Wall St Rascal – Megan Wade
Nina
Taking a long pull of my almost-warm beer, I set it back on the bar then push it away with a sigh. This whole drinks after work thing used to be a heck of a lot more fun when I had someone to drink with. Not that I’m upset with Becca for coupling up with her boss—Ronan Kennedy, a glorious specimen of a man who was previously known as the ‘jerk of Wall St’—I could never be upset over that. Seeing my best friend happy and Ronan smiling instead of growling has been beyond pleasurable to witness. I’m ecstatic for both of them.
But…
I’m kinda lonely now. I wish I got along with the other admin girls as well as I got along with Becca. She was always my rock at Pierce Goodman, the wealth management company on Wall St. where I work. And while she wasn’t much of a party girl, she would at least come out with me to eat or just grab a drink and chat. I miss those days. And now that she’s working somewhere else, studying while also planning her wedding, I miss her even more.
Scraping my fingertips along the bottom of the wooden bowl at my side, I take out the last of my tortilla chips and dunk them into some salsa, popping the soggy crumbs in my mouth before I chew thoughtfully.
I think it’s time…
Time for what? the-imaginary-audience-I’m-talking-to asks.
Well, a few months back, I overheard a couple of women on the subway talking excitedly about an exclusive dating club called Blind Trust. Not a dating agency. Not a sex club. But something in between. I googled the name the moment I heard it to learn that this place charges a pretty steep fee to match people up based on their bedroom desires as well as their looks and personalities. And the really cool/exciting/nerve wracking thing they do is to get you to date backward too. You start with intimacy and work your way toward meeting each other for a sit-down date.
Now, I know you have questions, imaginary friend. Believe me, I did too. During the weeks I’ve known about the existence of this club, I’ve read through their FAQs several times and even stalked the sub-Reddit talking about peoples’ experience there. The way it works is all in the name, Blind Trust. Your first encounter is in darkness and silence so all you have to guide you is touch. Slowly—if both parties agree—you introduce all of the senses until finally, all is revealed, and you can start getting to know each other without the pressure of sex impacting your behavior. You already know you’re sexually compatible or you wouldn’t have gotten that far.
I admit it sounds like the perfect place for people to go and have anonymous no-strings sex. That was my first thought too. But it’s not like that at all. Each client is fully vetted, undergoes a psych evaluation and detailed likes and dislikes questioning before they’ll even think about pairing you up. Their goal is to find serious matches for busy people who are tired of New York’s revolving door dating scene, and since I haven’t had a first date lead into a second date for two years now, I’m exhausted. And I’m ready to try something else. No matter how out there it may seem…
“Can I buy you a refill?” A dark-haired man with a bright, dimpled grin and lust in his eyes moves in beside me and gestures to my almost-finished beer.
I glance up at him, but his gaze is firmly on my oversized chest. “No, thanks,” I say, dragging my bottle in a little closer to my body and angling away from him.
“Waiting for someone?”
“I was. My boyfriend got caught up at work,” I lie, knowing guys who don’t take the first no tend to need the mention of another man to get the hint.
“Boyfriend, huh?” He grins and leans in, his fingers brushing my blonde curls off my shoulders. “You know it doesn’t count until he puts a ring on it.”
“It counts as far as I’m concerned. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to leave.”
Giving me a long, assessing look, he seems like he’s about to dig his heels in before the bartender, Eve—a woman not much older than me, but covered in tattoos and piercings compared to my strait-laced appearance—approaches and asks if I need anything.
“Just to finish my beer then go home alone.”
“Do I need to wave security over to achieve that goal, sir? Or will you walk away and leave this young woman to occupy space in the way she chooses?” Eve lifts her brow, her green eyes piercing behind her smokey eye makeup as she glares at the guy like she wouldn’t even need security given half the chance.
The guy doesn’t give a response. He just glances away, looking bored as he sucks his teeth then pushes off the bar, muttering something negative about women as he disappears into the crowd. No doubt looking for his next victim.
“You need an escort home, you just sing out,” Eve says once he’s gone. “You know security is more than happy to look out for anyone who needs it.”
“Thanks, Eve. I should be fine with the usual cab though,” I say, giving her a smile as I finish off my drink and stand from my chair. While the free chips and salsa are great, the security policy is the exact reason I frequent The Endearing Badger Bar more than any other place in New York City. I’ve had enough sleazy, won’t-take-no-for-an-answer assholes coming onto me over the years to be more than fed up with it. In fact, I’m almost at a point where I’m about to give up on men all together. The things they say about New York are more than true. Too many available women and not enough relationship-seeking men.
