Maybe I just wasn’t cut out for casual affairs. I took things too seriously.
Still, though, I leaned back against the seat of my car and thought about calling him.
He was the one who’d told me to call him, so it wasn’t like it was out of the blue. And the two nights we’d spent together had been really amazing.
And, if I didn’t call him, I’d have to go home to an empty apartment.
Without even Polly waiting for me, wagging her tail with irrepressible joy at greeting me.
I wasn’t depressed about my birthday. I’d had a good night. But if I went home without even trying to call Josh, I knew I would regret it.
And I was determined not to regret what I could do something about.
So I took out my phone and his business card, which had been in my purse all week, and I dialed the number quickly, before I could second-guess myself.
A cold wash of fear spread out through my arms and legs as I heard the rings. It was a Thursday evening. He might not even be home. He might be out with someone else. He might be tired. He might not want some random woman calling him up and asking for him to pleasure her.
I was so nervous on the fourth ring I hung up. There was no way in hell I was going to try to leave a message. I sat and stared at my phone, feeling like an idiot.
What the hell was wrong with me? Why was even something so simple so hard? I should be grown up enough to call up a guy without having a panic attack.
I started my car, feeling let down for the first time all evening.
Then my phone rang, startling me so much I almost jumped.
I glanced down and saw that it was Josh, calling me back.
My nerves surged back up into my throat, but I made myself connect the call and say, “Hello.”
“Hey. It’s Josh. Did you just call me?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”
“Sorry. I couldn’t find my phone.”
“You’d lost it?”
“No. Not really. It was in my pocket when I took off my pants, so it took me a minute to find it when I heard it ring.”
“You already took your pants off?” The question really did make sense to me. After all, it wasn’t even ten in the evening, and I couldn’t imagine he’d already gotten ready for bed. But, when I heard myself say it, I wanted to cringe.
“Well, you see, I was hoping you’d call, so I wanted to get my pants off early so I’d be ready.”
The words were so matter-of-factly spoken that they took me a minute to register. Then I burst into helpless laughter. “Very farsighted of you,” I said at last, when I’d caught my breath. I was smiling like an idiot on the phone, but at least that was better than feeling like an idiot.
“So why are you calling? Is it what I’m thinking?”
He didn’t sound surprised, uncomfortable, or reluctant. In fact, he sounded rather pleased. It gave me courage enough to say, “Maybe. It depends on what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking that I hope you don’t want to wait until the weekend, since I’m doing absolutely nothing right now.”
“Really? It’s not like I expect you to drop everything just to—“
He made an amused, throaty sound. “Are you serious? I’d drop pretty much anything for the chance to get you back in bed.”
“Oh. Good.” I was getting excited now—in more than one way.
“So do you want to come on over? Or I can go—“
“I can come over there. I’m downtown anyway, so I’ll just drive over.”
“Why are you downtown?” he asked, as I pulled the car out of the parking lot. “You weren’t on a date, were you?”
“Some date that would be, if I had to make a stop at your place afterwards for a little satisfaction.”
He chuckled. “I’m happy to provide satisfaction in the event of any bad dates you happen to have.”
“That’s good to know. It wasn’t a date. I was out with friends. It’s actually my birthday.”
“Is it really? Happy birthday. Did you have a good day?”
“Yeah. It’s been good. They had a cake for me at work, and then my friends got together for dinner.” I stopped at a light, trying to remember which road was the quickest route to Josh’s building.
“So the real question is, has anyone given you your birthday spankings?”
His tone was light, teasing, but the words made my body clench with interest anyway.
What had gotten into me? I’d never been like this, turning every random comment into sex.
He must have sensed something in the silence. “You liked that idea, didn’t you?”
“I certainly didn’t call you up, hoping for birthday spankings.”
“Well, that was your mistake. But sometimes good things happen to us, whether we ask for them or not.”
I laughed, torn between humor and rising anticipation. “And you’re so sure birthday spankings would be one of those good things?”
“Hell, yeah. They’d be good for you. I can promise you that.”
So that got me even more excited. And I was still about two miles away from his building. His voice had gotten slightly breathless, and he seemed to be moving around, so I asked, “What are you doing?”
There was a slight pause. “I’m trying to pick up a little before you get here.”
I giggled again. “Oh, I see. Is it a mess there?”
“I wouldn’t say a mess, but it’s not exactly neat.”
“I don’t care what your place looks like. I’ll be there in just a few minutes.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be waiting.”
I disconnected the call and tried to talk myself down. There was no sense in building up my anticipation too high, since reality might not measure up.
Josh was good in bed. No question about that. But every sexual experience wasn’t going to be mind-blowing. That just wasn’t life.
I was feeling basically in control as I headed up to his apartment and knocked on the door. He swung it open with a smile, looking laidback and startlingly handsome in a white t-shirt and khakis.
I blinked at him. “You put your pants back on.”
He grinned and let me in the door. “Didn’t want to overwhelm you too quickly with the sight of me in all my naked glory.”
