“Oh, I’ve heard,” she huffs and adjusts her black-framed glasses. “I’m surprised there aren’t a hundred people here for the last night of the year.” Her eyes bounce from the hardwood floors underneath mid-century furniture to the steel windows and exposed ducts.
“The last New Year’s Eve party I hosted was three years ago,” I say. “Someone covered in vomit slept in the tub. Nine people were passed out over there.” I point to the space between the sofa and the wall. I’ll spare her the details of how they all fit. “Unless there’s a party worth attending, I’m in the house.”
That or slipping out from between a woman’s legs after I stroked her past midnight. I prefer to sleep in my own bed.
The edges of Miriam’s mouth tease a smile before lifting into a grin. Blush tints her mocha hue, her long lashes fanning across her cheeks. “Well, I promise not to puke on myself or mess up your tub.”
Our stare unravels the space between us.
Is she…Oh, we’re doing this.
Inch by inch, we lean closer, until her breath skates over mine. I caress her cheek and brush my mouth over the lips I’ve been dying to kiss again.
Since we left the bar, we’ve spent the evening talking over takeout. I’m in no rush for the night to end. Hence the chicken.
The pace of our kiss is slow, so she can dictate it based on her comfort. She parts her lips and rises off the barstool. The gentle massage of her mouth teases a years’ old desire that forces its way back into my heart.
Miriam plants her hands on my thighs. The jolt from her touch reawakens the dick I told to calm down. Short nails dig into my pants. A moan slips out, and like a switch has flipped, she pounces.
I’m a hard man to tackle. I don’t make it easy. The problem is, I’m not on the rugby pitch. Another is that these barstools don’t have backs.
I wrap my arms around Miriam and brace for impact. My back collides with the floor in a thud. She collapses on top of me with a screech, her breasts crushing the last drops of air in my lungs.
“Sorry!”
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says to my nipple as her forehead grazes it. “I’m stuck on your watch.”
Light from the sconces hanging over the counter reflect off my silver timepiece, which is tangled in her curls.
“I’ll fix it,” I say. “Turn left.”
“My left is your right.”
“Turn to your left.”
Miriam leans but winces. “I think that made it worse. Stay still, and I’ll move back.”
Huh?
Whatever response I had stalls as her hips rock over my groin. Never in my life have I prayed not to nut with a woman on top of me, but there’s a first time for everything. Miriam’s dress rises above her waist to expose a black thong that peeks out from under her love handles. My jaw slacks as she all but uses my dick as a personal genie lamp to rub out a wish.
“Doe—”
“It’s loosening,” she grunts, wiggling her hips in an attempt to scoot away. She’s so focused on solving the Rubik’s Cube of my watch in her hair that she’s not paying attention to me hardening beneath her.
“Almost there!”
So am I.
I grip her hips to lift her up. “Let’s figure out another way.”
“Almost—”
“Dooooe!”
Too late.