After saying my goodbyes to Eve, I head into the cool night air, a security guard hailing a cab for me and making sure I’m tucked in nice and safe before waving me off. And as the cab spirits me through the night toward my apartment building, I find myself pulling my cell from my bag, my fingers scrolling through the already filled-out application for Blind Trust. I haven’t had the courage to send it in yet, but after yet another disappointing night out on my own, what have I got to lose?
Submit.
Nina
“Hey, bestie! Long time, no talk,” Becca says cheerfully, her voice filling my bathroom via speakerphone while I take an extraordinary amount of time straightening out the natural curls in my hair. “Please tell me you have time for wine and cheesy rom-coms tonight.”
Wincing slightly when I almost burn my finger, I shake it off and set my straightening iron aside. “Ah…Gosh, Bec. I’d love to hang with you, but I’m actually just getting ready to head out. Can we maybe do it tomorrow night instead?”
“I promised Ronan I’d keep Saturday for him. I’ve been burning the candle at both ends lately trying to fit in work and finish off my assignments, and that means I’ve severely neglected everyone I love and care about.”
“Oh, honey. You don’t have to feel bad about that. Anyone who gives a damn would never hold that against you.”
“Thank you. I appreciate you saying that. I honestly feel like I’m drowning right now. Ronan keeps telling me to put in less hours at the office and let him support me, but I don’t know, I can’t leave him and Scott to deal with all that work on their own.”
“Maybe it’s time to hire another analyst to help?”
“Maybe. There’s just so much to organize all the time. Ugh. OK. I’ll let you go and we’ll tee something up for next week, maybe?”
“Sounds perfect. Get some rest.”
“I will. And oh! I haven’t asked you where you’re going.”
“Oh. Um. I’m just going out to drinks with a…um…guy I met at…” I look around frantically and try to think of a plausible story to tell. When I was first thinking about contacting Blind Trust, I confided in Becca about my idea. While she was as supportive as a best friend can be, I still detected a note of concern in her reaction, like she thought I was thinking of doing something scary and dangerous. After going through the selection process and feeling confident that Blind Trust really does guarantee my safety, I felt comfortable keeping my plans to myself once my match came through. I know using a dating service and agreeing to intimacy before properly meeting someone is a wild concept, but I feel genuinely excited and hopeful about tonight. I just don’t want anyone else bursting my bubble—no matter how well-meaning they are.
My eyes fall on the leafy plant in the corner of the room. “The nursery,” I finish.
“A guy with a green thumb, hey? That sounds promising.”
“It’s just drinks.” I feel the heat rise in my cheeks as I rake my fingers through my hair and take a good look at myself in the mirror. I’ve put on the sexiest set of lingerie I own, along with a black dress that hugs my curves and accentuates my bust. On top of that, I’ve done my makeup to perfection—winged liner around my hazel eyes and sexy red lips—and ironed my hair so straight that the blonde locks now fall to my mid-back. It’s not lost on me how fruitless all of this effort is since the man I’m meeting tonight won’t see more than a shadowy outline of my body, but there’s something about going through this first-date ritual of primping and preening that calms my nerves. I mean, I’m going to a club for the sole purpose of having sex with a stranger that I may or may not want to date later. I’m nervous as fuck.
“Drinks can turn into something,” she says with a coy sound to her voice that gives me images of her waggling her brows on the other end.
“Well, they won’t turn into a thing if I’m late. We’ll talk soon, OK?”
“OK. Have fun tonight!”
When we disconnect, I make sure my straightener is switched off then take one last look at myself and blow out a tense breath. “You’re the one in control,” I say to my reflection before giving myself a curt nod and heading for the door.
I think that was the tipping point for me when I interviewed at Blind Trust. They made it very clear to me that nothing would happen between my date and me if I didn’t want it to. While our first date is all about feeling each other out, we will have enough of our other senses available to be able to communicate when needed, and security is always on standby just in case someone oversteps—something my consultant assured me has never happened before. They’re incredibly thorough during their vetting process.
