In the Uber, I focused on the scenery as we cruised through the light Friday night traffic. Flashing lights, crowds on sidewalks after exiting bars, lining up for nightclubs. Horns, cars clustering up and down the avenue, trying to squeeze into tight alleyways in search of secret parking spaces.

We traversed into East Village, which was where I remembered Cameron said he lived. I wasn't too used to this area, but it was lit-up, busy, bustling with life. We pulled up at his residence—a light brownstone building in delightful shape, compared to mine—and we all but ran up the entry stairs to get to the elevator inside the lobby.

The elevator ride was so tense, so quiet, I worried if I opened my mouth we'd rip each other's clothes off then and there. We stood on opposite ends of the space, biting our lips, squeezing the railing to keep ourselves balanced. But also to hold us back. It was a nice, luxurious elevator; but without even speaking about it, we knew that having sex here—or getting started here—wasn't what we wanted. As hot as elevator sex could be, that'd be for another time, once we were more familiar. So we kept our distance, glancing at each other, up and down, left to right, holding our tongues.

I wasn't much of a dirty talker, and Cameron hadn't said anything overly naughty in our texts so far. But from the gleam in his eye, the way his lower lip puffed out and showed me glimpses of his tongue as it danced in his mouth—this was about to get filthy. And I couldn't wait.

In all my sexual experiences in the past, I'd been restrained, rarely as bold as I'd been tonight. Even my one-night-stands were orchestrated, to an extent; this was unplanned. It was spontaneous and sexy and exciting.

The hallway was pristine, with dim, tasteful lights that flickered on as we walked by. The apartments doors were spaced apart, which meant the apartments themselves were spacious, which I'd deduced from the looks of the building—and the fact that we were in East Village. Cameron didn't pretend like he didn't make good money; but this location confirmed it.

Inside the apartment, he flipped the light switch on and threw his keys into a bowl on a sleek white-wood commode by the door. I noted the impeccable white walls and hardwood floors and the elegant but understated décor. Straight ahead, splitting the area in two, was a set of wide stairs leading to an upper floor that I imagined would be as well-kept as the rest of the downstairs floor-plan.

He waited for me to let my purse slip from my shoulders before he gently pushed me against the wall, then placed one hand on either side of me. He put his nose up to mine, his body shoving into me, his heat making me sweat. I felt every inch of him, his eagerness, his excitement. It took all my might to not moan in yearning.

"You want this, right?" His brandy and mint breath gave me shivers as he backed out of my space, hesitant. "I have to make sure I didn't imagine you consenting to this. That you didn't come here out of fear or because you were pressured."

"No pressure," I said, aroused by his speech about consent. "I want you."

Breathless, I was losing the fight with my restraint against shoving my tongue into his mouth. Squirming underneath him, I begged myself internally to be patient, to let him make that first move. He obviously wanted to play around with me, rub his covered erection against me to rile me up a bit.

But he didn't need to do anything to get me there. My consent, my desire, was the trigger, and he'd yanked it. By giving me the option, by stating his desires but not forcing them on me, he'd made me want him more.

His mouth met mine with a vigor that shocked through me, but opened up a well of pleasure I hadn't been aware was closed. Our lips collided with passion, opening to intertwine our tongues, eager and excited for contact. He tasted like that brandy I'd gotten a whiff of, and the mint, too, but also a hint of coffee, of cream. God, he was delicious. And skilled, his tongue twirling in motions I had a difficult time keeping up with. It was one of those kisses that kept taking your breath away, and you wanted it to. It knocked me out, made me dizzy, made my legs weak, and I needed more, more.

He patted my body with his hands, searching for something. I giggled, detaching from our languorous kiss. "No zipper," I said, raising my arms, understanding at once what he'd been working to do. "Lift it off me."

