He pulled out and paused with just the tip inside.
I whipped my head around to look at him over my shoulder. He was still braced over me, his face close. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
His body shuddered. “Oh my god, did you just say fucking?”
I arched my back, desperate for more. “So?”
“So? God, I hate how hot you are.” He thrust back in.
“I hate that your cock feels good.”
“I hate that you make me hard every time I fucking see you.”
He drove with his hips, sinking his cock in deep. Fire ran through my veins, every thrust igniting a new spark. My walls tightened around his length, my core pulsing with tension.
His hand slid down around the top of my thigh, his fingers finding my clit, and I almost died.
I could no longer separate anything I was feeling. Lust. Anger. Desire. The hot swirl of pressure built as his fingers rubbed tight circles over my clit. It was perfect.
How did he know?
No, really. How did he know?
The rhythm of his cock sliding in and out of my wetness matched the quick brushes of his fingers against my desperately sensitive clit. Rational thought fled. I closed my eyes, holding the table for dear life. Feeling nothing but his thickness. His body slamming into mine. His fingers dancing across my tender bundle of nerves. Heat and tension rising. So fast. So hard. So good.
I threw my head back as my entire body convulsed with the breathtaking power of my orgasm. My pussy clenched around his cock, squeezing hard, pulsing with the waves of climax.
Finally. Oh thank god, finally.
“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck,” he growled and his cock throbbed inside me.
The table slammed into the wall, the legs scraping against the floor. Corban groaned into my ear, his muscles flexing, and drove his hips harder. The sound of his voice, so low and raw, and the feel of his cock as he burst inside me sent a renewed rush of pleasure pulsing through my body. It rocked me to my core. He drew out my orgasm, one rolling into another, until I was nothing but a mess of quaking limbs sprawled out on the table.
He paused, breathing hard, his cock still buried inside me. I could hardly open my eyes. My body trembled with the relief of finally finding release.
Without a word, he stood, his cock slipping out. I pushed against the table to stand, hoping my legs would take my weight. They shook, but held, saving me the humiliation of crumpling to the floor.
Although part of me wanted to, just to see if Corban would put his arms around me to help me stand.
I closed my eyes again, letting out a breath, and pushed my skirt down. Behind me, I heard a zipper. A few muttered words I couldn’t make out.
And when I turned to look over my shoulder, Corban was gone.
14
Corban
“Mathematics may not teach us how to add love or how to minus hate. But it gives every reason to hope that every problem has a solution.” ~ Anonymous
The basketball hit the floor, the sound echoing in the gym. I dribbled a few more times, then took a shot. Swish. Nothing but net.
I’d gone to the climbing gym earlier, hoping to get my head on straight. It hadn’t helped much. Of course, it didn’t matter how high I climbed or how many baskets I shot. I’d still fucked Hazel over a table in the copy room at work last night.
A woman I didn’t like.
A woman who drove me crazy.
A woman I’d been attracted to since the first time we’d met.
What had come over me? I hadn’t even needed to go to the copy room. But I’d swear it until the day I died, she’d been releasing a massive quantity of intoxicating pheromones. I’d been as helpless as a worker bee, obeying the commands of his queen.
Until I’d taken charge.
I’d never done anything like that before. I’d taken her. It had been pure raw instinct and unbridled lust. We’d been at work, in a copy room, with the door open right behind us. I was pretty sure the building had been empty, but still.
And I’d been achingly aware of every detail. The way she felt, her wet pussy surrounding me. Her scent and the heat of her body. The open door behind us and how I was going to hide her if someone approached. I’d been in charge, in command of the whole situation. And I’d fucked her like an animal.
I didn’t want to think about how much I’d liked it.
No—loved it.
It had been fucking amazing, there was no other way to describe it. Like a beast had always lived inside me, and I’d finally let him out. She had drawn him out.
The fact that we hadn’t used protection, however, reminded me how reckless that had been.
Fuck.
“Sup, glasses,” a voice said behind me.
I grabbed the ball and tucked it under my arm. “Hey, man. How’s it going?”
Alex unzipped his hoodie. He was tall—about my height—with dark hair and a beard. “Can’t complain. You?”
I shrugged. Totally fucked in the head. “Not bad.”
His brother Caleb was right behind him. He looked a lot like Alex. Same dark hair, square jaw. Good looking guys. They came in here to shoot hoops a few times a week with their brother-in-law, Weston. I’d joined their games enough that we’d exchanged names, although they mostly called me glasses. I referred to them as the dads, since all three were married with kids.
Caleb said hi and peeled off his sweatshirt. I passed the ball to Alex and the three of us started shooting around.
Weston strolled in a few minutes later, hands in his pockets, still wearing his sunglasses. He didn’t say anything, just put his keys, phone, and sunglasses in a pile next to the wall before coming out onto the court.
I shot around with them while they chatted with each other. Sometimes they talked about work, but more often it was family stuff. Progress on backyard swing sets, piano recitals, baby-proofing challenges, and funny things their wives had said.
Most of the time it was cool to be around them. These guys were happily married and raising families. They didn’t bitch about their wives or complain about the responsibilities of having kids. They clearly loved their families—loved being husbands and fathers. It gave me hope that this was possible. Maybe even for a guy like me.
But today, hearing Caleb laugh about a late night trip to the store to get his pregnant wife grapefruit because it was her current craving, and Weston idly mention that his daughter had painted his toenails and no, he would not take his shoes off so everyone could see… it just reminded me that I was the guy going home to an empty apartment after this.
“Someone get this guy a beer,” Caleb said, passing the ball to me. “What’s going on, glasses? You okay?”
“He does look like shit,” Weston said.
I scowled at him and turned back to Caleb. “I don’t know. I’ve got some weird stuff going on with a coworker.”
“Who is she?” Alex asked.
“What makes you think it’s a she?” I took a shot and missed.
He jogged over to grab the ball and passed it to Weston. “Just a guess. It is, though, right?”
“Yeah, it’s a she.”
“So what’s the deal?” Alex asked. “You have a crush on her, but she has a boyfriend?”
“No.”