7. Elaina
7
ELAINA
I ignore a text from Mollie that informs me the pack of condoms I bought for her over the summer is in the top drawer of her dresser. I’m sure she means well, but I will not be pilfering my daughter's condoms for my own purposes. I have my own, thank you very much, and I intend to keep it that way.
"It’s not much, but it’s home," I say, flipping on the living room light to illuminate a space that feels inviting and warm. The room is adorned with a collage of photographs capturing moments of joy and intimacy between Mollie and me. There we are, canning tomatoes during the peak of summer harvest, vacationing together on my generous parents’ dime, and enjoying the whimsical atmosphere of the Renaissance Faire. Each snapshot encapsulates the laughter, love, and memories that define our little family unit. "Mollie's father passed while I was pregnant," I explain quickly, my voice steady but tinged with the weight of loss, "drug overdose." It’s a stark truth that reshaped our lives, and it’s also why she carries my last name.
Anders stands beside me, admiring the photos with a smile that feels genuine and fresh, one I haven’t seen from him yet. A thousand questions flit across the forefront of his mind, but he doesn’t voice them, respecting the delicate nature of my past. "I bet Mollie hates having a mother as beautiful as you. That’s a lot to live up to," he says, his tone light but sincere. With those words, he strikes the perfect balance to set me at ease and gently reintegrate us into the warmth of the moment we shared just moments before.
"Mollie's the one beating them off with a stick. I just have you, which I may need to beat off with a stick. You're very persistent."
He clucks his tongue playfully as he wraps his strong arms around my shoulders from behind, creating an intimate cocoon of warmth. "I believe that you're the one who suggested we come back here, Miss Taylor."
That I did. At thirty-five years old, the last time I had sex with a man was almost four years ago, and let me tell you, it wasn't the best experience of my life, trust me. Between the swirling hormones and the undeniable chemistry that Anders and I exude together, my brain whispered, why the hell not?
It feels good to be held by him, his warm body pressed against mine, radiating a comforting heat that makes the world outside fade away. The goosebumps on my arms don’t indicate that I’m cold; rather, they are a reaction to the electrifying closeness we share. "So what are we going to do about that, Officer Hemingway?" I ask, my voice teasing yet laced with curiosity.
He nuzzles his nose into my neck, inhaling the richness of my scent like a man starved for comfort. "You're going to have to stop calling me officer," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, thickening with desire as he peppers soft kisses along my collarbone. His hands glide along my torso, dancing over my chest with a feather-light touch that sets my skin ablaze, igniting something deep within me that I thought had long been dormant.
"You're going to have to make me scream something else then," I hum playfully as I lean into him, relishing the sensation of his hands roaming my body, squeezing the soft flesh beneath his fingers. Each touch ignites a thrill that surges through me, a reminder of the intoxicating chemistry we share.
My breath quickens, a flutter of anticipation coursing through me, as Anders begins to peel off my dress with slow deliberation, exposing my body to the stark light of the living room. An involuntary wave of vulnerability washes over me, and I instinctively raise my hands to cover my stomach and chest, terrified that he might catch even a fleeting glimpse of my perceived imperfections and realize that I’m not as pretty as he has imagined.
"Stop," he moans from the crook of my neck, his voice a soothing balm against my insecurities. "You're beautiful." With a gentle yet firm resolve, he reaches up to pull my arms down, unshielding my body from his gaze. "Your body is gorgeous, Elaina. Let me see all of you."
He continues his tender act of disrobing me, pushing and pulling at the fabric of my dress until it slips over my hips and falls to the floor in a soft whisper. The cool breeze in the room washes over me, raising the goosebumps on my arms even higher, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from him. Anders runs his hands up and down my body, seeking to stoke the fire within me, but all he's doing is sending electric shocks down my spine, leaving me trembling and yearning for more.
"I want to taste you, Elaina. Give you the pleasure you deserve." The words make my knees tremble as he leads me over to the couch, his hands never leaving my body, tracing a path of heat across my skin. He carefully slides my panties down, his fingers brushing against my thighs, before he helps me lay down on the soft cushions. Anders' lips cover mine for just a moment, a tender and promising kiss, before he begins his descent, lingering on my chest, his tongue circling and teasing my exposed nipples until they harden under his touch.