Something I know all too well. Along with their steep fee comes a barrage of psychological evaluations, health tests and background checks that are on top of the usual personality, likes and dislikes they gather. By the time I was cleared and told they’d contact me when a match became available, I already felt as though I was intimately acquainted with most of their staff.
Getting that match, though… That was a surprise. I’d thought it would take weeks, even months. But they came back with a ninety-three percent match within twenty-four hours. I accepted before I even had a chance to let the news sink in because I knew that if I thought about it too much, I’d wait and maybe the next match wouldn’t be quite as compatible. And what if this ninety-three percent guy truly is my soulmate, and I just went and passed him over to some other girl because of nerves. No way. I replied yes as fast as I could, deciding to worry and overthink it later. Which is, of course, what I’ve been doing every day since.
And now, getting into the car they sent to pick me up, my heart is hammering out of my chest, and I’m fairly sure my makeup is melting off my face. Thank God this date is going to be in the dark, because at this rate, my face is going to look like Marge in that Simpson’s episode where Homer invents the makeup gun and accidentally sets it to whore.
“Here we are, miss,” the driver says, pulling up to the private female client entry to the club.
Glued to my seat, I blow out a steadying breath and just stare out the window to the doorway. “Does everyone freak out their first time here?” I ask, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror.
“It’s a mixed bag. But there’s definitely more nerves than boldness. Just remember, if at any time you want to leave, I’ll be right here ready to take you home. No questions asked. Blind Trust aims to be a safe place.”
“You know, I have a friend who runs a bar focused on that. It’s called the Endearing Badger.”
“I hope that’s exactly what it is.”
“Oh, it is. It’s my experience there that made me feel better about trying out Blind Trust.”
“Well, I’ll pass that compliment on to management. I hope you have a pleasurable experience.”
“Oh, gosh,” I say, suddenly giggling like I didn’t even consider that part. But really, it’s the whole point and why I shaved every single hair off my body. “Me too. Wish me luck.”
“You won’t need it. These matches are the real deal.”
And with one final intake of breath, I nod to the concierge who’s waiting to open my door then I place my foot on the pavement.
Time to take one giant leap of faith—to blindly trust—and hope it leads to my happily ever after.
Nina
“The staff here at Blind Trust completely understand how nerve-wracking the first experience can be for new clients—no matter how much coaching you’ve received.”
The woman who greets me when I arrive is the same one I conducted my interview with. Jenna is model tall and also model thin and pretty. On top of that, she’s lovely and soft spoken and has the kind of demeanor that puts me instantly at ease. I do wonder, though, if the man I’m to meet is sitting in another room with an equally beautiful woman to talk him through the ‘experience’. If so, then his expectations of me—a short, somewhat chunky blonde with freckles on my skin, and hips that could bear triplets—might be a little skewed.
“If there is any point in the evening where you feel unsafe or simply uncomfortable, you can end your session by uttering your safe word. Our AI software will pick it up and alert staff. There won’t be any human’s listening in for the sake of your privacy. However, there will be security posted outside just in case they’re needed.”
But maybe model pretty isn’t what the guy I’m meeting is after. Blind Trust has a ridiculously high success rate—which is how they justify their outrageous pricing—so they obviously know what they’re doing. During the interview process I was shown a multitude of pictures of men in different stages of dress, style and looks, and asked to pick out what I found attractive and why. I’m assuming they did the same with him, so if they’ve matched us, it means he ticked the ‘plus size’ box on his preference list. A little extra meat isn’t going to have him calling out ‘octopus,’ or whatever his safe word happens to be.
“This is a low sensory experience. You’ll have your ability to touch and smell unhindered. But your sight and sound—our two most judgmental senses—will be muted. Due to the nature of your activities, it’s important you have some ability to communicate. When you go into the room, you’ll find a blindfold and earplugs. The blindfold is made of a crosshatched fabric that will allow you to make out shapes in the dimly lit room, but even when your eyes adjust to the darkness, you won’t be able to see your partner’s features. As for the earplugs, they merely muffle or distort sound. Speaking to each other this first time is discouraged. We’re focused on feeling each other out this first time. Intimacy is encouraged, but only if both parties consent.”
“Do, um….do most people get…erm…intimate their first time,” I ask, trying to sound normal but coming across as an awkward teenager who’s never even been kissed.
