I’m pissed.  Really pissed. 

I step out of the shower and yank a towel off the rack there.  The door is cracked, but the bathroom is empty.  I took a long time in the shower just to piss him off.  I also took my time to try and calm down, but the time just made my anger build.  Look, ya know, it’s like, I’m fucking sorry that he had some big meeting today, but dammit!  I want him.  I fucking want him.  And he can’t just go down on me like that and not expect me to want him more.

I just want him more.  And more!

It’s not fucking fair!

I can still feel his fingers and his tongue, sliding, licking, all in between my folds and against my clit.  Holy fucking shit he knew what he was doing and he was good at it, every small touch and stroke, every jab and slick thrust of his fingers.  He knew how to be gentle but just rough enough with me.  It’s like he knew my body already.  How could he know it that quick?

‘Cause he’s a fucking amazing freaking lover that’s why!  I almost giggle at myself for calling him “lover”.  But at the same time that title turns me on.

Almost as much as how the feel of his tongue against my pussy turns me on.  That feeling is now embedded in my brain.  I’ll never get it out of my head and as much as that’s a good thing, it’s going to be so damn distracting.

I can’t be mad at him.  I’m the one who told him we had to get up.  I’m the one who reminded him about his meeting.  I wish I hadn’t.  I really wish I hadn’t.  That’s bitchy, isn’t it?  I shouldn’t expect him to want to give up his job for me after less than 12 hours.

I run the towel over my body and then run it vigorously through my hair, drying it as much as possible before wrapping the towel around my torso.

I mean, he just can’t expect me to shut it off.  I go months and months of desiring him like crazy.  Then I get him.  And then we’re supposed to spend every second for the next few days in bed together.  That’s what I want.  I don’t care about work.  I’m fucking sick, hell fucking fire me.

I have him now and that’s all that matters.  Well…I think I have him.  I mean we haven’t really discussed that, yet.  Crap, now my mind is going nuts thinking maybe…

No, no, no. He said he liked me.  He said he’s been wanting this.  He’s not the type of guy who would just fuck me and then peace out, right?

Right?

I shuffle into the bedroom and I see him standing in black slacks and a white tank in front of his open closet doors.  He’s got a couple striped jerseys in there and he pulls one out and tugs it over his body, all with his back towards me.

Dammit, even his little ass looks good in those slacks.  I love how after having sex with him last night I’m still just as ever like a silly little girl when I see him.

It’s more than just attraction.  It’s need.  Being with him last night, not just the sex, but sleeping beside him, kissing him, hell even just riding in the car with him…I want that.  I want it all.

I need him.

This isn’t good.  Dependency isn’t good, especially when there’s so much that still hasn’t been said or done.  I hooked up with him, that’s all.

It’s not like we’re dating now.

He turns for a moment while pulling a belt out from somewhere in the closet.  “Oh hey.”

“Hi.”

“I figured we need to take some time to go back to your place and get you some clothes before you go into work.” He nods to the bed and I see on the corner of it are my clothes from the night before; my jeans, my thong, my shirt, all piled on the comforter. 

“Right.”  I feel awkward. 

I shouldn’t feel awkward. 

He walks closer to me and I smile at him as he stops in front of his dresser and looks himself over in the mirror above it.  He really is handsome, even with a uniform on.  Or off.

But shit, especially with his uniform on.  I don’t know what it is, maybe just the fact that most of the time when I see him he’s in that uniform, therefore most of my fantasies involve that uniform.  On my floor.  I smile and remember how carefully he took his nametag off his shirt last night when we got ready to get in bed and then carelessly threw his shirt in the hamper.  I reach over to the dresser and pull the tag into my hand. 

“Don’t forget your little nametag.”

“Oh yeah…”  He smiles a crooked smile at me and I work to pin the tag against his chest.  I look up at him and I don’t smile.  I just stare at him, his eyes and lips, that strong neck and jaw.  And I can’t help myself.  I lean forward, breathing in the smell of his clean body, touching the mesh fabric of his shirt.  I kiss him.

I lose control in that kiss, in every kiss I give him.  His mouth murders mine, claiming it over and over. Even though I’m the one with my eyes squinted shut, he’s the one that pulls back breathless and slightly shocked, “Jess…”

“Can I not kiss you?” I question.  I see a moment of hesitation in his eyes.  I frown.  But I don’t let it pull me down because I want him.  I’ve never been more sure of myself in this moment.  I don’t care about anything else.

