3. What Do You Want
WHAT DO YOU WANT
I’m sure this super hot bartender, who I don’t even know the name of, is used to pristine pussy. The kind that’s devoid of razor bumps, or ingrown hairs.
But when he told me what to do, I obeyed immediately. It’s like he cracked me open, seeing all the secrets of what I did to myself and what I watched in the dark.
It’s like he knew I wanted to listen, that I wanted to shut my brain down for a single second and have a man take control.
His lips press against my neck and my nails attempt to dig against the resin table.
“Relax, Kate,” he tells me, his voice smooth as velvet as his hard cock presses against my backside and his hands slide up my torso.
For fuck’s sake. I didn’t even wear matching underwear today.
He doesn’t seem to mind as his hands explore, palming my breasts as his body presses harder against me.
There’s a massive window in front of us, but the window faces the water, so it’s unlikely that anyone can see inside. Having people watch isn’t necessarily something I fantasize about, but I don’t think I’m against it.
Seeing the reflection of how he’s looking at my ass in the glass, however, is something that’s going to be replayed in my fantasies for the foreseeable future.
He looks raw and excited.
His focus is on me, and I can’t remember the last time I felt like I was the center of attention.
The hot bartender presses down the cups of my bra, exposing my breasts and playing with my nipples. I swallow thickly as his one hand glides down my torso, nervous that he’ll be turned off.
But when his fingers slide against my mound, rubbing against my pubic hair, his lips suck against my skin and he grinds harder against my ass. Does it turn him on?
“Do you come easily, Kate?”
Part of me wants to lie, be amenable and say yes, “but of course I’ll come as soon as you touch my clit” . But what’s the point? I’m going to fuck this guy once and nothing more. There’s no reason to lie, no reason to fake my enjoyment.
“No, I usually don’t,” I tell him honestly.
He hums against my ear.
“How do you usually make yourself come?” he asks, no uncomfortableness between us.
I couldn’t tell the only man I’ve been with my fantasies, but something about the low-stakes impromptu fuck has me wanting to lay some of my cards on the table, just not enough to leave me completely raw.
“A toy inside of me and a vibrator on my clit.”
“Do you skip all the lower settings, Kate? Do you just go to the highest one?” he asks.
It should be embarrassing, but if anything, it has my core clenching and I feel myself getting wetter with his questions.
“Yes.”
“How quickly can you make yourself come?” he asks.
His fingertips are dancing around my clit, not touching me where I want him to, but it’s making me want to beg. Something I’ve never done, but it’s something I’ve wanted to do.
The sex I’ve had for the last five or so years has been clinical, an obligation. One where I rarely got off and waited till Will was asleep or in the shower and I raced time, cracking open my nightstand and using a toy to get myself off when he was none the wiser.
“A few minutes,” I say, lying slightly. In a pinch, I could make myself come even quicker if I was worked up enough, or drunk enough, watching the right porn could do wonders.
“I can work with that,” he says, sliding his fingers between my lips, pinching my clit between them, making me jolt against the desk, digging into my hips.
“Fuck,” I grit out.
He keeps stroking my clit, not pressing inside of me. He’s leisurely with it, like he isn’t in a rush, like he doesn’t have to get back to work and like he actually cares if I finish or not.
I’d have been fine if he slipped the condom on and fucked me. At least I’d taken the first step in the right direction on taking my life into my own hands.
Instead, he kisses my neck and continues grinding against my ass while he toys with me.
I know I’m drenching his fingers. He knows it too. “You’re so wet. This pussy was meant to be fucked. You want it so bad, don’t you? God, I know you want it so bad,” he says, nibbling on my ear, and smelling my hair?
When he pushes two fingers inside of me, I gasp at the sensation of having someone else touch me this way and how good it feels. I can hear how wet I am, and he likes it, so do I.
His other hand leaves my bra, sliding up to my neck, before shifting back down. I want to grab his wrist and bring his hand back, but I’m barely holding myself up on the table.
