Long Shot (5 page)

“Well, like I said before, stripping is only a temporary gig to keep out of debt,” I explain, and then I stop dead. Meredith walks in wearing a stunning red dress that falls to her knees and showcases those beautiful breasts. I immediately stand up. Hopefully she thinks it’s because I’m polite, but really it’s because the impulse to run to her hit before the self-restraint kicked in.

Her eyes fall on me, and I would swear she starts to smile before the Wednesday Addams glare falls into place. Baby steps! Also, did she just check me out?

“What are you doing here?” she asks, pretending to be annoyed now, but it’s a frail façade that even Jane rolls her eyes over.

“Bobby and I had a few things to discuss. Do you remember Bobby from the club, Merie?” I wink lasciviously at her. She’s so close to slapping me, but manages to hold back. Good, because I can’t handle any more of our super sexy tension. If she slaps me, I’ll probably burst right through my trousers.

“Besides,” Bobby raises a glass of wine as our server pours into the glasses in front of Meredith and me. “I hear celebrations are in order. To new jobs!”

I take a sip of my red to hide the smile on my face. Does Bobby know exactly what sort of new job his baby sister-in-law is conducting in his spare room? I glance at Meredith and start to open my mouth. She answers silently with a look of sheer terror. Nailed it.

I’m not gonna rat, as much fun as it would be to tease her.

This girl speaks to my soul and has brought more joy to my life in the last week than I’ve had in a long time.

We end up ordering two entrees that looked good, despite my normal preference for the pasta trio. When I offer her a bite of my cabbage roll and her eyes flutter close—worth it. Seeing her orgasmic delight as she sucks on a fork full of beefy tomato-y goodness has my suit pants way too tight for a family meal. If I let her try the mashed potatoes, she’ll go full on When Harry Met Sally.

“That’s heavenly,” Meredith practically groans. Bobby and Jane have dissolved into their own conversations about their kid, so we’re left alone in our own little world. “You should try my ravioli. This rosemary brown butter is better than sex.”

She offers me a bite and I slide it off with my tongue slowly, eye-fucking her the whole time. Because that
is
amazing. But it isn’t better than the sex we’re going to have. What I’m going to do to her, well. People will write entire books about it. Well, maybe that’s a long shot, but it’s still going to be earth-shattering.

Bobby and Jane distract me with questions about my journalism career, or lack thereof. We spend a little while playing twenty questions and enjoying the house-made limoncellos. Meredith is giggly and sexy and each tiny glass sends her scooting her chair a tiny bit closer to mine. Maybe she just needs to loosen (boozen?) up to be okay with the fact that she’s totally head over heels for a stripper, but I’ll take it.

I’d take anything to have her, this smart, versatile, brave girl who bought me with a twenty but didn’t know there were no returns.

I haven’t the slightest idea how I’ll last if everyone orders dessert. My pants are about to take themselves off, and from the firm pressure of Meredith’s thigh against mine, I think she’s ready to explore this, too.

“Well, if you two don’t mind.” Jane sets her napkin on her plate. “We’re going to take advantage of David being at my mom’s for a while longer and head out for a nightcap at our usual. You two want to join us?”

“I need to get back home and set up for tomorrow’s shoot.” Meredith looks disappointed, though her leg never leaves mine. “But you two have fun!”

Bobby and Jane wave goodbye and leave us with the dregs of our limoncello and my raging boner. I offer to take Meredith home, but she sheepishly reminds me she drove herself. Right, duh. I watched her walk in. Can’t help it when all the blood in my body is redirected to my manhood, okay?

“But maybe you can help me set up…?” She bites her lip and I say yes before she can even finish.

It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to touch my raging hard-on once during the drive, because I’m dying. Dying. She obeys every single traffic law and signal, and so do I, and what should have been a ten-minute drive feels like an hour. This cannot stand, man. But then we’re standing outside her sister’s house, with the tension between us as crackly as I thought, and I’m suddenly weirdly nervous, like will she like me naked? And what if she’s only into mish? Most importantly, will she still love me tomorrow?

I sing it out loud and she cracks up. But I’m not joking. I really, really want this to mean as much to her as it does me.

