They met at a Christmas dinner party. It was boring. Milling around the snack table she sipped on hot apple cider and waited impatiently for a respectable amount of time to pass before she bailed on her best friend. It was this best friend who introduced her to an average looking man with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, a deep indigo that was crystal sharp and mysterious at the same time.
“Evie, meet Malcolm, hon, and keep him entertained while I feed the masses.” Jo gave them a huge grin and eased away quickly, already zeroing on guests with a platter full of pigs-in-a-blanket.
Malcolm smiled faintly, nodded, saluted her with his eggnog, and took a sip. She responded in kind, running out of apple cider and taking the opportunity to escape.
“Out of juice–“
”What a trip, two feet away,” he remarked, and caught off guard, she half laughed and looked back at him from the midst of her turn.
“Well, you’ve got to be willing to travel to far off places for the best cider in the world.”
She leaned over the heated punch bowl, serving herself. When he spoke, his voice was much closer.
“What’s so special about the cider?”
She looked up at him over her shoulder, directed with the serving spoon. “It’s in the cinnamon. And the dash of cocaine.”
“Ahh, nothing like a cider high.”
Pleased that he was keeping up with her, she turned back, this time with a faint smile of her own.
“I bet that eggnog is rockin’.”
He looked down at it, and delivered her with a suave salesman’s grin. “Why, indeed it is. Indeed … it is.”
That earned a mild laugh from her, to which he saluted her again and downed his eggnog, the empty plastic cup lined with a coating of cream.

They sat side by side on the piano bench, facing outward and watching the innocent bystanders.
“You go to this stuff often?” He asked.
She snorted. “Only when Jo’s hosting them.”
He looked over at her. “Jo’s always hosting them.”
The irony in her voice dripped all over them. “I know.”

“And you always have to keep random males entertained?” He was now straddling the bench, facing her, and she faced him. Between them sat Jo’s cat, a large cream colored thing with a hint of orange.
Evelyn sighed dramatically, her eyes on the cat’s own hypnotic amber pair. The cat was a quiet type, who rarely spoke. He lifted his chin for her to scratch.
“Yes, and the requisite one night stand.”
His own hand was playing with the cat’s tail. It moved up the cat’s haunches to the ears, his finger tips sliding across them delicately. The cat was purring heavily, head twisting and turning to meet both hands, while above him his admirers continued to speak.
“Many of those in a year, then? What’s your average?”
“Countless.” Her eyes lifted to meet his for a moment, and found his own dark, and heavy, upon her.
“Meaning zero, then,” he said, and she gave a chuckling, self-deprecating smile in return.
“Exactly.”

“Why zero, then?” He asked leaning against Jo’s closed patio doors.
It was too cold outside to wander out there, but the warmth inside of bodies, talking, and the fire going in the fireplace made it tempting. Evelyn closed her eyes and rested her right temple against the window pane.
“How should I know?” Her voice was soft.
He leaned closer to hear it. When he spoke, she felt his voice rumble through the window pane.
“I know.”
She opened her eyes. His looked into hers, entirely mild, his expression benign. He was not a stunningly handsome man. He wasn’t ugly, either. He was at least six feet tall and had an air of composure that was non-threatening and at the same time … provocative.
“Do you?” She asked, humor sliding back into her voice. She looked out through the glass, to the night beyond, then lifted her head.
“I do.” He nodded once, as if musing, and crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the glass.
“Know what?”
“What you know and won’t say.”
She grinned, mouth sly. “Why on earth should I tell you what’s none of your business?”
“You’ve made it my business.”
She laughed in amused shock. “Have not!”
“Have, too.” For most who would say this phrase, it would have been a whine. He said it in an entirely new way to her, in a way that made her almost believe she’d done exactly what he said.
She shook her head, stepped away, looked back at the party. Things were thinning out.
“Time to go.”
“Where’s your coat?”
Startled, she looked back at him and found herself at a loss.
“You know, the warm big thing that you wear before you go outside,” he reminded her. He wore a hint of a smile on his lips, a slight smirk.
“I know what a coat is! I just don’t want to tell you where.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’d want to put it on me.”
“And?” He stepped abreast of her. She backed off lightly.
“And then you’d want other things.”
“Like?” He didn’t step closer but he didn’t need to. His smile spoke volumes. She couldn’t meet his eyes.
Exasperated with him, she finally chose to walk away. “All the things that I won’t say.”