His touch is gone, except his fingers pressing inside of me as he opens a drawer next to us, grabbing a condom.
“Are you sure you don’t take all the girls up here to fuck in your boss’s office?” I ask again.
He laughs behind me. It’s deep and sensual.
“Only the special ones,” he says, his fingers slipping out of me and I nearly whine.
The leather of his belt sliding through his pant loops, and the click of his buckle has my back arching.
The rip of the foil packet of the condom has me licking my lips in anticipation.
I have no idea how big he is, no idea how good he looks sliding the condom over his cock, but in my imagination he looks sexy and assured.
No matter how badly I want to see it in person, I don’t turn around in fear that I’ll completely lose my nerve.
He grabs the waistband of my panties, pressing them down my thighs, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. He’s big. I knew he would be. You don’t walk around with that much confidence unless you have the dick to match, and he presses forward.
I’m so wet that I can feel the evidence of my arousal on my thighs.
He pushes inside of me, not in a hurry. One of his hands lands on my hip as the other wraps around my waist, his talented fingers back on my clit.
His breath fans against the nape of my neck as he stretches me. He’s bigger than the toy I use and I’m biting my lip, adjusting to his width.
“That’s good, Kate,” he says, and a shiver rips out of me against my will.
How bad have I wanted this? Someone to talk me through it?
He moans lightly against my ear, pushing more of himself deep inside of me.
“You feel so good. Made to be fucked. So wet. So tight.”
He’s sliding my clit between his two fingers, applying more pressure as he bottoms out, his hips flush with my ass.
“Good?” he asks.
“Mmmhmm. G-ood. So fucking good, don’t stop,” I tell him, I might combust if he doesn’t start moving again.
I thought feelings were the part of sex that made it good. I’d had hoped I was wrong, and thankfully this well endowed, ridiculously hot masterpiece behind me was blowing my fucking mind.
Because this felt right.
There weren’t any feelings, just consideration for wanting to make each other feel good mixed with unrelenting hormones and need.
“What do you want, Kate?”
God, the way he keeps saying my name is going to give me a complex. It sounds sultry and has me feeling needy and overeager to please. As badly as I want to come and walk away from this experience with a new person, I want him to remember me too.
He could have brought me in here, bent me over this table, and rutted me until he filled the condom and sent me on my way. I’m not sure why he cares so much about what I want, but I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
He’s my divorce present, I decide, and that makes a smile take over my face.
“What do I want?” I respond as he pulls out and slowly pushes back inside of me.
“Yes, tell me how you want it.”
I want a lot of things that I’ve never said out loud. A lot of things that aren’t easy to explain while his dick is already inside of me. I could say I want to come, which is a cop-out, a given response.
But what do I want? What do I want to walk away with from this one-night stand?
“I want…I want you to be rough,” I tell him, almost in a whisper.
How many times did I ask for something simple, a small fraction of what I wanted from Will, and he wouldn’t provide it? What if he’s more of the same and thinks there’s something wrong with me for what I like?
“Can I spank your ass?” he asks and I swallow thickly.
“Yes.”
His fingertips against my clit retreat, as he holds on to my hip with a bruising grip. As his hand smacks the top of my ass in a downward trajectory. I can feel my pussy clenching as he does it.
“Was that okay? Too hard?”
“Harder,” I say.
I’ve simulated impact play on my own a few times, but nothing compares to how this feels. He takes my direction and does it again in the same spot, making a pathetic moan slip from my lips. I’m so fucking wet each time his cock slips out of me, our sticky flesh makes a salacious sucking noise.
It’s a turn on I didn’t know I had.
“More?” he asks.
“Please, don’t stop.”
His hand comes down again on my tender flesh, and my thighs quake. His large hand grips the spot that I know is flushed pink, kneading my ass cheek.
“You should see how pretty your ass looks right now,” he says, his hand giving me one more solid smack before wrapping around my waist, back on my clit.