We stumble into her room, and it’s my time to shine. While being distracted from my homework today, I spent a fair amount of time researching photography terms and I’m ready to blow her socks (or whatever else) off at my knowledge.

“This is a really nice DSLR.” I pick up her camera while she kicks her shoes off. “I hear Nikon ditched their anti-aliasing filter to maximize resolution. Smart way to go. Canon’s are nice, but their price tag isn’t necessarily justified when you compare the power of a Nikon to—”

“Quit touching my camera,” Meredith interrupts me. She grabs my arm and spins me around to face her, and takes the camera from my hands. It takes me a second to realize she’s wearing nothing but heart-printed lingerie. My God, we are going to have
so
many children together.

“There are other things here you need to be touching,” she says, and of course she’s right.

“Yes, ma’am.” My hands are immediately on her, skimming over her soft skin, while my eyes devour her. I’ve seen her tits through tight shirts and low-cut tank tops, but that doesn’t even hold a candle to seeing them wrapped in black silk.

“We can talk business later. Now is time for pleasure,” she purrs.

Holy yes it is. I grab her by the ass and pull her into me for a long, lingering kiss. She melts in my grip, and I trail my lips down her cheek and across her collarbone. She tastes sweet and smells sweeter, sexier. I know in this very moment this is something that is meant to happen, no matter the crazy, drunken, goofy way it all fell together. All that matters right now is her and me and our bodies coming together as one.

I lay her down gently on the bed, and my mouth waters at the prospects ahead of me. I have bigger appetites than dinner tonight. I expose her pink center from behind her panties and give her a slow lick. Meredith moans and shivers, her legs wrapping around me.

“Not yet,” I reluctantly tell her as I give another quick slide down her clit with my tongue and then pull her panties off so she’s exposed to me, bare and perfect. My clothes come off in record time, and then I’m standing before her, fully erect, and fully nude.

“My god,” she gasps and stares at me. “You’re huge.”

Nailed it.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that.” I wink at her frantically because that was not what I meant to say, why did I say that? Now I look like I’m twitching. The only way to distract her is to drop between her legs again. Luckily, this is where I want to be most. My tongue lavishes her from her pinkness up to her breasts. Her nipples are pebbled and waiting for me, tasting just as sweet as the rest of her. I lick and suck while my fingers stroke her wetness, getting her revved up to receive me. I don’t want to hurt her.

“Fuck me, Rob,” she whispers. I will not make her ask twice.

I fumble around for my pants and pull out a condom. She sits up and rolls it over my cock slowly, her hands caressing my length as she moves. It feels fucking incredible, unlike any other pair of hands that ever touched me. This is so much more than being groped on stage. It’s like she intuitively knows everyplace I want her, every sensitive spot I like to have caressed.

She lays back on the bed and spreads her legs wide, an invitation I’m all too eager to accept. I hover over her tight body and ease myself between her lips. Meredith gasps as I enter her, her moans chilling me to the bone. I want to fuck her brains out, but I’m in distinct danger of just coming right here and now.

I hold gently just inside her until we’re both acclimated.

We slowly rock to a comfortable rhythm as she gets used to my size. Little by little, her legs wrap around my waist and her nails dig into my back. I love things a little rough. I have been dying to be inside her since that first night we met, but if I’d known it would be this good—well. I’d either have held out longer, or tried to date her three times the first night. Either or.

She starts bucking her hips, and I unleash the Kraken. Each thrust vibrates through my body. Every pant echoes in my ears. We become a tangle of limbs, fucking and thrusting and panting and moaning. I’ve dissolved into the most basic human level of existence, where all I’m good for is fucking. She appears to have met me there.

Sweat drips, and she bites my lip, and soon, all too soon, an orgasm is threatening to break me. I try to hold off as long as I can, but seconds later, my little pussycat starts to cry out as an orgasm takes hold of her. Her inner muscles clench down on my cock, and I let myself loose, grunting and pounding her through the tight fingers of ecstasy wrapped around my length.

We come down noisily, and I bury my face in her shoulder because I want to remember this feeling, this feeling of being inside her, for as long as possible. When I roll off of her, she snuggles into me and kisses my chest.

“You’re perfect,” I whisper in her hair.

Meredith snores in response. God, she’s perfect.

