Author's note: My first story!!! I tried to bank on some niches I saw weren't really being tapped around her, so here it goes...
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Beauty isn't fair, and sexual beauty? Even less so. I've always known that, but lately, it's been something I can't stop thinking about.
I'm in my 30s now, and I see it happening around me: friends lowering their standards. They start to settle for guys who don't exactly light a fire in them because, well, "he's nice" or "he's stable." And yeah, those things matter, but deep down, I know what's still buzzing in our heads. I know because I feel it too--this need, this thrill we remember from when we were younger. That electric charge that comes from seeing a man who actually fits the certain boxes we tick for ourselves while making our fantasy man. The kind of guy who makes your breath hitch and your heart race without even trying--Tall, hot, ripped... That thrill? I'm not ready to give it up.
And then it happened. I saw him. Him. The man who could've walked straight out of a fever dream. The sexiest guy I've ever laid eyes on as if someone took all those fantasies I didn't even know I still had and made them flesh and blood.
For weeks, I watched him from afar, feeling like a teenager all over again. It wasn't just physical, though. Okay, maybe it was mostly physical, but there was something else, too--a kind of intensity I hadn't felt in years. I couldn't shake the thought that this man, this god of a man, could wake something up in me that I'd long stopped looking for. Something raw and overwhelming.
And one day, I snapped. I couldn't take it anymore--the longing, the fantasizing, the waiting. I found a way to talk to him, to draw him in. I didn't overthink it, and didn't let the doubts creep in. I just knew I had to make it happen. And when it finally did? When I finally had him?
It was like nothing I'd ever experienced. He wasn't just a man; he was a catalyst, a reminder of all the fire and hunger that still burned inside me. And in that moment, I understood something I'd been denying for so long: I wasn't ready to settle. Not yet. Not ever.
It started on the beach, the warm sun draped over my skin like a second layer, but none of it could penetrate the chill of dissatisfaction nestled deep inside me. I sat cross-legged on the sand, my oversized sunglasses doing absolutely nothing to hide my growing frustration. Another guy walked by--another disappointment. His figure was... less than flattering. I let out a resigned sigh and muttered under my breath, "I've had enough. I've done my fair share of charity in this lifetime. But if I see one more short, flabby guy with body hair like--ugh--I'll cry."
My gaze flitted across the beach, scanning for any sign of hope. For a second, my eyes landed on a pair of guys tossing a frisbee. I squinted. Nope. No dice. "God," I muttered dramatically, "it's like the universe is mocking me. Just one decent guy--no, a proper man--is that too much to ask?"
I gave myself ten seconds. Ten seconds, and if I didn't spot someone worth my time, I was out. "Ten... nine... eight..." And then I froze. My heart skipped a beat. "Wait. Is that--?" I grabbed my binoculars--yes, I have beach binoculars, no judgment--from my bag and zoomed in. What I saw made my breath catch in my throat.
"Holy... fucking... shit."
I barely realized I'd whispered it out loud. There he was, standing near the water like some gift from the heavens. "Oh my God, you're real," I breathed. "That face... chiseled. Brunette. What a babe." My eyes drank him in, obsessively. "Those shoulders... those arms... his chest! I can literally see those pecs through that shirt!"
And the height--oh my God, the height. "Definitely over six-one," I noted to myself, my smirk growing. "And that shirt... so tight. Wait, are those... AAAABS?!" My voice rose with every revelation. "And those thighs in those shorts... damn, those legs. And... oh my God, that ass."
I leaned in closer through the binoculars, feeling my pulse quicken. "Dimples, firm... it just all flows so... fully... out..." My voice wavered, and I shook my head, trying to snap out of it. "Okay, Emily, pull it together. I guess I found my man after all."
I couldn't stop watching him. From my new spot closer to the shore, I couldn't tear my eyes away. The way he stared out at the waves, that back in that compression shirt--broad shoulders tapering into that perfect waist. And then there was... well, his booty. My breath hitched when I saw the shirt ride up, revealing smooth, perfect V-lines pointing right to... Yeah. Paradise. My cheeks burned as I swallowed hard. I felt guilty, but... shameless too.
I'm not proud of what happened next. Or maybe I am. Maybe this was liberation in its rawest form. I was drawn to him like gravity, my eyes trailing his every move, unable--or unwilling--to look away. He was an enigma, a walking embodiment of desire, and I wanted to solve him.
"Excuse me," I said when I finally mustered the courage to approach him later that evening. My voice was steady, a pleasant surprise given the chaos in my chest. "You dropped this." I held out the beach towel I'd seen him leave behind earlier, a fabricated excuse for conversation.
