Take Me

This erotic story excerpt by Jen Trinh from Take Me was originally self-published and is a finalist in the Good Sex Awards Sexiest Consent Category.

Sexiest ConsentAdult MFContemporaryHotter
Good Sex Awards Sexiest Consent Erotic Stories

Tom adjusted his glasses. “How, um…how do you want to do this?”

How did I want to do this? There was too much novelty, too many unknowns, and it’d been too long since I’d had sex with someone new.

Just do something.

I offered Tom my hand, and after a moment of hesitation, he took it, interlacing our fingers. That small connection between us was a good start, the warmth from his rough hand seeping into mine, thawing the ice. I gave him a small smile, and with my free hand, tipped the hard lemonade back to my lips again. When I set the half-empty can down on the coffee table, Tom picked it up and drank the rest.

Watching him gulp down the liquid, the sound, the movement of cords in his neck… Despite the lemonade, my mouth was dry.

“Thanks for coming up. No pressure if you want to leave—”

He set the empty can down on the table and placed his hand on top of our joined ones. “No, I want to be here.” He wet his lips, and at the sight of his tongue, heat licked low in my belly. “But do you want to talk about…this?”

Talking meant thinking.

Thinking meant planning.

Planning, as the night had shown, was overrated.

I shook my head. “I don’t want to talk, or think. I just…” I sat up closer. “I want you to lead the way.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You’ll tell me if you want me to stop?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He cupped my cheek. “I’m going to kiss you.”

My pulse began to sprint. “You don’t have to announce your—”

His lips crashed into mine in slow motion, the scent and taste and feel of him teasing me awake, burning away the tiredness. I leaned in and placed my hands on his shoulders to sit up a little and get into a better position.

But at that slight pressure against him, he stopped. “Is this okay?”

I pulled him back to me and kissed him again, and again, then eased up a little, letting him set the pace. He slowed, keeping it casual, sweet, barely teasing me with his tongue.

More, Tom, more. My hands slipped into his hair and urged him on.

His hand landed on my thigh. I shivered as it began to trail up, over my hip and under my blouse. But he paused on the bare skin of my love handle, barely pressing. I shifted, hoping he’d keep moving, but his hand lay still, batteries dead.

His kisses, his motions—slow like molasses, slow, and almost stilted. Maybe to someone else, it would’ve been romantic, but I wanted a hare, not a tortoise. He’d ignite a spark within me, then leave it to fizzle out and fade over the next several moments. His pauses gave me time to think, about Michael, about work, about making a mistake—

He broke our kiss. “You seem kind of tense.”

“Sorry, I’m just—I can’t stop thinking.” I covered my face with my hands.

“Tell me what you need.”

I’d told him already, hadn’t I? “I don’t want to be making decisions right now. I need you to distract me. I promise that I’ll stop you if you make me uncomfortable.” I bit my lip. “I want the Tom from the office just now.”

Just saying the words made me sit up and squeeze my thighs together. The way he’d lain me back onto the desk, and how his hands had roved all over, impatient, impulsive, preparing to take all of me…

But when he only nodded, blinking, I sighed.

What had happened at the office had been an anomaly. I’d surprised him. This was not going to work out. He was too passive, and my coworker, for goodness sake. Maybe it was better to just—

“Then I should just go for it?”

I bit back another sigh. “Yes.”

He took off his glasses, folded them, and placed them on the coffee table.

Great. Was he even going to be able to see?

His hand swept into his hair, and his eyes snapped to mine, focused, intent.

I blinked.

He swooped in and kissed me, hungry, desperate, and hauled me onto his lap. Liquid heat flooded my core as I straddled his hard thighs, the pressure from the seam of my jeans sending a jolt of electricity up my spine.

He lifted my shirt and, after a few tries, unclasped my bra, the fabric lightly scraping my breasts as he pulled them both off and tossed them to the floor. His hand cupped my breast and squeezed, hard, pinching my nipple to the point of pain, making me cry out and arch against him. I wrapped my legs around his hips, grinding against his lap, tossing my head back and offering myself as he lowered his mouth to my swollen nipple, gently tugging and scraping with his teeth, then licking and soothing the hurt. His hands stroked my back, burning-hot against the cold of the room.

He surged forward and pushed me to the couch, undoing the button of my jeans with one hand. His fingers slipped down, down into my panties, circling my clit. I bucked and moaned when a single finger just barely dipped into my slit, then back up and around, over and over. I squirmed against him, chasing his hand.

Who. The fuck. Was this? And how. Had he gotten. So. Good?

