Being fat has kept me from doing some things in my life. Fucking is not one of them.
Men are pretty easy, in general. Even the best-looking of them—guys some folks think are out of a fat girl’s “league”—are easy. And they’re always surprised when they’re approached directly. Some of the looks I’ve gotten have almost made me laugh. Apparently most women are not particularly forward. The thing is…men love forward women.
On the table, my phone vibrated with a text just as I finished typing. I made eye contact for the third time with a pretty hot bear-type guy at the bar. Friday nights were often my best nights. A blond—not my usual look—but with gorgeous green eyes that had caught my attention as soon as I walked into Chemistry, my home bar. He’d been nursing the same Heineken for the last twenty minutes, so not a drunk. Always a plus. I was about to flag down Sandy, my waitress, but the phone.
Tessa: Where are you?
Me: Chemistry. It’s been a long week. Need some companionship.
Tessa: You could have come over.
Me: Not that kind of companionship. :p
Tessa: Ah. Speaking of, how about dinner Sunday?
Me: Are you going to try to set me up again?
Me: Uh-huh. Who else is coming?
Tessa: Just a friend of Gordon’s.
Tessa: Don’t be that way. He’s a nice guy.
Before I could even start my response, a shadow fell over the table. And there was Heineken-man, with a smile on his face and a lemon-drop martini in his hand.
“Hey. You look like you need a refill.” He nodded to my empty glass. He had a nice voice. Just deep enough to let me imagine it growling in my ear, but not so deep that I couldn’t hear him over the bar music. A fresh drink and a nice voice. Two points in his favor. But then there was the lost hunt. One point down for approaching.
“Looks that way. Thanks.” I returned his smile while I debated whether it would be worth continuing the conversation. I always feel let down when the guy does the chasing. He was good-looking, yes, but I’m the one who does the hunting. Not the other way around. My phone buzzed again, and I ignored it. Tessa could wait awhile. I had more important issues at hand.
Heineken-man set the martini down—without spilling, which was to his credit. “May I join you?”
Very polite. There’s a point. I still hadn’t decided whether I wanted him to join me, though.
“If you’re too busy”—my laptop was still open—“I understand.” His eyes twinkled. Or maybe it was just the strobe light from the small dance floor behind my table. “I’d be disappointed, but I’d understand.”
He was putting the moves on me. That was my job.
I supposed we could see where it went. No harm in that, right? “Sure. Have a seat.” I closed the lid of my laptop and slid the machine into my satchel as he slid his nice derriere onto the bench seat across from me. Then, the martini. Sugar on the rim clashed very nicely with the tart lemon. I gazed at him over my glass. “Thank you for the drink.”
“My pleasure. I’m Gary.”
“Caly. It’s nice to meet you. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”
“I’m not actually from around here. My sister lives in the neighborhood, and we had dinner tonight. I thought I’d stop in and check the place out. It seems nice enough.” Up close, the green of his eyes was spectacular, a deep kelly green rimmed in hazel. I probably could have just stared at them for an hour. “You’re a regular?”
“I come in once or twice a week, maybe, for a nightcap. Or to do some writing.” I’d been working on the How to Pick Up Dudes
book for a month or two.
Gary’s eyebrows went up, as did the corners of his mouth. “A writer? What do you write?”
“Call it a self-help book. I’m not really a writer. I do it in my spare time.” I took another sip of my drink. “You’ve got gorgeous eyes.”
He laughed—an attractive laugh. Not one of those obnoxious guffaws that some bigger guys have. “Thank you. Aren’t I supposed to be complimenting you?”
I shot my feistiest grin at him. “Well, you haven’t yet, have you?”
He put a large hand on his chest, fingers splayed wide. “I am remiss in my duties! My deepest apologies.” Okay, he was funny. And charming. I admire both of those things. “Would you like to know what drew me over here with a tangy drink sporting a sugar rim?”
His eyes twinkled again in the low bar light. “The way you bite your lower lip when you’re typing. It’s pretty adorable.”
It was my turn to laugh. This was going to turn out okay.
* * * *
I kept my hands to myself long enough to let him in, close the door behind us, and drop my satchel onto a kitchen chair. It’d been three weeks since my last hunt. I was ready.
“This is a nice place—”
I shut him up with the press of my lips against his. He seemed startled for a moment, but then he bent, slid his arms around me, and pulled me against his solid chest. His warmth encompassed me as his tongue brushed my lower lip. I let him wait while I ran my hands along his shoulders, to his neck. He was way taller than me—I was up on my tiptoes.