I care about him, about his body and mine.  And I want to be on top. I want to look down and see him lose it.  I want to be in control for once.  I need to be in control.

I kiss him again and don’t let him leave.  I plant my hands on his face and keep his mouth near mine.  At first he clumsily puts his hands on my shoulders and then moves them down to my hips and grips me there through the terry cloth, not pulling me away, but

pushing me closer.

We kiss and kiss and I start pulling up on his shirt he ever so carefully tucked into his pants.  I successfully get his shirt free and push my hands underneath and run them up the spans of his warm, muscular body.  God his body turns me on.

“Shit what are...”  He pulls away breathless.

I grab him through his pants and push him forward, making him fall back onto the bed, making my crumbled pile of clothes from last night tumble off onto the floor. “I wanna do this.”

“But…”

I crawl up on top of him, discarding the crumbled towel to the floor.  I’m still a little damp and my hair is dripping still.  But I don’t care and watching his eyes travel over my body, I know he doesn’t care either.  I straddle him and lean forward, cupping his face in my hands. 

“Look at me…”  He moves his eyes from my breasts to my face and licks his lips.

“Honestly, do you really want me to stop?”

“No, but I…” I cover his mouth with my hand and I smile at his wide eyes.

“You won’t be late.  I promise.”

We fall into it. I move right down into him, holding him, kissing him as his hands splay across my back and move down to my ass, gripping me there.  I kiss against his lips, his chin, his neck, moving all around him and down.  I slide off of him to the side for a moment and run my hand over his shirt down to his pants. I palm the thick length there for a moment before undoing his belt, his button, his zipper. Then I reach inside through his boxers to his dick.

It’s so hard and warm, ready just for me.  He’s been ready.  Don’t think I didn’t notice his hard-on in the shower.  He wanted me then.  I just don’t know why he didn’t take me.  I mean I know his excuse.

But dammit he could have thrown me against the wall, fucked me hard, fast…gotten us there in seconds and we wouldn’t be here, me groping him and sucking on his ear, wanting him so bad.

Well, we’d probably still be here.

‘Cause I’d just want more and more.  I can’t get enough.

Shit, what if I never get enough?  What if he makes me one of those sex addicts that walks around needing to be fucked? 

You know what, I don’t care.  I don’t mind.  As long as it’s him fucking me.  I don’t give one damn.  Because he’s that good.

“Shit…”  He says when I grab him through his pants again.  “All those months I imagined you to be this little sex freak and here you are...”

“I’m not a freak.”   I say bashfully, knowing that I’m really not.  Until him I was always able to control my desires. He’s made me this way.  I’ve never felt like this…this…this needy of a man’s body.  And it’s awesome because I’m not just attracted to what I’m touching, what I want in me and what I want to grab beneath my fingers.  I’m attracted to his smile, his laugh, the way he looks at me, the way he talks to me.

I love it all.

I do, I love it.

“You’re my freak.”  He moves and smiles against my mouth before wiggling his way from me and working to move his shirt off.

I’m his.

I stop him, that uncontrollable need filling me up and boiling over instantly. “No…we don’t have time.  Leave it on.”

I tug down on his pants, pulling them and his boxers down to his thighs, making his cock spring free, bouncing a little, thick and swollen.  Ready.

I move to straddle him and he’s smirking at me.  “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t you?”  I sit down against his crotch, not letting him go in, but letting him feel how soaking wet I am.  We both hiss out.

“God damn…”   He says, his hand immediately going to my hips.  I sit up against him and rub against him.  I smile at him and he stares at my breasts and then moves his eyes down to my thighs and moves a hand from my hips to in between.  He brushes against me there and I sigh out a gasp as his fingers touch my clit again.  It’s still a little sore, but aching and throbbing for him still.

 “I’m a fool,” he says quietly.

“Why…”

His eyes stay glued to my crotch as I rub and rub against him.  I stare down at him and realize how fucking sexy he looks in his jersey. Our bodies touch, so close to letting me in.  Shit, I’ve fantasized about this.  About him taking me into the stock room and fucking me with his ref uniform on.

And here I am fucking him with it on.  I push my hands up on his shirt so I can see the skin underneath.

“For not taking you in the shower.”

I smirk at him.  He’s right.  He should have done it then. But if it led us to this, to me staring at him as he stares at me, as I rub my wet pussy against his thick dick, then I don’t mind one bit that he freaked out and wouldn’t let us fuck.

“Told ya…” I lean down against him and say, “kiss me,” before melding our lips together.