Wetting his lips, his eyes drowning in want, he obliged, slowly peeling the dress from my body, watching with pleasure as the cloth caressed my skin. "Fuck," he said, once I was standing there in my undersized bra with my boobs bursting out, and my lacy panties. I might not have planned to go home with him, but I was always ready for situations to develop. I rarely, if ever, went on a date expecting I wouldn't abide by my urges. "You're even hotter than the picture, Emma. Absolutely stunning."

I blushed, but didn't let his compliment get the best of me. We had business to attend to; specifically, his clothes needed to be gone.

"Your turn," I said, gesturing at his jeans and the belt I knew I'd never be able to decipher. "Get it all off. I want to make sure you're the same as your picture."

He didn't waste time teasing me; he threw off his shirt and shrugged down his pants. I slammed my lips together to not drool. Every tiny piece of him was divine, down to the last ripple of muscle on his delightfully shaped stomach, the sturdy build of his shoulders, and those perfect, muscular legs.

I made him twirl for me before he removed his boxers; I needed a peek of that wonderful ass before he stripped completely naked.

And when that happened, I lost my breath. The ass was even better uncovered, and the front was...

Well, he'd implied to me a few times that he was well endowed—not enormously long, but girthy—but I wasn't ready for this. For how his member stuck up straight and willing, whispering at me to come touch it. Stroke it. Lick it. Suck on it. Nor was I ready for how ready he was. The simple act of looking at him, the length and width of him, made my mouth water and my vagina grow thirsty for him.

"Like what you see?" He extended his hand and tugged me into his arms, purposely pressing his erection against my underwear. "Whoa," he said, nibbling at my ear, "I can tell how wet you are, even through your panties."

I pulled back a little and kissed him. "Yeah...we won't have much time for foreplay, I'm sorry."

His face lit up, his fingers tracing circles around my nipples, over the fabric of my bra. They grew painfully hard, yearning for his tongue. "Good. I need you, Emma."

He led me around the living room and took me up the stairs, walking backwards. With each step, he worked on unfastening my upper undergarment. Once he'd managed, my breasts came loose, likely larger than he'd imagined. I tended to shove them into tight, tiny bras for a push-up effect, and now they were on full display for him.

At the sight of them, he licked his lips and set one hand on his shaft, stroking it in slow motions. "Foreplay or not, I can't fucking wait to get inside you. God, you're fucking beautiful."

At the top of the landing, he continued strolling backwards, but released his penis to concentrate on me. I appreciated the multi-tasking; guiding me to his room but also taking care of me and my desire. It was hot.

His thumb flicked over my nipples, sending waves of chills up my spine. It took all my energy to keep walking and not stumble, or not stop and pull his mouth to my areola so he could finally get a taste of it. He continued flicking and I couldn't take my eyes off his dick as it throbbed, upright and ready for me. The craving to grab it, to get a feel of it, rendered me so lightheaded I wasn't sure I could walk much more.

At last, he opened a door, tugged me behind it, and we were in absolute darkness.

He disappeared into the obscurity, leaving me there dripping on his floor. Seconds later a light ignited on a nightstand, next to a neat, navy-colored bedspread over what seemed to be a king-sized bed. The pillows were fluffed and comfy, the décor modern but simple; and Cameron was waiting, chewing on his lower lip.

He stood there admiring me as I took in the area. He was totally naked, but my panties remained; it was oddly off-putting for me to not be as nude as he was.

"Come," he said, waving me over with a smirk. "Let me dive into you."

As I hurried over, preparing to remove my underwear, he stopped me. He set me onto the bed, lifted my ass, and tugged the underwear off himself. I admired his deftness, the softness of his hands as he caressed my legs.

There, I was naked now. All his for the taking. He let out a raspy noise as he parted my legs. "How badly do you want this?"

I tried not to squirm as he lowered before me, getting between my thighs. The mattress was high off the floor, reaching below his waist, meaning he was kneeling to keep his face level with his point of focus—me, and my wetness. His breath came out warm and tickling over my pubis, and I wondered if he realized how already drenched I was.

"Touch it and see for yourself," I said, my voice coming out honeyed and hurried.