A slow grin curves her pink lips. “Most do. Yes. I think there’s something very freeing about meeting a stranger in the darkness, exploring each other by touch.” She pauses and takes a deep breath, making me think she’s speaking from personal experience. Her reaction puts me even further at ease, excites me even. It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten intimate with a man, and while coming to a place like this seems risky and foolhardy, it also feels exciting and filled with possibility. Like, I’m the heroine of one of my romance novels entering into an arranged marriage or being matched up in a marriage auction. It’s silly to think of any of these things happening in real life, I know. But what if.... What if I do this and it leads directly to my own fairytale happily ever after? A girl’s got to try, right?
“OK. I think I’m ready,” I say, my nod confident as I place my half-drunk champagne glass on the small side table, pushing up to my feet and straightening my dress. “Is it silly I got so dressed up for a date in the dark?”
“Not at all,” she says, standing with me. “It’s about feeling sexy, am I right?”
“Yeah. That’s how I saw it.”
With a kind smile, she leads me through a doorway into a quiet hall. There are sconces along the wall with flickering lights no brighter than a candle casting a gentle glow along our path. In fully lit view, I’d guess that the carpet is a vibrant magenta and the walls a light purple, but in this shadowy view, I see plum underfoot and lavender on the walls. The door we stop at is dark pink, and when she pushes it open, I step into room decorated with neutral, earthy tones.
“I’ll be listening in just until you get yourself situated,” she informs me as she gestures for me to step inside. “When you have your blindfold and earplugs in place and feel ready to begin, let me know, and I’ll dim the lights and unlock the blue door.” She points to the door on the opposite side to where I entered.
“What about when we’re…um…finished?” I ask.
She smiles. “There’s a small light next to each door. When you’re ready to leave, move toward the pink one and touch it, it’ll unlock the door and security will escort you back to the dressing rooms so you can get cleaned up and collect your things. I’ll also be available if you need to debrief, otherwise we’ll talk in the coming days.”
“OK,” I say, smoothing my hands down my sides again. “I’m ready.”
As she retreats from the room and I’m alone, I glance at the king-sized bed in the center of the room, the blindfold and box of earplugs sitting neatly in the center. This is nuts.
Moving to the bed, I reach out and pick up the soft fabric of the blindfold and run it through my fingers. I honestly can’t believe I’m doing this. But here I am, standing in a private room at a dating club, getting ready to have sex with a total stranger. I’m nervous, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t also turned on by it. I don't think it’s the anonymity that’s getting me going. It’s more the possibility of magic that has butterflies in my belly and an aching in my core. There’s a chance I’m about to meet my One. And you can call me naïve or soft hearted, but I genuinely believe there’s a perfect match out there for everyone, and I believe that I’ll know them when I see them. In this case, I’ll know when I feel them. The prospect of finding something precious in the unconventional has me positively quivering.
I lift the blindfold and wrap it around my eyes, noticing the way it alters my vision even with the lights up. After securing it behind my head, I kick of my shoes and climb onto the bed, tucking my earplugs into my ears before I test out what I imagine might be alluring positions to wait on the bed in. But then I realize he won’t know what position I’m in since he won’t be able to see either, so I just end up sitting in the center facing the blue door.
Up until this moment, I’ve felt in complete control. But as I stare at the fuzzy outline of the door, my heart pounding in my ears, I’m plagued by the many doubts I’ve pushed to the back of my mind since I started this whole process.
I panic.
“Octopus. Octopus!” I gasp shoving the blindfold up to my forehead and pulling the earplugs from my ears. Immediately, the pink door opens and security steps in with Jenna on his heels.
“Nina. Are you OK?” she asks, concern on her features and an understanding in her tone that breaks through to me and has me taking deep, calm, cleansing breaths.
“I’m OK. I’m OK. I’m sorry. I just had a moment.” I take both of her hands when she offers them and I breathe with her.
“We can postpone until you feel more ready,” she promises, but I shake my head.
“I don’t want to postpone. I want to do this. I’m just…I’m really nervous.” I smile up at her. “But knowing security acts so fast just gave me the gift of peace of mind.”
“I’m glad. Just remember—you’re in control. This only goes as far as you’re comfortable with, and it ends when you say so.”
“OK. OK. I want this. I want to meet the man you chose for me.”
Her grin grows wider. “I really think you’re going to like him, Nina. I wouldn’t have matched you with anything less than perfect.”
“Ninety-three percent perfect.”
