7. Seven
Seven
Avery
I step into the cigar shop, the rich aroma of tobacco enveloping me. Diego stands behind the counter, a mischievous glint in his eye.
He’s been totally cool about the kiss he witnessed between Bane and me. Our insistence that it won’t happen again must have been convincing.
Diego waves his hand over the array of large-ring-gauge cigars spread out before him like a buffet.
“Up for some fun?”
He’d texted me to meet him at the cigar shop and to wear a loose skirt and no panties. I thought we were going somewhere from the shop. It seems I thought wrong. “What’s cooking in that devious mind of yours?”
He gestures to the cigars. “Pick your favorite.”
I burst out laughing. “Seriously? I don’t know anything about cigars.”
“Come on, humor me. Which one excites you? ”
I lean over the counter, exaggerating my inspection. “Hmm, let’s see. This one’s giving me bedroom eyes. But that one over there? Total smoke show.”
Diego chuckles, shaking his head. “You could always just go for size… I hear it really does matter.”
“Hopefully, you also heard that you have to know how to use it.”
He crosses his arms, trying to look stern but failing miserably. “Oh, I do.”
I tap my chin, pretending to contemplate deeply. “Well, if I must… How about that chunky one? Nice and girthy? Like it walks into a room and all the other cigars are like, ‘Damn, who’s that?’”
Diego’s eyes light up. “Ah, the Colossal Reserve. Excellent choice. Follow me.”
He moves the other cigars to a humidor behind the counter, then tucks the Colossal into his shirt pocket and steps around the counter. Wrapping me in an embrace, his hand slides onto my butt, decidedly determining if I followed the ‘no panties’ request.
“Good girl.” He guides me to the lounge.
The dim lighting casts a warm glow over the plush leather chairs, and the air is punctuated with swirls of smoke and the rich scent of tobacco. Only a handful of patrons remain, their attention split between the sports events on the televisions and puffing on their cigars .
Diego settles into an oversized chair in the darkest, most private corner, and pats his lap. “Let’s fix that false belief you have that mothers can’t have fun.”
I hesitate for a moment. “I don’t actually want to smoke it.”
He pats his lap. “You’re not going to smoke it.”
Keenly aware of which word he emphasized, and the panties issue, I consider what else I might do with a cigar. What I was joking about with my teammates… Surely he wouldn’t expect me to… No. That’s crazy.
Against my better judgment, I sit sideways across his lap, the strength and warmth of his body comforting me. His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me closer.
“Should I order a drink?” I’m growing increasingly curious about what he’s planning. If my brain wasn’t stuck in mom mode all the time, I might even admit, I’m excited. But still, I can’t accept that he’d think we were serious about comparing cocks and cigars. It wouldn’t be hygienic to—
“This will be enough fun without alcohol.” Diego’s free hand dips into his pocket, and a small foil packet glints in the dim light. A condom.
My breath catches.
Hygienic problem solved.
I glance from the packet to the other men in the lounge.
Diego tucks the condom under my bra strap, then runs his hand under my skirt, into the wetness high on my inner thighs.
My cautiously rational mom-brain points out that this is a mistake. I didn’t even do crazy things like this before I had a baby. But another part of me, the part that craves being seen as more than a mom, loves the side of me Diego nurtures.
Diego unwraps the cigar. “Sheath it or light it?”
I take the condom from my bra strap, tearing open the packet with my teeth. With trembling fingers, I roll it onto the cigar, the latex stretching taut over the firm tobacco.
Diego shifts me in his lap, cradling me as he drapes my legs over the cushioned arm of the chair. He spreads my thighs and rests his arm between my legs as he maneuvers the cigar under my skirt.
A casual glance would miss what’s happening.
The tip presses against my sex. Diego watches my expression. I’m good, I think. I’m more than good. I’m exhilarated. He leans in, capturing my lips in a searing kiss. His tongue dances with mine, and I melt into him, eager for another new experience.
He slows the kiss, his eyes locked onto mine as he penetrates me with the phallic object. It’s a strange sensation, yet thrilling. He pauses, giving me a chance to reconsider. I nod, my breath hitching. He begins to pump the cigar, the rhythm steady and deliberate.
The pleasure is unexpected, different from the pleasure of sex with him. I’m shocked by how much I like it. The pleasure builds, a slow burn that spreads through my body. Is it the cigar, or is it the situation? The thrill of doing something so daring, so forbidden, in a public place?
His cock is rock-hard under me. Should we move to his office? Is that his plan?
Fighting back moans, I try to keep my hips from rocking too much, but the sensation is overwhelming. I’m driving closer and closer to release, the pressure building inside me like storm clouds ready to unleash.
“Diego,” I murmur between kisses, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m about to come. We need to stop.”
His grip on me tightens, his voice a low growl. “The only reason I’ll stop is to sit you on my dick.”
The thought sends a shiver down my spine. “We could go somewhere more private. Your office?” I suggest, my eyes darting to the other patrons in the lounge.
He shakes his head, his gaze intense. “You’re going to finish right here. The only choice is what you want to have inside of you when you do.”
The offer is too wild, too reckless. Too… exactly what I need.
It throws me over the edge. I bury my face into his shoulder, my body convulsing as I come, the cigar still inside me. Waves of pleasure wash over me, as I cling to Diego, my anchor in the storm.
Diego holds me close while I recover. His arousal continues to press against me, but he makes no move to satisfy it. This was about me, about pushing my boundaries, about making me feel alive and fun. And it worked.