Soon I’m leaning up against him, his one hand on my hip, keeping me rubbing against him, his other hand cupping my breast, pulling it up to his mouth.  Shit, he sucks my nipples so good, gently but with a strength that it makes me moan.  My hips pull off him as I try to pull my chest closer to his mouth. His dick bobs against my thighs and in between.  He presses for a moment against my clit and I moan out.

Fuck.  I gotta have this.  I can’t take it anymore and I sit up and sit down.

I slide right down.

Down, down, down, all the way.  Arching my back and staring at the ceiling, gulping out, “God…” as he fills me up.  I’m never going to get use to this, this…him…his thickness impaling me.

I like it.  I like the shock and the surprise.  I like that I have to wait to get use to it.  I want it over and over. 

I try and catch my breath and force myself to look down at him.

Those eyes, those fucking eyes just staring at me, focused on me. His mouth slightly open, his hands on my hips, arm muscles taut and strained, keeping me down all the way on him.  I can feel him stretching me, throbbing in me.  It’s insane.

I rock my hips up slightly, moving just a few inches up and then I slowly go back down. 

We groan together.

I imagined it would be this perfect, but even my fantasies couldn’t prepare me for this moment, for last night, for all of it.  In a weird sense, it’s almost scary how perfect it is. 

It can’t be this perfect, can it?

I keep expecting to wake up.  But I’m not going to.  I start to smile and smile.

His hands move over me, up to my breasts which he cups and palms, playing with my nipples slightly before moving his hand back down to my hips.  We rock together slowly.  He lays back and enjoys it, pushing up slightly with his hips as I ride him.  Droplets of water are running down my body, my back and my breasts and stomach, all moving down in between to where we’re connected.  It’s a weird sensation but it feels so, so good.

I want to take my time.  I want it to last and last and go slow.  But I know time is not something we have.  And I know he really doesn’t need to be late for work.

I don’t want to be one of those girls, if…if I am his girlfriend or if I get to that point, I don’t want to be clingy and hog him.  I don’t want him to think that he has to clear everything with me first.

But I do cling to him now.  I lean down against him because he’s so deep, so…so deep and it’s too intense.  I press my cheek against his shoulder and he turns his head and claims my lips, his hands spread on my ass, pulling me, pushing me down, making me fuck him.  His hips start to move fast.  Holding me still as he fucks me.

God…

I pull away and stare in his eyes, breathing him in.  “Sh-shit…”

He smirks at me and I know the game he’s playing.  He’s forgotten about work and he’s trying to work me out too well.

Well this is my show now and since he was so willing to control me and get under me in the shower, I’m gonna keep him under me now. I want to be in control.  I have to prove to myself that I can try and control myself around him.

This will be a challenge.  I push myself up, spread my legs wider and put my hands on his chest.  Yes, yes this is my show.  I push myself up and down on him, slow at first, finding my pace, trying to not let the intense feeling, the fact that his penis, slightly curved is slamming into my spot every time.

I suck in deep breaths and close my eyes, knowing if I look at him I’ll lose it.  I concentrate on his body in mine.

I hear him groan out loud and I smile to myself.  Yes, I’m in control of him now.  I work my body over him again and again, pulsating on him quickly as I feel his hands grip my hips so tightly. I know his fingers will leave marks in my skin.

“You like when I ride you?”  I ask him in a whisper, feeling sexy, feeling powerful.

He bites his lip and nods.  And then it comes to his face, a cocky little smirk.  And he says, “Yes,” to me and then I feel it, and I hear it and it vibrates and makes my core spasm.

He smacks his hand against my ass and I lean forward a little against him in shock, in pleasure, amazed that he just…he…he just smacked my ass!  It wasn’t hurtful, just a small, firm smack.  He holds my ass in his hands and grabs it, clutches it and starts thrusting into me wildly.

Shit, shit...fucking shit how did this happen?  I…I was in control and now, suddenly, he’s fucking me like crazy and all I can do is lean over him and hold my body in position for him to piston into me.  All I can do is lay here as he fucks me with my mouth open and my eyes squinted shut at the feeling.

Oh god, it feels so…so…shit he’s smacking into me, not just his hand now, but his dick, his whole body.  I feel his one hand leave my ass. His hand delves into my wet hair, dripping down against my breasts and back, the cold water slipping down my spine over my ass and in between, causing a weird, cooling sensation against my hot core.  His hand pulls my face to his and he sucks my tongue into his mouth.