T
here’s
a brief moment between becoming conscious and opening my eyes when I’m not sure what woke me. Something niggles at the back of my mind, and there’s a faint taste of lemon in my mouth, but I don’t care because the birds are chirping and the sun’s coming up and I can smell coffee. The niggle can wait, it’s going to be a nice morning.

And I’m not even hungover! Mostly.

I reach for my extra pillow to smoosh over my head, but it doesn’t come when I pull. Well, that’s not good. I tug again, and a groan accompanies it. Then, the space next to me on my pullout shifts.

Oh. Oh no. Oh, no no no.

“My pillow,” the space next to me murmurs. “You need to learn how to share.”

Oh, there’s a stripper in my bed.

Shit
. There’s a stripper in my bed.

For hell’s sake, what is wrong with me?

Rob rolls over and nuzzles into me. “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning.” I try to squirm away but he’s got me locked in tight. It feels really nice, and that’s when I know I’m in deep shit.

It’s just, he’s built like a rock and has really talented fingers and a tongue that made me sing and hips that know how to work a woman. My inner sexual urges keep winning over and forgetting that he’s a stripper and thus never to be bedded.

“Your sister’s making coffee,” he cheerfully notices.

“Oh my god, she can never know you were here. I’ll lower you from the window on a bedsheet.” I’ll never live this down. He just laughs and nuzzles in.

“You smell good for someone who made sweet, sweet love last night.” Rob kisses my shoulder and I like it, too. I’m a goner. “You’re like a rare piece of treasure.”

“Wow, what a spectacular metaphor. A rare piece of treasure. Really know how to speak to a girl’s heart.” The more I like what he’s doing, the frownier I am getting. Why does he even like me? I’m a real jerk in the morning even when no strippers are involved.

“A sexy chicken nugget. A tall glass of milk. A—a perfect cashew!”

“Ew.” I find myself laughing. Damn it, I can’t even stay frowny. “You’re fired.”

“Maybe I’m hungry. I guess I need to distract myself.” He pulls me in tighter and starts kissing my neck. My body responds immediately, goosebumps covering my flesh. The farther his kisses cover my skin, the more pliant I become.

Morning sex is clearly imminent. How did my life go so far off track? I used to be a civilized person.

I don’t go home with guys and I don’t take guys home and I never have sex before brushing my teeth. And yet, here I am. Rob slides his large, strong hands down my thighs and briefly teases my inner sensitive areas. My back arches against him, I can’t help it.

Maybe, this once, I can shut my mind off. After all, I reason, we already did it last night. I should just go ahead and check if the sober sex is as good as the tipsy sex. For research. For science.

I hike my top leg up and place it over his, giving him direct access to my pussy. He ignores it and continues kissing my neck, running his hands all over my body, missing the one area I want him to go.

What a tease. Fine, I’ll take care of it myself. His hands wander across my breasts in time to his hot kisses, and I slip my fingers between my thighs. My body is a little tired, a little out of practice, but with each firm stroke, I feel more alive.

My breath catches and he presses his lips to my ear. “That’s so fucking hot. I love it when you touch yourself, knowing you’re thinking of me, knowing you’re picturing my hands where your hands are, my tongue fucking your clit, my cock hammering you until you can’t walk.”

Everything starts to go a little dim and I touch myself faster, harder. I love dirty talk to so much. I’m not the best at it, but when a man knows how to talk dirty to me, when he knows how to get me even wetter with just his words, I’m all in. I’m his. For now. For the research.

Rob moves his hands from my breasts and teases my inner thighs some more before finally nudging my hands aside. His fingers are rough, his touch hard, and my hips rock in time against him.

“You like that?” he murmurs in my ear.

“Faster.” I pull up the top part of my pussy lips, exposing more of my clit to his touch. “Deeper.”

He groans and rocks his hips against me as he obeys, and it’s so fucking sexy. This huge beast of a man can’t keep his hands off me. I’m starting to realize that this is kind of cool. To feel so wanted by someone who is constantly surrounded by beautiful, desperate woman, and instead he wants me?

Damn it, Meredith, keep your mind off the stripping for once.

