I did beg off to grab a super quick shower before we ditch the stadium because I feel swampy after concerts, but I made it quick because goddamn. We miraculously score a cab and start getting handsy in the back while the driver rolls his eyes. Yeah, yeah, mister, damn kids. But you can’t tell me that if you had a woman like Jordan wanting to make out with you that you wouldn’t take every opportunity you got to do just that.

Not that I want to take advantage of her, at all. I’m pretty sure I’m not since she was the one who dragged me out of the stadium and into the car, but I want to make sure.

“Jordan—”

“Yeah?”

Apparently I’m so irresistible that she can’t take her mouth off me because when I broke our kiss, she moved to kissing my neck, and the movements of her tongue against my skin are making me desperate. Also horny as fuck, and trying my very best to concentrate because there really was something I was going to say. But with her hand grazing the waistband of my jeans, skimming under my shirt to slip over my skin—yeah, my brain is basically short-circuiting. Hell.

“Was there,” kiss, “something,” lick, “you wanted,” suck, “to ask me?” bite.

Was there? Yes, there fucking was. But my abs are basically convulsing with the way she’s touching me, I’m lightheaded and all I want is to get my hands on her. All over her. No, wait, that was close.

“Yes. We can go to my hotel if you don’t want me to go back to your place. I know some women aren’t cool with that, and I won’t be offended if you’d rather go back to my room.”

There’s a pause in the touching, the kissing, and the biting as she sits up and looks me in the face.

“Ange said I could trust you, that you were one of the good ones. Was she wrong?”

“No. Not at all. But sometimes it’s hard to ask for that stuff. I want you to feel good about whatever we do so if there’s ever something you don’t want to do, or you want me to stop, just say the word.”

“Okay. I’m not exactly shy, but I appreciate that. And you know if I told Ange anything different, she’d break your other wrist.”

I slap a hand over my eyes. “Aw, man, she told you about that?”

“You bet your ass she did.” I can’t see the smile on her face, but I can hear it in her voice. “She claimed it was an accident, but she’s probably only saying that for legal reasons.”

“Probably.”

Then Jordan’s moving my hand and I can see her face, looking like she’s gonna kiss me again. Oh, hey look, I’m right.

The rest of the cab ride flies by and I throw I don’t know how much money at the cabbie when we get out in front of a nice-looking building. It’s wide and kind of squat, but the big grey stones it’s made of look super solid, maybe cool to the touch.

Jordan sizes me up as she lets us in. “I hope those thighs aren’t just for show, I live in a third-floor walk-up.”

“For show? You wound me.” I clutch one of my pecs in mock offense. “I could carry two of you up these stairs and not break a sweat.”

She gives me a wrinkled-brow, oh-really look. “Not that I don’t think your gym regimen isn’t solid, but I bet we weigh in about the same. So you’ll forgive me if I don’t let you test that theory.”

A laugh escapes me, and I grin. “Fair. Should we race instead?”

“No. Jeez, what is with you? I thought I’d left the hyper-competitive people behind when I finished law school, but apparently not. Is everyone in LtG like this?”

It’s probably a hypothetical, but I need something to focus on besides her ass while we start our hike up to the top floor of the building. “Teague and Zane can be. Christian’s chill about most things, although you get that guy geeking out over electronica and he’ll wipe the floor with you. Nick…Nicky can be competitive but usually about getting attention, so it’s not about being the best. Hell, sometimes it’s about being the worst. Or sometimes the guy with the least clothes on in the most public place. He’s weird. And has a thing for nudity. But he and Zane are probably my best friends.”

We’ve reached the top landing, and Jordan opens her door with another key, letting us in.

“Do you have a roommate?”

Jordan kicks off her shoes and throws her head back to laugh. “Oh hell no. I have six brothers and sisters and my mom is a teacher at a boarding school so we lived in a small faculty apartment. As soon as I left home, I did whatever I had to so I could have my own space. Worked as an RA in college, tended bar while I was in law school. I’m never sharing a room with anyone else as long as I live.”