“Evie, where are you going?!” Jo was irritated, catching her as she made her way out of the bathroom.
“Home! Why?” She let Jo take her aside in the hallway.
“Why?!” Her friend began to work her expressive eyes and brows. “That man I brought to your feet is a catch, hon. I hand you steak on a platter and you refuse it?”
“I’m not hungry.” Eve shut the bathroom door and took a few steps.
“Bullshit. I know him from work. I mentioned him to you. I saw the glint in his eye when I mentioned you. So I invited him. And he actually came. He won’t come again, I bet.”
“How do you know? And why should I care?” Eve made for the hall closet.
“Cause he’s a good man.”
“How the hell could you know that? What does being a good man have to do with coming again?” Suddenly realizing what coming again could imply, Eve couldn’t help herself and laughed. It took a beat, but Jo caught on.
“Pervert. See, don’t lie about not wanting any, I know how you work.” Jo smacked her hip with the Christmas-themed kitchen towel in her hand and pointed back toward the inside of the house.
“You can’t leave him like that. That’s just rude. Let him take you home.”
“I drove, Jo.” Eve had reached the hall closet and had her hand on the knob.
“So?” Jo hissed, realizing her voice was climbing and not wanting to be heard. “I’ll come get you tomorrow.”
“No.” Her voice was pleasant but brooked no argument. Evie now stood in the open doorway of the hall closet staring at the piles and racks of coats. She stepped inside, looking around with a slow ease. It was a large closet, at least four feet square. She reached a hand out to cut on the light with the switch on the wall to the right of her. She took her time, eyeing each coat, her gaze running over the fabrics. Eventually she spoke up.
“Jo … did you chain my coat up any place in particular in this dungeon?”
Just then, she realized Jo was no longer behind her as a much taller presence, entirely male, stood immediately behind her.
“I’m sure we can play that game later. I’ve got equipment at home. But Jo’s gone to serve some cranberry muffins. She wanted me to help you find your coat.” Malcolm’s voice was low, but pleasant.
Afraid to turn around, Eve held still and spoke slowly.
“How on earth could you two have reached that decision in utter silence?”
“Cause, unlike some people, Jo seems to know when to keep her mouth shut.”
She felt his arm move as the door shut. She swallowed. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his shoulder, the cotton of his button-up shirt. She didn’t move.
“Need a little more light in here to find what you’re looking for, don’t you think?” He finally said, and his hand reached out, snapping off the light.
In the dark, she could only hear their breathing, and despite herself, she was getting turned on. Her skin felt alive, sensitive, and when he next spoke his voice rumbled beside her ear, so that she gasped and began to turn away.
“Hush, Eve, or someone will hear you,” he said, his voice smiling.
“Jesus Christ, what do you take me for?” She muttered, and in the utter dark she reached out, her hand searching for the doorknob. She found his stomach instead, and trying to move around it was trapped by his hands.
“I’ll take you in every way you want me to,” he said, holding her as she squirmed, pulling back and away, pressing into the darkness.
“Come on, let go, this isn’t funny.”
“Of course not, it isn’t supposed to be.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because this is one of the things you want, but won’t say.”
“Oh, don’t do me any favors,” she said.
“Too late.”