“That would be overwhelming.”
We stood smiling at each other in the hallway for a minute.
“I thought you weren’t going to call,” he said at last, glancing down and then back up.
I dropped my purse to the floor of the hallway, near where he had a couple of pairs of shoes. “I didn’t know if I was or not.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“Me too.”
“Happy birthday.”
“Thank you.” I felt a little silly, and I shifted from foot to foot. “Are you really expecting to give me birthday spankings?”
“Well, not right away.” His mouth quirked up slightly. “In the right context, it can be hot, but if you just jump right into it, it feels kind of…”
“Weird.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Do you want a glass of wine?” he asked, walking toward the kitchen.
“That would be great.” I started to relax, since drinking a glass of wine felt normal, comfortable. Certainly more comfortable than the thought of birthday spankings.
He poured out glasses of Merlot, and we went to the couch to sit down.
“So how old are you?”
I made a face, but I was determined not to make a big deal about something that just wasn’t. “Thirty-nine.”
“Are you all depressed about it?” He didn’t look surprised or appalled by my age. Just curious.
I shook my head. “No. It’s just a number. I don’t feel any different.” I peered at him closely. “Am I older than you thought?”
“I hadn’t even thought about how old you were. What does it matter to me? Your age doesn’t affect how hot you are.”
/> Well, that was refreshingly honest. And kind of nice to hear. “It’s good to know you have your priorities in order. What about you?”
His eyebrows drew tighter. “What about me?”
“How old are you?”
“I promise you that my age doesn’t affect how hot I am either.”
I relaxed back against the couch, enjoying the repartee. “I believe you. But you didn’t answer my question.”
“What does it matter?”
I was so surprised by his reluctance to tell me that I straightened up. “It doesn’t really matter, since I’m pretty sure you’re of legal age for sex. But I want to know.”
“I’m definitely of legal age.” His put his glass down and leaned forward. “And speaking of sex…” he began in a thicker voice.
The tone gave me shivers, but I persisted, “Why are you being so stubborn about it? I know I’ve got to be older than you, but I told you how old I am.”
“How old do you think I am?”
“So we’re playing that game, are we? Fine. Twenty-three.”
He made a choked sound and stared at me, “No. I’m older than that.”
I couldn’t hold back my laughter at his horrified face.
“Damn it, you weren’t serious,” he growled.
My whole body was shaking with amusement and a kind of pride at having bested him at verbal play—which I’d discovered was no small feat. “Of course, I wasn’t serious. Did you think I’d hook up with a guy just out of college?” My amusement faded into a smile. “It takes a certain level of maturity for a guy to even be sexy to me.”
“And I meet that level of maturity?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Good.” He took the glass of wine out of my hand too. “Other than that, age doesn’t matter.” He leaned forward to kiss me.
I leaned back. “Tell me how old you are first.”
“I make it a point to never answer questions that are asked purely out of nosiness.” He leaned forward again, his breath blowing against my skin.
I put a hand on his chest. “And I make a point of not kissing guys who won’t answer my nosy questions.”
“Then we’re at an impasse.”
“I guess so.”
“We’ll see who caves first.” He reached out to stroke my neck down to my shoulders, and I shivered at the touch on my skin.
“I told you that I don’t kiss guys who won’t—“
“I’m not kissing you.” He reached for me again, and before I could think to object, he had me laid back on the couch so he could caress me. Even over my clothes, the touch aroused me before I knew to expect it.
Realizing I was quickly losing this little game, I tried to swat his hands away. So we ended up having a playful wrestling match until he had me trapped on my back on the couch, his body over mine.
His hands had moved up my sides, just at my ribs—but now they seemed to linger just on the edge of my breasts. The playfulness of before faded beneath an entirely different kind of pull.
I arched my back up, pushing my breasts against the heels of his hands. And I inhaled with a shuddering wave of desire.
Josh seemed to recognize the shift in mood too, and his hands grew still. His blue eyes ignited as he gazed down at my body beneath his and then back up to meet my eyes.
We stared at each other for a long, tense moment—the attraction so thick and heavy, it held me trapped in place.
Then Josh muttered, “Fuck, Leslie.” And he leaned down into a kiss.
I moaned against his lips and wrapped my arms around him, rubbing against him with every part of myself I could. His slightly rough skin grazed against mine as his mouth moved with a hard and hungry ardor.
When I was dazed and breathless, I tore my mouth away, tilting my head back and squeezing my thighs around his lean hips. Feeling a thread of irresistible irony, despite my physical response, I asked, “So how old are you?”
He gave me a wolfish smile and kissed me again. Then he rubbed his jaw against my cheek until I squirmed.
When he didn’t answer, I persisted, “You must be much too young for me, if you’re so unwilling to tell me.”
With a husky laugh, Josh reached down and moved my knees so that my thighs fell open even more. Then he pushed against my groin with his—letting me feel his hard arousal. “Maybe so. But, honey, you drive this much-too-young guy wild.” The texture in his voice was both teasing and hot.
