“I’M SORRY, SIR. I understand that you have a booking, but there’s nothing I can do. We’re booked to capacity and your table simply isn’t ready yet. It’s Christmas.” The maître d’ shrugged then ended the conversation by picking up the telephone that hadn’t stopped ringing since we’d arrived at the restaurant over an hour ago.

“This is ridiculous,” Jude seethed.

I took him by the hand. “Let’s just go. We can eat anywhere. It doesn't have to be some fancy restaurant. I’m happy just to spend time with you.”

“Yes but—” he paused, his fingers entwining with mine. “—you look so beautiful tonight.” His eyes travelled down my fifties-styled dress that had a fitted bodice and full skirt. I’d pinned my curls up in a stylised mess and applied a slash of bold red lipstick that the girl at the cosmetics counter had assured me wouldn’t kiss off. “I don’t want you to waste all this effort on some random café, or worse, a fast food joint. And this...” He pressed his lips together then sighed.

“What?”

“I wanted tonight to be special, because it’s our first official date.”

My lips curved upward. “You’re adorable.”

“I assure you, I’m not.” He dropped his head a little, blushing.

“You are. You’re sentimental and it’s adorable. You can’t take it back now.”

‘You’re making me sound like a puppy.”

“I love puppies.”

He laughed then turned to the door. “Come on, then. Let’s go and find somewhere that will actually feed us.”

Hand in hand, we walked along the busy city street, past restaurants and cafés all teeming with people. As we rounded a corner, the glass door from one of the historic Sydney pubs pushed open and a couple fell out of it, laughing at each other, obviously intoxicated.

“Sorry,” the man slurred before squinting and taking a closer look at Jude. “Don’t I know you?”

“I don't think so.”

“I do,” he argued. “I do. You work upstairs in accounting, right? You collect the time sheets?”

Jude frowned and tried to tell him he was wrong but the guy wasn’t hearing it.

“Yeah, it is you. Carl, right? What are you doing out here? The party’s on the inside.” He pulled the door open and I noticed a sign that said the pub was closed due to some big-name law firm’s Christmas party. The sounds of raucous laughter floated out to the street and I could see waiters circulating with trays laden with food. The smell caused my stomach to growl.

“Come on, Carl,” I said, elbowing him lightly in the side. “Looks like fun in there.”

“Yeah, go on, Carl,” the guy joined in. “We won’t be long. Just grabbing a quick smoke.”

Jude hesitated until I pressed a hand on his back and said, “Live a little. Karma gives rewards too.”

“Which department do you work in?” a guy with a red nose and round belly asked as he gulped from an almost empty stein. His eyes shone brightly from intoxication.

“He’s Carl,” I slurred, a half-drunk glass of vodka, lime, and soda in one hand as I finished off some sort of chicken skewer in the other. The bar was completely open and everyone, including Jude and me, were taking advantage of it.

“Carl?”

I nodded, placing the empty stick and glass on the nearest tray. “You know Carl, everyone knows Carl.” I slapped him playfully on the chest and laughed.

“Oh, of course.” He laughed uneasily then Jude and I moved on, finding our way to the dance floor where a band was covering every rock song from the eighties and beyond. The place was thumping.

I was a hot mess, dancing with my arms above my head, singing along when it suited me. It had taken Jude a little while to loosen up, but once I’d pulled the ‘you know Carl’ comment out a few times and we’d gotten away with it, he relaxed. He even got into the role a little.

“I’m not sure I’ve seen you before,” a blonde had said to him at the bar.

“Which department do you work for?” he’d asked.

“I’m on Gareth’s team.”

“Oh,” Jude said. “Then I’m on the opposite side of the office to you.”

“You work for Helen?”

“Helen. That’s right.”

“I hear she’s a real ball-breaker.”

Jude’s shrug was back. “I don’t really like to call her that. I prefer to think that she just expects high-quality work from us. And with what we’re getting paid, I think that’s pretty fair. Know what I mean?”

And that’s how things went. We worked the room seamlessly, always asking questions before answering so we could easily explain why we were there. We ate, we drank, we danced, and we laughed until our sides hurt.

It wasn’t until we actually met Carl from accounts that our story unravelled. We tried to tell him that Jude was a different Carl who was on Helen’s team. But that just caused him to go and ask Helen if she knew us. Which she obviously didn’t.

“Our cover’s blown. Abort, abort!” I yelled over the music.

Hand in hand, we pushed through the crowd, bursting out onto the sidewalk and running down the street, our laughter echoing in our wake. Darting around a corner, we stopped, out of breath, before we looked back to make sure we weren’t being followed.

“That was crazy.” Jude laughed, his hand against the wall I was leaning on. He looked down at me, his eyes dancing, his chest heaving. It had been so long since I’d done anything outside the realm of the working mother. Jude brought out the fun-loving girl in me. It felt so good to get up to some harmless mischief, and my cheeks were hurting from smiling.

“But it was fun, right?”

He nodded, shifting a little closer to me. “Incredibly.” Then his fingers brushed lightly against that place where my jaw met my neck. Tendrils of delight curled through my body as I saw the intensity in his eyes.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured.

“So are you.” I smiled, then his lips brushed against mine.

Drunken hands and stumbling feet, we practically fell through the door to his apartment. Twirling along the wall, knocking into bookshelves. Laughing. Kissing. Touching. Pushing at clothes.