Something about that makes me feel defensive, or like I’ve got to stick up for myself. Like, not even me? Which is ridiculous. We’re hooking up. As long as she doesn’t dump me on the curb after I’ve provided an orgasm or two, it shouldn’t matter what her plans for the future are. We barely know each other.

Although I’d like to know her better. Like how exactly she prefers to have those orgasms I’m intent on giving her. If she tastes a fraction as good as she smells, I hope it’s with my mouth. That’s what I should be focusing on, not some offhanded and irrelevant comment.

Without her shoes on, she’s shorter than I am, and for some reason I find that endearing, which would probably make Jordan punch me. I don’t get the feeling she’d take kindly to anyone thinking of her as cute, but in her bare feet, walking down a narrow hallway with her hips swaying in a rhythm that’s both provocative and determined…but also short because apparently she’s tiny? Yeah, there’s no way I can think of her as not adorable. She could totally still kick my ass, but that just makes it even better.

I have to almost jog down the hall to catch up with her, and when I do, she’s turning into a bedroom with light purple walls, a dark wood sleigh bed and dark purple bedding. It’s pretty, and luxe, and it smells like her, and I like it a lot. There are pictures on the wall I’d take the time to look at except I’m definitely not here for sight-seeing. I’m here for getting it on.

She’s standing at the side of her bed, hands behind her and resting on the shiny purple fabric. I don’t know if she had the lighting in here designed to make her look extra amazing, but she does. Her near-black hair’s in a halo around her head, the overhead light shining through it, and either she put some kind of glitter on her cleavage or she’s sweating a little. Don’t care, either way it’s hot as hell, and all I want to do is bury my face in it. She’d have to sit on the bed for me to do that without me getting a crick in my neck. How high were those heels, anyway?

Stepping forward, I put my hands on her waist, feel the way her body curves under my hands. I don’t want any clothes between us, no matter how sexy those leather pants are, but I’ll wait for her to give me an indication that she wants to take this to the next level. She puts a hand around the back of my neck and drags me down to kiss, and we do that for a while, pressed together. Her hands explore me as mine are exploring hers, and I almost die when she slips a finger under the waistband of my underwear and just into the cleft of my ass. I haven’t done a ton of butt stuff, but I once dated a girl who would rub my hole while we fucked and that shredded my senses. Maybe Jordan would be into that? Maybe she’d want me to try that on her too?

But for as hungry as she seems, we’re not really…progressing. I mean, I’d kiss her all night and not be sorry about it—fucking well take a long shower and go through too much shower gel when I got back to the hotel room, but otherwise, that’d be fine. But she seems frustrated too.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?” She’s breathless, her eyes kind of wild, and her hands don’t stop roaming.

“Do you want to take this farther or are you good?”

She bites her lip, real hard, rolls her eyes in this kind of embarrassed way and drags her gaze from mine. “I want to, I’m just—”

“Not ready? That’s cool. Kissing is awesome. Touching you is awesome. All of this is awesome.”

“It’s…not that.”

“Then what is it?”

I cup her face in my hand, slide my thumb across her cheek that’s a pretty light brown lit with pink, willing her to look at me. Finally she does.

“I don’t do this all that often?”

“Do what?”

“Bring guys back to my place. I mean, I’ve had boyfriends and everything, it’s not like my apartment is a sex-free zone, but I don’t know you.”

Oh. I…can’t say anywhere near the same thing. I’ve slept with a lot of women, most of them only for a night. This is, if not standard, a regular occurrence for me.

“I get it. We don’t have to do anything. I like you and I think you’re sexy as hell and I would love to do whatever you’re up for, but seriously. More than I want to get into your pants, I want you to be happy.”

“That’s the thing, though. I…I want you, Benji. Really bad. And I would have no problem stripping you out of those clothes, throwing you on my bed and riding you—”

Fucking hell, I’d have no problem with that either.

“But I’m just not sure…how.”

“How?”

