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I Lost His Number

By: redskyes



Disclaimer: All characters are over eighteen years of age. This story contains gratuitous drama and inordinate amounts of sex that never result in chafing.

Editing credit: Blind_Justice

Copyright © 2012 redskyes

Prologue

Kyle and I had been dating for just over a year. His firm had two offices, one in Houston, where I lived, and the home office in Rockport. Kyle frequently bounced between them, but we managed to find time for each other. We were introduced by our coworkers at a party after our partnered firms won a lawsuit. But things were starting to get stale. I was pretty sure it was my fault. I’m not outgoing, not confident, and I’m definitely not what you’d call exciting. Our sex life was fine, but that’s all. Kyle had all but told me that he was bored, but something was missing for me too. Don’t get me wrong, Kyle was an attentive lover, but more often than not, I’d wait until he fell asleep and sneak into the bathroom to find the release that almost always evaded me when I was with him. It was a problem that, historically speaking, was not limited to Kyle.

When we first met, Kyle practically worshipped me, but these days, I saw him stealing furtive glances at other girls more and more frequently. We didn’t talk into the late hours of the night, like we used to, and we didn’t flirt anymore. We just kind of meandered about through our relationship, sometimes crashing at his apartment or my house, growing more and more distant over time, more complacent. It felt like things were almost over between us, and maybe they should have been, but I was comfortable, and compared to the fear of throwing myself out into the dating world again and risk being crushed, like I’d been before Kyle came along, Kyle was the safe choice.

I needed to try to save us, try something, anything, and if that necessitated coming out of my shell, as Melanie liked to say, then so be it.

Kyle’s birthday was coming up, and I wanted to do something special for him, something to put the spark back in our lives, something to convince him that I was worth sticking around for. I hadn’t let on anything to Kyle. He had no idea what I was planning for him. Of course, neither did I, and that’s why I called my sister, Melanie.

“Hey, sweetie!” she answered the phone with her typical bubbly charm. “How’s my big sister?”

I chuckled, rummaging through the drawers in my bathroom, looking for my favorite lipstick. “You know I’m only fifteen months older than you, right?”

“So? I’ve always looked up to you. You know that,” she told me.

I smiled, having found my lipstick. Sure, it’s only Covergirl, but Ruby Slipper looks fantastic with my hair and complexion.

“Never understood that, Mel,” I replied, glancing at the mirror.

The mirror may as well have been a window, with my sister on the other side of the glass. We were nearly identical in appearance. Both of us had burnt-red hair that fell past our shoulders, hazel eyes, light skin, and we were the exact same height at five-foot-four. Melanie and I got all of our looks from our mother, who was Czechian through and through. Dad had been an international broker when he met her on an overseas trip. It was love at first sight for them.

“What’s to understand?” Melanie asked.

Melanie was definitely the outgoing one of the two of us. I like to say I’m reserved. Melanie likes to say I’m a wallflower. There was some truth to that, I had to admit.

“Well, you’re just so…” I began, trying to find the right words. “You’re confident, I guess.”

She was also pretty self-centered, if I was being completely honest, living in a bubble where she was completely unaware of the feelings of those around her. But she was my sister, and my best friend, and I knew she loved me, so I’d never tell her that.

“And you’re not?” she said doubtfully.

“Not like you,” I chuckled, applying my lipstick and smacking my lips.

“Yeah, I don’t get that, Lyd. I mean, we’re practically twins.”

I dabbed my lips with a tissue. “And?”

“I’m fucking gorgeous.”

“And not vain in the slightest,” I rolled my eyes at my reflection in the mirror.

Melanie laughed. “My point is that aside from the birthmark on my butt, you’re a spitting image of me.”

She was right, for the most part. Our eyes weren’t the exact same shape. When standing side by side, you could see that Melanie’s eyes were just a touch bigger than mine. Other than that, the little heart-shaped mark on her right butt cheek was the only thing to differentiate us, and it was a really tiny mark.

I always thought Melanie was beautiful, even perfect. Standing there looking in the mirror, I saw her plain as day. But I didn’t feel beautiful, not like she did.

“You turn heads just as much as I do,” Melanie added.

“Looks go only so far, Mel,” I replied, frowning into the mirror. True, I could turn heads just as well as Melanie, but I couldn’t keep the attention like she could. “Anyway, that’s actually why I’m calling. Kyle’s birthday is this Saturday, and I want to do something fun.”

“Oh?” she said, sound intrigued. “As in ‘golly-gee, Scrabble sure is swell’? Or more like ‘yeah, that’s it baby, right there’?”

Here’s the thing. When Melanie thinks fun, she thinks naughty. When I think fun, I think of scrapbooking. I had a good job as a paralegal. The people I worked with were more friends than just coworkers. My boss, Jeremy, was wonderful to work for. I had a nice car, a small but adorably cute house with a swimming pool out back. I was healthy, fit, and if I believed Melanie, sexy as hell. But, I was thirty-two years old, unmarried, and I could count on one hand the number of relationships I’ve had, without using my thumb.

My reflection blushed. “Actually, the latter.”

“Lydia Jane Stafford, it’s about time!” Melanie squealed.

“Mel, I have no idea what to do,” I said quietly, standing in front of the mirror in my bathrobe, looking sullen. I told her how things stood with Kyle, that I wanted to ‘spice things up’, to try to save us.

“I know exactly what you’re going to do,” Melanie said, eagerly laying it all out for me.

I was surprised that a very small part of me was disappointed when she didn’t try to convince me to just end things with Kyle, to move on. I hadn’t expected to feel that at all. But the rest of me screamed for me to forge ahead, that being with Kyle was better than being with nobody.

An hour later, after a lot of hesitance on my part, I had a plan for Kyle’s birthday surprise. I could have carried it out at my place, but Kyle was working from the home office that week, so that he could see his family for his birthday. A week later, I made the nearly four hour drive to Melanie’s beach house in Rockport. It was small but cute, like my own home. Thankfully, Melanie believed in housekeeping services, because they kept her place spotless. There wasn’t a thing for me to do when I got there, except for unpacking the groceries and getting dinner in the oven. Homemade lasagna was Kyle’s favorite. With that done, the table set, a bottle of wine ready to go and candles ready to be lit all over the place, it was time for me to brave the next part of the evening’s setup.

The contraption.

At least that’s what I called it.

Standing in the doorway to my sister’s room, I just stared at the cables and pulleys, the belts and buckles, the cuffs and snaps, and the heavy metal frame. It’s kind of hard to picture, I know, but if an aerotrim and a sex swing had babies, this would be their offspring. Think Cirque du Soleil, but a one woman show version. Basically, whoever was in the thing could be manipulated almost like a marionette. Melanie called it the Love Machine, and she’d given me explicit instructions on how to use the thing. Personally, I thought the whole getup was awfully reminiscent of a medieval torture device. I rolled my eyes at the thought, just as I’d rolled my eyes when she’d told me what it was called.

Anyway, it had been a gift from Grant, Melanie’s long-time boyfriend. They’d been together for years. I’d actually met Grant before Melanie, and he was the one that got away.

Chapter 1

Grant and I met when I visited Dallas, Texas, helping Jeremy on a class action suit he’d been spearheading at the time.

Not that Dallas was a long trip for me, seeing as how I’m from Houston.

We’d met at a bar, actually. The trip wasn’t fun. It was a lot of hard work, a lot of late nights, not nearly enough sleep and way too much stress. Melanie had been living in Dallas at the time, working at one of the hospitals there, a nurse. I was hoping that she’d be able to meet me at the bar after her shift was over, but she called and told me they’d been short-staffed that night, and she had to work a triple.

I’d just started to feel a warm buzz coming on when a gorgeous guy slid up to the bar.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

Tractors and trailers, was that man hot as hell. He was tall, much, much taller than me, almost by a foot, if not more. He had short, dark brown hair and big brown eyes, and deeply tanned skin. He wore western boots, blue jeans, and an untucked gray tee shirt that was so tight it looked painted on, letting me see every line of his muscular frame.

“Sh-sure,” I stammered, brushing my hair out of my eyes.

He smiled and raised his hand to the bartender. While he ordered our drinks, a Tom Collins for me and a Ziegenbock for himself, my gaze was riveted to the muscles of his neck, his shoulders, his arm, the way they corded when he moved. He seemed to know the bartender, because they talked for a couple of minutes. I used the time to study him.

It was the small details that got to me. His boots were dark brown, but not like they’d been made that way. They were worn out, stained and scuffed from God only knew what the man did for a living. His jeans weren’t brand new. I could see a pale outline of where his wallet had worn away at the denim of his back pocket. The leather of his wide belt was cracked with age and use, the big silver buckle polished to a bright sheen, but I could see where the polishing hadn’t gotten into the fine grooves of the embossed design of longhorns flanked by what I thought were crows. His shirt was tight, but it hadn’t been bought that way. I could tell with a glance that it would be incredibly soft, broken in over time, and that he’d filled out since he got it.

“Grant,” he said.

I blinked, found him smiling at me, friendly and warm. How long had he been watching me stare at him?

“I’m sorry?”

His smile reached his eyes and he offered me his hand. “My name. Grant.”

“Oh, right,” I laughed nervously and shook his hand. “Lydia.”

“Lydia,” he said slowly, testing the name on his tongue, and holding my hand longer than most people would. His smile fell and his eyes were intense when he asked, “Where have you been?”

“I don’t understand.”

“My whole life,” he said, that wonderfully warm smile returning.

I laughed.

The bartender brought our drinks over. Grant and I quickly fell into comfortable conversation. He seemed genuinely intrigued about my legal work, and I was amazed, and not too surprised at the same time, when he told me that he worked on natural gas wells.

Feeling brave, thanks to the liquid courage, I took his hand in mine and brought his wrist up to my mouth, letting my lips graze his skin while I breathed in the scent of him, musky, spicy, warm, and I know it’s cheesy to say, but all man. His eyes burned when I did that.

“Funny, you don’t smell like rotten eggs,” I told him, still holding his hand but letting it fall into my lap.

Grant grinned, “I should hope not. I showered last week. Twice.”

I laughed, probably too loud, but considering how much I’d had to drink, not surprising.

We fell back into conversation, and the entire time, his hand was a prisoner in my lap, between both of mine. I listened to everything he had to say about his job, his family, his friends, his childhood. Grant’s father had started the company that he worked for, and when he passed away, Grant’s mother took it over, handling the day to day business. His oldest brother designed the wells, and Grant and the rest of his brothers, four in all, handled the maintenance. I couldn’t get over how his hand felt, so much bigger than mine, almost twice as big, his palm and pads of his fingers rough from hard labor, but so very warm, and I was pretty sure he had more muscle in that one hand than I had in one leg.

