I’m left with an article from a women’s magazine that comes complete with illustrations.
The first few paragraphs aren’t earth-shattering. There’s a whole section about the importance of showing your partner what works for you, but none of that applies to me. The next part is all about toys and since that ship has already sailed, I’m about to keep scrolling until my eyes zero in on the last piece of advice in the article.
If all else fails, visualize the best sexual experience you’ve ever had and imagine that the sexiest person you’ve ever seen is taking the reins and bringing you the ultimate pleasure.
An image of Blue forms in my mind before I can stop it or even slow it down, which is ridiculous because I’ve never had sex with Blue. I’ve never even considered it. Have I fantasized about wringing the man’s neck a time or three hundred? Sure. Have I sometimes wished he’d be scouted by the Icelandic Hockey Federation and have to move far, far away and never return to Bainbridge University? Without question. But sex? With Blue?! Absolutely not.
I mean, maybe if he stayed quiet the whole time.
Or underwent a personality transplant before we started getting down and dirty. That might work, because it’s not that I’m attracted to Blue, but I can’t deny that he’s an attractive man, objectively speaking. He’s tall and muscular, and I know thesame can be said for every other player on the hockey team, but Blue stands out from the rest. He’s built like a god with chiseled abs and corded forearms. His muscles have muscles and he looks like he was sculpted by one of the greats. As an equipment manager, I’m in and out of the locker room every day doing my job for the team, so half naked hockey players don’t register as sexy to my brain; they register as the guy who needs stick tape or the one who tore another jersey.
But that’s not the way Blue looked this morning on the couch, all rumpled from sleep. He should have looked groggy and disheveled. He should have reeked of booze and bad decisions. Instead, he looked like a live-action ad for sex. That blanket was doing its best to conceal his hard length, but it was a lost cause. There was no mistaking what he’s working with below the belt and though I didn’t actively notice it at the time, some part of my brain stored those images for a later date, and I’m reaping the benefits now.
That doesn’t mean I like Blue. Not at all. But just for a second, and just for the sake of this study, I can let my mind fantasize and wonder how things could have played out differently in the living room if Blue and I were different people.
Unbidden, my hands caress the soft skin of my stomach and thighs. I let them drift lightly over my mound as my brain takes a detour to fantasy land and winds the clock back to the moment I entered the living room, vacuum in hand, and spotted a shirtless Blue Halliday on the couch.
I stride into the room, acting like I don’t notice him, but of course, I do. It’s impossible to ignore the heated looks he’s throwing my way, but it’s so much fun to tease him that I can’t resist going about my business like he’s not even in the room. I hear the soft rustle of blankets behind me, and I sendup a silent prayer that he’s not reaching for his shirt. I bend down to pick an imaginary crumb off the carpet, lingering long enough to thoroughly inspect the area and also to drive Blue a little crazy. His groan is my reward, and it’s followed by more rustling. Pulling myself back up to my full height, I look over my shoulder to see him slipping his hand under the blanket to adjust himself. But he doesn’t stop there. His eyes lock on mine as he strokes his shaft. His arm moves back and forth, and I can see the outline of his fist as he chokes his cock under the blanket.
I stay right where I am. The only move I make is to flip the off switch on the vacuum. In an instant, the room is silent except for the slide of his hand over his dick and the heavy sounds of his breathing. Or maybe that’s me. I can’t tell, and I don’t care. I can’t tear my eyes away from the scene in front of me.
His lips are parted and his cheeks are flushed. “I think you missed something,” he says, nodding his head toward the patch of carpet I was just vacuuming.
I arch an eyebrow. “And you want me to pick it up?” I ask, unable to hide the indignation from my voice. I may have to follow orders at work, but I don’t take directives from Blue Halliday.
“I don’t care what you do, as long as you bend over again so I can see that perfect ass of yours in the air.”
His works are smug, confident. I should strut right out of here and leave him here, frustrated and wanting. But I can’t deny the jolt of desire that courses through me when I see the effect I have on him.