In a brief moment she managed to free a hand but before she could get to the doorknob he cuffed her roughly with his fingers around her wrist. A free hand locked the door, and she heard the click, then froze.
“Please. Don’t. Someone will come, they’ll need their coat.”
“Not for a long while. The evening’s young.”
“People have kids, they need to go to bed early.”
“All of those people have already left.”
She tried to think of another excuse. “Jo won’t appreciate us molesting her guests’ coats.”
“No, but she’ll appreciate me molesting you.”
“What? She said that!” Her own voice had become terse and fierce, and in the darkness she couldn’t have felt more vulnerable. But she had to pull herself together.
“Calm down, Eve.”
“No. I can’t. Not when you’re–“
”Giving you what you want?”
“You have no idea what I want.”
“I have every idea.”
“Do you know how many men think they do? This world is full of overconfident asses–“
”Mine is entirely delectable.”
At that, she started to laugh, then choked it back.
“Please. I’ll give you my phone number. How about that? We’ll meet for some coffee. Sometime.”
“For you, that’s never.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you.”
“Spare me. All of what, four hours?”
“I’ve heard things.”
“Yeah, Jo said, but still, how much can a little office chitchat really cover?”
“Certainly less than the past four hours.” His hands remained clamped around her wrists, but he stepped closer. When she backed away, he pulled her forcibly to him.
“You’re not even asking permission.”
“Because you don’t want me to.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“You’ll be calling out to God soon enough.”
“Cocky, aren’t we?”
“I am. Extremely. Though I don’t think you’ve got the equipment required.”
She laughed again, quietly this time. Her energy to fight him was waning. She flexed her wrists in his grip, felt his heat against the length of her body. Her hands were held in a weird position between them, against his chest.
“Maaalcolm,” she murmured, trying to work her hands free.
“Eeeeve,” he responded, bending close to her. She felt his breath, sweet, and it tangled with hers in a way that tried to pull her to his lips.
“What do you want?” The question slipped too easily from her lips, light as a breath, but he caught it.
“You,” was his simple answer, and she should have known it, but she shook her head, smiling.
“You just want to get laid.”
“As do you. Stop avoiding the topic at hand.”
“I’m not. The topic is my escape.”
“But you’re not going anywhere.”
“Says who?”
“You. You don’t want to.”
“Wrong. I absolutely want out.”
“Then scream. Kick me. Fight.”
“I don’t want to make a scene.”
“Then you don’t want to fight.”
“I am fighting.”
“Delaying the inevitable.”
She growled.
“I like that,” he said. “Do it again.”
“Kiss my ass,” she replied.
His hands suddenly released hers, and swiftly went down to grip the ass she spoke of, squeezing roughly. “I will. Here?”
His fingers traced outlines through her wool skirt on her left cheek.
“Or here?” He started to move to her right but now freed, she pushed against him - but tripped on something by her feet and started to go down.
In the darkness his arms tangled with hers, reaching. He grabbed her but slid himself, falling onto the pile of coats, their breathing heavy and low, and in trying to get up again, she was caught by his hands and arms once more. He pinned her to him from beneath her, her breasts against his chest, her face inches away from his.
“You need to give in, honey, cause I’m almost out of patience.”
“Definitely not the man for me, I require olympic amounts of patience.”
“I noticed.”
Sighing again in frustration, she planted the leather boots she wore to either side of him and began to push away. Catching on, he grabbed one foot, yanked it, and down she went again. This time he took the opportunity to roll on top of her.
“Ah,” he said, as she breathed, chest heaving beneath the hot air from his mouth, “this is what you want.”
“Let go,” she replied, holding very still. He was aroused. She felt his heat through his slacks, pressing into her abdomen, through the thick fabric of her skirt.