One of the flat-panels over the bar was showing a commercial for the Blu-Ray release of the Star Wars collection. Grant shook his head.

“Not a Star Wars fan?” I asked, smiling with amusement, but hoping I’d misjudged. I mean, come on, who doesn’t love Star Wars?

He shrugged and regarded me, “Sure, but Lucas creeps me out.”

“How so?”

“Nobody talks about the staff,” he said, his thumb softly playing over the back of my hand.

“The staff?” I frowned.

“Yeah, on the Death Star,” he grinned, turning on his stool to face me. “Over two and a half million people were on the thing, or the second one, at least. Nobody talks about the people that worked in the cafeteria, the janitorial workers, the support technicians, plumbers, electricians. They weren’t soldiers. They just worked there.”

My smile was widening, watching him animate while he talked about a sci-fi flick. A classic, sure, but still, it was a stark contrast to his southern good ol’ boy appearance.

Grant went on, “I mean, yeah, the rebels had to blow it up, but man, all those lives? Pretty brutal.”

I laughed.

“You think this is funny?” He arched an eyebrow and grinned. “Just go back and watch episodes one through three again. Notice how almost everybody that dies is either a droid, clone, or some other non-humanoid?” Grant pointed a finger at me. “See? Even Lucas realized there was a morality issue.”

God, he was so cute, handsome, and sexy, all at the same time.

It was probably an hour later when I realized how tired I was, mostly because a yawn escaped me. I’d relaxed a bit much on my stool too. My legs had opened enough for our hands to slip between my thighs. Granted, my dress was in the way, but still, definitely not lady-like of me. I’d been molesting that big strong hand of his with both of mine for a while now, caressing it with my fingers.

Grant cocked his head just a little.

“How drunk are you?” he asked.

Feeling saucy, I replied, “Why? Are you about to invite me back to your place?”

He chuckled and his smile reached his eyes again. “Actually, I was going to offer you a ride back to your hotel. I don’t think you’re fit to drive.”

Part of me was a little disappointed, despite how chivalrous he was being, which I found appealing. The drunk part of me wanted him to take advantage of me, because sober, I would never have the courage to let loose and have fun like this. Besides, it had been two years since I’d, well, you know. Suffice to say, what with the effect of the booze, I was more than willing to break the dry spell I’d found myself in.

I took up Grant on his offer. I was so amazed when he didn’t try to pay for my drinks, except for the one he’d bought me. He said something to the bartender, then scribbled a note on a napkin and handed it over.

Grant slid his arm around my waist to help steady me on our way to the door. In the parking lot, his arm slid up my back and around my shoulders, much more comfortable for us, since I was so much shorter than him. He pulled me right up against him, and I was more than happy to let him do it. The line of his body beside me was warm and hard, and I loved it.

As expected, Grant drove a truck, an early eighties Chevy Silverado. It wasn’t in pristine condition, having seen a lot of hard work over the years, worn, tough, and strong, like him. Every man I had dated up to that point in my life had driven a luxury or sports car. I had come to expect it, I realized, but I liked how different Grant was, strong, rough around the edges, but so very charming, so very warm and friendly.

He helped me up into the passenger seat, his hand under my thigh, almost on my butt, and went around to his side. The truck roared to life. I gave him directions and we were on our way. I watched him as he drove, studied his profile, the line of his strong jaw, corded muscles of his neck and arms, and especially his hands where they gripped the steering wheel. God, I loved his hands. They’d felt great in mine. I wondered what they would feel like touching other parts of me.

Grant noticed me gazing at him and grinned just a little, watching the road.

“What was the note?” I asked.

“An apology,” he told me, taking a right turn towards the hotel. “I was supposed to be meeting someone.” He laughed then and gave me a sheepish grin. “Blind date, actually.”

I turned in my seat to face him, as much as the seatbelt allowed. “Why on God’s green earth would you need to go on a blind date?”

He chuckled. “Is that a compliment?”

“Yes,” I smiled at him.

He grinned and shook his head. “Bars aren’t really my scene. I don’t drink much, and you can’t really get to know someone in a bar, if that makes any sense.”

It made a lot of sense. I don’t know how many failed dates I’d been on that began in a bar.

His eyebrows pinched together and he added, “Although, I seem to be getting to know you well enough.”

I smiled happily, feeling like a teenager again.

“But you went anyway,” I said.

He sighed and nodded, pulling the truck up in front of my hotel. “It’s been a while since I’ve…”

“Gotten laid?” I finished for him, quirking an eyebrow.

He looked me right in the eyes and gave me a shy grin. “I was going to say since I’ve been on a date, but yes, that works too.”

Like I said, it had been two years for me. Grant was so handsome, so unlike the men I had dated up to that point in my life. I sat there in his truck, right on front of my hotel, knowing that I should just get out and go up to my room, sleep off the alcohol. But that’s not what I did.

“The valet will park your truck in the garage,” I said quietly.

Grant gave me an intense look, eyes flicking back and forth to mine. I held my breath, prepped myself for his polite decline, but then he swallowed, threw the truck in park and got out. He came around to my side, giving his keys and a wad of cash to the valet, then opened my door and helped me out.

We didn’t hold hands. We walked through the lobby side by side and stepped into the elevator, my heart pounding in my chest, nervous and excited. Neither of his said a word, not when the elevator stopped and the doors opened on my floor, not when I unlocked the door to my room and stepped inside.

Before the door had closed behind us, he grabbed my arm and turned me around to face him, and all I could see was his broad chest. He leaned over and I lifted my chin, finding his mouth with mine. My God, his lips were so soft, so warm, so right. He was so tall though. I had to really crane my neck to kiss him.

With a groan of frustration, Grant wrapped his arms around me, one around my back, the other just below my butt. He lifted me clear off the floor and crushed me against him. The kiss deepened, his tongue plunging into my mouth with surprising fervor. Christ, his mouth tasted amazing. He was walking, carrying me as we kissed, my pumps slipping off my feet to the floor. He lifted me just a little higher and I found myself standing on the foot of the bed. I was taller than him now, not by much, but just enough that I could hold his face in my hands and devour his mouth from above.

Grant slid his hands to my hips and down my dress covered thighs. When his rough palms found my bare calves, a jolt of eager anticipation shot through me. Sure enough, his hands smoothed up my legs, pushing my dress up along the way. I shivered when his fingers found my panties and took hold of them, pulling them down my thighs. Grabbing hold of his tee shirt, I pulled it off of him while he bent at the knee to pull my panties down my legs, and they came off at the same time his shirt did.


I Lost His Number



He stood back up and the single lamp in the corner of the room bathed his hard body in soft light. He was so beautiful, so masculine. This wasn’t a man who looked as good as he did because he paid a gym for it. Grant had worked for it.

He stood back up and reached for my blouse.

“Take off your pants,” I told him.

He hesitated for a second, then frantically worked at his belt, jerking it through the loops of his jeans so hard and fast that it popped repeatedly against the denim, making me chuckle. I dropped to my butt on the bed, bouncing a couple of times before I settled in front of him, my legs outside of his, and I took hold of his jeans. I popped the button and dragged his zipper down, grabbed the waistline of his jeans and began to pull them down, revealing his chiseled hips, and that’s when I really noticed the bulge in his jeans, right in front of me.

Oh. My. God.

A thick tube ran down his thigh. He must have been huge! Part of me hoped he wasn’t as big as he looked, and part of me prayed he was. I must have sat there staring at his denim covered package for a while, because I felt him pulling my blouse off. He dropped it to the floor, then noticed me staring up at him.

His expression softened and he took a deep breath, saying softly, “We don’t have to do this.”

I tore my gaze from his, determined to treat myself to this wonderfully frightening experience, to let him seduce me out of my shell, and I pulled his jeans down. Discovering that he wasn’t wearing underwear only added more fuel to the fire inside me.

Grant had a light dusting of hair at his groin, trimmed very short. I gasped when I saw the base of him. He was so very wide, and as I pulled his jeans down farther, I realized he wasn’t even fully erect yet. Lower and lower his jeans went, revealing more of his thick length, more, and even more. When the end of him was finally free of his confining jeans, the length of him bounced up and stuck almost straight out from his body.

“Oh my God,” I breathed, struggling to comprehend the size of him.

He wasn’t hard yet, but he was getting there fast. The end of him was bigger than the rest, and heavy too, bending his semi-hard length down a bit. I could see his shaft throbbing with the beat of his heart, filling with blood, and he was getting bigger. Timidly, I wrapped a hand around his shaft, near the middle of him, and my fingertips couldn’t touch my thumb. It wasn’t that he was out of proportion or anything. He was just a big man, and everything, and I mean everything, was to scale.

I couldn’t help but shiver in fear a little, but despite his intimidating size, he was perfect, even beautiful.

His hand, so rough and so warm, cupped my cheek, tilted my face up to look at him.

“I mean it, Lydia,” he said softly, gazing down at me with his big brown eyes. “We don’t have to do this. We can take our time, get to know each other better, if you like.”

I took a deep breath, contemplating whether or not I should go down on him. He had such a beautiful cock, and I so wanted to feel him in my mouth, but honestly, it was quite large, and I wasn’t sure I could take it. We could do other things. Or we could stop, do what he said, get to know each other first. Another breath, and it was decided. I let his jeans fall to his ankles and stood back up on the bed, my hand still holding him, and I kissed him hard and deep.

“I want you,” I breathed against his mouth, stroking him from root to tip with both hands, and he was big enough that I could have put a third hand to good use.

Grant groaned into my mouth and kissed me back just as hard, slowly but firmly pulling my dress down until it pooled around my ankles. He steadied me with his hands on my waist while I stepped out of the dress and kicked it away, and he was looking down at my trimmed mound while I took off my bra and tossed it aside. When he looked up and saw my bare breasts, his eyes went wide.

“Christ, you’re beautiful,” he practically growled.

I’d never felt so beautiful in my life, so feminine, so very desired.

Grant dipped his head and caught my nipple in his mouth, cupping my breast with one hand while the other smoothed up the back of my leg to my rear end. The feel of his hot mouth on my breast and his tongue swiping at my tight nipple tore a gasp from my throat. He licked, kissed and sucked on my breast, and I couldn’t catch my breath. He slid both hands up my sides, exploring my body. I dug my fingernails into his shoulders, could feel my arousal leaking down my thighs. I’d never been so hot before, so wet. His hands cupped my rear end and lifted me, forcing me to grab onto his shoulders and wrap my legs around his ribs or fall on my ass.

My head began to swim as he got up onto the bed on his knees and laid me on my back, and my vision clouded, dark spots forming at the edges while he kissed his way down my body. The alcohol was really catching up with me, and I struggled not to pass out. My legs wound up outside of his arms, and he spread them wide, making me feel so vulnerable, but so very desired at the same time. In the same instant, I felt the tips of his fingers on my swollen sex, and his hot breath on my clit.

