Ten minutes away—he’d said that in a text. I was parking on the street, about to walk into the restaurant, Fish Wives. I was meeting Will, a guy I’d met online, for happy hour.
I parked, walked down the block, and headed toward the restaurant. I was looking forward to a couple glasses of rosé and some raw oysters. Hopefully, this date would end with my back blown out. Based on the photo he posted—him sitting in a chair, hard and angled just right—it definitely could happen.
I opted for a table in the back, facing the door so I’d see him as soon as he walked in. I was looking down at my phone when I heard the bell over the door jingle. I looked up—and there he was. Tall, dark-skinned, with perfect posture and a smooth-ass walk. I knew it was him.
I smiled and gave a little wave. He walked over and sat down.
First meetings are always a little awkward, and I didn’t want to make it obvious to everyone around us that this was our first time meeting. Not that it mattered, but still—awkward enough already.
We ordered sparkling rosé and a dozen oysters. We talked. He told me he was widowed. I said I was in a complicated relationship. Neither of us gave details. He mentioned he was in town for work, doing some sightseeing, and planned to catch a game at the Rose Bowl to see Coach Prime in action.
He carried himself in a certain way—disciplined, sharp—so I had to ask if he was military or law enforcement. That’s when he said he was retired Army. I thanked him for his service and told him I was prior Air Force.
After a bit more small talk, drinks, and oysters, he asked if I’d like to see him later.
“What do you have in mind?” I asked.
He said, “This is your town—show it to me.”
I laughed and told him I’d think of something. I pulled out my phone and started scrolling.
“You want to see the beach? Go shopping? What are you thinking?”
“Whatever you want,” he said. “I’m with it.”
We decided to head to Glendale—there’s a spot with shops, restaurants, bars, a movie theater, and this cute outdoor area with a fountain. I parked at my friend Brandi’s place and rode with him.
We walked around, talked, grabbed a drink from an outdoor bar. I was enjoying the vibe—and his company.:
The flirting had turned up—sharp glances, low laughs, subtle touches. That electric tension had been building since the oysters, but now it was loud.
Will leaned in a little closer as we walked. “You want to come back to my hotel? I’ve got some drinks there. We can chill, be more comfortable.”
I didn’t hesitate. That was the whole point of this date. I wasn’t meeting people off AFF to swap life stories—I wanted to feel something.
“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We left Glendale and drove back to his hotel, this sleek, modern spot near downtown. He parked in the garage, and we rode the elevator up in silence. That thick, loaded kind of silence. The kind where everything’s already been said with looks.:
Once in his hotel room, he poured two glasses of whisky—neat. The good kind, smooth with a slow burn. I took a sip and let it settle.
He sat next to me on the couch, and this time he didn’t leave space. Our legs touched. His hand rested casually on my thigh, like it belonged there.
“Not gonna lie,” he said, his voice low, eyes on mine, “I’ve been thinking about this since you waved at me in that restaurant.”
I smirked. “I’ve been thinking about it since I saw that picture you posted.”
We clinked glasses. Drank. The silence between us wasn’t awkward anymore—it was charged.
His hand slid a little higher. I didn’t stop him.
“You sure about this?” he asked, even though we both knew the answer.
I set my glass down. “I didn’t come here for the whisky.”
He smiled—slow, knowing. Then he kissed me.
Usually, I don’t kiss. Not really. And I couldn’t remember the last time I kissed someone and actually felt comfortable doing it.
So when our lips met, I let them touch—soft, slow—but I didn’t let it go too deep. Just enough.
His hands moved with quiet confidence, sliding over my waist, then up. He gently squeezed my breast, and I let out a soft moan into his mouth. That sound surprised me.
He reached down, tugged at the hem of my shirt, and pulled it over my head. I raised my arms without hesitation. My body was already in it. My mind was catching up.
He cupped my breast through my bra, thumb brushing across the fabric, sending a jolt straight through me.
I wanted this. I needed this.
It had been months since my last hookup with Demetrius. And even that was rushed, mechanical. A favor to my own body.