“Eh!” I gasped, arching up at the delicious pressure against my pussy and at the delicious wash of emotion at his words.
He lowered his face to the crook of my neck, and his skin grated against my throat, intensifying my arousal.
I clawed at the back of his shirt, trying to grab as much of him as I could. My hands raked down to his ass, where I grabbed and squeezed at the tight muscles greedily.
I felt something firm in his pocket and realized instinctively what it was.
It gave me an idea. A spontaneous, naughty, and completely inappropriate idea.
Despite my body’s response to him, I couldn’t ignore the idea once it came to me. So, keeping my hand in place, I gasped, “Hold on a minute, Josh.”
He pulled off me immediately at the different note in my voice.
Just as I pulled his wallet out of his pocket.
I jumped up and hurried across the room before he could react. When I was safe, I quickly found his driver’s license in his wallet.
Josh was still sitting on the couch, dazed, rumpled, and visibly aroused. Realizing what I’d just done, he gave a roar and came after me.
But it was too late. “Ah ha!” I declared victoriously. “You’ll be thirty-five next month!”
My victory was short-lived. Because now Josh was in full-fledged battle mode and he wasn’t giving any quarter. He advanced on me—slowly but with visible intent.
Laughing, I managed to hold up my hands to ward him off. “No more wrestling. It’s too late. I’ve already figured it out.”
“Believe me,” Josh growled, scooping me up into his arms. “Wrestling is the last thing on my mind.”
My pussy clenched in excitement at the erotic promise in his voice. And at the intoxicating helplessness of my position in his arms, his body big and strong against me—making me feel uncharacteristically small and feminine. I had already been turned on, but now I was more aroused than ever.
But I didn’t cave quite so easily. “Where are you taking me?” I demanded. “You really think this is going to work to turn me on?”
It was working—even more as I wriggled and rocked against him.
He kept me in place with both arms, and he ignored my breathless, indignant cries—although I suspected he was hiding a smile.
“All right,” he murmured, “I see what this was all about.”
“What do you mean?” I was genuinely confused as he placed me on the bed and sat down on the edge.
“I mean this was all in service of getting what you’ve wanted all along.”
I gasped and flushed as I realized what he was saying.
“It’s what you’ve wanted all along. Isn’t it?” This time, he was asking a question. I could see it in his eyes.
I gave a little nod, confirming that I was up for this.
Then, before I could react, he pulled me across his lap.
Realizing what he was doing, I squealed in feigned resistance. I kicked out and tried to pummel him with my fists and made every show I could of outrage.
It wasn’t particularly convincing because I was half-laughing the whole time. And I wasn’t actually resisting.
So Josh had no trouble laying me face-down across his lap and giving me a loud smack on my ass.
A jolt of pleasure shot through me, the sharp pain provoking a deep pleasure.
I made a little squeak of surprise. And more than surprise.
“How did you like that?” he asked, his hand resting on my butt.
I could feel it there, even through the fabric of my pants.
/>
I tried to catch my breath through my rising desire.
“I asked you a question,” he said.
“Yes,” I gasped. “I liked it.”
He smacked his hand down on my bottom again, the sound as shocking as the sting of pain. The pressure of it pushed my clit down against his thigh.
I cried out loudly. And again when he spanked me once more.
Soon my body was rocking over his lap—my motion more erotic than rebellious. My squeals had shifted into breathless grunts of pleasure every time I felt his strong hand connect with my bottom.
After a few more spanks, Josh’s body tightened so palpably, I could sense it even in my position.
On one last spank, he pulled me up and laid me out on the bed beside him, my legs hanging over the side.
Then he leaned over me, his face hot and hungry and so possessive, I lost my breath. “Now. I guess you’ve learned your lesson.”
My hands reached up with a will of their own, fisting in his shirt and trying futilely to pull him closer to me. “And what lesson is that?”
Josh cupped one of my breasts and reached down to rub against my slightly sensitive bottom. I was still wearing my clothes, but I might as well be naked. “You tell me.”
My breath came out in silly, little pants, and my skin blazed with a luscious heat. “Smug asshole.” My eyes were laughing as I gazed up at him, belying any truth to my words. “You think I enjoyed that domineering spanking?”
Josh’s lips twitched, but his eyes also smoldered. He moved his hands until his fingers had closed around my wrists. Then he stretched them up and outward, spreading me taut beneath him and holding me trapped. “I guess you still haven’t learned your lesson.”
Then he kissed me—rough and ravenous, his tongue plundering my mouth with both passion and entitlement.
I felt entirely possessed by Josh, nearly torn apart by the conflicting sensations of pleasure and tenderness, helplessness and power. I wanted to devour him, to pull him inside me completely. And I wanted to never stop feeling the brute strength of his body, the warm burden of his weight.
My legs were trapped beneath his thighs, and my arms were imprisoned by his unrelenting grip. I struggled against him—not in fear or resistance but to test the strength of his hold.
He was unmovable—his lips and hands as hard and strong as they were passionate.