I could count on one hand the number of times a man had gone down on me.

His fingertips had just begun to slip inside, his mouth had just closed around me, and the anticipation alone drove me over the edge.

I came with a scream, thrusting my pussy up into his face, his tongue licking at my clit, two fingers plunging deep inside me. I felt my climax leaking all over his hand, his chin, and for the first time in my life, I wasn’t ashamed. I was on fire, insides aching for him, nipples so tight they almost hurt. The sight of his muscular upper body down there, my legs spread so very wide over his broad shoulders, it was too much.

With a growl, Grant fucked me with his mouth and fingers, spilling me over the edge again, and again. I don’t know how many times he brought me, nor how fast. All I know is that one second I was coming in his mouth, and the next he was crawling up over me, his hips between my thighs, his handsome face gazing down at me from above, his hard chest hovering over my face, beautifully hard and frighteningly large cock hovering over my body, dribbling his arousal onto my taut stomach, then everything went black. 

Chapter 2

The next morning, I woke up with one hell of a hangover, naked as the day I was born, comfortably tucked into bed. But there was a problem. A big problem.

I was sober, and everything came rushing back to me.

Jesus, what had I done?

I sat up with a jerk and held the sheets over my breasts, looking around in a panic. I was alone. Grant was nowhere to be seen.

My thighs were a little sticky, but not overly so. I lifted the sheets and looked between my legs, spreading them a bit. Okay, we hadn’t had sex. I hadn’t fucked a stranger.

Wait.

We hadn’t had sex?

Part of me was disappointed that Grant had left. I’d passed out on him. I’d been completely vulnerable, completely at his mercy, and he hadn’t taken advantage of me. The panic began to drift away, leaving me feeling so…I don’t know, appreciative. I’d never met anyone like Grant, never thought I would.

A handwritten note from the hotel stationary pad was on the night stand. I picked it up and read it, and couldn’t help but smile.

Thank you for such a wonderful evening, Lydia. Sorry for disappearing on you, but I wasn’t sure it was such a good idea for me to stay, and I was running late for work. I had a great time last night, and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I would love to see you again, or just talk, if that’s what you’d like. -Grant

His number was written at the bottom of the page.

I grabbed my cell phone to call him and nearly jumped out of my skin when it rang, dropping the note from Grant. I saw Jeremy’s face on the screen, and below it, the time. I was late for the meeting by over an hour.

Shit!

I answered the call and made a dash for the bathroom. I’d never disappointed my boss, and I was terrified, and so embarrassed.

“Jeremy! I’m so sorry! I’ll be right…”

“Easy, easy,” he laughed warmly. “We’re still eating breakfast.”

“You’re not mad?” I frowned, turning on the shower.

He laughed again. “God, no. I’ve never seen you have as much fun as you did last night. It’s about time, Lydia.”

I was speechless.

“So, is he still there?” Jeremy asked.

I blushed furiously, testing the water temperature with my other hand. “No, he already left.”

“Good time, I take it?” he asked, and I could hear the wide grin in his voice.

“I passed out on him.”

Jeremy laughed out loud. Someone in the room with him asked what was so funny, but he didn’t answer them, which I was immensely grateful for.

“Damn, Lydia. That’s cold.”

“Shush,” I told him, then, “I’ll be right there.”

“Take your time,” he chuckled and hung up.

Everyone at the meeting had a great time teasing me about the previous night. The girls asked me every question under the sun about what had happened. Who was he? Was he good? Was he hung? Did you get his number? Does he have any brothers or friends? More than once, they told me I was glowing. Thankfully though, Jeremy didn’t tell them that I’d passed out on Grant. Unfortunately, I have a bad tendency to hold nothing back, so I ended up confessing to the embarrassing detail of blacking out before the real fun could begin. They got a real kick out of that.

All throughout the meeting, I couldn’t stop thinking about Grant, about the way he’d made me feel. Last night, I’d been more than ready to sleep with him, and if I hadn’t passed out, I would have done exactly that. Hell, I’d practically begged him to take me. Now that I was sober, I knew it wasn’t just the alcohol, because I still wanted him to take me. I knew that Grant hadn’t changed me as a person, but with him, I’d finally taken a big step out of my shell, and I wanted more. But could I do it again? I wondered what I should do.

I didn’t know Grant. Not really. I wanted to, though, but I wasn’t sure if that was such a good idea. We came from completely different worlds. I wasn’t stuck up or prissy, but I came from a world of money, and a respectable amount of extravagance (not mine, but others). He was more grounded, salt of the earth. But from the conversations we’d had at the bar, we seemed to find common ground, whether movies, music, or authors. More importantly, and amazingly, I remembered the way he made me smile, made me feel wanted, desired, and so beautiful.

Before the meeting was over, I’d made my decision. I was going to call him. The rest of the day took forever to pass. When I finally got back to the hotel, I was giddy with excitement. I headed right for the note, my phone unlocked, ready to dial.

The pad was still on the nightstand, but the note was gone.

What had I done with it?

I tore the room apart, searched high and low, but the note from Grant was nowhere to be found. I retraced my steps from that morning, and it didn’t take me long to figure out what had happened. I’d dropped the note when my phone rang, and it had probably ended up on the floor. No doubt housekeeping threw it away when they came in to tidy up my room. I checked the trash bin beside the bed, and the other one in the bathroom, but both were empty.

Shit!

After dinner, I went back to the bar where we’d met, hoping he might stop in. He didn’t. I went back to that bar every night for the rest of my stay, but after two weeks, Grant never showed, and he never called for me at the hotel, nor at the bar. Grant was gone. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that it broke my heart, but it definitely crushed my spirits.

On the plus side, Melanie managed to find some time for us to hang out before I had to go back home. I figured she’d been kept busy at the hospital, but she told me that wasn’t it. I was really looking forward to seeing her. I needed to talk to someone about Grant, about the opportunity I’d missed, and maybe get cheered up in the process. Melanie was that person for me. We met for lunch and she was beside herself with happiness, all fired up to talk about what was going on in her life. I should have known.

“God, Lydia, you wouldn’t believe what happened to me these last two weeks,” she gushed, grabbing my hands from across the table.

Just wait until she heard what had happened to me.

“I met someone.”

I snorted. “You’re always meeting someone, Mel.”

“Well, yeah, but this one is special,” she told me, and she launched into her story.

Melanie was so excited to tell me about the last two weeks she’d spent with her new guy, that I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt her with my own tale. She went on and on about how polite he was, how gorgeous, and especially how amazing he was in bed. They’d started slow, at first. He hadn’t wanted to jump right into bed with her.

“That’s rare,” I raised an eyebrow.

Melanie waved her hand, “I think he was getting over someone or something. He seemed kind of down during our first couple of dates, or just distracted, but I guess he got over whatever it was, because hot damn, Lydia...” she trailed off.

“Yeah, yeah. Spare me the dirty details.”

“My God, sis,” she said dreamily, propping her chin up in her palm, elbow on the table. “What that man does to me, I’m not sure it’s even legal. Nobody should be that good in bed,” she laughed.

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy,” I told her, patting her hand and slumping back in my chair.

She’s my sister, and I love her dearly, but sometimes I wish she’d just shut up and listen. Melanie didn’t catch on to my distress at having managed to lose my own wonderful dream guy. She was too caught up in her own world, in herself.

“It’s really interesting how we met too,” she said.

“How’s that?” I mumbled.

“He thought I was someone else.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

Melanie leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “So there I was, waiting in line at Starbucks, and the next thing I know, this hunk of a guy plasters himself to my back and whispers in my ear ‘howdy stranger’, and he kissed me right on the neck!” She laughed out loud then. “Shit, you should have seen the look on his face when he realized I wasn’t who he thought I was. He was all over himself, trying to apologize. Poor bastard probably thought I was going to slap him.”

I smiled, amused by her story. “Who did he think you were?”

Melanie took a sip of her iced tea and waved her hand. “Some girl he met at a bar. He got ditched on a blind-date and ended up meeting someone else, and going back to her hotel room.”

Oh my God.

“And you won’t believe this,” she bounced in her chair. “Just as things were getting hot and heavy, she passed out on him!”

No.

Melanie laughed and leaned back in her chair. “Anyway, it was actually kind of sad. Grant really liked her, but she dropped him like a bad habit.”

No!

I swallowed and managed to find my voice. “What do you mean she dropped him?”

“He left his number with her, and she never called him.”

Grant. Melanie was dating Grant. I’d lost his number, and now I’d lost him to my sister. My stomach turned over. I think I was going to be sick.

“Oh!” she squealed, jumping out of her chair and looking at someone behind me. “Here he is!”

Oh God, no, please no.

Melanie dashed around the table and gushed, “Hi, baby!”

I froze. I couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t happening. He wasn’t here. It couldn’t be him. Please, God, don’t let it be him.

“I’d like you to meet my sister,” Melanie said.

Slowly, very slowly, I stood up from the table. When I turned around, there he was, my sister plastered to his side, hanging onto his arm, bouncing up on her toes. His warm brown eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open in shock.

“Lydia, this is Grant,” Melanie gushed.

Grant and I just stood there, staring at each other, but he recovered first.

“We’ve met,” he said, extending his hand to me.

“Oh, really?” Melanie said, looking at us.

I shook his hand and nodded, and the words just tumbled out of my mouth, “I lost his number.”

Melanie gaped at me, then at Grant, then laughed out loud, “Oh my God! That is fucking hysterical!”

Chapter 3

Anyway, that’s how I met Grant, and how I lost him. But I had a boyfriend now, one that I wanted to keep. I took a long hot shower, thoroughly scrubbed every last inch of my body, then treated my skin from head to toe with lotion until I was silky smooth. Shaving wasn’t necessary, since Melanie had convinced me to get a wax treatment. It had been my first time, and it had hurt like hell, but as I delicately brushed the tips of my fingers down my tummy and over my baby-smooth mound, I couldn’t help but be thankful for my sister’s advice. If this didn’t spice up mine and Kyle’s sex life, nothing would.

Back in Melanie’s room, I found my phone and sent a text to Kyle.

Happy bday, baby. Waiting for you. Come get your surprise.

Then I texted him the address for Melanie’s beach house. Kyle replied pretty fast.

:) Be there in 30.

It took me nearly the full half hour I had before Kyle arrived, but when it was over, I was ready for him. My lips were coated with Ruby Slippers. My hair was pulled back into a French braid. A night mask covered my eyes and a thick leather collar with metal rings on the sides graced my neck. Padded leather cuffs adorned my wrists and ankles, a wide padded leather belt wrapped my waist, and there was another just beneath my breasts. An incredibly soft pair of supple leather cuffs also wrapped my thighs, just above my knees. Other than that, I was completely nude. With that done, all that was left for me to do was to deal with the contraption.