He turned to face me, and oh my God, he was even taller--and hotter--up close. My heart was hammering in my chest.
"Uh... so, I've been watching--I mean, I saw you, and I thought you looked cute," I stammered, mentally kicking myself. Smooth, Emily.
"I'm Emily. I live nearby and, um..." My voice trailed off as I got lost in his chiseled jawline and those ridiculously full, kissable lips.
"And you are?" he prompted, his voice warm and smooth.
"Liam," he said, holding out a hand. His grip was firm and strong, and I nearly melted on the spot.
"Liam. Wow. Uh, nice to meet you!" I practically blurted. "Are you, like, a model? Because you totally could be. I mean, you're really... uh... hot. Or cute! I mean, cute!" I laughed nervously, feeling my cheeks burn. To my surprise, he chuckled, and the sound made my heart race even more.
"So... would you maybe want to grab something to eat? Right now, maybe?" I asked, barely able to believe the words coming out of my mouth.
"Ok, sure." He said with a smirk.
The days that followed turned into a carefully orchestrated game. Each encounter was deliberate: a chance "run-in" at the smoothie bar, a shared laugh over spilled sunscreen, an invitation to dinner I couldn't resist making. Slowly, I peeled back the layers of his casual indifference, determined to see what lay beneath.
And then came that night at the restaurant. Candlelight flickered between us, casting shadows on his jawline, highlighting the sharp planes of his face. I leaned forward, wine glass in hand, pretending to listen intently to his stories. The truth? I wasn't paying attention to his words. They were a distraction. My mind was a cacophony of thoughts, each one circling the same primal truth: I wanted him.
Not just to hold him, not just to kiss him, but to possess him, to revel in every inch of his perfection.
"Emily?" His voice jolted me out of my reverie.
"Yes?"
"You've been staring at me for a while," he said, amusement lacing his tone.
I felt the heat rise to my cheeks but refused to look away. "Can you blame me?"
For a moment, silence hung between us, charged and electric. Then, a small, knowing smile curved his lips.
"Oh no, no, no," I teased when the server brought the bill. "The bill's on me. I insist."
I laughed softly, but there was this nervous energy behind it. "Sorry, is that weird? I know we just met, but... well, looking like you do, I bet women take you out all the time."
He laughed--this deep, warm sound that made my stomach flip. "Not exactly," he said, shaking his head modestly. But the way his lips curled into this easy smile told me he was used to hearing compliments. I mean, of course he was.
"Oh, don't be so humble!" I exclaimed, feigning shock. "I mean, you're so attractive it's literally insane. Like..." I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes in mock curiosity.
"How tall are you?"
"Six-three," he answered casually, as if that wasn't the most perfect answer I could've imagined.
"Six-three?" I gasped, my excitement bubbling over. "That's, like, the ideal height for a guy! No shade to shorter men or whatever, but seriously, you've got to own it, you stud." I leaned in a little closer, lowering my voice like I was about to share a secret. "Honestly, who would even look at a short guy when there's someone like you in the room?" I smirked, twirling the stem of my wine glass between my fingers.
He tilted his head slightly, his hazel eyes locking onto mine. "Why did you decide to take me out tonight?" he asked, his voice curious but steady.
The question caught me off guard, and for a second, I blinked like an idiot. "Why?" I repeated, as if it wasn't obvious. "Cuz you look good. You look reeeaaally good. Like suspiciously good. Godly good." My voice softened, and I found myself leaning into the moment. "Your face--God, it's just perfect. Those hazel eyes, that dirty-blonde hair..."
I didn't even realize my hand had moved until I was brushing my fingers lightly against his cheek. "Your cheekbones... your jawline... your lips..." My breath hitched slightly, and before I could think twice, I whispered, "Can I kiss you?"
He didn't answer with words, but the way his eyes softened was all the permission I needed. I leaned in, my lips meeting his in a kiss that started slow, sweet, and hesitant, but quickly deepened. My fingers slid up to his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips.
When we finally pulled apart, I exhaled shakily, my heart pounding like crazy. "I've waited so long to do that," I admitted, my voice husky. I hesitated, nervously twisting a strand of my hair. "There's... one more thing I NEED to ask" I began, my words tumbling out faster than I could stop them. "Maybe it's too soon, but here it goes: I want you to come to my place tonight."
The words came out fast, and I hurried to add, "No, no, don't freak out! Please, just listen. I know we just met, but since the moment I saw you, I've felt this... pull. Like, I had to have you. And I know this sounds crazy, I'll even pay you to come over. Please?"
His eyebrows shot up, and for a moment, I panicked. But then he smiled--this slow, amused smile that sent a fresh wave of butterflies through my stomach. "Alright," he said simply.