His lips met mine again, his tongue put away for the time being. I started on the buttons of his shirt. He took that as his cue, and his hands skimmed my back, beneath my flowy blouse and tank top. Soon I was enveloped in his masculine smell, a mix of something woody and the Heineken he’d drunk. It suited him and only made him sexier. Desire pooled in my belly.
When we broke the kiss, his breath whooshed across my cheek, hot and sweet. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” he said, working my tank top up.
“Two layers. Blouse first, then the rest.” I pushed his hands and stripped away the gauzy top. Then I went back to his shirt and finished unfastening the buttons. “We’re both wearing too many clothes.”
After some finagling, he got my tank off and I got his oxford off. Thick blond hair carpeted his broad chest and part of his belly. I ran my fingers through it, letting the coarseness tickle my skin. I smiled at him, and those green eyes caught me up again.
He reached behind me and popped my bra open with no trouble at all. My breasts tumbled free, and he threw my pretty cream-colored lace bra onto the floor.
Another whoosh of breath came from him. I didn’t know whether it was surprise or appreciation—until he dropped to a crouch and lifted both breasts in his hands. Definitely appreciation. His hands were large and darkly tanned against the paleness of my breasts. He stared at them for a long moment. My skin tingled with my anticipation.
When he finally leaned forward and took my right nipple into his mouth, it was my turn to gasp. His mouth, hot and wet, sucked my nipple in, and his tongue went to work on the tip while it was inside. Little electric shocks went straight to my pussy. I breathed out a moan and let my eyes flutter shut.
After several moments, he released my nipple and then turned his attention to the other. This time, he used the tip of his tongue to flick and lick at my nipple. The cool air on my now wet nipple sent a shiver right up my spine.
I groaned, and my heart raced. I needed this man in the bedroom. I put my hands on his forearms. “Come on.” I pulled away from him just enough for him to get the message. He rose, and I led the way, quickly, down the short hall to my bedroom.
Before we were even through the door, my hands were on his jeans. I managed the button with no trouble. I fumbled with the zipper. Why are those stupid zipper tabs so small? He didn’t seem to mind—his hands stayed busy kneading my breasts. His thumbs occasionally brushed over my already sensitive nipples, which didn’t help my zipper concentration at all
He leaned in and kissed me, splitting that concentration even more and—wouldn’t you know it—down came the zipper. I slid my hand into his jeans. His cock strained against the cotton of his underwear, hot and thick.
I love that part. The feeling of a hard cock before it’s fully free. There’s something so incredibly hot about the outline of it, running my nails over its length through the fabric. God.
I squeezed his cock, and his hips jerked toward me. I got satisfaction out of that. He grunted and then grabbed me by my forearms and half pushed, half walked me backward to the bed. We continued the kiss the whole way, lips bumping together, the taste of beer on my tongue. My calves hit the mattress, and we toppled onto it. His body covered mine, and he settled between my legs, hiking my skirt up my hips.
He broke the kiss long enough to say, “Condoms?”
“Drawer.” I pointed to the nightstand.
He slid the drawer open and pulled out a foil square. As he tore it open with his teeth, he waggled his eyebrows at me. I laughed.
“What do you say, Caly? A down-and-dirty fuck with half our clothes on?” He hiked his briefs down and rolled the condom on as I looked down our bodies. His cock, tall and thick, stood out from a thatch of dark blond hair.
“Mmm. Yeah. That sounds good to me.” I wrapped a leg around his as I watched him seat the condom.
Gary fell forward, arms on either side of me to hold himself up just above my body. His cock nestled my panty-clad pussy. The heat pulsed against me. He rocked his hips, and the head of his cock scraped against my clit, sending a hot sizzle through me. I arched my back, and he sucked a nipple into his mouth. The added sensation piled on top of the sizzle and brought it to a burn, flaming just beneath my skin. I ground my hips against him as my breath came in small gasps and pants.
I reached down between us and palmed his cock for a moment. Gary jerked his gaze up to mine, and my nipple slipped from his mouth. He groaned as I squeezed. His eyes shut. Then I hooked a finger on the edge of my panties and pulled them aside. I angled my hips until I felt the head of his cock nudging my entrance. Those green eyes opened again, and I gave him half a nod. “Come on. Fuck me.”