I couldn’t tell you how the cables worked, but give them slack and they locked into place. Melanie told me that a hard pull on the cables wouldn’t accomplish anything, but a slow and steady pull would give me slack, just in case I needed to get out. I clipped my cuffs to the primary cables and counterweights pulled my arms up above my head, then pulled a little more, just enough that I was almost standing on my toes. I couldn’t push up high enough to unclip the cuffs from the primary cables. The cables at my ankles were also pulled taut, keeping my legs spread. I was now officially a prisoner of the Love Machine.

There was only one problem though.

Kyle ended up running late.

The half hour window came and went, and my calves were really starting to ache. A few minutes later, my phone started ringing. It was clear across the room though. No problem. I pulled slowly but firmly against the cables clipped to my wrists, but nothing happened. They didn’t give at all. Had I mixed up Melanie’s instructions? I gave my wrists a hard yank. Nothing at all, except that the jolt to my body kind of hurt. Okay, not a hard yank then.

My phone started ringing again, and I tried another slow pull on the cables, but no dice. My phone chimed with a voicemail, started ringing again, then stopped.

I even went so far as to grip the primary cables in my hands to pull myself up, but the cables attached to my ankle cuffs didn’t give either. With the tension from both high and low, I was being firmly stretched, held in place. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t comfortable either. Something was wrong with the locking mechanisms. Had Melanie and Grant forgotten to maintain this damned thing?

A few seconds went by and my phone buzzed with a text message.

Had something happened? Was Kyle not going to make it? Was I stuck in this damn contraption all night?

My phone rang again, and right in the middle of the third ring, it turned off completely. My battery was dead.

Shit!

I started to freak out and struggled against the cables, but it was pointless. I was trapped. Just as panic began to set in, I heard the back door close downstairs.




I Lost His Number



Yes! He made it!

Hearing footsteps coming up the stairs, I calmed my frantically beating heart and waited. The bedroom door opened and Kyle took a sharp breath. My back was to him, so he couldn’t see me grin. Just knowing he was there, that I was helpless, everything changed. Fear became excitement, stress became arousal. Nothing happened for what felt like an eternity, then I heard clothing hitting the floor. My nipples tightened, my skin tingled, and warmth blossomed inside me, pooling low in my belly and between my legs.

All was silent once more, then the strangest thing happened. Kyle walked out of the room.

What the hell?

The shower in the bathroom across the hall started up.

I smiled. He was taking a shower for me. Kyle didn’t take long. I heard his bare feet padding back into Melanie’s room, close and closer, until I could feel the warmth of his body behind me. His hands gently cupped my hips, and they were so warm, delightfully rough, and so…big?

He stepped closer and the spongy tip of him touched the middle of my back, higher than I thought it should. When he pressed the front of him against the back of me, his skin was so warm, almost hot, and the long thick length of him lay in a hot line up my back.

Wait. Kyle wasn’t much taller than me, and he wasn’t small where it mattered, but he certainly wasn’t so very long and thick. That could only mean…

“I love your surprises, Mel,” he said.

Oh my God! Grant!

I turned my head to tell him it was me, Lydia, that this was all a misunderstanding, one gargantuan and embarrassing mix-up, but no sooner had I opened my mouth to do so, Grant cupped my cheek to hold me in place and he fit his lips over mine. His warm tongue plunged into my mouth and I squealed. I had a split second of clarity where I could have put a stop to this, but then his big warm hands smoothed up from my hips and in front of me, cupping my breasts, and everything went to Hell.

My body remembered him, remembered the way he touched me in Dallas, remembered the way he kissed me, the way he manipulated my body so masterfully back at that hotel, and it remembered how to kiss him back. The next thing I knew, I was feasting on his mouth. His rough palms glided across my breasts, setting my nipples on fire. I moaned into his mouth, having missed the feel of his lips against mine so very much, so much more than I’d known. It was agony when he took his mouth away from me.

“I’m going to use you, Mel,” he breathed darkly behind my ear, kissing me there.

I tried to tell him I wasn’t Mel, but he pinched my nipples, the feel of it so good but bordering on pain, making me cry out for him.

“I’m going to use this beautiful body to fuck the cum right out of me.” 

I saw it then, in my mind, Grant’s glorious body and his incredibly hard length, saw him plundering my helpless body. A wonderful jolt ripped down my spine and settled low inside me.

I should have stopped him then. I couldn’t let him fuck me. He loved Melanie, and she loved him. I knew that. I knew it in my heart. They didn’t have an open relationship. They were exclusive with each other. They didn’t stray. They didn’t play around with others. I should have told him it was me, before this mix-up destroyed them, destroyed me.

He hunched over me from behind. One of his hands smoothed down my stomach, fingers slipping between my slightly spread legs and finding my wet center, which was shockingly open to him. He shivered against my back and slid two fingers inside me. The sensation was so unexpected that my insides clamped down on his digits, halting his progress, but his fingers were already deep enough that he was able to stroke that spot inside me. I almost came right then and there. My head fell back against his big shoulder and lolled to the side, the heat of his neck against my lips, his other hand playing with my breasts. He turned his head so that his lips brushed mine.

“God, you’re tight, baby,” Grant breathed against my mouth.

His fingers stroked slowly, but so deeply.

“Really tight,” he said, then he groaned, “Jesus, Mel.”

I couldn’t help it. My hips moved of their own accord, thrusting my burning cunt in time with him, fucking his hand. Before I could come, his fingers slid out of me and he stepped back. The loss of his touch was enough to make me cry out in frustration. I heard him suck on his fingers and the sound of it made my insides clench, made me whimper.

“Sorry, baby,” Grant laughed softly, such a masculine sound from so deep in his chest. “I know you like to play a little more first, but I haven’t had this perfect little pussy for over two months,” he said.

Two months? Grant still worked on natural gas wells, and I knew he travelled all over the state, but two months? He’d never been gone that long.

His hands slid past my hips, then away. “And having you all strung up like this…” he trailed off, then he chuckled, letting his accent slip free, something he rarely did. “Well, it ain’t helpin’ my restraint.”

I heard him take hold of some of the handles, and with a sudden whine of the cables, my feet were jerked up off the floor. My knees were pulled up and out, splaying my legs wide open. The cables at my waist and thighs were holding most of my weight, and it was surprisingly comfortable. I was kind of reclining in the air, leaning back at an angle. Another jerk and all of the cables pulled up even higher. The handles thumped against each other as he let them go, and I heard him coming around the front of me. 

Right then, I hated the night mask, wishing I could see him. Sure, I’d seen him nearly naked in the years since our night in Dallas, like when we went swimming in the ocean and he was wearing only his trunks, or the few times I’d stayed with he and Melanie, here in this very house, and he’d come out of the bathroom after a shower, wearing only a towel. But it had been so long since I’d seen him in all his glory.

His hands cupped my bottom from underneath, the tips of his fingers deep between my cheeks, touching my most intimate places. He smoothed his hands up my back. I felt the heat of his body between my legs, moving close and closer.

I could stop this right now. I could tell Grant I wasn’t Melanie, that I’d been waiting for Kyle, but I felt his warm shoulders against my thighs, making me realize how very high I was suspended in the air, and why. Without preamble, his mouth closed over my swollen mound and I was simply undone.

His tongue licked a long hot line right up the center of me and I cried out wordlessly. Grant wasted no time. He used the flat of his tongue to lick every inch of my cleft, kissing and sucking my lips too, plump with arousal, then he plunged his tongue inside me. I cried out again and almost came. Grant groaned around my cunt. His tongue felt huge, but then it slid out of me and flicked my clit, and at the same time, he slid two fingers inside me.

Grant was ruthless. He licked, kissed, sucked, and nibbled on my swollen clit. His fingers plunged in and out of me noisily. It could have been a few seconds, or a few minutes. He fucked me with his hand and mouth until my insides were on fire, a climax ripping through me without any warning at all, a guttural scream ripping from my throat. I felt my insides leaking all over his hand, just like back at the hotel in Dallas those many years ago, and just like back then, Grant gave me a growl of satisfaction at the taste of me.

His mouth left me and his fingers slowed inside me. His other hand left my back. The cables whined and I was being lowered, my knees still pulled high, legs still spread wide. Grant kissed up my mound and stomach and my butt settled against the wide shaft of him. He stopped lowering me and cupped my rear end in his big hands again, pulling me closer until the backs of my calves pressed against his shoulders. He kissed me full on the mouth, tongue licking past my lips, tasting me, and I loved it.

“I can’t wait, Mel,” he breathed against my lips, shivering against me, then I felt him shifting in front of me, down there.

I was ripped back to reality. This was happening. It was really happening. Grant was about to fuck Melanie, but Melanie was me. There was no time to reveal who I was.

The big spongy end of him found my wet center, and he pushed. My body resisted his size, so unaccustomed to such incredible maleness, but Grant didn’t relent. He opened me wide, then wider. The pressure of him pushing against me was almost unbearable, almost hurt. Just as I thought he would tear me, I felt my body let him in and close tight over the end of him. He was so large, spreading my insides deliciously with his hot girth.

“Christ, you’re tight, baby,” Grant gasped, then he chuckled. “You been doing those exercises again?”

My mouth was wide open as I struggled to catch my breath. I couldn’t get over how big he felt inside me, and when he pushed again, the feel of him stretching me was too much to handle. I cried out for him, loud and guttural, primal. Grant moved his hands to my waist, hooked his thumbs in front to hold me still, then pulled his hips back. The huge end of him slowly drew out of me, until he almost fell free, then he pushed back in, deeper than before.

“So fucking tight,” he cursed at the feel of me gripping him.

He drew back, pushed back in, so very hard, so very thick, filling me more than I imagined was possible. Grant repeated this several times, fucking his hard cock so deep inside me, touching places Kyle had never reached, nobody had ever reached. Just when I thought I’d taken him all, he would push deeper. I shivered at the feel of him, but also with a little fear, afraid that his size would break something in me.

Grant seemed to sense my fear.

“I won’t hurt you, Mel,” he reassured me, his hands lessening their grip, holding my waist tenderly. “You know that.”

Grant didn’t move. I think he was waiting for me to acknowledge him. So I nodded.

“Good girl,” he said, and I could tell by his tone that he was smiling.

He drew out of me then, held himself at my opening with just the tip of him inside me, then he thrust smoothly back in, so very deep. I let loose a very unlady-like groan.

“Shit,” he growled, fucking into me again, hands tightening around my waist once more. “Too good, Mel.”