“Yeah, like I’m used to taking it slow and this isn’t what I’d call slow. I’m a little out of my depth.”

“You didn’t seem out of your depth in the green room.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “Yeah, well, that part was easy. But I’ve been trying to be better about taking what I want. About saying yes to things I’d normally say no to.”

“Why’s that?”

I don’t mind being a check mark on someone’s sex bucket list, but if that’s what this is then I’d like to brace myself. I wasn’t lying when I said I liked her. I do. A lot. And if I’m just a notch on her bedpost, well, I’ll try not to get invested. Any more than I already am anyway.

“Because in my business, no matter how good I am, and no matter how hard I work or my co-workers work, I watch people’s lives get torn apart every day. I used to use that as an excuse to be cautious, but with things the way they are…”

She shrugs, and I feel like she might be ripping my heart out. I knew she was tough, but I didn’t consider how mentally tough she must be to fight for these people and their families, and then lose. And keep fighting even though it happens over, and over, and over.

“I hate to say it, but I don’t see things getting better any time in the near future. I’m not saying it never will—it fucking well better—but right now, I want to grab everything with both hands and take it all.”

My chest hurts. I’ve admired Jordan since our first phone call when I didn’t even know who she was and now I know so much better. I want to give her a better world on a platter, and doing the concert will help AHI, but now I want to do something just for her. Which clearly involves taking off my clothes, which is what I do, after I pick her up by her hips and set her on the edge of her bed.

The guys sometimes give me shit for spending so much time working out, but right about now I’m regretting spending all that time lifting not at all. Jordan is looking at me like I’m the best thing she’s ever seen, and I hadn’t realized it until now, but I feel like I’ve done all of this for her. To see that look on her face, to watch her gaze run over every curve and swell I’ve worked so hard to build, god it makes me feel good.

“Holy shit.”

“What?”

Okay, now I’m kind of worried that I didn’t get all the sharpie off from when Nick snuck into my hotel room the other night and wrote ridiculously inappropriate things all over my chest. I probably should’ve been mad, but it had made me laugh too hard to get really pissed off. Had every time I got into the shower or took my shirt off. He knows I’ve been kinda worried about pulling this off and while Nick isn’t the best for, like, heart-to-hearts or whatever, he is good for a laugh. Probably the best.

But no, Jordan doesn’t look like she’s about to bust out laughing, she looks like she can’t believe her eyes.

“What?”

She blinks at my demand and then her gaze comes up to meet mine. “This is going to sound weird, but I’ve seen pictures of you almost naked—”

I have to smirk, because, yeah she has. A whole bunch of the free world has. I don’t like being in my birthday suit as much as Nicky—I don’t think anyone does—but I don’t mind it. I sweat my ass off for this body, may as well show it off. “And?”

“And I don’t know what kind of camera they were using but you look like a million times better in person.”

That’ll do an ego good. I maybe flex a little to flatter my build even more.

Jordan looks me up and down, isn’t even shy about drinking me down like I’m a tall glass of water. Then she bites her lip. “Hey, would you do something for me?”

“Like what?”

“Naked push-ups?”

The laugh shoots out of my mouth before I can stop it. Naked push-ups?

“That’s what you want, huh? You’ve got a naked rock star in front of you and you want me to do calisthenics?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

She crosses her legs and bites her knuckle, and hell, I’d do anything for her. Swear her fealty or give her a kidney or whatever. So a few push-ups in the buff? Sure, why not. And maybe once she’s gotten an eyeful and I’ve proved my stamina, she’ll be interested in a different way to get sweaty.

I shrug, and then drop to the floor. I’ve never done push-ups with a hard-on before and it turns out that my dick grazes the floor every time I sink down. It doesn’t hurt, but it sure as hell isn’t as enjoyable as I’d imagine sinking into Jordan would be. Will be? I don’t want to assume anything, but she said she wants me and I want her. I’ve done about twenty when there’s a slow clap from the bed.

“Damn. I enjoyed that even more than I thought I would. But now I want you up here.”

