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Carter
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Taryn smiles at me as I pop another piece of bacon into my mouth. I’d woken up early while she was still asleep to grab breakfast food and more coffee. I can’t cook worth a damn but I can make bacon and eggs.
Turns out, she insisted on cooking and I’m glad I let her. The bacon is crispier and the eggs are fluffier and she even made waffles in the brand-new waffle maker that had been sitting in the box for the past year.
“This is really good,” I compliment her.
She swallows a bite of waffle and picks up her orange juice. “Thank you. I’m glad you like it. I’m not much of a cook but I do like making breakfast. Even if I don’t usually eat it.”
“You don’t?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Nah. Just coffee usually.”
She looks so beautiful in just my shirt and her messy hair. I didn’t want to leave her this morning to go out but I’m glad I did. I hope we have many more days like this and nights of passion together.
“So, we going to address the elephant in the room?” she asks, taking me off-guard.
I furrow my brow. “Well, Taryn, there are many. Which one are you referring to?”
“What you were doing at that sex club last night?”
I set my fork down. “Seriously? What were you doing there?”
“I told you, curiosity was piqued. I had no idea what I was walking into,” she says. “Seriously, that’s all.”
I search her face and she seems to be telling the truth.
“Tell me, did you plan to engage in any of the activities, once you realized what it was?” I ask, eager for an answer.
She looks at me in horror. “What? No. No way. With who? Some rando? I don’t sleep with strangers. Seems like that’s what that place is for. A big, expensive hookup place.”
“You make it sound so sleazy,” I say with a chuckle. “People go there to let loose. To get out their frustrations. To express their kinks and fetishes without judgment.”
“Well, that’s good for them. I don’t have any of those,” she replies, dumping Tabasco on her eggs.
“Judgments or fetishes?” I ask coyly.
She purses her lips and narrows her eyes at me. “Very funny.”
“How do you know you don’t have any kinks or fetishes? Sounds like you need to date more exciting people who can show you,” I state.
Her fork pauses at her mouth. “Like who? You? You like whips and chains and butt plugs?”
I chuckle. “Only handing them out, not receiving.”
Her eyes widen. “You do? You go to that club and do that?”
“I have once or twice. Maybe you should try it.”
She licks her lips and puts her fork down. “With you?”
I stare intently into her honey-colored eyes. “Yes.”
“At that club?”
I lift a shoulder and let it fall. “Wherever you want. I have toys here.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “Okay...”
“Okay?” I ask, excited. I have minimal toys and tools here, but she won’t know they aren’t the hardcore ones they have at the club. It was dark in that room.
She nods and says, “I’m willing to try anything. My sex life has been pretty much nonexistent.”
“Since I already know about your first time, why don’t you tell me what’s been going on since then.” I know I’m pushing it, but I’m curious to see who else has touched her.
“I can’t believe we’re talking about this at the breakfast table,” she grumbles.
“I can add some vodka or champagne to that OJ if it’ll help you open up.” I smirk.
She glances at her phone. “It’s nine in the morning.”
“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” I quip.
She holds up a hand. “I’m good. I tell you what, I’ll tell you about it on one condition.”
Picking up a piece of bacon, I say, “And what’s that?”
“You stop being a fucking prick to me at work.” She sets her lips in a firm line.
I’m taken aback at first, but not really surprised. “You know why I do that, right?”
“Because you’re an ass who’s full of himself?” I don’t miss the grin she tries to suppress.
“Yes. And because—”
“Because you’re trying to ‘keep it professional’?” she finishes for me.
I nod slightly and reach over to take her hand. “I can’t have anyone there know how much I want you. What I feel for you. Like I told you, I got into hot water before.”
“I’m a little insulted you think merely being nice to me is going to lead to me fawning all over you at work and flirting with you. You act like I’m some wanton temptress who’s going to try to blow you under your desk.”
I grin. “Do you want to do that?”
She sighs and chews her lip. “Well, yeah, but I’m not the type to make the first move. I can be nice and cordial at work without people knowing we have a history.”
“Well, it’s a game we can play. I’ll pretend to be an ass and you can just ignore it.”
“Why don’t you just ignore me period then?” she asks.
I pause, measuring my next words. “Because any interaction with you is better than none at all. I can’t go my whole day without at least seeing you, Taryn.”
Her eyebrows hit her hairline and she opens her mouth, then closes it again.
As she seems to have no response to that, and talking about feelings is putting me out of my comfort zone, I say, “Let’s circle back to what I asked you earlier.”
Still biting her lip, she asks, “What was that? I forgot.”
“You were going to tell me how things have been since we were together. Who you’ve been with,” I state. “I need to know who’s touched you. How many. What they were like.”