He drew out and pushed back in, faster this time, and I felt him throb inside me. He stilled, filling me so thoroughly.

“Sorry, Mel, but this first one is for me,” he chuckled.

Grant began fucking me, slow but deep, gentle but firm, his hard cock almost too big, and maybe it was, but he wouldn’t be denied. He was going to fuck me, whether my body was capable of accepting him or not. Every plunge of his hard length inside me took my breath away. His pace quickened, but he was so careful with me. He fucked me only so deep.

A stray thought flitted through my sex-addled mind, that maybe this was as deep as he could fuck Melanie. He was so big, almost too big. It was entirely possible that he really was too big for me, that this would hurt like a sonofabitch later, but I wanted more. There was no way I could ask for more though. Melanie and I may look almost identical, but our voices didn’t sound the same. Close, but not the same. If I spoke, I’d give myself away, bring this wonderfully immoral experience to a sudden and horribly embarrassing end.

Grant moved faster, thrust harder, deeper. His achingly hard length slashed in and out of me, my insides plenty wet now, adjusting to his girth, his length. I could hear the vulgar sounds of his cock moving back and forth where we were joined, lewd, wet sounds. The room filled with the sounds of our coupling, the raw smell of it, the heat. Sweat trickled down my face, my neck, between my breasts, and I was wet down there, so very wet, could feel my arousal leaking out of me and tickling my ass.

He cursed again, wonder in his voice when he told me how tight I was, how very much he loved my body, that I was made to be fucked, and that he’d fuck me always. He was telling Melanie these things, not me. I knew that. But right then, I didn’t care. Right then, I was Melanie, and I was fine with the lie, because he was about to make Melanie come.

“Gonna come, baby,” Grant groaned.

He swelled inside me, his wonderful cock throbbing, twitching in my depths. I flexed the muscles inside me, gripping his hard length and moved my hips as much as I could, which wasn’t much at all, but it was enough. He gasped and fucked me harder, faster. Heat blossomed inside me. My muscles clenched and he brought me screaming.

“Fuck!” Grant barked and jerked his cock right out of me with a soft pop.

The sudden loss of him filling me made me whimper, but then his hot seed splashed the lower curves of my breasts, and there was so much of it. I was amazed he’d been able to shoot that high, then his cock blew again. Thick cream hit me square in the middle of my chest. His hand slid noisily up and down his length, slick with my juice, and he belted line after line of hot cum onto my stomach. My chest heaved as my climax faded and Grant painted me with the last of his seed.

“God, that was good,” he breathed loudly, letting his slick cock slap against my stomach. He chuckled, “You came, didn’t you?”

It wasn’t really a question, since it was obvious that I had, but I nodded anyway.

“Good girl,” he told me, and I was beginning to really like that phrase.

I began to tremble though. It was over. Any second now, Grant would release me from the cables, take off my night mask and see who I really was. What surprised me was the feeling of regret that washed over me, not because of the lie I’d perpetuated, to both he and my sister, but because he hadn’t come inside me.

“Well, that took the edge off,” he said.

Took the edge off? What did he mean by…?

Suddenly, the cables jerked and the inner ring I was attached to rotated, turning me face down, parallel to the floor. I nearly screamed at the sensation of free fall. Grant, I knew. Grant, I trusted. But I was certain that the damned machine was going to dump me onto the floor right on my face, but then all motion stopped with a sharp jolt. I hung there facing the floor, panting with receding fear. Cables slackened and my legs fell away from me, then my arms, hanging below me. With another pull of the cables, my knees were pulled up towards me, legs spread widely, almost like I was on my hands and knees. One more pull of the cables and my wrists were jerked behind my back and my entire body was tipped forward. The cables didn’t stay tight, but Grant wrapped one hand around both of my wrists.

“So damn beautiful,” Grant sighed, smoothing his hands over my rear end and up my spine, back down, thumb caressing the valley of my butt, over the tight bud of my ass, then fingers gliding down through my swollen lips to tease my clit.

I felt the hot end of him at my opening and he pushed inside me. He was still so very hard that I screamed at the feel of him filling me back up, inch after long hard inch sinking into my body. A gasping cry tore up my throat me when he fully sheathed himself inside me, his muscular torso pressing against me.

“Fucking Christ, Mel,” he groaned, the long hard length of him pulsing and twitching so very deep, and knowing that I was the cause of that was such an incredible rush. He chuckled then, low and masculine, triumphant, and slid both hands over my butt and up my back. “Reminds me of Maui.”

I remembered Maui. I hadn’t met Kyle yet, but had just been through a nasty breakup. Melanie and Grant had dragged me with them on vacation.

Chapter 4

I’d just been unceremoniously dumped. Well, fuck Brad. He’d turned out to be an asshole anyway. Actually, that had been the problem; not fucking him. More on that later. I had bigger problems. Never would have thought a vacation would be a problem, but it was. Melanie and Grant were going to Maui. They’d planned on inviting Brad and I with them. Now that Brad was out of the picture, I just figured they’d go by themselves, but no, they insisted I go with them. It was sweet, so I’d agreed.

But I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I mean, really, going on vacation with my sister and her boyfriend? The same guy I’d practically fallen head over heels for in less than a day? The same guy whose phone number I lost, thus lost him to my sister? Jesus, I could be really stupid at times.

So there I sat in the airport, sitting next to Grant, my sister’s boyfriend of five months now, the one who got away from me. Melanie had jumped up to get us mocha’s from Starbucks, leaving me alone with Grant. He was slouched down in his chair, long legs stretched out in front of him, reading an e-book on his iPad. I looked at him for a while, appreciating his features. God, he was handsome, even more so than when I first met him, if that was possible. He didn’t notice me ogling him, so I just kept on with it.

You might be wondering what the fallout had been when Melanie discovered that Grant had thought she was me. Well, there wasn’t any. Melanie thought the incident had been hysterical, and not in a mean way. It was just funny to her. That was my fault though. The loss of Grant had been profound, hit me pretty hard, but I’ve always been pretty good at masking my emotions. Neither of them had any idea how bad it had been for me, how empty I’d felt later on.

As I watched him, Grant’s eyebrows pinched together in a frown and he sat up straight in his chair, gawking at the screen of his iPad. “I didn’t know there were pictures of you in lingerie on the internet.”

“What? There aren’t!” I squealed, grabbing the iPad, but he held onto it so that I couldn’t see the screen.

“Hey, easy!” He gave me a mock scolding. “Mine!”

I growled. “If there are pictures of me online, they are most certainly not yours!”

He let go of the iPad, so suddenly that I nearly fell out of my chair. Righting myself, I huffed in victory and brushed my hair out of my eyes, then looked at the iPad. Little cartoon hamsters were singing and dancing all over the screen.

He laughed, and I scowled at him, flipping the iPad back to him so that it slapped his chest.

“Oh, come on,” he chided me with a grin, leaning close to speak under his breath, “You trying to tell me that seeing you in lingerie would bother you?”

I narrowed my eyes. Where was he going with this? I mean, I knew where he could be going with this, but surely he wouldn’t. We’d never talked about what happened back in Dallas. Melanie sometimes brought it up, but Grant and I would just ignore her.

He leaned a little closer, grin changing into a fond smile. “Lydia, I’ve seen you without...”

“I know,” I interrupted him.

“You weren’t even wearing...”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it,” I rolled my eyes.

Grant shrugged. “I mean, I was right there between your...”

“Oh my God!” I squealed, knowing that he was going to say between your legs.

Grant laughed out loud, from deep in his chest, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. I couldn’t help it. I laughed with him. We grinned at each other like idiots for a moment, then reality hit me. He’d brought it up; Dallas.

“We’ve never talked about it,” I said meekly.

His smile faded and he gave me an earnest look, shaking his head in agreement, big brown eyes gazing into mine. Around us, an endless parade of people moved through the airport, announcements and pages coming over the loud-speakers every now and then.

“Should we?” I asked quietly, almost a whisper.

Grant crossed his arms over his chest. “Can any good come of it?”

Good question. “Are you happy?”

He smiled, but I thought I saw a touch of sadness in it. “She doesn’t like Star Wars,” he told me with a shrug.

I managed to keep my mouth from falling open, but my lips parted. Such a silly conversation we’d had months ago, debating the questionable morality of George Lucas’s space opera and the brutality of the rebel alliance. We’d spent less than twelve hours together, but in that small amount of time, I’d been happy, and I think he’d been too. God, please tell me he wasn’t unhappy with Mel because of me.




I Lost His Number



“But yeah, I’m happy,” he told me, the genuine warmth returning to his expression, lighting up his eyes. “I just can’t help but wonder sometimes, is all.”

“If there hadn’t been a mix-up?” I asked, throat feeling tight.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

There was a long moment of silence between us. A very long, very heavy moment. I couldn’t help but wonder what if. What if I hadn’t passed out on Grant? What if I’d been able to experience his beautiful cock inside me? What if we’d woken up together the next morning, basking in the sunrise through the windows of the hotel room, his lips on my neck, kissing me awake, his hand raising my leg, opening me up, and his huge cock pushing inside me, the perfect beginning to a perfect day?

I was sitting next to my sister’s gorgeous and perfect boyfriend in the airport, and my panties were soaked with arousal.

Fucking hell.

Grant raised his eyebrows and broke through the tension, asked me what went down with Brad, why we’d broken up. I hadn’t spoken to him about it, and apparently Mel hadn’t either. I’d only been dating Brad for three months.

“Do you really want to hear this?” I asked him.

“Have you talked to anyone?”

I nodded. “Mel.”

Grant leaned towards me again, propping his elbow up on the armrest of his chair and cupping his chin in his palm. “Do you trust me?”

I blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’ll be honest, that wasn’t exactly the answer I was hoping for.”

“No, I didn’t mean…” I stammered, waving my hand, wishing away the subtle look of hurt on his face. “I mean, trust you how? Trust you to do what?”

He smiled warmly, “To not judge you.”

I blinked at him, remembered how he hadn’t pressured me in the hotel room back in Dallas, telling me we didn’t have to do this - by this, he meant have sex - that we could take our time. I remembered waking up, embarrassed, and kind of ashamed, and finding the sweet note he’d left me, that he wanted to see me again, so very surprising that he hadn’t made any snap judgments about me.

I nodded. “Yes, I trust you.”

“Good,” he smiled again.

So, I told him.

*****

Two nights ago, Brad and I had been making out on my couch after a nice dinner, me in my tight dress and Brad in his slacks, his polo shirt on the floor next to my sandals. I hadn’t let him touch me beneath my panties yet, but had given him free reign to everything else, including my breasts. Okay, my mouth was off limits too, at least for his cock, but still…

*****

“Wait, what did he look like?” Grant asked me, jerking me out of my thoughts.