“I’m going to fuck you hard. You tell me to stop if it’s too much,” he says and I nod. His hips thrust powerfully, pounding against my ass. “Words, Kate.”
“Yes, I-I understand.”
“Good. I’m going to fuck this sweet little pussy and you’re going to come all over my cock and fingers, because it’s what you were made for.”
As soon as the last word slips off his tongue, he does exactly what he promises. His hips slapping against my reddened ass while his fingers strum my clit like he’s practiced in how my body works.
He doesn’t hold back, a simultaneous effort of reaching his own climax while giving me mine. His cock is so deep that it borders on pain, and I yearn for it.
I’m so close, so so close, and he knows it as he adds more pressure on to my clit.
“I told you this pussy was meant to be fucked. Your pussy gripping my cock is driving me fucking crazy. You’re such a good girl, Kate,” he whispers between rushed pants in my ear, thrusting deep.
I shatter completely, nearly collapsing on the table and I can’t decide if it’s more from the angle his cock is pressing deep inside of me or his filthy words.
He doesn’t coddle me during my orgasm. He presses me against the table, my breasts and cheek against the cold surface as a strong hand between my shoulder blades keeps me in place.
He loses himself fucking me, taking what he wants while wringing me dry of any coherent thoughts. It feels like it lasts forever, like his dick is hitting just the right spot and it will never end.
He smacks my ass one more time, before grabbing both of my hips and thrusting hard, his length jerking inside of me as he finishes.
My thighs are shaking and my breath is leaving condensation against the table as we catch our breath and bask in the moment.
He doesn’t slip out of me right away, just kneading my ass as he begins to soften inside me. He drags a hand down my spine before finally sliding out of me, a wet suctioning sound follows as his body leaves mine.
I’m still bent over the table as I collect my thoughts and reel from what just happened. I expect some shame or confusion, but all I’m left with is clarity.
I grin against the table as a trashcan lid closes and the stranger who just rocked my fucking world comes back over to the table.
“You okay?” he asks, his hand on my back, rubbing soft circles.
“More than okay, thank you,” I say.
He laughs.
“What?” I ask, as he helps me stand up. My legs are like a newborn fawn’s as I wobble and lean my sore ass against the edge of the table.
“Thanking me for sex, when it was definitely my pleasure,” he says, his cock put away in his pants. My biggest regret was not getting a good look at it. He gets down on a knee and helps me slide my panties back on.
It’s sweet and unexpected, making me blush. He just spanked me, but this small act of kindness is what has me clamming up.
He grabs my dress and helps me put it back on.
I catalog his handsome face, knowing I’ll never forget him.
Even when I’m sixty with eighteen cats, because at this rate that’s how many I’ll have, I’ll think fondly back on the man who eased my pain.
The man who made me feel like I wasn’t a freak for the things I wanted.
He made me feel alive when I needed it the most.
Feeling bold, maybe reckless, I grab his chin and plant a soft kiss against his lips.
“Thank you,” I say again, kissing his cheek, and I walk out of the office, not saying another word as I feel him watching me walk away and I do my best not to fall down the stairs and make a complete spectacle of myself.
I’m patting down my dress, hoping that I don’t look like I’ve just been fucked within an inch of my life, as I meet up with Chelsea and Savannah. Both of their mouths drop as they stand up from their barstools.
You would have thought I told them I won the Nobel Prize and not my back blown out the way they both squeal with excitement and clap their hands together.
“Kate is back, baby!” Savannah shouts.
“So fucking back,” Chelsea adds in.
“Now tell us every single detail of what happened in the hot bartender's office. Look at you, you aren’t even walking straight. He fucks good, doesn’t he? I knew he would,” Savannah rambles on.
“I will tell you everything if we leave right now and never come back,” I say, taking one last glance back toward the stairwell to the office.
His large frame is leaned up against the wall, a smirk on his face. I take in his appearance one last time, making sure I save it in my memory forever.
He gave me more than a one-night stand. He gave me everything and he doesn’t even have a clue.