I push the thought away and then I push him off of me. I roll him over so he’s lying on his back, and I climb on top of him. His hair is rumpled and has that sexy just-woke-up thing going for it. But it’s the way he looks at me, so full of want and passion, that makes my knees go weak. I lean forward and kiss him, reveling in the way he grabs me and tangles his hands in my hair.

This is the first time we’ve been romantically involved while totally sober. Wowzers but this man can kiss. His lips are soft, but firm, and he presses them into me like I’m his only oxygen, like I’m the only thing keeping him alive. It’s hungry, it’s desperate, it renders my body full of tiny explosions of pleasure, almost like tiny orgasms, and I realize I never want to stop kissing him.

Except right now I have other things on my mind. I move down his rugged jawline, which I bet would feel delicious against my inner thighs, and past his strong chest, letting my tongue run across the divots between his abs. He’s built like a machine, so much strength and hardness. He reminds me of marble.

I need to take photos of him sometime, all in black and white. Nude, an exhibition of the body and anatomy. I consider grabbing my camera now, but his cock is calling and I need to become acquainted with it.

Rob’s hands are in my hair by the time I reach his hard length, as if he knows exactly where I’m going. I tease him instead, kissing the ridge of his hipbone, running my tongue along the creases where his thighs meet his pelvis. Rob is hungry, thrusting against me, but I don’t give in. My lips traverse his legs, his ankles, back up to the tender flesh of his inner thighs. I stop just once to blow on the tip of his cock and he lets out a groan so loud I’m certain we’ll be heard.

Such sweet revenge.

“Tease,” he manages.

“Fair.” I smile coyly and run the tip of my tongue along the underside of his cock.

He’s so substantial. Not as big—and horrifying—as Peter, but he’s by far the biggest guy I’ve ever had in my bed. Er, my sister’s bed? Thinking about riding him makes my inner muscles clench. For now, though, I want all of him in my mouth. I want to taste him, to experience him fully.

I take all of him in and pull back slowly. Rob pants and pulls my hair, which I love. I repeat the motion a few times and then focus on his tip. It’s shaped perfectly, with the veins and ridges made in all the right ways—ways that are made for pleasuring a woman into ecstasy.

My hand pumps the bottom of his length and I pleasure his tip with my mouth and tongue. He thrusts and moans and pulls my hair tighter, letting me know just what he likes best. I slowly lick his cock and swallow him whole again, savoring the feel of him.

“Careful,” he gasps. “This isn’t how I want to come.”

“But I’m just getting started,” I tease in my sultriest voice.

“You’re too good.” He moans again and thrusts himself deeper into my mouth. This is such a turn on, knowing how much he wants me. How much he needs me.

His breath starts to quicken and as much as I’d love to continue, this isn’t where I really want him, either. Reluctantly, I draw my lips away and start working my way back up, hitting each ab on the way.

I lick him back up to those sumptuous lips and kiss him hard. He tries to make them deeper, softer, more passionate, but I have other ideas for his mouth. I straddle his face and he lets out a grunt of delight.

“I love licking your pussy,” he murmurs against me, sending waves of shudders down my spine. “You taste like heaven.”

“What does heaven taste like, exactly?” I try to remain even-voiced, but he sucks my clit into his mouth briefly and I have to catch my breath.

“Like beer and the beach.”

“Wait—what? My—I taste like hops and sand?” How can he be so good at dirty talk and then like—
so
bad at dirty talk? I will note this in my lab notes on this experiment.

“No, but that’s my idea of perfection. And so are you.” To shut me up, his tongue teases my opening and I lose my ability to speak even if I did know what to say to that.

Perfection?

My hips grind against his stubble, electrifying my whole body. I could have him do this until I died. I could have his head between my legs for the rest of my life and I could possibly go happily. He’s just extraordinarily good at this. My chest clenches with each flick of his tongue and already, the electric fingers of an orgasm creep their way through my body, promising to be extra delicious.

His hands grasp my hips and he guides me to ride his face. My fingers find my hardened nipples and my head falls back, overwhelmed with pleasure. His tongue is everywhere, spreading around the intoxication so it’s never too strong for too long, building the pressure between my legs.

It grows on me all at once; a building tidal wave that I’m ready to drown in. And then he stops, leaving me inches from the edge. I try to grind against him again, but his hands hold my hips firm. I look down at him, ready to cry or punch him, and he’s got the most devilish look in his eyes.

