On Dublin Street

“Step out,” he whispered hoarsely into my ear.

Pulse racing, I lifted my heels and stepped out of the circle of the dress, the movement making me realize how embarrassingly wet I already was. Braden lifted the dress off the floor and draped it across his couch. When he came back I felt his hand stroke the soft skin of my buttocks. Did I mention I’d bought new lingerie too? I was wearing black lace from Victoria Secret. The panties cut high across the butt cheek so more skin was showing than not, and the bra cut low so my cleavage looked hot in the dress.

I shivered as Braden continued to caress me, his fingers sliding down the crease of my backside and then entering me from behind. I moaned, arching back into him as he pulled his fingers out and then slid them back in. “Braden.”

He withdrew only to clasp me by the hips and press me back against him, his erection digging into my backside since I still had on the heels. “That’s all it takes to make me hard,” he told me softly, his lips brushing my ear. “You: saying my name.”

My chest tightened and I didn’t know how to reply. I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted to feel.

As if he sensed that, he turned me around and stepped back, his eyes taking me in, in my sexy new underwear. “Gorgeous. But I prefer you naked.” His eyes dipped to the shoes and they sparked. “Those can stay on.”

I reached around my back to unfasten my bra but Braden was back in my space, his hands stopping mine. He shook his head and I dropped my arms. “Just wait.” He moved back from me. I stood in nothing but my underwear and heels, and watched as Braden slowly and tortuously undressed. Wearing nothing but his suit pants, his chest and feet bare, he grinned at me, his eyes smoldering with intent. I didn’t care what the intent was. I just wanted him inside me already.

But Braden wasn’t done. With an arm around my waist he brought me into his body, the bare skin of my stomach touching his torso, my naked legs brushing his pants, my breasts pressed to his naked skin. I felt a tug in my hair as his other hand made quick work of taking out all the pins that were holding my hair up, and seconds later it was tumbling down my back in a riot of messy curls. I watched his eyes flare, and for once, thanked God for all my hair if this was the kind of reaction it got from Braden. His hand tightened in it and he used it to jerk my head back, his lips hovering over my exposed throat. I held my breath, my skin overheated, my legs trembling, my hands gripping his shoulders as I waited. I felt the tickle of his mouth on my skin, another, a barely there butterfly brush and I found myself making a noise of frustration.

Braden’s breath huffed against my throat and then his mouth was pressing there, his tongue flicking softly against my skin as he trailed hot kisses down, down, until he hit the rise of my breasts. Cold air blew over me as he tugged down the bra, my nipple tight and begging for his mouth. His lips closed around me and I jerked my hips into his, his hard cock digging into me, the need coiling into wildness. “Braden, please,” I begged, my back arched against his mouth. My hand brushed down his chest, smoothing over his hot, hard skin, to cup him through his pants.

His breath faltered and he pulled back, his own hips leaned into my touch as he rubbed himself against my hand. “Fuck,” he murmured, his eyes closing briefly before flashing back open with fire in them. “I can’t wait.”

I nodded, my belly squeezing with anticipation, my panties absolutely drenched with it. With deftness I didn’t want to think about, Braden undid my bra in seconds, his large hands taking a moment to cup my breasts. I felt him grow even harder against me.

That’s when his slow, torturous control really snapped. I was tugged towards him as he moved back towards the door where a high side cabinet was positioned against the wall, and then I was spun around, pushed none-too-gently into it, his front at my back. My breath was coming out in frantic puffs now as I gripped hold of the unit. Braden’s hands came around to squeeze my breasts, forcing my body back into his as his tongue flicked my ear. “I’m going to take you like this. It’s going to be hard, Jocelyn, hard and rough. You ready?”

I nodded, my heart spluttering a little.

My panties were gone, whipped down my legs and I stepped out of them, kicking them to the side. The heat of him at my back, the sound of the zipper on his pants sliding down, sent a bolt of pure lust through my sex and my nails dug into the cabinet with anticipation

He splayed a hand on my belly, tugging me back and upwards so I was bent over, my arms flat on the unit, and bent at the elbow. He slid a finger inside me. “Babe…” he murmured smugly, “You’re soaked.”

I made a guttural ‘get on with it’ sound and he chuckled in response an instant before he slammed his cock inside me. I cried out at the deep invasion, my back bowing, but Braden gave me no time for reprieve. He slid out a couple of inches and thrust back inside, the cabinet solid beneath my weight as I relaxed into it. The apartment filled with the sound of our heavy breathing, our groans and grunts, the wet slap of flesh as he fucked me hard into oblivion. His fingers dug into my hips as he pounded into me from behind, groaning as I pushed back into him in perfect, but rough, rhythm. My panting got louder, spurring him on and he reached up to pinch my nipples as his hips continued to jerk against me. That was the trigger.

