It had been a few weeks since her first written submission and Mila still couldn't get Cole off her mind - if anything, her desire burned even hotter than before. It was like that first story had turned what was a spark of desire into a raging fire.
It had become a dirty little game that she played - teasing herself all morning with fantasies of Coles tongue burning hot trails up her body, or his hands firmly gripping her ass as he pumped into her, and then serving him with a smile when he would come by the cafe, as if her mind wasn't completely consumed by her filthy fucking fantasies. She found it both delicious and a little disconcerting, but couldn't seem to help herself.
She was pleasantly surprised that she found the comments she was receiving about her work turned her on as well. She found it surprisingly sexy knowing that the Jeffs and Zachs, Alexes and Sams had read and so thoroughly enjoyed her fantasies, as well as the several thousand nameless members who had seen her work.
She wondered if Cole had perhaps happened upon her story - one of the nameless thousands. Would he have imagined himself in the role that was (not so) discreetly written for him? Would he slide his hand teasingly along his cock as he thought of Mila? Would he tease himself with his own filthy fantasies of her bent over a work table, spanking her ass and making her call him Daddy before he took her from behind, or on her knees staring up at him while she worshiped him with her mouth, before coming in and placing his usual order, offering no more hint at his thoughts than his usual wink and smile?
There was a small part of her that almost hoped every time she checked her inbox, that there would be a message from him after having discovered her story, coyly asking questions, hinting that he might have discovered her filthy little secret. It would be such a delicious game they could play. There had already been a surprising number of messages asking or suggesting just that, and although none was him, she absolutely loved hearing their stories just the same.
When she was younger, it would have been a dangerous path to tread - setting unrealistic fantasies about a man who she was entirely sure thought nothing more of her than good coffee and occasionally enjoyable banter. She was older now though, and found that she could easily separate fantasy from reality - the fact that she chose to spend much of her time lost in fantasy was a purely conscious decision on her part. It felt filthy and yet incredibly empowering to have this dirty little secret - both her fantasies and her writing.
She mulled it over for several days before deciding to write down and submit another fantasy. Perhaps this time it would act to cool her desire even just enough to keep her from feeling like a blushing schoolgirl (albeit one with a filthy mind) when she thought of him. If not, at least she could allow herself to get wet at the thought of others reading and enjoying her most secret desires.
*It was a slow winter day - the grey of the sky seeping through the windows and spreading to the overall mood of the cafe. It had been snowing off and on for several days, and there was a thick blanket of it on the ground, keeping many of the regular customers tucked warmly away in their homes and offices. After some time and much idle conversation with her coworker, Mia decided to head downstairs and get a head start on inventory. It was the perfect day for it, and with good music and good coffee, it might not even seem as much of a chore as it actually was.
She took a deep breath as she opened the door to the store room, eyes sliding over the racks of supplies. This was going to be a long day, she thought, as she shuffled through her music and found a playlist that suited the task.
The first hour dragged on, but she soon found her groove. With not a single customer heading down her way to use the washrooms, she started singing out loud as she counted and sorted - almost enjoying herself.
She was balanced precariously on the top of the step ladder, as her favourite song came on. Singing at the top of her lungs, she reached forward trying to grab the box of sleeves juust out of her reach at the back of the top shelf. Her fingers finally gained purchase, and she slid the box forward so that she could get a better grip. It was heavy, but she knew she could manage it. Suddenly, the music shut off and from behind her, a deep voice intoned, "Need a hand?" Having not heard anybody come down the stairs over the loud din of her music - not to mention her singing along with complete abandon - she startled and lost her hold on the box, watching helplessly as it plummeted to the ground and burst open on one side, spilling coffee sleeves all over the floor. "Fuck," she muttered, as she spun around to see who the voice belonged to.
Leaning casually against the doorway in jeans and a sexy as hell blue flannel shirt, was Ben. His eyes - the eyes that got her soaked just thinking about them - twinkled with amusement as he stepped into the small room, extending a hand to help her down from her perch. She hesitated a second, looking down at his calloused fingers and wondered what they would feel like sliding along her body - deliciously rough against the soft, smooth skin of her breasts, so wonderfully powerful as they slid teasingly between her thighs.
"I do now," she smiled, as she took his hand and descended the ladder. His hand was warm in hers, and not nearly as rough as she'd have thought, but definitely as strong as she'd imagined - and continued to imagine as she felt a warmth creep up her cheeks.
She dipped her face away from his gaze, trying to hide her blush, and knelt on the floor to begin collecting the scattered sleeves. She noticed rather quickly that Ben didn't move to help. "Still offering that hand?" she asked, glancing up at him. The second their eyes met, she felt the heat as if it were a physical force in the small room, taking her breath away and making it incredibly difficult to break his gaze. She became painfully aware of the position she found herself in - on hands and knees, v-neck shirt gaping generously to show her cleavage, looking up the length of his body, his belt in easy reach of her hands which were tingling with the need to reach up and touch. From the heat of the look in his half lidded eyes as he stared down his body at her, she was pretty sure he was aware of how it looked, as well.
She used all of what little willpower she had to look away before she did something to embarrass herself, but her eyes caught on the impressive bulge in his jeans - a bulge she told herself couldn't have anything to do with her. She could think all she wanted about this man who had quite successfully highjacked her fantasies, but she knew in reality that this was pretty one-sided. He was a few years older than her and she thought, besides the compromising position she found herself currently in, he probably didn't really spare her a second thought after leaving with his morning coffee.
"I was going to comment about the view, but thought it might be inappropriate," he said as he knelt beside her. She heard the smile in his voice, and her breath caught as she smirked and began picking up more sleeves. She risked a quick side glance to find he was watching her still. Quickly looking away, she continued the task at hand, before standing up and searching for an empty box to put all the sleeves into.
She stood on tiptoes, searching the shelves for a suitable container, when she heard him move. She had no time to respond before she felt the heat of his body pressed along her back - his very definite erection pressing against her ass, as his hand slid teasingly across her chest to rest under her jaw, tilting her head gently back to him. She tried to stop herself but couldn't, as she ground her ass back, pressing against his hardness.
His voice was low and gravelly as he breathed into her ear, "Tell me to stop. Tell me I'm imagining there's something between us," he whispered, his heavy stubble brushing against her sensitive skin and sending a shiver of excitement down her spine.
Fuck. This didn't happen in real life. This was something almost directly out of one of her fantasies. She breathed in slowly, trying to talk sense into herself, but finding she had zero desire to do so. "It's like fucking electricity," she sighed, leaning her head back against him. "I can't get you off my mind," she confessed, reaching her arm back and sliding her fingers through his short hair.
His other hand snaked slowly down around her torso, his hand dipping ever so slightly under the waistband of her tights before stopping. "Tell me what you want," he whispered, teasing her earlobe between his teeth.
"I want to close the fucking door," she growled, kicking her leg out and catching the door with her foot, slamming it shut. Their breathing was already a little ragged, and the sound hung in the silence of the small room.
Mia reached her free hand down, placing it on Bens, urging him on in his exploration. "I said tell me what you want," he repeated slowly into her ear, the hand on her throat tightening ever so slightly as he slid his teeth down the side of her neck. She could feel herself soaking into her panties, and yet, didn't know what to say. Her mind was full of filthy fantasies, ones she replayed regularly while she made herself cum, but to speak them? That felt even filthier.