She laughs. “One hundred percent doesn’t exist. Ninety-three is special. You’ll see,” she says, slowly releasing me and moving with security toward the door. “Let me know when you’re ready to meet him.”
I pull my blindfold back in place and pop the earplugs into my ears, the muffling of sound and sight wrapping my mind like a soft blanket. “I’m ready now,” I say, and she gives me a nod before they step into the hall and suddenly I’m plunged into almost blackness. It takes a moment or two for my eyes to adjust, a sliver of lighting glowing from the floor along the edges of the room. I can’t make out much, but I can see the edge of the bed, and when the blue door opens, I see a glow spilling in behind a broad, masculine figure. My heart stops.
What on earth have I gotten myself into?
Him
“Holy shit. You’re huge.” The words reach my ears clear as bell which can only mean one of two things. Either my ear plugs are faulty, or this woman is yelling. After testing the fit of said ear plugs, I’m voting for the latter.
“I’m sorry. That probably came out sounding rude. But it’s just an observation. Your silhouette takes up the whole door frame.”
A smile tugs at the side of my mouth as I approach the bed. Were not supposed to be talking during this first meeting, but I’m guessing my prospective mate has a habit of talking when she’s nervous. I’ll have to take my time and help her relax—something I’m more than willing to do.
“Not that big,” I say back, only to get an even louder, “What?”
All I can see is the outline of her sitting in the center of the big bed, her knees tucked beneath her as she angles herself toward the door I just entered.
“I can’t hear you!”
I smirk and place one knee on the bed, noting the way she shifts like she’s an animal in a cage deciding if she’ll succumb to her fight or flight instincts. Knowing I need to be gentle here, I reach out, finding the outside of her arm and running my fingers down the smooth skin until I find her hand and hook our fingers together.
“What are you doing?" She resists at first, but I run my thumb against her skin soothingly and she relents. “Oh…that’s nice, actually.”
My smirk turns to a smile as I lift her hand and place it against my chest, my heart pounding out a beat so fierce that I’ve no doubt she’ll feel it through my skin.
“You’re nervous too?” she yells.
“Yes.”
“What?”
With a chuckle, I lean in closer, my fingers reaching up and pinching the earplug from her ear. She gasps.
“We’re not supposed— Oh my goodness.” Her voice gentles and she immediately lowers her volume. “We’re not supposed to take them out.”
“I know. But I’ve got you,” I say, running my thumb along the soft edge of her jaw as I lean in and inhale her intoxicating scent. I’m not sure what it is, but it reminds me of something. Like flowers and fragrant fruits combining into a wondrous scent that makes my mouth water. “I’ve got you.”
“OK,” she murmurs, her fingers bunching up against the front of my shirt as I replace the earplug then run my fingers through her hair to cup the back of her head…
Nina
I’ve got you.
The deep rumble of his words flows in through my ear then travels all the way through my body until it curls my toes. I’ve never been one to lose it over just a few words, but something about my present scenario and the way he took charge and settled me has my body leaning into him, wanting him to do a heck of a lot more than just reassure me.
When the earplug returns snug in the shell of my ear, his big hand slides around the back of my head, the heat of his body pressing closer as he brings his face to mine. I let out a tiny moan of pleasure, parting my lips in readiness of his upon mine. But that’s not where his mouth goes. No. His fingers flex in my hair as his face travels down, a whisper of breath along my neck and a hand moving down my side.
It feels animalistic, naughty, yet oh so evocative. And when his fingers reach the hem of my dress and brush along my thighs, I realize he’s mapping me out, learning where the obstacles are and how to get around them.
When he urges me to, I lie back on the bed, letting him trail his touch past my knees, palms wrapping around my calves until he reaches my feet and starts his way back up again. Hot breath touches the inside of my knee, soft lips brushing against my skin before my hem travels right up to my ass and those hands lift me off the bed, cupping the soft globes of my ass cheeks. Squeezing as he buries his face against my belly, littering kisses up and over my ribs before his body surges upward, hovering over me, head bowed.
I hear the rumble of his voice, but my breathing is coming hard, and I can’t make out the words. I’m not sure I need to since the next thing he does is brush his lips against mine. A gentle tease, tongue sweeping out for a taste before he slants his mouth over mine and pushes in.
My senses are flooded with the sensation of his tongue against mine, fresh and minty. He either popped a breath mint right before coming in here, or he cleaned his teeth earlier and didn’t partake in an alcoholic beverage to calm his nerves. Has he done this before?