Once a quarter? That’s how often I’d been getting touched? That’s damn near celibate. I’m not that old. I’ve still got the same hunger I had in my twenties. Hell—stronger now.
My body’s wiser. Quicker to know what it wants. Slower to waste time.
And right now? I wanted all of him.
Will’s lips moved from mine to my jawline, then down to my neck. Slow, deliberate. Like he was savoring the feel of my skin under his mouth. He kissed behind my ear, then lower, right where my pulse lived.
I tilted my head, giving him more access without thinking. His mouth was warm, soft, then firm. Sucking, licking, biting just enough to make my toes curl.
His hands slid behind my back, and in one smooth motion, he unhooked my bra like he’d done it a thousand times. Probably had. Didn’t matter—he was doing it like he’d been waiting specifically for mine.
My bra slipped off, and his eyes darkened as he took me in. Then his mouth was on me.
He kissed the curve of my breast, teasing at first, slow and maddening. Then he took my nipple into his mouth—warm and wet, his tongue flicking against it, then circling, then sucking with intention.
I gasped, hips twitching. My whole body responded like it had just been reminded what it was made for.
He moved to the other one, giving it equal attention—his hand still cupping the first, thumb teasing as his mouth worked.
Shock waves rolled through me. My thighs pressed together instinctively, but I already knew—my panties were wet.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hand tracing down my stomach.
Then he laid me back on the couch, eyes locked on mine as he reached for my belt. One tug and it came undone. Then the button. Then the slow, deliberate unzip.
He slid my jeans down over my hips, inch by inch, until they were on the floor.
“Goddamn,” he said, looking at me—nothing but my panties now, breathing heavy, skin flushed. “You’re something else.”
His words made me blush. Not the shy, girlish kind—this was deeper. A mix of flattery and power. I liked the way he looked at me, like I was the only one who could give him exactly what he needed.
Still holding my gaze, Will lowered himself between my legs, slow and sure. He kissed the inside of my thigh, then the other, his breath warm and teasing against my skin.
Then, without even pulling my panties down, he pressed his mouth over them—firm and deliberate. I gasped. He took the whole mound into his mouth, tongue pressing through the thin fabric, sending a wave of sensation straight through me.
I giggled—caught off guard by how good it felt, how bold he was.
He pulled back just enough to hook his finger into the side of my panties, then slid them to the side like a man unwrapping something he’d earned.
Then he went in.
His tongue parted me—slow at first, like he was reading me. Learning what made me twitch. What made me sigh.
He licked long and deep, then pulled back to tease my clit with the tip of his tongue. Small circles, soft flicks, then deeper pressure.
I moaned, hips rising up to meet his mouth. He held my thighs firmly, anchoring me in place like he wasn’t going to let me run from it—even if I wanted to.
His tongue moved with intention. This wasn’t guessing. This was skill. He alternated between gentle licks and deep, hungry strokes that made my toes curl. My body started to tremble, warmth building in slow waves, spreading from between my legs outward like heat on a stove turned all the way up.
He moaned against me, and the vibration sent another shiver through me.
I reached down, fingers threading into his hair, gripping gently—because God, he was doing everything right.
And the way he looked up at me, eyes locked with mine as his mouth worked me over?
I felt wanted. Ravished. Worshipped.
As Will kept eating my pussy, something started building deep inside me—a slow, warm swell that didn’t come often, but when it did, it took over everything.
It wasn’t just the way he licked—it was how in tune he was with my body. How he stayed steady when I twitched. How he didn’t flinch when I moaned louder. He kept going, kept drawing it out of me like he knew what was coming.
My thighs started to shake. That pressure built, low and powerful, like a wave swelling in the distance—getting closer, bigger, until there was no stopping it.
“Oh my God—” I gasped, breath catching, hands gripping the cushion under me.
Then it hit.
My back arched as I screamed out, the orgasm tearing through me with a force that stole every word from my mouth. I squirted—hard—my release spraying across his face, soaking his mouth, his chin, his chest.
He didn’t stop.
He caught what he could, licked it from his lips, groaning deep like he’d just tasted something holy.
“Mmm, mm mm,” he moaned, grinning like a man who’d just unlocked a cheat code.