Instead of obeying, he settled himself more firmly atop her, reaching one hand down to trail along her hip. He settled there, gripping her firmly.
“Eve, hon, you on the pill?”
“Oh my god,” she said, a sudden wave of panic hitting, and she struggled for real then, her legs kicking, arms flailing. She shook her head, whispering, begging, pleading to be freed, and then his whole body crushed her, held her flat as she squirmed, his hand gripped her chin, and his mouth landed hard on her own.
The kiss sucked air. Like a vacuum, he stole her breath, and smashed her lips, hammering at her, and when she was forced to open wider to take in more air his tongue thrust in, raped hers, stole kiss after kiss until they were gasping, her hands clutching the coats, her knees welded shut.
“Eve, open,” he commanded, and she shook her head no. Growling himself, his hand went down, yanked hard on the edge of her skirt and pulled it up, and as she began to struggle again his lips suddenly went soft. His tongue, light, twirled with hers, slid across her teeth and gums and back out.
“Open, Eve,” he whispered, “open.”
She moaned back a rejection, but at that moment his tongue sild in again and pulled lightly, tugged sweetly, on her own. His teeth caught the tip of her and sucked her gently, then harder, to him, and surprised, her breath caught.
“I’m going to fuck you right here,” he said, releasing her tongue, his lips finding her chin, her neck, her ear.
She shuddered, hearing his words, now drugged by his weight, his taste, the force of his desire. His cock pushed, dug into flesh, insistent. Her sex was hot, wet, yet her knees remained clamped.
“Then I’m going to make love to you,” he added, his hands reaching up to find the buttons to her blouse. He began undoing them, one by one. “I’ll fill you up. Pump you full of me.”
She closed her eyes, listened to his voice whisper around her, deep and low, smelled his scent, his cologne, his salty skin, the cloth of his pants against the inside of her thighs.
“I’ll make you beg me for more. You like to beg. I can tell that. You like to play victim while I tell you all the terrible, naughty things I’m going to do to you.”
“You can’t tell anything,” she whispered.
“You like to fight, but you’re a liar.”
“Am not,” she whispered.
“Are, too,” he answered, and on the last button, he exposed her breasts in their lace bra to the cool air. “Too, too beautiful.”
Their eyes had grown used to the darkness and she could make out shadows, shapes. Her bra was white, and in the darkness she could see his head bending over it. His lips met her skin and she sighed, kneading the coats beneath her with her hands, her breath weaving, drunk, around her.
“Wonder how she tastes,” he murmured, and his fingers pulled her from her casing. His fingertips found hard nipples; making a sound of approval, he dove, captured, and sucked hard, pulling a gasp from her.
In the dark her fingers found his hair, tangled, pulled him closer.
“Does my Eve like to be sucked hard?” He whispered, and a low groan of answer prompted him to do just that.
“What if someone comes?” She said eventually, foggy headed, thinking of intruders in pursuit of winter coats.
“Both of us will enjoy it,” he said, and confused, she frowned, then gasped again as he tugged on her with his teeth. His hands slid down to her skirt again, landing on her knees.
“But first I need to get you open.”
“Impossible,” she said, smug.
“I’m a superhero, didn’t I tell you?” He replied. His warm hands slid along the crevice her thighs made, working her, teasing her.
She shivered, and in that moment his hands slid in, forcing space. She clamped herself around him so that he couldn’t go higher.
“Give it up, Eve, I’m going to win.”
“Never.” She smiled at him in the darkness. “You wish.”
“No, I know.”
He set to prying her open. He was stronger than her and did, indeed, win. She gave a cluck of frustration.
“That’s more like it,” he said, heaving a sigh and fixing himself between her legs before she could close them again. “Now, where were we?”
“About to end,” she said, and he chuckled quietly.
“Yeah, right. But I admire your stubbornness.”
“As a mule.”
“I’m about to ride you like a mule. Get ready.”