The question pops into my head unbidden and I tamp it down, not wanting doubts to ruin what is undoubtedly the most sensual experience I’ve ever had in my life. Being touched and kissed with such reverence is a heady feeling.
Needing to dive into the moment headfirst, I shift my hands from his firm chest, sliding up over broad shoulders to find the collar of a dress shirt. Wrapping my fingers around the stiff cotton, I use it to draw him closer, kissing him harder and more fervently, my body getting hotter and hotter beneath the controlled weight of him and his exploring hands.
I feel the vibration of his moan more than I hear it, my fingers spearing into his hair as he tears his mouth from mine and kisses me down my neck, burying his face in my cleavage before his big arm slides beneath my lower back, and I’m suddenly flipped so I’m on top of him.
He’s so hard beneath me. Hard everywhere. My thighs stretch around his waist, my dress shoved high above mine so all that’s keeping him from me are my lacy panties against his slacks. My fingers burn to reach back and explore the hard length pressing against my ass, but I feel that I owe him the same courtesy he paid me by mapping him out before I dive right to the good part.
With his fingers pressing into my thighs, I can feel the rise and fall of his ragged breathing swaying me up and down. I reach forward, my fingertips catching on buttons, a pocket and then finally a belt.
I don’t know why, but I like that he still has this on. Like he didn’t want to be so presumptuous that he wore easy to remove clothes. That’s something I think someone who often met women at a club like Blind Trust would do. They’d wear T-shirts and pants with a button fly, maybe even sweats with an elastic waist, or even easier, they’d just come in here wearing nothing but a robe and boxers. But not this man. No. This man is dressed like he’s going out to dinner or like he's just come from the office. Except he doesn’t smell like he’s been working all day. He smells freshly showered, like he put as much effort into getting ready for this date as I did. I really like that. So much, that I work the first two buttons of his shirt open, followed by the third, fourth…
Suddenly, he surges up beneath me, sitting and pulling the shirt over his head without bothering with the remaining buttons. His hand wraps around my middle, hot mouth connecting with the swell of my breasts above the fabric of my dress. He kisses me in sucks and licks, and I let my head drop back, my hips grinding as the altered positioning aligns his cock with my sex. We both moan together, and he reaches up behind me, fingers gripping the tab of my zipper and dragging it down my back, pushing my dress from my shoulders so it’s entirely bunched about my waist now.
“Oh god, that feels good,” I whisper, feeling free in the knowledge I’m unheard as his mouth moves over the lace of my bra, sealing over the hard peak of my nipple and teasing it with his tongue. “Yes. Oh god. Yes.”
My fingers go into his hair, pulling at thick strands as he pays equal attention to both breasts through the lace before pushing the straps and cups free and taking my bare nipple between his teeth.
“Ohhhhhh.”
I arch into him, my hips moving on their own as I take sweet friction from his steely length. He rocks up against me, one hand guiding my hips and the other pressed flat against my upper back as his mouth sucks, bites, nibbles and licks. I let out a long moan, feeling so close to release that my fingers curl into a fist, pulling his head back before I bring my mouth to his, kissing him hard as I whimper and cry out.
I’m so close.
His grip on me shifts, the sweet friction robbed from my core as I land on the bed front first, his fingers sweeping my hair to the side, mouth kissing and sucking the back of my neck, tongue dragging down my spine until his fingers twist open the hooks of my bra then drag the entirety of my outfit down my body until there’s nothing left but the blindfold.
He touches me everywhere. Kisses me just as much. But he skirts his way around my apex like he’s torturing himself as much as he’s torturing me. I’ve never felt so hot and needy. I feel like I might explode if release doesn’t come soon, so I reach back and run my hand down his arm, tangling our fingers together as I push up on my knees, curving my hips back and bringing his hand between my legs, letting out a long, desperate moan the moment he connects with my wetness.
“Fuck. Yes,” he moans. He’s right next to my ear, so I hear the desperation in his muffled voice as I rock my hips against our tangled fingers, begging him with my movement to enter me and take the ache away.
He holds his weight over me as his fingers glide back and forth through my heat. His groan vibrates against my shoulder blade, and I’m so turned on that I cry out.
“Oh god!”