“Seriously?” I asked him, leaning away and crossing my arms over my chest, like he’d done moments ago, but it didn’t work as well for me on account of the breasts, so I just kind of fiddled with my arms until I could give him an exasperated look. “I tell you that I let a guy touch me everywhere but under my panties, and you ask me what he looked like?”

“What?” he chuckled, spreading his arms innocently. “I never got to meet him. Just curious, is all.”

I snorted and asked, “Mel never told you?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, you know Mel. Terrible at describing people.”

He had a really good point. After all, when Melanie had met him, and he’d thought she was me, she later described what I looked like to him, and it was such a vague description that he hadn’t connected the dots that I was her sister. At that point, he thought Melanie and I were just two strangers that looked a lot alike.

“Why do you really want to know?” I asked.

Grant gave me a long soulful look. You know, one of those looks that seems to go right through to the heart of you? Yeah, that.

He shrugged a shoulder and said quietly, “Maybe I just want to know what kind of man it takes to win your heart.”

Your kind of man, you jackass, I wanted to say. I didn’t, of course.

“Fine,” I huffed. “Tall, blonde hair, kinda curly…”

“Taller than me?” Grant interrupted.

His expression was relaxed, casual, but his limbs had stiffened, and I could see something in his eyes; jealousy. It made me smile.

“No, shorter,” I shook my head, and he smiled happily. “But still tall for me.”

“You are pretty tiny,” he winked.

“From what you remember?” I teased back, feeling strangely playful just then, and remembering quite clearly how wonderful his huge hands had felt on me, his lovely mouth completely closing over me, down there, his big body covering mine, just before he could...

His expression fell, dragging me out of my memories, and I knew in an instant that I shouldn’t have said that.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Don’t be,” he shook his head, then smiled kind of sadly, and he murmured, “Besides, yes, like I remember.”

I rattled off the rest of Brad’s description, “Blue eyes, lean build, a nice eight-pack…”

“Eight-pack?” he exclaimed.

I chuckled, but managed to pull off a frown too. “Are you going to keep interrupting me?”

“Sorry, sorry, go ahead,” he gestured.

*****

At the time, I’d had my hand stuffed down Brad’s slacks, belt undone and fly open. If I wasn’t going to let him go any farther with me, the least I could do was help him relieve some of his pent up frustration. Besides, to be honest, Brad had a nice cock. Of course, my dream cock was now firmly devoted to my sister, but hey, a girl had to make do without. Brad’s wasn’t as thick as Grant’s had been, but it was longer than average, if a bit on the narrow side. I stroked my hand up and down his length, the tip of him dribbling precum into my palm, making him nice and slick.

I don’t know why, really couldn’t explain it to you if I tried, but the feel and sight of a man so excited that his cock literally drools precum just flat does it for me.

“Jesus, Lydia,” Brad groaned, humping his erection back and forth through my hand, nibbling at my throat. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

I giggled and gave him a firm upstroke, more precum dribbling into my palm. I was pretty sure he was about to blow.

“Take your pants off,” I told him.

Brad pushed up onto his arms above me, and he looked shocked. “Seriously?”

“Unless you wanna make a mess of those nice slacks,” I grinned.

In a flash, he jumped up from the couch, kicked off his shoes, yanked off his socks, then his pants. He hooked his thumbs into his boxers, then stopped and looked at me, quirking an eyebrow in question.

“Up to you,” I said, sitting up and peeling my dress up my body to throw it aside, leaving me in dark blue bra and panties. Reaching up behind me, I unsnapped my bra and peeled it off, dropping it onto the floor. “But I’m not ruining my clothes.”

“Oh, hell yes,” he grinned and pushed his boxers down, his hard cock slapping up against his stomach. No, it wasn’t perfect, but it really was quite nice.

While he kicked his boxers off, I scooted onto the floor and lay down, holding my hand out to him. Brad practically threw himself on top of me, settling between my legs. His mouth closed over mine and he kissed me deeply, one hand gliding down my side to my hip, surprising me that he passed over fondling my bare breasts.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he breathed against my mouth, sliding his palm under me, cupping my behind. When I reached down between us and took his hard length in my hand, he twitched powerfully and groaned, “Son of a...goddamn, Lydia.”

I smiled against his mouth, loving the feeling of power I had over him, that I could do anything I wanted to him, manipulate him, control him.

“You like my little hand on your big cock, baby?” I cooed. Sure, it wasn’t really big. I’d seen big, had my hands on big, had almost fucked big, but as I said, Brad’s was still quite nice.

“Oh, fuck yes, I do,” he groaned loudly.

Brad started to hump his cock through my hand again, and he trailed kisses down my jaw and neck. Feeling brave and beautiful, I turned my hand over and pressed the shaft of him down against my wet panties, so that he was now thrusting his cock back and forth over my clit.

“You’re so hot, baby,” he moaned, taking the hint and adjusting his hips so that he could thrust back and forth against me on his own.

“You might have something to do with that,” I teased, running my hands down his sides and grasping his hips, the back and forth of his hard shaft against my clit sending sparks up and down my body, tightening my insides.

Brad began to mutter and curse softly, the long shaft of him rubbing, stroking, throbbing, the end of him steadily dribbling precum onto my belly. His gaze locked with mine, and he took a deep gasping breath, maybe because of something he saw. I wanted to fuck him. I really did, but not just yet. My mind and heart wanted to know him better, but my body was telling the rest of me to go piss on a live wire and get this show on the road.

With a growl, Brad leaned down and locked his mouth over mine, kissing me deeply, tongue plunging into my mouth, dimly aware that his hand had left my thigh. He resumed stroking his hard length up and down my cleft, hand clawing at my thigh. I was really getting into it, moving my pelvis, humping back against his thrusts, increasing the pressure, feeling the tingling sensation building inside me, the heat, the clenching, the tightening of impending release.

Suddenly, and without warning, I felt his fingers slide under my panties and find my very wet center.

“Brad,” I gasped, leaning up into him, one hand pushing at this shoulder.

“You’re so fucking wet, Lydia,” he breathed, nipping at my ear.

“Brad, wait,” I moaned, losing my train of thought when he slid a finger inside me, my insides clenching down so tightly that his one single finger felt like a fucking baseball bat.

I pushed against his shoulder again, but he wasn’t moving, wasn’t getting off me. What he was doing was against the rules, but felt so very good. Why wasn’t he getting off me?

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, but before I could answer, he thrust his finger deep inside me and curled it up and towards him, stroking that sweet spot of heaven on my upper wall.

“God!” I groaned, and realized that while I was pushing against his shoulder, my other hand was on his back, pulling me down to me, my own body betraying me.

“Tell me to stop, Lydia, and I’ll stop,” he goaded, teasing my body, stroking that spot, making me fuck my juicy cunt onto his finger. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked again.

Yes. Yes! I did want him to stop, because it felt so good, what he was doing to me, and I knew that if he kept it up, I might give in to him, give in to anything he wanted, because my body didn’t ever want him to stop. I can do this, I told myself. And I believed it. I could give in to this one thing, let him bring me with his skillful fingers, and while I wasn’t willing to go all the way with him, I could certainly repay him for the pleasure he was giving me while still respecting the line that I wasn’t willing to cross.

“No,” I whimpered in reply, shivering with delight, sinking my teeth into him where his neck met his shoulder.

Brad groaned. “Oh, I was so hoping you’d say that.”

Everything happened so fast. I felt him move above me, his finger slide out of me to pull my panties aside, the tip of his dripping cock press into my folds, then he pushed inside me, just a little, just enough for the head of his cock to open me up and begin to slide into me, but also just enough to rip me free of my addled senses.

“No!” I screamed, pushing on his chest with both hands with every ounce of strength I had, feeling his cockhead slip out of me.

Brad fell onto his side and yelled, “What the fuck, Lydia?”

I jumped up to my feet and stormed out of the living room, yelling at him over my shoulder, “What the fuck? What the fuck do you think, Brad?”

I stomped into my room, yanked a big tee shirt out of my dresser and jerked it over my head. It fell past my ass just as Brad stopped in the doorway to my room, looking both embarrassed and furious.

“What the hell did I do wrong?” he asked through his teeth.

“Did I say you could fuck me?” I barked, closing the distance in two long strides and stabbing my finger into his chest, and he actually had the audacity to slap my wrist aside, hard.

“I asked you if you wanted me to stop, Lydia,” he yelled, looming over me, hands gripping the door frame and blocking my exit. “I fucking asked you!”

“You were fingering me, asshole, not fucking me!” I yelled back, rubbing my sore wrist, which he didn’t even seemed to realized he’d hurt. “I told you I wanted to wait!”

“We’ve been dating for three fucking months!” he shouted, then turned away from me and combed his fingers back through his hair. He spun back, still angry, but no longer yelling. “What the hell are you so afraid of?”

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. “It’s not about fear, Brad. It’s about me not wanting to casually fuck every guy I come across.”

He blinked at me in confusion, then said, “So, you what...you want to make love?”

Something in this tone made me feel embarrassed, despite knowing there wasn’t anything wrong with what I wanted. Was there? And was that what I really wanted? And it hit me, that I could see myself fucking Brad, but not making love. There was only one person that came to my mind when I thought of both, making love and fucking, and it wasn’t Brad.

I dropped my gaze to his chest, unable to look him in the eye, and I nodded.

He sighed, then muttered, “Yeah, well, I don’t think I have the patience for that.”

That hurt, a lot more than I thought it would. I liked Brad. I really did. He was fun, nice, intelligent. He had a great sense of humor. He was attractive, and that never hurt. Sure, we hadn’t grown as close as I’d hoped we would, but still, I’d thought we had a chance.

But maybe we didn’t, because there was thing I knew with certainty. In that hotel room in Dallas, Grant could have pressured me, manipulated my body so masterfully, persuaded me to go as far as he wanted, and could have even taken advantage of me when I’d passed out. But he hadn’t. He’d been patient, but more importantly, he’d been respectful.

It wasn’t even as simple as all that though. I was measuring Brad against a standard defined by a man that didn’t even belong to me. It wasn’t fair, to either of us. I’d learned that life wasn’t fair when I dropped what as possibly the most important phone number in my life onto the hotel room floor.

“You should go,” I murmured.

“Fine,” he snorted derisively, heading down the hall to get dressed.

I waited by the front door and opened it for him when he came over to me. Brad fished his keys out of his pocket and gave me a bitter look.

“Try not to freeze out the next guy you pick,” he told me, then he left.

*****

“Lydia,” Grant said softly, shaking his head and setting his hand over mine on the armrest. “I’m so sorry.”

I shrugged a shoulder and gave him a weak grin, “Whatever. He was a jerk.”