I walk toward him and turn slightly before bending at the waist and letting my hand brush over the clean rug. “Nope, I think you’re mistaken. I didn’t miss anything.” The words are barely out of my mouth when I feel the smack of his hand against the curve of my ass. My thin leggings do littleto cushion the blow, and I’m completely unprepared for my reaction to the sting. It doesn’t hurt. Pain isn’t registering in my brain, but pleasure is. I can’t explain it, but I want more of it, and without me even having to ask, Blue delivers, this time with a little more force. It feels so good that I can’t hold back the cry that bursts from my lips, and when he smooths his palm over the tender flesh, I just want more of his touch.
“My mistake,” he murmurs, not sounding sorry at all.
But I’m not mad. I’m not annoyed or frustrated or pissed off at the man in front of me. In this fantasy state, there’s no history between us, no animosity. There’s nothing but mutual attraction, and that’s what has me straddling his thighs and kneeling on the couch, pressing my body just close enough to his to drive us both a little crazy. I’m not grinding up on him the way I want to, but this is even more fun. I can practically feel the desire radiating off him in waves, and every time he strokes his cock and brings his fist to the tip, his knuckles brush ever-so-slightly against my core. I shiver at the contact. It’s so good but it’s not enough. Finally, his thumb grazes my center for just a second. It’s a delicious kind of torture, and I feel it everywhere.
“Fuck,” Blue mutters, and I follow his eyes to the front of my leggings. When I peer down and see a wet spot, I wait for a wave of embarrassment to wash over me, but it never does. I’m too worked up, too turned on to feel anything but the need for his touch.
And Blue doesn’t disappoint. His hand cups my pussy, and he curses again. “You fucking love it, don’t you?” he asks. “You get so wet when it hurts just a little, but don’t worry, I’m going to make you feel so damn good.”
I can't help but nod because there’s no use denying it. My thighs are spread wide as I sit in his lap, my hands resting on his shoulders. He can see how much I want him, and when he tugs down the waistband of my leggings and slips his handinside, I know he can feel it, too. His eyes shutter closed as he traces my seam with one of his thick fingers. I lean into his touch, greedy for it. With one smooth stroke, he’s teasing me in and out, in and out. He adds a second finger, and it stretches me in the most delicious way. The pad of his thumb toys with my clit while his lips pepper kisses down my neck and onto my chest. It’s a barrage of sensation and it’s overwhelming, but it’s just what I need. For a moment, I go still, wondering if I should be teasing and touching him, too. I probably should be. Of course, I should be. But when he thrusts his fingers deep inside me and taps my inner wall, I forget all about playing fair.
“Stop overthinking. Just feel,” he says, before wrapping his lips around my nipple and scrambling my brain a little more.
The sensations are too much, so I give in and do exactly as he asked. I just feel. I feel the electricity of his touch with every thrust of his hand. I feel the warmth of his body as he cradles mine. I feel beautiful and desirable as my backside rocks against his hard length. I feel tight and full and ready to burst, but my orgasm is just out of reach. Arching my back, I practically shove my breasts in his face and he takes the cue without blinking. His lips cover my nipple once more, but he’s not gentle this time. He’s blurring the line between pain and pleasure, and when he nips at the sensitive flesh, it’s the push I need to fall over the edge.
Wave after wave of pleasure hits me. It’s like I’m falling, but I’m not worried about crashing down. I’m just floating off into oblivion because nothing has ever felt this good before, and I can’t imagine anything ever will.
My body pulses and my vision blurs a little at the edges as I come back down after the best orgasm I've ever had in my life. My legsare shaking, I’m trying to catch my breath, my sheets are a mess, and it’s all thanks to a dirty daydream about Blue Halliday.
The universe can be a cruel bitch sometimes, but at least I can check Earth-Shattering Orgasm off my To-Do List for today.
3
Blue
“Is that really necessary?” I ask, doing my best not to sound like a dick. Based on Liza's expression, I’m failing spectacularly. But at least she’s making eye contact with me. That’s an improvement, considering she was looking everywhere but right at me until about ten seconds ago. We’re the only two people in this kitchen, and even though I know I’m not her favorite person, the avoidance was weird. She’s glaring daggers at me now, which means all’s right with the universe.
“Is it necessary for me to fill the coffee pot with water?” she asks, running the tap and splashing water all over the blueberries I left draining in the sink. “Yeah, if I want to make coffee, this is a necessary step. And since it’s seven forty in the morning, coffee is not optional.”