“Not yet,” he commands, and nibbles my clit a final time before rolling me back onto the bed.

“You have to!” I practically beg, laying on my back, panting, desperate for release. It’s unfair, I’m so close, and my fingers instinctively reach to finish the job but Rob pulls my hands away and pins them above my head, on the pillow.

“I don’t think so.” He reaches down and bites my right nipple. I think he actually laughs when I gasp. He kisses across the valley of my breasts and bites my left nipple. At this point, I’m dying, I’m certain of it. I try to rub my legs together, but he forces them apart with his foot. I feel bare, exposed, and about to explode.

“Fuck me,” I beg.

He leans down very close to my ear and whispers, “You have to say please, Merie, if you want this. I want to be very sure you want this.” I’m not at all sure it’s a good idea, but holy wow do I want it.

My chest tightens further, my vision clouds, and I can’t do anything but swallow roughly and gasp out, “Please.”

“Please what?”

I would kill him if I could, but all that I can focus on is the intensity within. “Fuck me
please
.”

And then he makes me wait while he finds another condom. Sadist!

But then he’s back, and Rob slams his cock into me and I cry out from the shock and the fullness. He wiggles his hips but doesn’t move any further, only buries his head into my neck and kisses my shoulder. Slowly, he begins thrusting, his hips moving like a snake. This isn’t like any missionary I’ve ever experienced. It’s like he’s using my body as a dance floor, gyrating and fucking me in time to the music of our sex.

His head dips down to suck hard on my nipple and I nearly explode. He sucks and fucks and my head spins. I feel like I’m being used for his own dirty little strip show and you know what?

It’s totally the best sex ever.

Do people know about this? Is this why The Meow Club stays packed nightly? Ye gods. What else have I been missing out on?

Rob moves to my other breast and rubs his hard length against my clit. His hips rock and roll and I find our rhythm together. The edge of my orgasm is finally welling back up and it’s hard to breathe, and then…

He stops. Again. He grabs me with one arm, flips me over, and pulls my hips up to meet his waiting cock. The research is rapidly changing from “how good will it be” to “how many times will he do this before I slap him.”

“Hard,” I tell him, struggling to keep my voice solid. If he won’t make me come this time, I’m kicking him out.

“As you wish.” I can hear the smirk, then my world threatens to explode as he enters me and he presses my face down into the sheets, a knot of my hair grasped in his fist. His balls hit my sensitive clit with each thrust, further stoking the flame.

I’m not going to let him stop me again. I can barely see straight. This orgasm will be mine. My fingers go straight for my clit as he digs his fingers into my hips. We go hard, almost rough, and he’s hitting me in new places from this angle. It takes only a minute, though, of frantic rubbing against my exposed clit, and my breath is again catching in my throat.

“Are you going to come?” Rob asks thickly. “Do you want to come for me?”

All I can manage is a high-pitched, “Mmhmm.”

“Give it to me.” He smacks my ass. “Fuck me like you mean it. I want to feel you come.”

Done. Given permission, I ram my hips back against him, harder and deeper than before, and almost pinch my clit. In an instant, my vision goes dark and it feels like my body explodes. He has to cover my mouth so I don’t scream out loud and it goes on for an eternity, wave after wave crashing through me. Just when I think I’m done, I feel Rob begin to pulse inside me and it sets me off all over again.

“For the love of all that’s holy,” I groan as I collapse. He falls next to me, and we both laugh a little at our panting.

I take a deep breath, still on fire from the orgasm that ripped my world into a million pieces and put me back together again. “God, that was so good.”

“Shit yeah it was!”

We high five.

And then the weight of what I just did settles over me. “We had a date last night, didn’t we?”

“All dressed up, cocktails, paid for your food. Double dated, even.” He sounds especially cheeky.

“We just banged after our third date, didn’t we?”

“Yup.” I don’t think I’ve ever heard this man happier in my life.

“We’re—we’re
dating
now, aren’t we.” My voice trails off. I want to slap myself. How did I not see this coming? How could I let myself get so caught up in his ridiculously sexy peen that I did this? This wasn’t morning sex. This was boyfriend sex. “God-DAMN-it.”