A Long Time Coming

*a dimly lit hotel room, generic but clean

It's cold outside so I'm wearing a button down pink oxford with a cream, low-cut sweater over it. I'm unbuttoned to reveal the tops of my breasts. A soft cashmere pink scarf and my favorite worn out, ripped up jeans with simple black boots. My long, dark auburn hair is loose and flowing in waves over my shoulders. I'm nervous as the door opens because I know what's going to happen tonight. I'm surprised at my own reaction as I see him for the first time in weeks. His jeans-and-t-shirt style and clean cut good looks make him appear much younger than his forty years. His smile is amazing as his eyes do a quick sweep of my body. He must be enjoying the view because he doesn't speak for a moment.

"Soooo, can I come in?" I asked with a sidewise smile and an arched eyebrow.

"Definitely..." he says, letting me walk past him as he holds the door. I can feel the heat of his gaze on my back. I hear the door click shut. I turn to face him as he comes towards me.

"You look different," he says.

"A good thing?" I respond, knowing the answer. He's only ever seen me in work clothes, not exactly at my hottest while bartending. I knew that if I had gotten his attention looking like that then he'd be blown away by the "real me".

"Definitely," he repeats with an exhale that brings a new element of intensity to his eyes.

We've never even touched, not so much as a handshake and there's this tangible expectation in the room, we're both wondering how it's going to start. There's so many things I want to ask him, i have this intense desire to "figure him out". But at the same time I just want to put my mouth on him, feel his hands on me. I decide that I can do both.

"Here's what's going to happen," I say, "you're going to sit and I'm going to ask you some questions. And to make this a little more enjoyable for both of us, I'm going to be exploring your body at the same time. You do not get to ask me anything and you do not get to touch me."

He's taken aback by my assertiveness, after all, he is almost old enough to be my father. I'm sure he thought he'd be running the show tonight. But we've been nothing if not open with each other up to this point and I know he's turned on by the element of control. Without speaking he goes to the edge of the bed and sits with his hands clasped loosely in his lap, watching me expectantly with a half-smile on his perfect lips. It's going to be difficult to draw this out, I'm so fiercely attracted to him I can feel my blood rushing hotly through my veins and my mouth is literally watering at the thought of tasting him.

"There's just one thing I need to take care of first," I say, almost to myself, as I lean down, placing my palms flat on each of his thighs, bringing my face to his, our lips millimeters apart. I can feel his body tensing towards me but he doesn't actually make a move. "Good boy..." I reward him by oh so briefly taking his bottom lip between mine and sucking gently, even this momentary contact sending a current of electricity along my spine.

Slipping out of my boots, I slide onto the bed behind him, resting on my knees so that my head is slightly above his. I catch my first whiff of his smell, subtle scents of soap and a woodsy note. I take a moment to appreciate one of my favorite parts of a man, the back of his neck, strong muscles leading to broad shoulders, nicely tanned, smooth skin.

"First question," I say placing one hand lightly one each shoulder, "whose idea was the divorce, yours of your wife's?"

A surprised snort of laughter from him, "you don't mince words do you?"

"No, and neither should you. Now answer the question." I encourage him by leaning in to whisper this last part behind his ear, close enough for him to feel my lips move against his skin and my breasts press into his back.

"It was mutual," he says with a smile, "we didn't love each other anymore."

"It happens," I say, "so you've been seperated what, almost a year and a half now? And here you are about to fuck a twenty-five year old..." as I speak I trail my fingers lightly over his firmly muscled arms, pressing slightly with my nails into his triceps. I wet my lips and kiss the base of his neck, just above his collar, releasing my breath as I pull away, knowing the cool air on his wet skin must feel like the best kind of torture. "How long has it been since you've wanted a woman the way you want me?" I ask.

Without warning he turns, sliding a hand under each of my thighs, throwing me back, positioning himself between my legs, speaking in a rough voice, his mouth so close to mine our lips graze as he says, "I have wanted you everyday, every minute, since the moment I saw you. And now that I finally have you, on this bed, all to myself, I'm going to have to ask you to please shut up and let me fuck you the way I know you're dying to me fucked."

My eyes wide with amazement and desire, I'm not even able to get the "Wow" out of my mouth before he's pulling the air from my lungs with the passion of his kiss, his hand raking through my hair to the back of my neck, pulling my mouth harder against his, one of my hands grasping his powerful shoulder as he supports his weight over me, the other seeking the waistband of his jeans, feeling the heat of his skin and that delicious ridge of his hipbone, flexed as he moves a leg up, pressing the swell of his erection into the warm, moist, aching need between my legs. Just this pressure is enough to arch my back, flashes of light behind my closed eyes.

"You broke the rules...." I manage to breathe before he cuts me off laughing, lifting me up so that we're both sitting, me straddling him. Suddenly he's gentle, a hand cupping my jawline, the other lightly moving beneath my shirt, stroking the soft skin on the small of my back. He looks into my eyes, humor sparkling behind his, "I'm sorry little one, but I have no intentions of following any rules when it comes to you, not even yours."