Date Face-Off
C.J. Lazar
3rd Date Face-Off
Squish-squish. The steady and distinct sound of Molly’s soft-soled shoes on the tiles of the deli floor made me smile.
When she said, “Evenin’, sweetie. Your usual or are you here for something different?” her voice was warm and familial. It was as if my own mother were here to help get me through tonight’s ordeal.
“Something different. No question. I’m here for date number three.”
“Ohhh...” Her grin grew with each drawn out consonant and I was sure the dirty look said it all—until she added, “Date number three was always my favorite.” Molly giggled like a high school girl forty years her junior. “Things must be getting serious.”
I blushed, or at least tried to blush, as I plunged back into my swirling reservations. “Well, sorta.”
“Oh?” Molly dropped into the booth to sit across from me. “Is this a different boy than the one you brought here this past week?”
“Ha!” My sudden outburst surprised me about as much as it did the family at the next table. “I don’t have the time to juggle more than one guy. Heck, one may be too many with all the extra hours I’ve been pulling. In fact,” I said, then before I knew it, I was off and spouting like a geyser, “we’ve all been pulling extended shifts and even doubles. Every time we think we’ll get some relief someone comes along and—” This time the blush in my cheeks was real and undeniable. “I’m sorry. I just...” My voice trembled with frustration and fell silent.
Molly took my hands in hers. The warmth of her large fingers sent a wave of relief through me. “It’s okay, sweetie. If you need to chatter or unload, you know I’ve always got a hot pot of goodness in the kitchen for you, or a bottle in my stash, whatever the situation requires.”
I smiled into the sigh that was already easing through me. This was one of the reasons I came here.
In the six years and eleven months since I moved into the area to start work, Molly had become more than a friendly grey-haired waitress who was always quick with the coffee. She was the ever-present motherly figure I knew I could count on being here right when I needed her most. It's why picking the Meet The Meat Deli for these dates felt like the right choice. Not only was I unlikely to see anyone from the shop, but it was a place I could relax enough to try dating again.