“Well...” she starts, then stops, looking away.
I squeeze her hand. “Taryn, look at me.”
She obeys and I stare into those eyes that still look so innocent, despite the delicious ways I’d sullied her in my bed last night. I was starting to get a semi thinking about it. “Be honest.”
“Well, honestly, just one other person.”
“Tell me about him,” I reply, hoping she’s telling the truth. One other person in the last five years seems sort of out there, because I couldn’t fathom that for myself, but she’s not me.
“It’s not a big deal. Some guy I dated last year. I met him at a nightclub when I was out with my friends. We hit it off and then dated for like six months.”
“And? You guys have sex? Fall in love? What?” I push.
She laughs. “Yes, to the first, absolutely no to the second. He was just a selfish jerk all the way around. In the bedroom and out of it.”
I pick up my coffee and take a sip. “No good in bed? What did you do with him?”
I’m not sure why I need to know these things, but I do. Plus, the delicious pink coloring her cheeks is worth it.
“Aside from cheating on me with a stripper, he was very vanilla, I’ll leave it at that,” she answers.
“Have you ever given a blow job, Taryn?” I ask.
“I mean, sorta yeah. I did it once or twice with him.”
I just stare at her, waiting for her to continue.
After a long pause, she says, “I’m not sure I could give you one, though.”
Furrowing my brow, I ask with a smirk, “Why’s that? BJs are like pizza. Even the bad ones are good.”
She shakes her head, and then a furious blush takes over her face. “Because I don’t think I could get that thing all the way in my mouth.” She uses her chin to gesture toward my crotch.
Chuckling, I say, “I beg to differ. And I’ll show you how.”
“Why are you so nasty?” she suddenly asks with a grin.
“I think the word you’re looking for is freaky. Or direct. I’m both of those things, though BJs aren’t really freaky. They’re kinda normal. Like the way I eat your pussy. I love it.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“I have another question.”
“You do seem to be full of them today,” she quips. “Shoot.”
“Why are your tits so much bigger than when you were twenty-one?” I ask.
She grins and looks down. “College graduation present to myself. Hated those B-cups.” She squeezes one.
I chuckle. “They’re at least Ds now.”
“Sure are.” She stands and gathers her dishes, heading for the kitchen. I watch as her ample ass cheeks peek out from beneath the hem of my white tee shirt.
“I think that’s enough questions for today. I need to get home. I have shit to do,” she states, rinsing off her plate, fork, and glass and loading them into my dishwasher.
I grin. “Like what? Laundry? Washing your hair?”
Her eyes meet mine from where she stands at the sink. I’m still seated at the small table in the kitchen. I never use the formal dining room.
“Something like that,” she says, biting back a smile.
“Well, when you’re done with those things, you can suck my cock.”
She almost drops the plate in her hand. It doesn’t break but I do laugh at the look on her face.
“Too much?” I ask, trying not to double over laughing.
She slowly shakes her head. “Not really.”
“Okay, it’s a date then. You do your chores then I’ll pick you up later and we can have some fun.”
She shuts the dishwasher and dries her hand on a towel. “I didn’t say I would do it. I just said it wasn’t ‘too much.’”
“Scared?” I ask.
Taryn comes over to me, straddles my lap, and loops her arms around my neck. “If I can take your cock down there”—she points between her legs—“I’m pretty sure I can take it in my mouth.”
“But you just said you weren’t sure,” I point out, breathless at her proximity. My dick is at all full attention now and I know she can feel it through my sweatpants, especially since she’s not wearing any shorts or underwear.
“I’m always up for a good challenge,” she says breathlessly. Then, she leans down and kisses me.
Reaching my hand up, I place it along her jaw and kiss her back, her tiny mewls spurring me on as our tongues writhe together.
I break the kiss, turn her around, and say, “Spread your legs and put your feet on the table.”
She obeys, giving me full access to her naked cunt. I slowly run my hand up her shirt, knead her full breasts, and then slide my hand down her warm, flat belly until I reach the junction between her legs.
I hold back a gasp to feel how absolutely soaked she is, my dick hardening even more, as if that was possible.
As I circle two fingers over her swollen bud, her head cranes back against my shoulder, and her mouth drops open. When I insert two fingers into her tight, drenched hole, she whimpers and writhes against my hand, wanting more.
I pull my fingers out and strum them against her, spreading her lips and strumming gentle strokes against her clit. With my other hand, I take turns on her tits, running my fingers against each hard nipple while she cries out.
When I feel her starting to come, I shove my fingers back inside her and pinch her left nipple hard while she squirts all over the leg of my sweatpants—the ones I almost come inside of myself.