“Prick,” he corrected, lifting my hand to his mouth and kissing my knuckles. “He was a prick, and you deserve much better than that.”

“Thanks,” I told him, trying not to cry. Granted, it wasn’t that hard, since I generally don’t cry over jerks - or pricks - but the memory still stung a bit. So I just sat there and took comfort from Grant, my knuckles still against his soft lips.

Melanie’s sudden arrival made both of us jump.

“Hey, quit flirting with my sister, you twat,” she smirked down at Grant.

He laughed and set his hand on Melanie’s thigh after she’d taken a seat beside him. “Lydia was just telling me about Brad.”

“Fuck him,” Melanie replied.

Grant and I both laughed.

An hour and a half later, we were waiting to board the plane, the line moving slowly. Grant was in front of me, and Melanie behind me, chatting it up with a girl around our age. She was with her new husband, on their way to Maui for their honeymoon. When we reached our assigned seats, Grant took our carry-on bags and put them in the storage compartments above us. I glanced behind me to see that Melanie had fallen back a bit to finish her conversation with the newlyweds.

Suddenly, Grant’s mouth was right beside my ear.

“Dream cock, huh?” he whispered, breath warm, voice low, deep.

I shivered, flushed bright red from chest to forehead. Had I said that? I’d thought it, while recounting what happened with Brad, but had I actually said that? Oh, Christ. Somehow, I managed to look up at him, but doing so put my mouth temptingly close to his.

Grant smiled and his fingertips brushed against my wrist, “Some dreams never change.”

I just blinked at him, watching him as he took his seat, wondering exactly what he meant by that.

Hours later, we were in Maui, and by that point, I was tired and well on my way to getting depressed. I’d spent almost the entire flight replaying the memory of my one night with Grant over and over and over, so I was pretty happy to see our suite. It was huge, basically an apartment. We had two rooms, separated by a big lounge with a huge flat-screen TV and a beautiful pool table, a full size kitchen off to the side, and a balcony that ran the entire length of the suite, affording a lovely view of the ocean. After dropping off our stuff in our rooms, we met up in the resort bar for a drink. I ordered a second and took it to my room, telling them goodnight.

I took a quick shower, draped a soft bathrobe around me and sipped at my drink on the balcony, lounging in a chair with my feet propped up on another. But my peace didn’t last long, because no sooner had I settled in did I hear what was going on at the other end of the balcony, Melanie’s cries of ecstasy and delight, punching right through the sliding glass door to their room.

Part of me wanted to cry, but another part of me, maybe the bigger, grown up part, smiled for my friend, Grant.

Chapter 5

The swollen tip of Grant’s cock was right at my opening, threatening to draw out of me completely. His hands had tightened on my waist, holding me securely in his strong grip. Only a moment ago, he’d pushed his gloriously hard length farther inside me than anyone or anything had ever gone, and held himself firm and deep for a while, only to slowly draw almost completely out of me. Now he held himself still behind me, the wide warm end of him just inside me.

I wanted to move, or him to move, anything but stay still. I wanted to beg, plead, anything to get him to just fucking move. But I couldn’t move, and I for sure as shit couldn’t speak, not without revealing the unintentional charade.

I felt his hands on my waist relax, then one smooth up my spine, gently, lovingly, and finally, his beautiful cock pushed back inside me, slowly, every last delicious inch of him spreading me open. When he was once more fully sheathed inside me, he caressed every inch of me that he could reach with his hands, and I felt like a sinful goddess, worshiped.

“Christ, you’re beautiful,” he breathed.

And then he froze. I couldn’t move, but I froze too. I didn’t even breathe.

I’d heard him say that before, only once, back in Dallas. I’d been holding his lovely cock in my bare hand, and he’d just taken my dress off and seen me in all my naked glory. He’d made me feel so beautiful then, and he did now, except now there was also a lace of bitterness in me, envy, jealousy. Because right now, as far as Grant knew, he had his cock stuffed inside of Melanie, not me.

His hands stopped moving, one on my back, the other on my hip. He drew out of me, slowly, dragging the fat end of him down my burning cunt, until once more he stopped just inside of my opening. I wanted to tell him it was me, that it was okay, what he’d said, that I loved what he’d said, adored it, adored him. I wanted to tell him to keep fucking me, to fuck me for as long as he wanted, as often as he wanted. I wanted to tell him that I was his, that I belonged to him, to do with as he pleased, anything he wanted, whenever he wanted, because he owned me.




I Lost His Number



But I couldn’t. What I could do, however, was remind him that I needed him. I clenched my insides around the big head of his cock, and he gasped, both hands on my hips now.

That’s better.

I squeezed again, heard him groan so softly, then he pushed about half his length inside me. I moaned at the feel of him, so long, so hard and so very wide, but I wanted more. I clenched him again, and again, and he muttered a curse and buried his cock in my body, making me whimper with delight.

Come on, Grant.

I focused every fiber of my being, every last ounce of will and awareness that I had between my legs. My warm wet walls squeezed, clenched, sucked and pulled, milking his fat rod. Finally, he drew out and fucked himself back into me, slow but so very deep.

There. That’s it, baby. Fuck me.

The next thrust was faster, harder.

Yes. More.

His cock slashed into me, pelvis slapping against me.

God, use me. Please!

In and out, harder, faster, his heavy sac slapping against my clit with every deep penetrating thrust. I was groaning, crying, screaming, and I couldn’t get enough of him. His hands tightened on my hips until it hurt, and the fucking became more intense, almost brutal, angry. The realization hit me like a truck. Grant thought he was with my sister, but what he’d said made him think of me, and it made him angry. It should have been confusing for me, should have thrown all manner of questions in my path, but it didn’t. Strangely, it made me happy.

He was pounding his full glorious length in and out of me, taking my breath away, taking my body, taking me, his grunts and groans loud, deep, primal. He was going to come soon, and I couldn’t wait. He belonged to Melanie, yes, but in that moment, he was with me, he was mine, and I wanted his hot cum inside me to prove it.

I felt him throb, swell, and he gave one last mighty thrust into my climaxing body.

I was in heaven, but so disappointed when he jerked his cock out of me and blew a hot rope of cum up my back. Over and over he painted me with his seed, from my butt to my hair, so very much cum, so warm, sliding down my spine, over my sides and tickling my breasts and stomach, marking me as his. When it was over, he laid the hot length of him against my butt and gently held my waist with one hand.

“God, Mel, I’m sorry,” he said softly.

There was a click and the cables whined, instantly letting me go. My body was liquid with satisfaction and I fell, but Grant was there to catch me, his strong arms encircling my waist and leaning me back against his chest.

“I can’t...shit,” he stammered, holding me up with one arm while he released my wrists from the cables. “I don’t know what came over me.”

My arms fell limp at my sides. Grant carefully turned me around to face him, and for the first time in a while, I was afraid, hoping beyond hope that he wasn’t going to take off my night mask.

He didn’t. He knelt in front of me and released my ankles, one at a time, taking off the cuffs too. My hands found his thickly muscled shoulders and lay there. He unclipped my thigh restraints and removed them, then the belt, planting a soft apologetic kiss on my trembling stomach.

“Are you mad?” he asked, burying his face against my sweaty stomach.

God, I wanted to say no, but I couldn’t. When I didn’t answer him, he stood up, removing the cuffs from my arms, then the band beneath my breasts.

“Mel?” he asked tentatively.

I shook my head. He didn’t say anything for a moment. God how I wished I could see him.

“Really?” he asked, fingers gently working on the collar around my neck.

I let my hands glide down his muscular chest, slick with sweat, and so warm. He leaned in close, probably to get a look at the latch at the back of my neck. It wasn’t a complicated thing, but it had a tendency to stick, I’d found. I could feel his warm breath on my ear, and the heat of his body so close to mine was overwhelming.

“You surprise me,” he murmured, shifting even closer, both arms around me, one from below and the other from above, closer still and the tips of my breasts grazed his chest.

I turned my head a little and kissed his cheek.

He gave me a happy snort, “That was nice.”

I smiled and kissed him again, on his jaw, while stroking just the tips of my swollen nipples against him, making both of us shiver.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he chuckled, arms tighter around me, smearing cum and sweat on my back.

I just kept on kissing him, tasting his skin, his sweat, and loving it, feeling more emboldened with every passing moment. He must have liked what I was doing, because I felt his cock rising, brushing against my thigh. I slid one hand up his chest and into his hair, pulling his head to the side, baring his neck to me. The taste of him there was simply divine.

Finally, the collar came away from my neck and he dropped it to the floor, wrapping both arms around my waist, completely enclosing me with his large body. With every kiss I planted on his neck, his jaw, his chin, my lust for him only grew, the need to feel him inside me again overwhelming.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” he breathed, shuddering when I kissed the corner of his mouth and dodged his attempt to kiss me back.

I slid my other hand down his chest and closed it around the base of his cock from underneath, loving the sound of him groaning with my simple touch. He was long and hard, between my legs.

“Guess you’ve never seen me like that either, huh?”

I shook my head and stroked my hand up his length to the end of him, and with two fingers, I lifted the head of his cock and pressed it against my slick labia. He shivered and my insides clenched in anticipation. He cupped my rear end in his palms, so tiny compared to his large hands, and he began to move me. Knowing what he wanted to do, I placed my hands on his shoulders and held on, whimpering with need as he began to stroke the wide length of him back and forth between my legs. I felt every contour of his cock, every arrogantly bulging vein, sliding over my clit, caressing, teasing.

“God, Mel,” he sighed, hands kneading my ass.

His head fell forward to settle his cheek against mine, and I turned my head to kiss and lick at his neck. I loved the warmth of him, the taste of his skin, and the feel of his hands on my body. The tips of his fingers explored the crevice between my cheeks. It was getting warmer in the house, or we were. Both of us were slick with sweat. Normally, I’m a bit of a neat freak and don’t like getting up close and personal with anyone when I’m sweaty. But as I licked my way down Grant’s neck to his chest, I couldn’t get enough of him. When I circled one of his nipples with my tongue and gave it a gentle bite, he hissed.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked, confusion and wonder in his voice. “Not that I’m complaining,” he chuckled.

His hands tightened on my rear end and he lifted me right off the floor. I wound my legs around his waist and laced my fingers together at the back of his neck. Leaning in to kiss him, finding his lips with mine, I feasted on his mouth, licked at his lips with my tongue, again and again, delaying the deep kiss that I knew he wanted, both of us wanted, teasing him, teasing me, getting a groan of frustration from him.

“I won’t come again anytime soon,” he breathed against my mouth, and lifted me higher, the wide swollen end of him finding my wet center, making me shiver. “But I think I’m going to have to fuck you anyway.”