I place one foot on the coffee table, the cool glass a stark contrast to the warmth of his body, and fling another over the side of the couch, opening myself up completely. It's all coming back to me, like a dance I've done a thousand times before. I know exactly what I'm supposed to be doing, what my body craves.
Anders's hands rub my thighs, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh, kneading away any remaining tension. His lips follow suit, kissing and sucking the tender skin, inching closer to where I need him most. He's taking his time, priming me for the main event, and by the time his mouth finally comes in contact with my clit, I'm already on the edge of my desire, desperate for his attention. The direct stimulation is almost too much, and I nearly buck away from the intensity, but his strong hands hold me in place, keeping me right where he wants me.
I can feel his smile against my thigh as he kisses it again, a silent reassurance that he knows exactly what he's doing. "Your taste is sweet, Elaina, like cantaloupe juice," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates against my skin. "Calm down."
Calm down. As if he isn't about to take me to the highest peak of my pleasure. But I take a deep breath, trying to relax my muscles, to yield to his touch as he dives face-first into my pussy.
His tongue licks and teases my wet folds, exploring every crevice, every sensitive spot. His fingers join in, dancing around my entrance before slowly sliding inside. I don't know exactly when it happens, but suddenly, I realize that a couple of digits are thrusting in and out, stimulating my G-spot with expert precision. My hips buck toward his face, seeking more of the intense pleasure, and Anders's hand comes up to rest on my stomach, holding me gently but firmly in place.
He finally zeroes in on my clit once more, that devilish, hooded little bastard that demands to be pleasured. While his fingers pump me harder, his tongue works tirelessly to coax out my orgasm. It swirls around my hard little nub, applying just the right amount of pressure, driving me closer and closer to the edge with each mindless, delicious circle.
When I come, it's in a blitz of sensation that overwhelms every nerve in my body. Anders' tongue starts patting my clit with a rhythm that's impossible to resist, and his fingers slow to a punishing pace, drawing out my pleasure in waves that seem to go on forever. Colors burst all around me like a fireworks display of passion, each one more vibrant than the last as I ride out the intense orgasm.
Sex is like riding a bike. Once you get on, you remember exactly how to do it, and every sensation comes flooding back in a rush of heat and desire. Which is precisely what I intend to do.
"Strip," I demand, my voice slightly hoarse from the intensity of my climax. "Strip and lay down."
He backs away from me with a raised eyebrow, my juices glistening on his lips. I almost feel a twinge of embarrassment, but he licks them off with a slow, deliberate motion, savoring the flavor. "You taste amazing, by the way. Did I tell you that?"
His joking demeanor is back, that familiar smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "You're not stripping, Anders." This time, a whine slips into my voice, a mix of impatience and desire. But my pussy aches with the need to be filled, and if this is really like riding a bike, I want to get on top and pedal my way to another orgasm, feeling every inch of him inside me.
"Wow. You're a real 'my way or the highway' kind of woman," he says, a teasing glint in his eyes as he starts taking off his shirt, the fabric sliding down his arms to reveal the chiseled muscles beneath. "That could get you in trouble one day."
"I have a vibrator around here somewhere," I grumble, narrowing my eyes at him and crossing my arms over my chest, trying to project an air of annoyance even as my heart races in anticipation.
A smile spreads across Anders' lips as he strips off his pants, pulling his boxers down with it, his confidence radiating from him. "We'll try the vibrator for round three, don't worry, gorgeous." His cock springs free, standing proudly. "There? Ya happy?"
"Almost. You aren't even on the couch," I reply, my voice laced with playful challenge, my desire simmering just beneath the surface.
Anders shakes his head with a grin and moves to lay down on the couch, the cushions sinking under his weight. "Women, can't live with them, can't have the time of your life without them," he quips, his tone light, but there's an undeniable tension in the air that promises more than just playful banter.
He's barely settled into a comfortable position when I swiftly hop onto the couch, eagerly climbing on top of him. The precum on his cock dampens my thigh as I sit precariously above him, a mischievous smile playing on my lips. "You know, I think your buddy Dave wouldn't have given me this much trouble if I'd have bossed him around," I tease, my eyes sparkling with amusement.