And he keeps my mouth there until he’s ready, until we both can’t take it anymore.  Every smacking thrust, every time his cock whips into me.  I try and hold onto the stripped jersey that’s pushed up to his chest now.  My cold, damp body is warming now, and is starting to be covered from a light layer of sweat. I can feel it on him too when our stomachs brush against each other.  Shit, we don’t have time to shower again.

Fuck…it doesn’t matter.  Nothing does.  Just his dick doing these incredible things to me.

More, I want more and more and more until I can’t handle it.  Until I explode.

Fuck, I can’t handle it.  I pull my mouth away from his wild kiss and in a high pitched tone I say his name and find myself gripping his shirt, biting down on the material by his shoulder

He groans deep from within his chest and I feel it, building and building until I can’t take it, every fucking deep thrust, every time he presses into my spot, too intense, too much, I can’t handle it.

And I fucking cum.  I cum all over his dick and body, shaking and biting and squealing into his shirt as I feel his dick go farther than anything has before into me. I feel like he goes all the way up, all the way up to my fucking stomach, spilling hot sticky cum in me. 

I’m a whore but I love how it feels, hot and slippery, coating me all deep and shit. I love him cumming inside of me.

I hold my body tightly above him as his dick keeps fucking up, deep, grinding, pressing continuously deeply inside of me as we jerk together.  We breathe and relax.

And then jerk again, coming down together, aftershocks making our bodies surge together.

It dies down quickly and soon I’m slunk against him, my ear against his chest, his heart beating rapidly and me trying to remember how to breathe.  He’s still in me and I feel mushy and know I have to get off him now, or I never will. Or I’ll just melt into him forever.

I roll myself away and sigh.

“Fuckin’ hell…”  He groans hoarsely and I cover my face in my hands.  I feel wobbly and warm and completely satisfied.  Yet oddly disappointed.

“That was a mistake.”  I say firmly.

He shifts a little and looks over at me, a face full of concern, worry, yet adorable, too. “It was?”

“Yes…” I sigh, smile at him, and then curl up on my side.  I run my fingers against his chest, pulling his shirt down against his torso from where I pulled it up.  “’Cause I thought it would satisfy me and make me ready to go to work.  And now…”  I lean in and kiss his lips briefly, “All I wanna do is crawl back under the covers with you.”

He stares at me. “If it weren’t today we would.”

I smile at him and he smiles at me. I curl up against him, my head tucked in his chest and I look down at his body. His penis is thumping with his heart beat and softening quickly, glistening with wetness.  It’s an odd sight to see and I find myself giggling to pieces at it.  I just made him cum. 

“Why you giggling?”  He says to me and I can’t stop myself.  I’m too happy, sad we have to leave, but happy that I got to be with him.

I want to be with him, not just this way but everyway.  I hope he knows that.  I really hope he knows that.  He sits up against me and pulls me up so that I’m sitting beside him, both our legs dangling over the end of his bed.  He leans in and kisses my lips sweetly, lingering before pulling back and running his hand over my head, “Come on…you need to get dressed and we need to get going.”

I know he’s right and as much as I hate it, I pull myself together and pull myself off the bed.  He pulls me back against him once he stands up and fixes his pants.  He hugs me.  It’s a strange gesture and I try not to read into it.  But I haven’t been hugged like this in a long time.  It feels good.  It feels like home.

And I don’t want that feeling to end.  And I know in less than an hour, my romp with him will end.  We’ll go our separate ways, him downstairs, me to my store…

And after that, I’m clueless.

Maybe this is it.  Maybe he just wanted a couple fucks out of me.

Maybe I’ve lost my mind.

Uncertainty clouds my mind as I watch him situate his clothes and I jump into my blue jeans.  Why do I feel this way?  Why did such a silly, perfect morning turn into this…awkward and quietness between us. Maybe it’s not awkward, maybe I’m just reading into everything.  He’s happy, it seems.  Quiet, but happy.  And my body feels wobbly and warm.

It’s a good feeling.  So why is my brain freaking out right now?

Maybe I’m trying to find something wrong with this picture, trying to find the flaw, because nothing this good has ever happened to me before. And now that I’ve gotten the man of my dreams, I’m unsure of the reality of it.

I know that somehow, some day, it’s all gonna come crashing down around me.  Like everything else.

It has too.  Nothing’s this good. 

Maybe I’ve gotten my hopes up.  Maybe he’s satisfied now, maybe that’s why he didn’t want to fuck me in the shower.  He was done with me. 

Maybe he’s done with me.

Shit.

I’m losing it.