With clumsy fingers, I unbuttoned his shirt, my hands searching for skin. He pulled the strap of my dress down my arm and ran his teeth along my shoulder. I moaned then pulled at his shirt, hearing at least two buttons hit the floor.

“I’ll fix that.” I giggled, running my hands over his chest and feeling the light smattering of hair on toned skin. He had the body of a runner.

“I’ll buy a new one,” he responded, pulling down the zip in the back of my dress and splaying his fingers against the soft skin of my back. He pulled me against him, pressing his arousal against my stomach as we landed against his bedroom door.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” I asked when he hesitated, his breathing ragged as he pressed his forehead against mine.

“I don’t want to do this just because we’ve been drinking.”

I moved my hands upward, pushing his shirt off his shoulders so it slid down his arms. “We’re not. We’re doing this because we’ve had a wonderful night and we really like each other.”

His fingers moved lightly against my skin. “Like?”

“Do you want more from me?”

“I do,” he admitted.

Wriggling slightly, I let my dress drop to the floor. “Then take it.”

I saw the desire in his eyes and the hesitation in his brow; he was caught between wanting and waiting. And I, I was simply wanting. For once, I had a clear mind. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the circumstances. But I didn’t have a shred of doubt. I wanted the man standing in front of me.

“Take me to your bed, Jude.”

Reaching back, I turned the handle of the door, our weight pushing it open. I watched his eyes shift to look over my shoulder at the bed awaiting us, then I pushed his shirt the rest of the way down his arms, pressing kisses to his chest as my hands went down to his belt, working the buckle.

“I want you, Jude,” I whispered, undoing his button and then his zip. My hand slid past the waistband and I discovered that he was a boxers—not a briefs—man.

“Sarah,” he gasped, his voice thick, wavering as I wrapped my hand around his shaft, noting how it fit in my hand and how the length of it matched the rest of him.

“Jude.”

He moaned softly as my lips brushed across his chest and up his neck, my hand moving back and forth along his shaft. There was an ache between my legs, a swelling in my breast, and craving within my belly.

He wanted more. This was the more I could give.

Lowering to my knees, I released his length and took him into my mouth, my tongue tasting the saltiness at the tip. I hummed, the aching in my own sex growing in intensity as I sucked and swirled. His hips began to sway. His arms lifted and his hands braced against the door frame. The sounds of his moans, the knowledge that he was coming undone, did things to me. It made me feel powerful. It made me feel wanton. It made me feel desirable.

“Sarah,” he gasped, his hands going to my hair, gripping a little tighter as he fucked my mouth. Then he growled and fisted my hair, stopping my movement before tilting my head upward. I met his eyes. “Get on the bed.”

The command caused my insides to clench and I did as he asked, walking backwards as I kept my eyes on his, getting off on the dark desire I saw there. He was over me as I slid back onto the soft mattress, almost like a predator and his prey. He kissed me with a force he hadn’t used before, yet it included soft moans and probing tongues. My head spun as my body floated on a cloud of desire.

He slid down my body, his hands pulling at the cups of my bra, tugging them downward before palming my breasts. His fingers found my already erect nipples and squeezed. Then he took one in his mouth and sucked back, hard. My back arched, my legs wrapping around him.

“Please,” I said.

Sitting back, he hooked his fingers into the black lace of my underwear and freed my body of the tiny slip of material. He hummed lightly, a pleasurable sound made as he slid his fingers through the curls on my mound then up until he reached the space between my breasts. Then he pressed his fingertips against my skin and dragged them back down, over my stomach until he touched my mound once more. “You are exquisite,” he said, kneeling between my thighs, his naked arousal standing to attention as he held it in his other hand.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, showing me a condom that I wasn’t sure at what point he procured. But I was drunk and horny and all I could do was want that man to push inside me.

“I’m sure,” I said. “Please.” I was begging. In that moment I felt as though I needed to get off more than I ever had in my life. The tension coiled inside me was set to explode. I needed him to flip the trigger.

Rolling the condom down his shaft, I bit my bottom lip as I watched on hungrily. I could feel my insides pulsing with anticipation and I opened my legs for him—completely without shame—then moaned as his tip pushed into my opening.

“Oh God, yes.”

As he filled me, he hissed through his teeth then pulled back out. I whimpered at the loss then gasped when he took a hold of his dick and used the tip to tease me. Back and forth he moved it, sliding between my entrance and my clit.

I was up on my elbows, watching the display, my teeth pressing into my lip. It had been so long since I’d done this—since I’d desired someone that I’d wanted it to last longer. But I was so close and he was so good, so beautiful to watch, so perfect in his touch…

My body tipped over the edge, my orgasm tearing through me. “Holy shit!”

The moment my hips bucked, Jude thrust inside me, pumping back and forth with a vigour that kept my climax going until he reached his, bodies slapping, hips grinding, nails digging.

I couldn’t stop the sounds from escaping my mouth, didn’t care who overheard my moans. I just wanted to be fucked. I wanted to lose myself in the frenzy. And I wanted to come, again and again.

That’s exactly what I got. In several different positions. Until we ran out of condoms and energy, and fell asleep in a tangled mess, laughing because, well, we were drunk and fucking was fun. Actually, to amend that. Fucking was monumentally fun with my handsome and sexy Brit. Who would have guessed he’d be a sex god too?