I’m only too glad to get on my feet and then slide a hand under Jordan’s top knee and unhook the cross of her legs to step between them. And then we’re kissing again and her hands are roaming every inch of my skin, grasping, gripping, digging in. I moan into her mouth and press against her. Not to try to convince her of going any further than she wants but because I can’t help it.

A girl wearing leather pants while I’m naked isn’t the most comfortable thing I’ve ever experienced—might have to back off before it starts to chafe around some delicate areas, but if it makes her comfortable, turns her on? I’m game.

Then she’s grabbing my ass and lying back, dragging me over and shifting so we’re completely on the bed. I like being this close to her, our bodies in contact from our mouths to our toes.

I put all my weight into the left side of my body, leaving my right hand free to roam, and I let it, up her ribcage, and use my thumb to skim the underside of her breast. She squirms underneath me and presses her hips against mine, so I do it again, but this time letting my thumb brush over her nipple, which hardens almost immediately. And the idea of not being able to take that pert bud into my mouth is too much to take so I tug at the low neckline of her shirt, giving her a chance to object, but she arches up in a way that feels like encouragement so I pull until the fabric is bunched up under her breast and all that stands between me is some black lacy confection of a bra. That’s good enough for now.

Dipping my head, I surround her nipple with my mouth and tongue the hard nub while cupping her breast with my hand, and hell, she feels amazing. I love the way she writhes underneath me and weaves her fingers into my hair, pulls my head in further so I take her cue, laving her areola and closing my teeth around the lace and her skin until she gasps, and then I suck.

Then some lace almost goes up my nose because she’s tugging down the cup of her bra and then encouraging me to take her nipple back in my mouth which I do oh-so-willingly. Her skin is smooth and soft, and her breast overflows my hand. I shift my weight to the right so that while I give oral attention to this side, I can work her other side with my hand.

Her shirt stretches and nests against the band of her bra, and I push the cup down too, letting my fingertip trace over the smooth areola until it gathers and hardens and then I gently roll her nipple between my knuckles and she likes that.

Her “yes, Benji, fuck that feels good,” tells me so.

I shift again to suck on the side I’ve been working with my fingers, and this time slide a hand down her stomach to the snap and zip of her pants. It’s only to ask “Okay?” before I undo them that can get me to separate myself from her skin.

And when she says yes, I don’t hesitate. Pop goes the snap and there’s the unmistakable sound of a zipper, and then I’m met with panties that sure as hell match her bra. The pattern in the lace is the same, I can tell from even the small patch I can see. And I don’t stop there, oh no, I slip my hand inside her underwear and find her clit, and she gasps.

“What do you like, Jordan? Circles? Up and down? Back and forth? Little pinch? Tell me. I want to make you come, so tell me how.”

My blood is beating in my ears, the rhythm of desire, and I feel feverish with want. To touch her, to please her, to make her say my name. Her flesh is slick and needy and she’s practically vibrating underneath me. It’s enough to make a guy dizzy—to have reduced a powerful woman like this to a gasping pile of girl jelly.

“You’re gonna need more room, there’s too much…pressure.”

Easy enough. I mean, her leather pants take a little work for me to peel her out of because they’re like a second skin, but she shimmies to help and that makes my mind go blank. Her hips, those thighs; she’s soft and lush and gorgeous and I want to cover every inch of her with kisses. And as pretty as her underwear are, I strip those off too.

I lie back down beside her and touch her again, one hand between her legs and one brushing a stray spring of hair back from her face. She’s got this incredible volume of hair that’s spread out all over the pillow around her head and it’s like a sunburst. She’s so bright and beautiful I almost have to look away. But I’m desperate for her heat, her pretty voice with that barely-there lilt, and hell, anything she’ll let me have, so I kiss her instead. Not a long lingering thing, because I want to get back to what I was about before, but long enough to taste her.

“Okay, I have more room now.” And I do, because she’s let her legs fall open and I’m exploring her with my fingers. It’s all I can do to keep from slipping a finger inside her, but not yet.