It’s like he’s forbidden me from coming, because the moment I let out the cry, he pulls his hand from between my legs and wraps it instead around my waist, guiding me until I’m on top of him again, except this time, my back is toward his front. I’m not entirely certain what he’s going for here—reverse cowgirl? Or maybe he wants me on my knees so he can eat me—but he’s presented me with the perfect opportunity to see what’s beyond that belt, so I’m going with that.
Reaching back, I place a hand on his chest then drag it back toward me, causing him to shiver when I curl my fingers over his ribs then return to the belt that’s right between my legs. Feeling around with my fingers, I pull the leather free then work open his button and fly. Then I press up on my knees so he can lift his ass and let me shove his pants past his hips, freeing what feels like a well-above-average cock.
Before I get the chance to explore, he shifts beneath me, side to side like a bronco bull while he shoves his pants past his feet and they land on the floor.
Now we’re just as naked as each other.
A spike of nervous energy has me needing a deep breath before I feel bold enough to move forward with my plan. I’m not normally like this, but the darkness makes me bold. I place my hands on his thighs, a light scratch of hair rasping against my palms as I drag my hands toward me, finding a long, hot steel rod that makes my insides ache and burn with need.
I can barely get my whole hand around the breadth and use both of them to stroke him up and down, pausing to swipe my thumb over his tip, finding enough pre-cum to tell me he’s just as desperate to find his release as I am mine.
Big hands wrap around my middle and urge me back. Suddenly, his plan is abundantly clear—everyone’s favorite number when it comes to bedroom activities. I’m more than happy to oblige since it means I get to drive him just as crazy as he’s driving me.
With his guidance, I position myself on all fours with my knees either side of his head. That’s when he grips me tight and tilts his chin up, his tongue sweeping through my core and almost making me fall face first into his crotch. My god, that feels good.
I hold myself steady though, balancing on one arm as I use the other to stroke his cock before I lean down and take just the tip of it in my mouth. He groans against my clit and the vibration almost sends me over the edge. But I maintain control, my desire to give as good as I get driving me forward as I stretch my mouth around his girth, taking him as deep as I can while my hand does the rest. My head is swimming.
My insides coil tight as his tongue lashes through my seam, lapping and laving until I’m so lost in the feeling that I’m struggling to synchronize the movement between my mouth and my hand. It becomes a stuttered movement mixed with whimpers and quivers until I can’t take it anymore and tear my mouth away, my back arching and my head tipping back as I call out to the heavens, my entire body lighting up with my release. I’m seeing stars.
“Oh my god! Yes! Yes!”
Flipped onto my back without a seconds’ hesitation, he hooks my leg over his shoulder and touches his dick to my entrance, gliding it through my soaked seam before nudging it inside.
With one hand fisting the sheets, my other wraps around his forearm, my hips rising up to invite him in. His mouth might have sent me into outer space, but his cock is transporting me somewhere else entirely. I’m in heaven.
I let out a long, satisfied groan as he seats himself fully, dragging his length back out with slow, controlled movements. While I’d love nothing more than for him to pound into me relentlessly, this slow build is not unexpected after the way he teased that mind-blowing orgasm out of me. This man seems to take pleasure in the slow build. He’s not so eager for his release that he wants to race to the finish line. No. This man is patient. He’s giving. And he likes his pleasure to last.
So far, I think we’re a great match.
I feel lips and teeth against the inside of my knee as he swivels his hips in and out, slowly increasing the speed and power of each thrust. It starts where my last orgasm left off, a deep ache that builds until I’m crying out and digging my fingers into his flesh until finally, he reaches down and touches his thumb to my clit.
He barely gives it a swipe before I’m thrusting my breasts up into the air, my spine leaving the mattress as my head buries into the pillows, my voice tearing a scream from my throat as I come even harder than I did the first time. All the while, he’s thrusting harder and faster, my orgasm hitting its peak, feeling as though it might actually make me catch fire until he buries himself deep and collapses forward, the guttural groan of his release forcing its way into my ear and adding to my own completion.
Had anyone on this earth suggested a few weeks ago that I’d have the most earth-shattering sex of my life wearing a blindfold and earplugs in a darkened room with a stranger, I’d have been shocked they’d even suggest such a thing. But now that it’s happened and I’m gasping for air as my body buzzes with orgasmic delight, I don’t think I ever want it any other way.
That was simply…amazing. Signing up for Blind Trust is the best thing I’ve ever done.
