“Do you like the way I lick you, Chrissy?” he asks between licks. “Do you like fucking my face with that sweet pussy?”
“Yes,” I gasp.
“Do you want me to make you come this way?” he asks me, and I can’t even answer. I’m so close to coming and it’s been so fucking long. So long since I’ve come at the hand—or lips—of another, and I don’t want him to stop. Not ever.
“Answer me, Chrissy. Do you want me to make you come?”
I groan and press back, getting more blessed friction against his perfect mouth.
“Fine,” he says, pulling away.
“NO!” I cry, and try to stand, but his hand lands on the back of my neck, holding me down. And then he fills me.
He fills every fucking millimeter inside my pussy and suddenly I can’t recall why I don’t do this with him all the time. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, this man needs to be fucking me.
“Yes,” I cry, as his hands move to my hips and turn me, taking extra care not to hit my head on the wall, but at this point I wouldn’t care if it did. I can’t concentrate on anything other than the feel of Jake’s perfect cock and the heat that’s about to blow a hole right through me.
“So tight,” he growls, his pace picking up. “Fuck me, Gina.”
I don’t correct him. He can call me whatever the fuck he wants to, as long as he keeps fucking me the way that he is.
Pressing my hands against the wall, I close my eyes and shove back, over and over again, fucking Jake’s cock and reveling in the feel of my growing release. “Yes, Gina. Jesus fucking Christ, don’t you stop.”
I don’t. I go faster. I roll my hips in bigger motions and grab his hand. I take his finger and guide it to my pussy, and then to my clit. Together we roll his fingertip against my clit and I take him impossibly deeper.
“Come, baby,” he orders. “You’re so fucking sexy. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.”
I can’t hold on any longer either. When I come, I curl my fingers into my palms but keep my knuckles pressed against the wall for support. A cry rips from my chest and out of my throat that would put a wildcat to shame, and when Jake’s cock pulses inside of me, I know he’s right there with me.
Together, we jerk and jolt and moan, never daring to part. And when it’s done, we don’t move. Not a muscle. We stay locked together, our bodies trembling with aftershocks of our pleasure.
“Jesus Christ, Gina,” he whispers, dropping a kiss just behind my ear. “I forgot how amazing it is to fuck you like that.”
I grin as he pulls out and turn to face my husband. “Never again,” I tell him and giggle a little at the alarm on his face. “Never again will we wait this long to be together. We need to make each other a priority. Not just the kids.”
“Definitely,” he agrees, pulling me to him and burying his nose in my hair. “I love you so fucking much, babe.”
I hug him tight and my heart soars at his words. Months of self-isolation with our children have worn on us. For a while, we’d forgotten why it was we were together. We’d forgotten how to romance each other. How to live out our fantasies together.
But tonight reminded us—at least it reminded me. I’d married Jeremy all those years ago, and we’d built a beautiful life together. But we’d lost our spark.
Being Chrissy reminded me that I am sexual—that I’m sexy. And seeing Jeremy as Jake reminded me that my husband is a fucking fox, and I’m crazy not to take advantage of his prowess in bed.
“Ready for round two?” he says, pulling me toward the bed.
I drop to my knees before him and stare up into his eyes. “Are you?”
About Geri Glenn
Geri Glenn writes alpha males. She’s best known for writing motorcycle romance, including the internationally bestselling series, The Kings of Korruption MC.
She lives in the Thousand Islands with her two young girls, one big dog and one terrier that thinks he’s a Doberman. Before she began writing contemporary romance, Geri worked at several different occupations. She’s been a pharmacy assistant, a 911 dispatcher, and a caregiver in a nursing home. She can say without a doubt though, that her favorite job is the one she does now–writing romance that leaves an impact.
She loves homemade cookies, copious amounts of coffee and Diet Coke by the case. You can connect with Geri on her website where you can sign up for her newsletter to find out more about her less than glamorous life, and what she’s working on now.
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3rd Date Face-Off
C.J. Lazar
3rd Date Face-Off
Squish-squish. The steady and distinct sound of Molly’s soft-soled shoes on the tiles of the deli floor made me smile.
When she said, “Evenin’, sweetie. Your usual or are you here for something different?” her voice was warm and familial. It was as if my own mother were here to help get me through tonight’s ordeal.
“Something different. No question. I’m here for date number three.”
“Ohhh...” Her grin grew with each drawn out consonant and I was sure the dirty look said it all—until she added, “Date number three was always my favorite.” Molly giggled like a high school girl forty years her junior. “Things must be getting serious.”
I blushed, or at least tried to blush, as I plunged back into my swirling reservations. “Well, sorta.”
“Oh?” Molly dropped into the booth to sit across from me. “Is this a different boy than the one you brought here this past week?”
“Ha!” My sudden outburst surprised me about as much as it did the family at the next table. “I don’t have the time to juggle more than one guy. Heck, one may be too many with all the extra hours I’ve been pulling. In fact,” I said, then before I knew it, I was off and spouting like a geyser, “we’ve all been pulling extended shifts and even doubles. Every time we think we’ll get some relief someone comes along and—” This time the blush in my cheeks was real and undeniable. “I’m sorry. I just...” My voice trembled with frustration and fell silent.
Molly took my hands in hers. The warmth of her large fingers sent a wave of relief through me. “It’s okay, sweetie. If you need to chatter or unload, you know I’ve always got a hot pot of goodness in the kitchen for you, or a bottle in my stash, whatever the situation requires.”
I smiled into the sigh that was already easing through me. This was one of the reasons I came here.
In the six years and eleven months since I moved into the area to start work, Molly had become more than a friendly grey-haired waitress who was always quick with the coffee. She was the ever-present motherly figure I knew I could count on being here right when I needed her most. It's why picking the Meet The Meat Deli for these dates felt like the right choice. Not only was I unlikely to see anyone from the shop, but it was a place I could relax enough to try dating again.
“Thanks, Molly. Depending on how tonight goes, I may take you up on that.”