“Circles. Small ones.”

That I can do. Dudes are easy, but I swear, every time I get a girl off, it’s like an accomplishment. And I’ve still got more to learn about Jordan, because she shifts in a way that doesn’t read as “aw, yeah, baby, that’s right,” but more, “erm, nice try, but not quite.”

“Faster? Slower?”

She lets out a breathy laugh and it’s like faraway windchimes in my ears. Perfect. “I can just show you, might be easier than playing a game of hot and cold sex.”

Then her hand is over mine, her fingers lining up as well as they can although she has smaller hands than I do—probably too small to even reach an octave on a piano. But she knows how to play herself, and me too, because this is hot as hell. After a few minutes, her muscles tense and her breathing gets faster, more staccato, and she’s pressing her hips up to where our hands are joined in giving her pleasure, and then I feel it. And hear her.

Her muscles squeeze and pulse, and her abs contract, all of her tightens up as she presses her head back, and closes her eyes. Her words are unintelligible, or maybe they’re just sounds, but whatever they are, she’s clearly enjoying herself. And almost as soon as it begins, it’s over and she’s lying there beside me, panting, while still pressing our fingers to her clit, eking out every last bit of her climax. Which, get it girl. Every last drop.

She laughs again, rolls her head side to side. Finally looks up at me with her luminous eyes and smiles.

“I think you might be better at that than playing the keyboard.”

I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. “Oh yeah? Well, what about the keytar? Because that’s the real yardstick.”

She wrenches her mouth to the side and squints one eye. Then sucks air through her teeth just to really drive her point home. “I don’t know about you. But you could up your performance score if we fuck. Probably. Unless you’re one of those guys who can’t last. Then you’d probably have to go down on me before we fucked if you wanted a chance.”

Apparently her orgasm has loosened her up some, rid her of every ounce of nerves that had been creeping up and I’m not sorry. Jordan is really fucking sexy.

“Let me tell you that I am great at ladyhead. People call me the cunnilingus king—”

She snorts. “No one calls you that.”

Which is true, but I like making her laugh, so I keep up the gag. “Yeah they do, haven’t you seen it in the gossip rags? Benji Park, Pussy Licker Extraordinaire, happens to be taking time out of his busy schedule of going down to play a show, or whatever. You know those moves in Magic Mike? I can do that shit, but with only my tongue.”

She’s now full on giggling and it fills me up, makes me happy even as my dick aches because I’ve been hard long enough that like those commercials say, I should probably head to the ER if I don’t get some relief. A shower so I can get myself off would do if she doesn’t want to fuck.

“Well, I don’t know if I can handle that right now, so why don’t you save that until later? And for now, I’d really like to ride you like I said I would.”

If a guy’s ever gotten on his back faster than I do, he’d be a blur. Meanwhile, Jordan’s stripping off her shirt and unhooking her bra, and then reaching over to her bedside table and pulls out a strip of condoms, rips one off the end and tears it open. I almost die when she takes me in hand, gives me a few strokes before rolling the latex over me. Not that I don’t enjoy foreplay, because I totally do, but I’d really like to be inside her yesterday so I don’t mind that we get right down to it.

She straddles me and the view I have of her is incredible. Her breasts are magnificent. They’re big and tipped with thick brown nipples that are just begging for—something. Anything. To be squeezed or rolled or sucked. I can’t yet, because she’s rising up over me, and then sinking down onto my cock and holy shit, that is incredible.

I grab ahold of her thighs and have to bite my lip and close my eyes, because I don’t want to be the guy I just promised I wasn’t. I have to last long enough for her to get off again. Which is not going to be easy because she starts to move, rocking back and forth, and she’s tight and warm and when she gets to rocking, her breasts practically bounce into my face.

Maybe it makes me a horny, brainless dude, but that is so fucking hot that my brain is about to explode. And when she leans down and grips the headboard, I don’t know what to do with myself. It’s a good thing she has ideas.

