Back at the office, I cleaned up my space quickly and was just closing down Dustin’s computer when I sensed someone enter and sit down on my desk.
I swung around to see Bryan, his foot swinging, his million-dollar smiled focused on me. The stage was set for seduction—what remained was only where and when. And as far as I was concerned no when could be soon enough.
My lips felt so dry so I ran my tongue over them.
The cliché move.
That stemmed from real need.
And generated a real response.
Bryan was on his feet without delay. He swept me into his arms and dropped his handsome face, covered my mouth with his soft one, slightly open, tongue gently probing into mine.
I melted into his arms, my body fitting along his lithe length. My breath came quicker, shallow with my burgeoning passion, my skin came alive as I opened to his desire and a warm wetness signaled my readiness to go further. Fast.
But he pulled back. His hand took my chin and lifted it to his face, straightened me up. “Not yet, not like this.”
Oo-ooh. Shuddering, my body started to pull back from full alert. My hormones crashing causing a mild depression, the disappointment of an anticipation unfulfilled. But the promises of things to come.
Bryan kept his eyes on mine. And his lips were still swollen with his own yearning. “Come.” He smiled. “Let’s stretch this wait out. Keep ourselves on the brink of, of . . . gratification.”
Just the way he said that word made me almost come in my pants. I’d landed a hot one. And a smile spread lazily across my face—“I’ll take you up on that one, home boy.”
His tongue swept his lower lip and the game was afoot.
* * * * *
It was all about stretching this evening out, about walking the high wire of sexual excitement without tearing each other’s clothes off, about teasing, about gratification postponed but not denied.
To tantalize without risk kept us in public places for much of the next few hours. Dinner, where Bryan massaged my thighs under the table and I ran my toes up and down the insides of his legs while both of us managed to maintain straight faces.
A return to Exotica, our hero gaming room, where we played out Jon’s scene with innuendo and suggestive gestures—mild enough so the regular clientele was pretty much oblivious, but pointed enough that we were driving up the stakes of our personal game.
Sliding into the back row for the last twenty minutes of a romantic comedy both of us had seen before so we could touch each other in the dark—without the option of taking it further. Not that either of us would not have taken the risk under different circumstances, but because that was against our self set-rules that night.
Walking hand in hand down the Strip at midnight, heading back to the Grand Trianon, fingers entwined, accidentally-on-purpose bumping into each other. Watching the high stakes poker table with Bryan’s strong arms circling me from behind, ostensibly because there was only room for one to view.
Our conversation was of everything and nothing, the inane and work, everything but introspection and our true feelings for now, for the future, for the past. It was all about the physical sensation, the excitement of pursuit and the escalating deferment of culmination and surrender.
Finally I could stand it no longer.
I pushed backwards against Bryan, head on his shoulder, eyes on the poker table but all my focus on rotating my butt into his crotch, the massaging of Bryan’s semi-tumescent erection into something bigger, more insistent. Till he was thrusting against me, and we surreptitiously slid back and made a run for the elevator.
His lips pinned mine as I hiked my leg over his hip and ground my clit on his quad. “Where?” he panted.
I rubbed harder as I pushed the button for my floor. I needed to be where Dustin could reach me and I could respond on a moment’s notice.
One of our unwritten rules was that Dustin and I stayed out of each other’s sex lives. Completely. No comment. But we each had to be reachable by the other at all times.
We half staggered across the hall to my room. Bryan had unbuttoned his fly and was pulling my top over my head as I fought with the key card, and his pants were falling to the floor as we tumbled through the door and he pursued me to the bed.
He flopped down on me, my hands pinned over my head by the sleeves of my top. He pulled my fly open and yanked my jeans—and my oh-so-wet panties—to my knees before driving deep within me from behind. Oh. Oh. OH-oh-oh.
I screamed as I came for the first time. My orgasm was huge and wasting. What that wait had wrought!
And then Bryan went at it in earnest. Long, deep, slow, and thorough thrusts, building in pace and strength, propelling me deep into the mattress of the king-sized bed. Sex as I love it, rough and hard and good clean fun.
Lust and passion and pleasure and intensity building, building with a strong powerful man. As I felt Bryan start to come, he pulled back. Pulled out. And then rolled me over.
“I want to see your face this time,” he gasped.
And plunged back in.