“Braden!” I screamed, an orgasm to beat all others exploding through me, my sex squeezing and pulsing around his cock as he continued to ride me to his own climax.

He came with a deep groan, his mouth on my shoulder, his hands gripping my hips even tighter to his as he rocked up into me, shuddering as he came.

My limbs were no longer working. The only thing holding me up was Braden.

After a while, he slipped out of me carefully, but still I winced. He hadn’t taken it easy on me. As if he sensed that, he held me tight. “Are you okay?”

No. I was freaking awesome. “That was amazing,” I breathed, falling against him.

His laugh was low, almost a purr. “You’re telling me.”

I found myself turned around to face him and gently lifted onto the cabinet, Braden hitching my legs up around his hips, my hands resting on his chest as he locked eyes with me. I felt something shift in his expression as he looked at me, something that made my breath catch. He caught the sound with his mouth as he dipped his head to kiss me slowly, languorously. Tenderly.

Sometimes words aren’t needed for you to know a change has come upon you. You can share a look with a friend that cements a deeper understanding between you, and thus a stronger bond. A touch with a sister or brother or parent that says ‘I’m here, no matter what’ and suddenly someone who was just a relative, a person you love, turns out also to be one of your best friends.

Something happened there with Braden when he looked at me, when we kissed.

It wasn’t just sex.

I needed to get out of there.

He pulled back, his lip quirked up at the corner as he brushed my hair back from my face. “I’m not done with you yet.” And then he kissed me again.

I stayed there, wrapped around him, as we made out. It was a real, honest-to-goodness make-out and, like teenagers, we were at for at least ten minutes. My body warred with my emotions. I didn’t want to give up what was between us. It was addictive, seductive. But I didn’t want anything more than what we were able to give each other physically. I should leave.

I couldn’t leave.

I understood now what people meant when they referred to someone as their drug.

That meant I’d just have to redefine the night. Sex.

Decision made, I pulled back and licked my swollen lips before I scooted off the cabinet and kicked off my heels. “I have an apology to make,” I reminded him, lowering myself to my knees.

Eyes lidded, Braden gazed down at me. “For what?” he murmured as his semi-hard cock rose into full-blown hard-on.

I grinned. “For calling you an asshole.”

He laughed, thick laughter that choked off into a groan as I wrapped my mouth around him.

***

Even though Braden had pressed a remote that drew blinds across the windows that took up most of the wall in his bedroom, the morning sun still shone brightly into the room, waking me. I turned my head on his pillow and saw the clock said seven thirty. I knew Braden wasn’t beside me because usually his heat woke me, plus I could hear the shower running in his en-suite.

The rest of last night flashed back. The restaurant. Finding out about his wife. Aching for him. Coming here. The wild sex against the cabinet. Me going down on Braden, him returning the favor. A naked tour of his duplex that ended in his bedroom. Still feeling weird, I’d shoved him onto his back on the bed and kissed and licked my way up his amazing body, before taking him inside me. The plan was to ride him back a few hours to where we had been before.

Braden had other plans.

As I came, he’d flipped us over and drove into me over and over, his eyes gazing down into mine. I wanted to close them like last time. But I couldn’t.

I closed them now with a soft groan.

This was so getting complicated, and cowardly it might be, but I just couldn’t face Braden in the light of day after the intensity of the previous evening. I slipped out of the huge oriental style bed and scurried quietly from the room, jogging downstairs to my clothes. I hurried into my underwear and dress, stuck my feet into the shoes, even though they hurt, and grabbed my clutch. I let myself out, my heart thumping hard against my chest as I guiltily made my way out into the fresh air. Not really in the mood to do the walk of shame, I hailed a cab at the top of the Quartermile and didn’t relax until we were pulling into Dublin Street.

I was just putting my key in the door when I got the text.

Whatever the fuck that was, don’t do it again. We’ll talk.

I exhaled heavily, exhausted at the prospect.

***

Judy Garland was singing at me, telling me the sun was shining and to come on get happy. There was nothing wrong with a little Judy Garland, but right then I wanted Gene Kelly to come back on the screen and dance for me. I’d showered the sweat and sex from last night off, changed into jeans and a hoodie and curled up on the couch to watch old movies. If I’d tried to sit down at my laptop and write I would only have gotten lost in my very confused and messed up thoughts. So I was numbing my mind with musicals and my big Old Hollywood crush, Gene Kelly.