He lowered me and his lovely cock slid up inside me, so long and hard, so very deep. My swollen lips pressed against his groin, the short trimmed hairs there tickling me. One of his arms wrapped around my back and held me tight to him, crushing my breasts against his chest. He cursed and called my name, turning and carrying me away from the Love Machine.

His cock was so big inside me, filling me completely, throbbing with incredible potency. Every step he took caused him to move inside, just a little, tiny thrusts as his bare feet padded across the hardwood floor.

And I fucking loved it.

Grant sighed and lowered me to the bed, me still wrapped around him, refusing to let go. He leaned up though, so I loosed my hold on his neck, only to feel him lean back in and nudge my chin back with his mouth so that he could kiss and nibble on my throat.

I sighed blissfully.

“I love that sound,” he told me, and sliding a hand down my side to my waist, he dragged his glorious cock down my soaked insides, the shaft of him so fucking hard, the wide end of him pushing my walls aside. “A new sound, but lovely all the same,” he breathed.

Shit. I didn’t sound like Melanie in bed either. I had to be more careful if I didn’t want to give myself away. As Grant trailed kisses down my chest, I realized that at some point, he was going to want to talk to me. Two months. He hadn’t seen Melanie for two months. He would want to catch up with her, and she would want the same.

Double shit!

Somehow, I was going to have to sneak away. Maybe when he fell asleep?

Grant’s hard cock sliding back into me stole my breath, jerked me back to the here and now, and I cried out for him, bowing my spine towards him, nails digging into his back, clawing, an entirely unexpected climax threatening to explode forth from that one big thrust of him between my legs.

He gave a masculine chuckle, drawing out, pumping back in, nearly tipping me over the edge. “You’re a new woman tonight, Mel,” he told me, settling down atop me. “I like it.”

Grant was a big guy, much bigger than me, so I was surprised when he didn’t smother me with his huge body, and delighted when I felt so much of him pressing against me. His weight was on his forearms on the bed, and he began to rock his hips back and forth, fucking me slow and deep.

I moaned loudly, expecting the next thrust to make me come for him, or the next, or the one after that. But I didn’t come. The burgeoning climax only built upon itself inside me, my limbs tightening around him, forehead pressed to his strong chest, insides clenching his thrusting meat so hard. I’d never felt anything like it, anything so wonderful, so very perfect.

“Come for me, baby,” he whispered.

I shattered.

Every part of me exploded away from every other part of me, leaving nothing behind. I was dimly aware of him above me, pressing me into the mattress, moving between my legs, kissing my neck, and me screaming. My world, my entire existence, rushed back in an instant, focusing low in my body where he was filling me so completely, thrusting deep into my climaxing cunt.

“God, yes. That’s it,” Grant breathed into my ear, still thrusting, still fucking. “Keep coming.”

I detonated around him again, screaming from the intensity of another come so quickly after the first, every bit as overwhelming as before, and more. Every muscle in my body was wound tight, bands of steel refusing to let go, threatening to cramp. I shivered beneath him, around him.

“Come all you can,” he whispered, thrusting in firmly and grinding into the furthest depths of me.

A hoarse cry tore out of my throat, and my shivering turned to violent shaking. The feel of his sweat soaked body sliding against mine felt incredible. I squeezed him tight against me with every ounce of strength I had, crushed myself to the root of him, but I couldn’t get close enough to him, couldn’t get enough of him inside me.

Grant pushed up onto his arms over me, but I clung to him so tightly that he lifted me clear off the bed. He wrapped an arm around me and held us up with one hand. I hung beneath him, the length of me pressed against his chiseled frame and hot skin, impaled on his glorious length, coming for all I was worth, sinking my teeth into his shoulder and screaming so loud and long that my voice failed me. Nothing existed but him, then my pleasure, then nothing else.

When I came to, Grant was kissing my lips, so gently, so sweetly. He was still above me, still between my legs, but his semi-hard length was lying in a hot heavy line up my stomach.

“I think we can get rid of this now,” he murmured, and I felt his thumb push under the strap of the night mask on the side of my head.

I slapped my hand over his and pulled his thumb from under the strap, shaking my head.

“No?” he asked, clearly smiling, judging by the sound of his voice.

I smiled back and shook my head again.

He chuckled, kissed the tip of my nose, and sat up between my legs, his big hands sliding down my shoulders and chest. I laid my hands atop his as they traveled down my torso, settling on my hips. He didn’t say anything for a long while, but I could practically feel his eyes on me, drinking me in. Had he been anyone else, I would have been embarrassed, would have tried to cover myself up with the sheets, or at least with my arms. But not with him. With Grant, I felt beautiful, sexy, desirable, and so much more.

“Maybe I’ve been away from you for too long,” he said softly, almost sadly, taking my hands in his and lifting me up so that I was astride him, his half-hard length resting against my hip. “But you...I don’t know...I’ve just...” he stammered, stroking his big palm over my cheek, sliding his fingers to the back of my neck, while his other arm was wrapped around me, keeping me close. His breath was warm against my mouth, lips so close, and he said reverently, “I’ve never seen you this devastatingly beautiful.”

Never before had anyone spoken such words to me, and never had I heard such sincerity from anyone. Tears welled up in my eyes in an instant, and for the first time that night, I was truly thankful for the night mask. He kissed me then, soft, gentle. I wanted him so badly. I plunged my tongue into his mouth and wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him with abandon.

When we came up for air, he sighed and set his chin over my shoulder, hugging me. I hugged him back like my life depended on it, so thankful to the powers that be that I could be this close to him.

“How about a bath?” he murmured, turning his head to kiss my neck.

“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled pleasantly.

Grant laughed, his big body shaking against me, both arms tightening to hold me closer as he picked me up from the bed and began walking, presumably to the bathroom across the hall. “So, I can’t see your eyes, and you won’t talk?”

I shook my head and kissed his neck, and I couldn’t help but notice his cock was pretty firm against my hip. Not hard, but definitely not deflated.

He chuckled and flicked on a light switch, his voice louder in the tiled bathroom, “Okay, so what’s with the no talking thing?”

When he set me down on my feet, my back to the door, I held up a finger and ducked into the hallway. He laughed behind me and I jerked off the night mask, running downstairs, naked as a jaybird, every inch of me still glistening with sweat, and I didn’t give a right damn who might see me through the windows.

In the kitchen, I found a notepad, scribbled a quick note, and tore the sheet off the pad, padding back upstairs. The water was running, filling the tub. Outside the bathroom, I put the night mask back on then stepped inside.

“Whoa, easy,” Grant said, putting his hand on my hip to keep me from bumping into anything. “What are you smiling about?”

I held out the note.

Grant took it, gave a very quiet gasp, then read softly, “Toys don’t speak.”

Biting my lower lip, going for playful, I shook my head. Grant suddenly wrapped his arms around me and his mouth closed over mine in a searing hot mind blowing kiss. He picked me up again, almost tossed me up in the air, really, then pulled me to him, forcing me to wrap my legs around him. He set me down on the edge of the counter and stepped up between my legs. The big end of him pressed into my stomach, dribbling precum. I shivered and couldn’t help but wrap my hand around his incredibly hard length.

When he came up for air from that awesome kiss, he breathed, almost growled, “Oh, how I love you as my toy.”

I smiled, knowing it reached my eyes.

“Besides,” he said, giving me a quick but firm kiss. “Makes the whole silent treatment thing worth it.”

All the air left my lungs on the next exhale, and I couldn’t seem to take another breath in. Had he figured out I wasn’t Melanie? Grant picked me up from the counter and carried me into the luxuriously warm bath, but he didn’t seem to notice my state of shock, nor did he give any indication that the charade was over.

Well, I had very good reason to suspect it might be.

Chapter 6

I was lying on the lounge chair beside Melanie’s, half-awake, half-asleep. The dull whoosh of the ocean lapping at the beach had put me to sleep once already. Melanie had jabbed her finger into my ribs to wake me and remind me to flip over onto my back before I burned. Odd, considering that we were beneath a massive umbrella and there wasn’t a lick of sunlight touching us. Oh, and it was overcast. Melanie had reminded me that sunlight on a cloudy day is still sunlight, and you can burn just as badly as on a clear day. She’d also told me that sunlight reflecting off the sand could burn you too. I’d never heard that, so I figured she was talking out of her ass. Maybe, maybe not.

“Mm, mm, mm,” Melanie mumbled beside me, making me sit up to see what she was looking at, or who. “Isn’t he just delicious?”

I followed her gaze and saw Grant down the beach, the ocean water lapping at his waist. His arms were up, pushing his hair back and out of his eyes, muscles flexing deliciously. He’d grown his hair out somewhat since I’d first met him, for Melanie, enough that his bangs got in his eyes. Personally, I thought he looked cuter with short hair. But he wasn’t mine, so I didn’t get a say in it.

“Seriously?” Melanie asked, shooting me a look from behind her big Jackie O sunglasses. “Nothing from the peanut gallery?”

“First, addressing me makes me an active participant in discussion, not an audience member,” I told her, throwing my legs over the side of the lounger so that I could sit up. “And second...” I trailed off, then gave the side of her bikini-clad boob a firm flick with my finger.

“Ow!” she squealed in laughter, rubbing her breast. “You fucking bitch!”

I laughed too, then arched an eyebrow. “And second, he’s your boyfriend, not mine,” I waved a hand at her dismissively and leaned over to get a bottle of water out of our cooler. “What’s it matter to me how he looks?”

“You don’t have an opinion,” she accused, her tone full of doubt.

Melanie sat up and swung her legs over the side of her lounger to face me, resting her arms on her thighs and leaning forward. We were wearing the same skimpy bikinis, only hers was black and mine was dark red, and she’d grown her hair out so that it was almost as long as mine, so she was mirroring me pretty well just then.

“Give me a break, Lydia. You practically slept with him.”

I took a swig of the cool water and passed it over to her. “How exactly does one sleep practically with another. Is it with their pinky finger extended, like when drinking tea?”

Melanie giggled and reached out to give my shoulder a shove. “You’re such a smartass.”

“And I didn’t sleep with him,” I finished what I’d been thinking.

“Actually, you did,” she raised an eyebrow.

Well, technically, she was correct. I shrugged, “Okay, fine. I slept with him. But I didn’t, you know, sleep with him.”

Melanie shook her head at an angle. “No, honey, you actually did sleep with him. But I think you’re trying to say you didn’t fuck him.”

“Oh my God!” I hissed, glancing around us to see if anyone overheard her.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Melanie asked, then quite loudly, yelled, “There’s no one here!”

The married couple with their two kids sitting about twenty-yards away begged to differ, the husband glaring at us disapprovingly, and the wife giving us a nasty look.