He looked up at me with wet lips, his tongue flicking across them before he dove back in. “I ain’t know you could do all this.”
I tried to answer but all that came out was another moan as he kept eating, tongue relentless, fingers gripping my thighs tighter like he wasn’t done pulling more from me.
Will didn’t break stride. With one hand still between my legs, fingers moving in slow, expert circles, he shifted us off the couch like it was choreographed. I gasped as he slid me onto the bed, still working my pussy, never letting the sensation slip.
He laid me back, my legs falling open, body already trembling again. His fingers didn’t pause—two of them moving inside me while his thumb teased my clit. His other hand found my breast, gripping it with a hunger that matched mine.
Then his mouth was on me again, sucking my nipple deep, tongue flicking fast as he groaned around it. The pressure, the heat, his mouth and hands all working in sync—it was too much. My back arched, my moans turned to whimpers, and that same pressure started to rise again.
“Fuck—Will,” I breathed, my eyes shut tight, hips rolling into his hand.
He didn’t say a word—just kept going, fingers curling perfectly inside me until another orgasm hit.
Hard.
I gasped as my pussy pulsed and gushed into his hand, soaking his fingers, dripping down my thighs. He didn’t pull away. He just held me through it, mouth still locked on my breast, letting me ride every wave until I was trembling beneath him.
I reached for the nightstand with one shaky hand, grabbed a condom, and tore the wrapper open. Will looked up, face glistening, eyes dark and locked on mine.
I handed it to him without a word. He stood, rolled it on, thick and ready, then knelt between my legs.
He lined himself up, eyes on me the whole time.
Then he pushed in.
Slow. Deep.
I gasped, head falling back, legs wrapping around him as he filled me inch by inch. My pussy still fluttering around his fingers a moment ago, now clenching around his dick, stretching to take him in.
“Shit,” he groaned, hands on my hips. “You feel so good.”
He stayed still for a moment, buried deep, letting us both feel it—all that buildup, all that want, all of this.
Then he started to move.
Will started to move, slow at first, each thrust deeper than the last. He held my legs up, one hand gripping behind my knee, the other planted firm beside my head. With every stroke, he found a new depth, filling me, stretching me, making me gasp.
“Fuck…” I moaned, digging my nails into the sheets.
He picked up the pace, hips slapping against me, the sound of skin on skin mixing with my breathy moans. My body welcomed him, clenching around his dick like it didn’t want to let him go.
Then, in one swift move, he pulled out and flipped me on top of him. I straddled him, hands on his chest, still catching my breath. He slid back in with a deep, hungry thrust that made both of us groan.
I started riding him slow, rocking my hips, letting him feel every part of me. He gripped my waist, guiding my rhythm, holding me tight like he needed the connection just as bad.
One of his hands slid up my stomach, cupped my breast, thumb circling my nipple, then moved higher—fingers wrapping gently around my throat.
Not squeezing. Just claiming.
My hips picked up speed, slapping against his as I bounced on him harder, faster. That pressure built again, fast and brutal, rushing through my body like fire through dry grass.
“Oh God—” I cried out as another orgasm slammed into me, my walls pulsing around his dick, soaking him, thighs trembling.
Before I could even catch my breath, Will moved—gripping my hips, flipping me forward onto all fours.
He didn’t ask. He just took.
He slammed into me from behind in one hard stroke, filling me deep. I gasped, hands gripping the bed, face buried in the sheets.
His hands clutched my thighs, steadying himself as he fucked me—long, deep, punishing strokes that hit exactly where I needed it.
I threw it back, meeting each thrust, my ass bouncing into him as he drove into me harder.
“Shit, girl…” he groaned, pace picking up. “You tryna take my soul.”
I looked back at him, barely able to speak, just moaning, just feeling.
His strokes got faster. More ragged. Desperate.
Then he gripped my hips tighter, slammed into me one last time with a deep, guttural growl. His body shuddered as he spilled into the condom, holding himself deep inside me, buried to the base.
We both stayed there for a moment—bodies slick, breathing hard, hearts racing in sync.
Spent. Satisfied. For now.