He snorts at me and reaches between our legs to firmly grab his cock, his grip confident and sure. "Dave wouldn't have had a cock like this to give to you, sweetheart," he retorts, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "He also probably wouldn't have known where to take you on a date, wouldn't have known how to talk to you, or even what to say to you to get you home and out of your clothes." His voice is laced with a playful arrogance that only serves to heighten the tension between us.
"You mean you did all this to get me naked?" I ask, my voice a sultry whisper as I line my entrance up with his cock, feeling the heat of him against me. I begin to slowly lower myself on top of him, my body trembling with anticipation as I take him in, inch by delicious inch.
Anders reaches around, his strong hands gripping two handfuls of my ass, a playful wink sparkling in his eyes. "I mean, that's not the only reason. You're also smart, a great mother, beautiful, and interesting as hell to talk to. But being naked definitely doesn't hurt."
When I've fully lowered myself onto him, he fills me completely, stretching me with his heat and hardness. I begin to use my thighs to lift myself up and then lower myself down, allowing my pussy to envelop his cock with my tightness, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through me.
His hands start exploring every inch of my body. Reaching up to cup and play with my breasts, tweaking and pinching my nipples until they're hard and aching. He grabs and smacks my ass, the sting heightening my arousal. His hands grip my hips tightly, holding me firmly as he grinds his hips upward, taking his pleasure with a low, primal growl.
Finally, his fingers find their way between my thighs, seeking out my clit. While I continue to bounce up and down on his cock, bringing him closer to orgasm, he rubs my clit with expert precision, his touch sending electric jolts through me, ensuring that I come right alongside him.
I surrender to my pleasure as his thighs tense and he begins to spurt his warm release inside of me. I bear down on him, grinding hard, my head thrown back in ecstasy. I pinch my own nipple, the mixture of pain and pleasure intensifying as I ride out my orgasm, every nerve ending alight with sensation.
Extricating myself from him while remaining on the couch proves challenging. But I manage to shift and lay atop him, my body still tingling with the aftermath of our passion. My mind wanders, wondering what the kids these days would think of me sleeping with a guy on the first date. Is this considered reckless? Or are we in an era of empowering women to own their desires? Am I simply a woman taking what she wants, when she wants it?
"I want to take you on a second date," Anders murmurs after a few moments of comfortable silence. "Maybe we could get dressed and go to Denny's."
"Right now?" I ask, lifting my head from his stomach, a lazy smile playing on my lips. "I don't think I have the energy for that just yet."
He gently pushes a few stray hairs out of my face, his warm smile radiating kindness as he looks down at me. "I just don't want you to think I only asked you out for one thing. If I take you on a second date right now, it wasn't a one-night stand. Then if I call you tomorrow, you can't sully my good name by saying I was a one-and-done kind of guy."
His sincerity is disarming; he's too sweet, too genuine. He's better than most of the men I've been with in my life, a refreshing change that makes my heart flutter. I let myself sink into the moment, laying my head back down on his stomach, feeling drowsy and content in the warmth of his presence. "How about you just call me tomorrow and we go out then? I'm not going anywhere else tonight." The invitation hangs in the air, a promise of possibilities that makes me smile even wider.
Anders lightly scratches my upper back, his touch sending gentle tingles across my skin. "What if I jog by at about 10:00 am, and you stop me, asking if I'd like any iced tea? Then you invite me in, and we awkwardly dance around the topic of tonight like it’s a minefield. Slowly but surely, I muster the courage to ask if you want to go to lunch with me—after I go home and shower, of course, because I’ll be sweaty and probably smell a little bit. You say yes, we go to lunch, and then blah blah blah, before you know it, one day we live happily ever after."
I chuckle, doing my best to shake my head at the absurdity of the position we find ourselves in. "You're ridiculous, Anders."
"I would be anything for you, Elaina," he replies, a playful sincerity lacing his voice.
What a strange man, Officer Anders Hemingway. Who would have guessed that a chance encounter at a car wash would lead me to the love of my life? As I reflect on the unexpected turn my evening has taken, I can’t help but feel a swell of hope for what lies ahead.