Page 3 of Free Me

This close, her eyes are almost black, but they sparkle with such life it’s difficult to look anywhere else. I don’t even try. “I, uh…” Words, Blake. Use your words. “I wasn’t planning on this tonight.” I thrust into her grip. “I’m not… prepared.”

She laughs and nuzzles my cheek. “You’re freaking adorable.” She reaches across a high top table, grabs the edge of a crystal bowl, pulling it toward us. What I had mistaken for decorative knick-knacks turns out to be conveniently placed packets of condoms, lubes, and wipes. I suppose it’s better the club acknowledges what goes on and encourages safe play.

I grab a condom and a packet of lube, ripping them open and suiting up faster than I ever have. The need to be inside her is overwhelming. My beautiful partner grins and turns her back to me, tossing a saucy glance over her shoulder. She slowly raises her skirt, revealing the tiniest black thong and her perfect, round, biteable ass. “Fuck.” I reach out and caress one beautiful cheek. “So gorgeous.”

She laughs and shakes her ass invitingly. “I hope you’re planning to do more than pet me.” I pitch the empty packets onto the nearest table and grab her hips. She plants her forearms against the wall, pushing her ass toward me, keeping eye contact as she bites her plump lower lip enticingly. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but fuck if I can resist.

My hands are shaking with the need to be inside her. I step in, slipping my slicked fingers under the fabric of the thong, pulling it aside before dipping down into the cleft of her ass, teasing across her hole. She grabs her cheeks, spreading herself for me, and goddamn, that’s hot as fuck. My cock is throbbing, my entire body pulsing with the beat of the music. I need to be inside her now. One-handed, I shove my pants down to my thighs as I press my slick fingers into her, feeling the warm squeeze of her body. Her eyes close briefly, and she gasps as she pushes against my hand, urging me on. “Gods, that’s good.” She fucks herself on my fingers, holding my gaze as her eyes go dark. “Hurry up, sweet thing. I need you.”

I slip my fingers from her and drag my cock down the cleft of her ass, rubbing the tip over her hole before pressing in, watching as her body yields under the gentle pressure. I squeeze my eyes shut and grip her hips. Fucking hell, she’s tight and warm, and it’s been so damned long. I exhale a very shaky breath and will myself not to come.

With a groan, I press deeper, obviously not fast enough. She shoves against the wall, pushing herself on me with one smooth motion until my thighs press against hers, and I’m balls deep. Holy fucking fuck. I truly forgot how incredible sex with another person feels.

She’s watching me over her shoulder, eyes sparkling, a slightly blissed-out smile on her beautiful face. The moment our eyes meet, my already thrumming senses light up. It’s like every nerve in my body ignites, and I need to move. I tighten my grip and pull back, then thrust into her, hauling her against me so our bodies connect in pounding pleasure. She moans, her gaze never leaving mine. “Yes! Gods, yes, just like that.” I thrust into her again and again, her hair pulsing down her back in blonde waves with each impact of our bodies. “Yes, yes, yes! You feel so good.”

I’m mesmerized, watching my cock disappear into her beautiful peach of an ass, the need to drop to my knees and bury my face between her cheeks overwhelming. But that’s not what this is about. This is fast and dirty. This is hookup sex. And no matter how incredible it is, it’s nothing more. But the fantasy of her fucking herself on my tongue rockets me right to the edge. I struggle to hang on.

She drops a hand from the wall and fumbles under her skirt before letting out a groan that I feel in my balls. She grips her cock, stroking herself half a dozen times before her ass clamps around me, her body arching as she shudders under my hands. Like a chain reaction, my orgasm rips through me, and I come so hard my knees wobble. I grip the back of a chair to steady myself and continue to pound into her until I’m spent, and the tsunami of pleasure fades into a gentle wave, then dissipates.

For several moments neither of us moves, both panting heavily. She slowly pushes off the wall and leans against me. I wrap my arms around her torso, the warm scent of vanilla filling my nose. I want to nuzzle her neck and breathe her in. She sighs contentedly and grins over her shoulder. “That was incredible.”

“It was.” And now it’s over. I squeeze her gently. “Ready?”

She nods and I grab the base of the condom, carefully pulling out as we both gasp at the change in pressure. I take a few unsteady steps as she reaches for a pack of wipes. Handing some to me, she uses a few to clean herself up. I pull off the condom, wipe myself down, and toss everything into a conveniently placed trash can. It’s all so perfunctory and as amazing as the sex was, this part is awkward and uncomfortable.

