My hands itched, the blood hummed under my skin and I was starting to get the shakes. I grasped my coffee cup between my hands, the heat seeping through the ceramic, warming and steadying my fingers. It had been twelve hours and—I glanced down at my watch—thirty-seven minutes since I last had sex. The weight of him still felt imprinted on my body, even now, though his scent was long gone.
The diner I took up residence in was empty save the cook and one seedy-looking waitress behind the counter. I had ordered pancakes almost a half hour ago, and they still hadn’t arrived. I supposed it was a good time to get some writing done. The pen that twined through my hair was blue. It slipped from its hold easily, the two other pens keeping the bulk of my hair confined to the messy bun. My notebook was already open on the table. I had just finished reading the last entry.
Writing and sex are my only two vices, each fueling the other and each keeping me at a modicum of control. I am a sex addict. I want it all the time, no matter where, no matter with whom. Sometimes I can stanch the urge by reading old journal entries, but sometimes not. For some reason I was feeling it worse today than yesterday.
I tapped my pen down on the notebook, imagining last night’s romp, letting it fill me up and take me back to his arms. The bell above the diner’s door snapped me from the phantom lover’s embrace, as did the beautiful specimen that entered.
Sharp and instant, the longing enveloped me. Each breath in and out of my lungs became more difficult as my body went molten. He looked around, his eyes meeting mine for a moment as he swept the room with his gaze.
I watched him as he sat toward the other end of the diner. His skin was toffee-colored. The need to run my fingers through the silky black curtain of his hair struck me, and I was on my feet before I could stop the impulse. The waitress was in the back somewhere, the cook nowhere in sight. I walked slowly across the black-and-white-checkered tiles until I stood next to his table.
One perfectly arched brow rose as he noticed me. I captured my bottom lip between my teeth, biting down, trying to take some of the edge off, maybe get out at least an explanation before I jumped him. We stared into each other’s eyes, and I knew what he saw in me. A somewhat overly curvy girl with striking blue eyes and a smattering of freckles, with pens sticking out of her head. Not necessarily a wet dream come to life.
I cleared my throat.
“Hi,” I started. It was not the most eloquent way to start what was soon to become an awkward conversation.
“Hi.” A small grin played on the corner of his lip, and the only thing that I could think about at that moment was licking that tiny corner. I pushed the air from my lungs, depriving myself of oxygen so my body could get a grip.
I swallowed and gulped air before opening my mouth again.
“Do you think you could come outside with me for a second?”
His brow wrinkled but he must have been intrigued because he stood up and followed me out the door. The bell announced our exit.
“I want you.” It was a simple enough explanation and oddly, it usually worked.
“You want me, like, you want to have sex? Right now?”
“Do you need me to spell it out with Hooked-on-Phonics for you?”
He chuckled, and even that sounded sexy falling from his lips. I was about five seconds from pushing him against the wall and enticing him to take me, but I was saved the indignity. He grasped my hand and led me to a pickup truck around the side of the diner. Even with the lust-filled fog clogging my brain, I registered the secluded spot and appreciated it.
He spun me around and lifted me up on the downed tailgate of the truck. The water from this morning’s rain soaked into my jeans but I didn’t care. My hands were up his shirt, running across his already hard nipples. Like most Native American men, he was hairless, and it was sexy to feel smooth hot flesh under my fingers. The notion that I was going to take control of the situation was quickly divested as he shoved open my thighs and placed his narrow hips between them. His lips took mine possessively, and his hands tangled up in my messy bun. He was hard, hot and rough; perfectly suited to my current mood and the general cloudy gloom left in the air from the early morning storm. My senses woke slowly, reveling in the salty taste of his lips, the scent of ozone pressing around us. Most of all, I was attuned to the heat of his body soaking through my clothes.
I broke my lips away from his to focus on freeing the erection I felt through his jeans.
“Guess I didn’t need to spell it out for you.”
“You never did, I just couldn’t believe my luck.” The sexy smile was back but faltered the moment his dick sprang free into my palm. He was more thick than long, my fingers barely meeting as I gripped him. He growled when I ran my hands up and back down the smooth ridges of his length. That small innocuous sound sent a shock of longing through my body.
I was done playing games. I released him, took off my jacket, laid it flat in the truck bed, and climbed farther into the back. My jeans and panties came off before my ass met the jacket, already chilled from the wet steel underneath it.
It didn’t take him long to catch on. He pulled his pants up enough to climb between my legs.
“Condom?”
My body was starting to take over, my mind blanking out at the onslaught of need coursing through my veins.
“Right pants pocket.” My voice sounded hoarse and I no longer cared. The only thing that mattered was getting that penis inside me.
He glanced at my face as he slid the condom down, the end snapping in place as he checked the fit.
“Are you sure you’re ready?”
I didn’t answer, only pulled him down by his hips, fitting his head against my swollen, wet opening. He removed my hand from between us in an almost crushing grip. I started to shake as he pushed the end in only a tiny bit. Locking eyes with mine he delved his hand into my hair, releasing the heavy weight and scattering the pens with a plastic click.
The moment his grip tightened against my scalp he shoved himself inside me to the hilt. It was brutal and I cried out from the force of it, my ass sliding against my jacket.
I tried to sit up, to meet his hips with my own, but his hands in my hair yanked me back, baring my neck to his lips. He took full advantage, sliding in and out of me as he scraped his teeth down my neck. Some of the tension coiled through me released as my orgasm slowly climbed. He pumped in and out of me harder, using the end of the truck bed to gain leverage. My body was awake, alive, and I felt like Aphrodite herself being taken, consumed, utterly rendered by this sexy stranger.
I held on to his back with one hand, my nails digging into him. The other gripped his soft length of hair. Some of it escaped my hands and fanned out around us. A tendril here and there would brush my breasts, my waist, and it heightened my senses even more. My breathing came faster as I wrapped my legs around him, trying to crush his body harder into mine, my feet catching in the opening of his jeans around his knees. One of his hands was next to my head to hold him off my chest, the other was still tight in my hair, both of them closed in a tight grip. His hips pressed harder into me and my back bowed, trying to get him deeper, even though it wasn’t possible.
“Fuck. I’m gonna come. Come with me, baby.”
His words hit their mark, driving me straight over the edge. My orgasm crashed through me, wave after wave of poignant pleasure. Just as it started to wind down he slammed into me one final time, holding himself inside me. A grunt registered in my ears as he carefully released my hair. Half of his weight rested on my belly as he tried to regain his bearings.
The edge of the need was asleep, and now only the usual simmer kept me aware of my longings. I could deal with the simmer. I had done it for years. Lying still and languid, I waited for him to get off me, savoring the weight and heat of him, committing it to memory.
I would feel every second of this encounter later, once the endorphins left me and I started to feel the need again. I should have been ashamed. I didn’t even know the name of the man still inside me.
He climbed down off the bed, baring my body to the chilly air. I followed him down and rearranged my clothes on before turning to face him. This was always the awkward part. To my surprise it wasn’t this time. He leaned down and gently kissed my forehead, tucking my hair away from my cheek, then walked away.
I waited a moment before following him back into the diner. My pancakes were finally ready. I looked at him from my table, and he gave me a wink.
I smiled and started writing.