Anna
An hour ago, I was standing outside, terrified that my lawyer would be a dick to me.
As it turns out, he’s not a dick, but he offered me his, and I accepted.
And now I’m riding his face, grinding on his lips, chasing the orgasm I was promised.
Somehow, sex has never felt as good as it feels right now. I’ve never been as turned on, as aroused, as I am in this moment, and I sort of don’t want it to ever end.
I should be embarrassed to be doing this, to be rubbing myself all over his mouth, but I’m not. It feels too good, and I’m close. I’m close to coming, close to having the best orgasm of my life. I can feel it bubbling up inside of me.
And then it hits me.
I let go of the headboard as I come, sinking onto him, but Oliver is ready. He grips my hips and holds me firmly in place as the waves of pleasure roll over me. He doesn’t let go of me until I’m completely sated, until my orgasm is finished, until I’m completely exhausted.
Then he moves me to me back and he lies next to me, touching me.
“That was sexy as fuck,” he says.
“I’m glad you liked it.”
He kisses me, and I taste myself on his lips, but I don’t mind. He strokes my body with his hands, kissing me, teasing me, until I’m ready to go again.
“I’ve never felt anything like that before,” I admit, and I’m not sure why I’m telling him. Usually, I’m a closed book during sex. I don’t like to ask for what I want. I’ve found that being demanding is a much more effective way to get what I need, what I crave. When you ask, you make yourself vulnerable. The other person might say “no” and then you’ll feel embarrassed, hurt.
Demanding, though, is a sure way to get what you need.
No feelings involved.
There are no hearts there, no emotions.
Today I did something new, though, just for Oliver. I did it because he asked me to, because he said I would like it, and there’s a part of me that trusts him. I can’t pinpoint why I feel this way, exactly. Why do I feel so much trust in the arms of a stranger? That’s what he is, really. He’s a stranger to me. I only met him an hour ago and we’re already naked together. He’s already witnessed me at most vulnerable and now, I’m being even more open with him.
It’s a strange feeling, but it also feels right.
He feels right.
What is happening to me?
“You looked beautiful,” he tells me. “You looked so damn sexy, Anna. I loved how you dropped down on my face when you came, how you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore.”
“I was a little worried I’d hurt you,” I whisper.
“No, you were sexy, fantastic. I can’t wait to do it again,” he says, and he looks a little surprised when he says it out loud. I think we both thought this would be a one-off thing, but even though Oliver looks surprised he admitted he wants me again, he doesn’t seem scared or embarrassed.
Interesting.
“Me too,” I whisper, and then his mouth crashes onto mine. His fingers move between my legs again, touching me, rubbing me, and then he’s on top of me, readying himself.
“Are you ready for me, human? Because I don’t think I can wait another moment to sink inside of you.”
“I’m ready, Oliver,” I whisper, and as he kisses me, he thrusts inside of me, filling me. “Oh my dragons,” I groan. “You feel incredible.”
“You’re so damn tight,” he murmurs.
“I do my best.”
“Well, your best is fucking incredible.”
He kisses me, touching me, running his hands over me as he makes love to me because somewhere, somehow, this changed from being a fast fuck to being sweet, intimate, and Oliver can’t seem to keep his paws off of my body.
Soon, he starts fucking me faster, harder, and the pressure begins to grow inside my body once more. He’s going to give me that second orgasm, as promised, but somehow, right now, all that matters is that it’s with him.
Somehow, all that matters is we’re locked in this moment together.
“Come for me, beautiful,” he whispers, biting my ear, and that’s all it takes. One word from Oliver, and I’m putty in his hands.
I come apart.
My orgasm washes over me in waves and I cling to him as I cry out. I cling to him in this moment, holding onto him like he’s the only thing that matters, like he’s the only one who can keep me from being washed to sea.
And then he bites my ear.
“I can’t hold back any longer,” he purrs. “I’m going to come in you, Anna Donovan.”
“Please,” I whisper, panting. “Please come in me. Please.”
And then he does.
I feel him pulsing inside of me. His eyes close as his own orgasm takes hold of his body, filling him with pleasure, with ecstasy. I hold onto him: one hand on his back, one on his face.
And then it’s over.
He slides off of me and rests next to me, keeping one hand on my belly. He looks at me and my heart swells. He’s looking at me like I’m beautiful, like I’m incredible, like he can’t quite believe what just happened between us.
“Wow,” I murmur.
“That was lovely. You were lovely.”
“I could say the same, tiger.”
“I like it when you call me that.
“Tiger?”
“Yeah.”
“Nobody else calls you that?”
“No,” he shakes his head. “They call me lion.”
“Because of your name.”
“Because people like to fuck with me.”
“You mean your colleagues.”
“Everyone,” he says, and I get the distinct feeling that Oliver is sharing something important with me, something he doesn’t tell people very often. I get the feeling that he’s confiding in me, and I’m not really sure why except that there seems to be this strange rope of trust between us.
There’s something tugging us together, holding us in place, and I have the feeling that nothing is going to be able to tear us apart. It’s a strange feeling, and it’s one I’m not entirely comfortable with.
The word mates floats through my head, but that’s a shifter fairytale.
Mates aren’t real, no matter how much people say they are, no matter how much people like to pretend they are.
No, what happened between me and Oliver was a spur-of-the-moment choice between two consenting, informed adults.
It wasn’t because we’re destined to be together.
It wasn’t fate.
It couldn’t be.