His fingers slid down between where their hips met. She wore panty hose. He knelt, trapping her with the vice of his legs right under her thighs and buttocks, her legs spread wide. His hands gripped the fabric, until he tore a hole big enough for his purposes. Leaning back above her, he began on himself. She heard him unbuttoning, then unzipping. A slight rustle of fabric. Then his hands returned to the triangle between her legs and found the lining of her panties. He tugged on them. They were too firm to tear. He pulled them to the side then, and she, exposed, reached out suddenly for his hands.
“I’m afraid,” she said, her voice soft, scared.
“I know,” he answered. In the silence, his hand took hers and he bent. His lips brushed her fingertips. “I know what you want. I’m giving it to you. There’ s nothing scarier in the world than getting what you asked for.”
“You won’t–“
”No, I’m not going to hurt you. Unless you want me to.”
“Please ….”
“Hush, Eve, it’s time.”

He gently set her hand away. Spread wide, she could smell herself, the musk of her sex. She knew she was wet, her panties had been damp and now, his fingertips, large, played with the lips, slid around to find her clit, fat and slick. She moaned, teased, and he slid the fingers down, found her opening and slid in a finger. She was soaking. He moaned in answer, then felt around inside her, her tightness, her grip. She squeezed him. Moments later, he slid in another finger, and she sighed, lifted her hips in a tiny, revealing motion that made him sigh in return.
“Fuck them Eve, like you will me.”
She complied. She met his fingers with slow, easy strokes, and when he added a third she shuddered, gripped them as well as she could, pushed her hands against the coats again and worked to meet his attentions. She heard a rustle, then, felt the thrusting release of his cock against her thigh. He leaned closer. It pressed just below and to the side of her sex, as he fingerfucked her. She bit her lip, frantic now, wet and needy.
“Malcolm-“
”Tell me what you want, Eve.”
“My mouth, in my mouth, please–“
He pulled away from her. His fingers slid out with a slurp and she missed them terribly. In the darkness she reached out and he grabbed her by the hands, brought her to his chest. His lips pressed against her brow.
“You want to suck on me, then?”
“Yes.”
“Are you a good little cocksucker, Eve?”
She couldn’t help herself, her enthusiasm escaped her. “Ohhh … yes.”
“I want you to eat me like you’ve never eaten any cock before. You understand me?”
“Yes, Malcolm.”
He leaned back, and she felt for him, found his thick, hungry weapon spearing the air and impatient to choke upon him lunged and took him whole. He gasped, cursed slightly, his fingers finding her hair, tangling, pulling her insistently down.
“Show me how well you suck cock, Eve, I want to feel the back of your throat.”
She gave it to him. Gagging, salivating, she pumped down upon his head, her tongue alternately sliding around the helmet of his sex, delighting in the shape, the length, the veins, the tiny puckered hole at the tip. His smell drove her mad. He smelled sweet, delicate, rough. She buried her face in him.
His breathing was low, slow, and drunken, becoming hectic when she found a sweet spot, dreamy in a fog around her that made her wetter with each groan, each encouraging whisper, each yes, right there, ooh, yes, again … She pulled sounds from him that were disbelieving, shocked, arrogantly pleasured. Her hands supported her on either side of him as she worked him, milked him, and just when he moved faster, coming close, she pulled away.
“Not yet,” she said, triumphant, her mouth swollen and slick with her saliva and his juices. She licked her lips, swallowed her makeshift lubricant.
“Mmm, what a tease,” he answered, and he sat up, moved for her. “My turn.”

On her back, through torn hose and pushed aside panties, she felt his tongue flicker around her clit, spelling ancient runes and insistent on teasing her in return. His hot breath on her sex drove her crazy, and she bucked to meet him, and almost screamed when his fingers joined in.
“I think this pussy likes me,“ he said, his own lips wet, and he rose to kiss her, giving her her taste. She smiled, took the kiss, found his hand and brought it to her again.
“No,” he answered, shaking his head. “No more games.”

He pulled his fingers away. She felt his sex again, damp from sucking and held her breath as he guided the tip in a thorough exploration of her vulva - her clit, the lining of her outer lips, down along the length of her inner lips, coating the head in her arousal.
“You ready, Eve?”
“Yes, please, Malcolm.”
“How ready?”
“You can feel.”
“Tell me.” He spoke while continuing to slide himself around the entrance, kneeling before her, teasing.
“Soaking - wet - I need it - now.”
“What else?”
Silence. She lay beneath him, panting, out of her mind, and incoherent. She struggled to pull suitable words together.
“What else, Eve?” His voice was firm, quiet.
“Please … ?”
“Good girl.”

He came inside. No, he stole inside, took what he knew she needed taken. She squealed, raised her shaking hands to cover her own mouth in shock as he filled, filled, filled her to the brim, inching in slowly until his balls pressed against the underside of her open pussy.
“Tight, Eve, fucking tight, oh, you weren’t kidding about zero.” Straining, he leaned over her, his breath hot and low in her ear. His final words were wicked, smug and expectant as ever. “We’ll have to make up for lost time.”
But she had no reply. She could only make noises, grunts, as he filled her, pulled out, filled her again. He finally gave her relief, bending close, crushing her, and into his mouth, indulgent, patient, dominating, she whispered her last coherent words.
“Please, please, oh please, fuck me …”

©.2001, Miriam M. Wynn
http://www.worderotic.com