I'd expected him to dip his tongue in, but instead he slid a finger between my lower lips and moaned, his eyes rolling back. "Jesus, you're so fucking wet, Emma. I will taste you next time, but right now," he stood up and grinned as he pointed at his penis, "I want you too much to wait."

He hastened to the nightstand, where he extracted a condom, and rolled it over his length as he returned to me. He lodged between my legs, his member mere inches from where I could touch it. It was even more delicious-looking up close. "And I can't wait to taste you, too," I said, stroking a finger down the breadth of his dick.

He shuddered at my touch, then pushed me further onto the bed, sliding closer to me. He grabbed hold of his dick and rubbed its tip up and down my entrance, multiplying my arousal. "You are going to feel so fucking good," he said, continuing to toy with me, his member enthralled at the notion of entering me.

His free hand, squeezing my thigh, left a burning sensation of lust in my belly. As his shaft tickled over my clit, pushing, pushing me, I almost screamed. I locked my gaze to his. "Get inside me, now."

He entered slowly, sensually. I wrapped my legs around him, my ass hanging slightly off the bed. The penetration was deep, delirious, and two seconds of in and out motion and I was already approaching an orgasm. He felt so perfect, so fitting, that I let myself loose and moaned—which I usually didn't, preferring to stay silent and observe.

He thrust hard, his movements quick and calculated, making me cum faster than I'd anticipated. I breathed in heavily, unleashed a cry of ecstasy; but he wasn't done, and tugged me up into a sitting position as he stood straight, and kept entering and exiting, kissing me passionately as he groaned inside my mouth.

It was magical, heavenly, and the harder he pushed into me, the more I wanted from him. Faster, faster; deeper, deeper.

When release came, it was like fireworks exploding inside the room and falling over us like gentle rose petals.

***

After a passionate night of discovery and exploration, I woke to Cameron's voice, talking softly, as if trying to stay quiet. But he was agitated; I could tell from how he insisted on certain words and had a hard time not spewing them out in irritation.

His voice came from somewhere farther in the room. "Yeah, but you told me to—" he grunted. "That's not what we discussed, Leo."

My eyes opened and I pulled the blankets up to my chest. Leo? He was on the phone with Leo? At this hour?

In truth, I didn't know what time it was, and I'd left my phone in my purse, downstairs. I'd fallen asleep naked, which I rarely did, after three—no, four? Maybe five—rounds of sex, I couldn't remember. Each time had sent me to a higher level of bliss, consumed every morsel of my energy, and I'd passed out so fast I was certain I'd snored a bit.

But Cameron was back to work. Had he slept at all? I'd boarded the sleep train before being able to say goodnight to him, and I hadn't tossed and turned with how exhausted I was.

The illusion of our perfect first time (first times) was broken, like a spell meant to terminate at midnight. Whatever time he'd managed to wrangle away from Leo last night was gone.

He was standing near a window, in his boxers, the curtains partially open to let in a blast of sunlight. The glow basked him, outlining him in golden hues. I was tempted to creep over to him and hug him from behind to drag him back to bed. And potentially stir us up for another round.

But to my awe, when he turned to find me awake, his face grew panicked, and he motioned for me to hide beneath the blankets. He held his phone away from his ear, and something was moving on the screen.

Hide? I mouthed, "why?" and squinted at him.

"No, no, nothing's wrong," he said, still looking at me, but angling his phone farther away from himself. "Video," he mouthed back, "and I don't want him to see you."

Oh. I frowned, but snuck under the covers as requested, concealing myself from Cameron and his FaceTime chat with Leo Lee. Because he worked for Leo. In all our sheet destroying happiness last night, I'd forgotten that tiny detail. And of course he didn't want his boss to see me naked; but it kind of felt like he didn't want his boss to see me at all. Like he didn't want Leo to know he had company.

It wasn't like Leo knew who I was, did he?

I guess we'll talk about that later?

♪♪♪