“Suck,” she instructs me, and I do while she rides me, with my hands gripping her ass and pressing into her flesh to enjoy the rhythm and hang on for dear life because I’m ready, so ready, but I want her to come first. Told her I could get her there, so dammit, I will.

And then she’s pressing back hard, driving my cock into herself and rubbing her clit on my pelvis, and fuck, oh fuck, I really hope she’s going to climax soon because I’m about to blow.

A hand on my shoulder, a slap to my thigh that surprises me, and then I feel her. That gentle pulsing around my dick, like it’s pulling me even further into her until there’s nowhere else for me to go and holy shit, it’s like her body is just begging for me to come. I let her nipple go and urge her down so I can kiss her. Have our tongues tangle as she rocks out her orgasm on me and as I spill in her with her breasts pressed against my chest. Damn, goddamn does she feel incredible.

In the morning, I wake up in Jordan’s bed. Alone. There’s no pocket of leftover warmth like she just got up and I hope I didn’t snore loud enough to keep her awake. But it’s possible because when I’m super wiped like after a concert and a night of some of the best sex I’ve ever had, I wouldn’t be surprised if I was chain-sawing it.

There’s a lamp on this side, so I turn it on and there’s a piece of paper on the nightstand. She left me a note, and her script is rounded and smooth, just like her.

Benji,

Thanks for last night. It was incredible. Although I’ll reserve my judgment for whether you’re better at sex or keytar until after I get to experience the King. I had to be up early to get into the office—putting on the concert ate up some of my time I should’ve been working. No regrets, but that means I’ll have to wait until we’re in the same place again for you to buy me breakfast. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen and lock the door on your way out.

~J

It’s cute but kind of…abrupt? I mean, I don’t know what I was expecting, because it’s not like we live in the same place, and what was she going to do, sign it with fucking hearts or hugs and kisses? But…something besides wanting to hook up again at some indeterminate time might’ve been nice. That’s not fair, though. She’s got a ton on her plate and I’m just as busy although with stuff that isn’t as life-altering as what Jordan does, so I should shut my face.

I use her bathroom and put on my pants to head out to the kitchen, rummage until I find some cereal to chow on before I head back to the hotel where I can work out and then get a real breakfast. I’ve been avoiding my phone since I don’t want to feel anything but awesome about my hook-up last night and I’m not quite ready for the shit the guys will give me. Well, at least Nick will. Zane and Christian and Teague will probably have been too busy with their own sex to care.

Shockingly, I’ve got a few texts from Nick that make me roll my eyes. If I didn’t know that deep down he’s a really good guy who would do just about anything for anyone who needs help, I’d think he was kind of an asshole. But I know better so I take some of his less charming habits with a grain of salt. Plus, I’ll smack him upside the head when I get back.

There’s also a text from Jordan, and that one’s got me far more curious. I click it open and smile when there’s a picture of her. She’s holding a to-go coffee cup and wearing one of those knitted newsboy caps. It’s enough to start giving me ideas all over again because she’s so frigging cute I can’t stand it. Also, I know exactly what’s underneath that robin’s egg blue sweater and it’s enough to make me bite my fist.

Usually I don’t look so good after a late night, and I still need my caffeine, but it was so worth it. That glow is all you. I was maybe a little coy in my note, but I remembered I’m not doing that anymore. I like you, and I’d like to see you again. I don’t do much travel outside of Chicago and DC because I’m so busy with work but let me know the next time you’re in town. We’ll make something happen.

Suddenly, my Honey Nut Os taste a whole lot sweeter. And I’ve got hopes that this isn’t a one off for either one of us. I mean, hell, we’ll be in touch no matter what because she’s dragged me into this immigration activism thing, but that’s one of the things I like about Jordan. Her passion in all things. And if I can do anything to help her—whether that be some seriously excellent oral sex or fundraising for her cause—then I’m going to do it.

Will do, I’m at your service, and hell yeah we will. And Idk what you’re on about, you look damn good to me. Until next time. B