I pull up my boxer briefs and suit pants, tucking myself away. Fully put together, her sunshine grin lighting up her face, she turns around and kisses my cheek. “Thanks, gorgeous. You were an unexpected slice of heaven. Have a great rest of your night!” Before I can say anything at all, she’s through the curtain and gone, leaving me incredibly sated and oddly bewildered.

2

Stef

Istepuptothe front door of the light blue two-story Edwardian home and ring the bell. Scanning the neighborhood, I take in all the greenery and late spring flowers blooming in the yards of the posh homes. Seattle boasts a few very wealthy neighborhoods, and Lawton Park is one of them. What would it be like to afford a home in a neighborhood like this? I snort because I’ll never know.

Not that I want to move here. Gods, no! I adore living in Capitol Hill and being close to my vibrant LGBTQ community. The thought of living somewhere I couldn’t be my authentic self makes my skin feel tight. Is that judgy? Yes. But my own personal experience has taught me it’s not unwarranted. Itwouldbe nice to have more than just a one-bedroom apartment, though. I sigh. A girl can dream.

The door swings open, interrupting my thoughts, and Miranda Sullivan, my client’s daughter-in-law, ushers me inside. She’s dressed in jeans and a soft pink T-shirt, and her light brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail. “Hi Stef. Lara’s in the sunroom. Can I get you something to drink? Iced tea? Water?”

“No thanks. I had a boba tea on the way over, and if I have any more liquid right now, I’ll float away.” I give her a quick squeeze and reposition my leather satchel on my shoulder. “Is it alright if I just go through?” I gesture down the long sunlit hallway toward the rear of the house.

Miranda nods and waves me on. “She’s eagerly awaiting your arrival. I swear you’re two peas in a pod. She’s been gushing about whatever book you recommended to her and eager to share the gossip.”

“Oh! I can’t wait.” Lara Sullivan is one of my favorite clients. She’s quick and funny and keeps me on my toes. After our physio sessions end, I’ll be sad to not see her again. I hurry through the white, wainscotted hallway into an airy sunroom, where Lara sits at a small table with her usual cup of tea—milk, no sugar—her silver bob tucked behind her ears, and her nose in the latest Gary Atkinson book.

“Good morning, my dear! Are you ready to get the blood flowing and clear out the blahs?” I drop my bag on the small loveseat and lean down to give her a hug. “It’s a beautiful, sunshiny day. How are you feeling? You look marvelous.” She’s sporting a new casual set from lululemon and the lovely teal color of the tank compliments her peachy skin tone perfectly.

“Good morning, Stef.” Lara sets her book down and squints at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “There’s a glow about you. You’ve been up to something. Spill the tea!”

I laugh at her use of the slang she learned from me. “Excuse me, madam, we’re here to work on your strength and mobility, not share the tea about what may or may not have happened in my personal life. Now, should we stay in the sunroom or go out onto the patio?” The Sullivans have a beautifully kept, fenced-in yard, and Lara and I will sometimes work through her physical therapy and stretching routine there, if the weather cooperates. Since today is mild and sunny, it’s the perfect opportunity to be outside and get some vitamin D.

She stands without issue, her balance so much better than when we first started, and gestures outside. “Spoilsport. Fine. The patio beckons. But I still want to hear about your weekend. You can share while you torture me.” We walk out the French doors, and I tilt my face toward the sun, closing my eyes and soaking up the warm rays like the true Leo I am. On beautiful days like this, I spend as much time as possible outside recharging my body and mind. Lara’s voice breaks through my brief meditation. “You’re like a satisfied cat in a warm sunbeam. It must have been a wonderful weekend.”

When I open my eyes, she’s watching me with that devilish sparkle in her gaze. I give her my best ‘we are not talking about this’ look. “Lara.”

She waves me off. “Stef. I’m sixty-five and living with my son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter. I love them to the moon and back, and enjoy living here, but there aren’t many opportunities for me to be single and mingle, if you catch my drift. Especially with a bum ankle.” She winks at me, and I laugh.

“Well, your ankle is doing much better, and your mobility is great. We probably only need a few more sessions before your doctor gives you the all clear. Then you can get back out there and get your mingle on.” She does a little happy wiggle, and I chuckle. She’s such a joy to be around, and the lack of mobility has put a damper on her quite active social life. I hope to gods when I’m her age I still have that much sass in me. “Alright, let’s get started with ankle circles.” She sits in one of the beautiful, tan wicker lawn chairs and raises her right foot, dutifully making circles, first clockwise then counter-clockwise.

“So, tell me about your weekend. You went out.” It’s not a question.

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