exoticeva:

There’s a place in the Village -that she thinks of as “her spot,” even while acknowledging the ridiculousness of that in New York, especially as she’s hasn’t lived there in more than a decade. But the memory of it is still meaningful – a reminder of the girl she used to be – the one who lingered over bowls of spanish coffee and plates of poached eggs. Maybe that’s why she offered it up as a meeting place. Nostalgia was already going to be at the table, might as well go all in.

He’s already sitting when she arrives, glass of wine in front of him, looking better than he has a right to. And when he stands to greet her, an urbane brush of lips and stubble over her cheek, she can’t stop herself from taking a deeper breath than necessary, to see if he smells the same – vetiver, citrus and something that is wholly him. He does, of course, and despite all the steeling of nerves and stern pep talks she has given herself, her stomach clenches – nerves, anticipation, excitement. A potent combination that makes her feel off balance and at a disadvantage.

They make small talk; work, family, vacations. Sometime during the second glass of wine she feels herself relax, the knot of tension between her shoulder blades unraveling. She’s talking animatedly now, laughing and gesturing with her hands. Suddenly he reaches out and skims his hand down the bare skin of her leg, from the hem of her short dress to the inside of her knee. She can’t stop the sharp inhale his touch provokes, or deny the burst of sensation that flashes along her skin – like champagne bubbles and just as intoxicating.

“I- what are you doing?” her voice is husky, not the accusation she had been trying for. It sounded much more like an invitation to keep doing it.

“Seeing if your skin is as soft as I remember.”

The brazen reply, offered without a hint of apology, sent her reeling. She licked her suddenly dry lips, trying to ignore the rapid beat of her pulse.

“Why?”

He laughed softly, more of a snicker, “You want to play games Livvy? Really? You want to tell me that you came here tonight thinking we would just catch up and what? Go our separate ways after trading stories about the last 2 years?” He paused and his gaze got even more intense, his face settling into lines she recognized and remembered all too well.

“You want me to believe you didn’t think about what it would be like to have my hands on you again, my mouth on yours, my cock buried deep inside you?”

“Jack!” her shock was genuine as she shot a look around to see if anyone else had heard him, her cheeks flushing hotly. But people weren’t paying any attention. Involved in their own lives and conversations, unaware of the drama playing out near them.

His hand moved back up, flirting with the hem of her dress before his fingertips slid underneath it. His touch was hot, electric, she almost expected she would find marks where he touched tomorrow. And that line of thought lead to all the times he had left marks – badges of ownership and control that she had worn with pride. Her insides softened, her panties dampening from a heady mix of memory and the sensation of him touching her skin once more.

“Livvy!” He mocked her scandalized tone. “Tell me. Tell me you have no interest in seeing if I can still make you beg and cry for me.” He shifted closer, seeming to take up all her personal space and the air in the room, “In fact – if you tell me truthfully that your panties are dry as a bone, I’ll stop right now, pay the check and leave.”

God she wanted to, she really did. Damn him and his arrogance and his attitude. She wanted to tell him she wasn’t that girl anymore. She hadn’t begged or crawled for a man in a long time.

*because you’ve been dating vanilla hipsters* her traitorous brain decided to chime in with timely snark.

He sat back and looked at her, one eyebrow cocked in a way that made her want to scratch and bite, even as her pussy clenched tightly. She knew he would wait her out – patience and prevarication had never been her strong suits. She dropped her gaze to where his hand rested on her leg, the thrum of arousal that pulsed between her legs seeming much more insistent than the reasons she shouldn’t be doing this. She knew that hand intimately. The weight of it as it slapped her ass. The dexterity of it as it wrung orgasms from her body until she couldn’t take any more. The tenderness of it as it soothed and petted her during aftercare. Biting her lip she raised her gaze back to his.

“I can’t tell you that.”

She didn’t miss the flare of triumph in his eyes, or the way his grip on her thigh tightened.

“Tell me what Livvy?” his voice was low, a velvet caress of her senses.

“I can’t tell you my panties are dry.”

He exhaled sharply and it occurred to her for the first time that maybe he hadn’t been as sure of her as he seemed.

“Show me.” His tone brooked no argument and she took a moment to marvel at how easily they fall back into these roles. Her limbs were languid, liquid with desire as she parted them enough to let his hand slide to the inside of her thigh. She knew he could already feel the heat between her legs. He moved his hand up slowly, forcing her legs wider, until his fingers brushed against the silk of her panties. His nostrils flared as he registered the wetness of the fabric.

“Good girl. Do I need to remind you what happens next?”

She shook her head, then stood and walked to the restroom. As she slid her panties down her legs and stepped out of them she caught her reflection in the mirror. A wanton creature stared back at her – heavy lidded, high color on her cheeks, swollen lips – this was a girl looking to get fucked.

Walking back out she saw that he had paid the check and was standing by the table, waiting for her.

“In a hurry?” she teased, happy he seemed to be as impatient as she felt. He took her hand and walked her outside, fitting her shorter frame against his as he leaned down so his mouth was by her ear.

“Yes Livvy. I’m in a hurry. I’m fucking hungry little girl. I can’t wait to put my mouth on your sweet cunt, my hands on your body, my cock in your pretty mouth. Is that a problem?”

Mutely she shook her head at him, her throat drying up at his dirty words, in direct contrast to the gush of arousal that was now coating her thighs because her panties were tucked into his pocket.

“I didn’t think so, let’s get out of here.”

To Be Continued