He backed up and roughly tugged my jeans and panties off before pausing to stare at what he’d revealed. He met my gaze with a heated one of his own, then dropped his face between my legs, diving in, head-first, tasting, sucking, licking, savoring every nerve ending at my core. I grabbed the couch cushions, toes curling as the familiar wave of hot tension began to build and build and build, emanating from wherever his mouth touched me. My hands gripped his hair, and I writhed against his face, gasping, encouraging, taking, yet begging.

His finger returned to drawing teasing circles that went deeper and deeper with each pass. I clenched and arched to draw him in further, craving more. He changed tactics, pulling his finger up and out, back in—up, out, in, over and over, his tongue still working me above.

“Fuck, Tom, yes. Yes!”

He pressed it in deeper, harder, his breath hot against my thigh.

One second, the pleasure was cresting; the next, it crashed into me, crashed and spread from my core out to my nipples, my neck, the tips of my toes. I convulsed on his hand and his mouth, gasping wordlessly.

It was an orgasm, a lovely, rolling orgasm.

But if he’d been inside me…

And with that thought, despite his finger, I ached with emptiness. More.

“Condom,” I panted. “I have some in my backpack.”

I twitched as he withdrew his finger, setting off another ripple of pleasure. “I have one.”

I gaped. Did he carry condoms on him at all times?

He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and pulled the entire thing, with his under shirt, up and over his shoulders. I watched his lined torso, his toned arms as he dug around in his backpack for a condom. Finally, he stood, a foil packet in his palm, and dropped his pants and boxers onto the floor.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. The way he moved. His rippling back and terrible posture, his thighs, his abs, tight and high and—

His dick.

Oh, god, his dick.

My mouth watered, and I almost whimpered.

He expertly rolled the condom on, meeting my eyes, holding them. I continued to pinch and twirl my nipples while he watched, and his eyes grew darker.

Just how had he gotten so good at this, if he’d had such terrible luck with dating? Just who had he been—

“Kneel and face the wall.”

I clenched with need at the command in his voice. “Kneel?” My voice was breathy, too breathy.

He nodded. “It’ll help with the height difference.”

He was going to stand behind me and fuck me while I kneeled on the couch.

I hurried to do his bidding, heart sprinting a mile a minute.

His hand clutched my ass, and with one slick thrust, he was buried inside of me. I gasped with pleasure…then almost whined. It’d been so long since I’d had sex with a condom. I wanted skin, his hot, smooth cock slipping in and out of me. But rules were rules, and—

Wait. “Tom?” He’d stopped moving.

“Just give me a sec,” he breathed, leaning into me.

“Oh. Sure, yeah.” It must’ve been his first time in a while. I adjusted my hips—

“Stop. Just—wait.”

Despite a slight cramp in my leg, I didn’t move an inch. But as the seconds dragged on, my body began to cool with stillness. It craved motion, movement, any kind of action at all. Was this going to be over so—

He moved. Oh god, he moved! Again, and again, so…deep, so…hard, each thrust threatening to slam me into the wall. I closed my eyes and leaned into the couch as he pounded into me over and over. My fingers played with my clit as he drove into me. I whimpered.

He growled deep, deep enough to resonate at my core. My nipples ached.

I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. I could only feel, could only take it as he plunged into me, pushed me apart, harder and faster, until that tension inside of me began ratcheting up again with every thrust. One hand gripped my hips, each finger digging into my skin with bruising strength, while the other slipped into my hair, tugging on my scalp.

Everywhere he touched me was raw sensation, pain and pleasure both, and he was hitting something inside of me, pressing just so.

There was no way that I was going to, no, no way, I can’t, I can’t—

“Tom!” I did. I came again, convulsed against him, clenching with his dick inside of me. He slowed, but kept going. He was still rock-hard, with no signs of stopping, whereas I was dripping down my shaking legs.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” I shivered at his voice against my ear, his breath tickling my neck.

“No! Just—oh! Yes.” I’d come so hard, I was still seeing stars, but I didn’t want him to stop.

He paused, and I let out a small whine.

“Get on your back.”

He slid out of me and helped me flip onto my back on the couch.

I stared. It was really Tom. No glasses, pale and shining with sweat, but definitely my coworker, bare, sinewy, and in command.

He wasn’t thinking about work now. He was hovering over me, eyes boring into my body, still rock-hard and ready for more.

Good. Because I wanted more.

He gripped my waist and thrust into me again, facing me this time, my legs resting on his shoulders. He hugged my legs, shifted the angle of my hips, and my eyes rolled backward.

I didn’t think again after that.

 

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Jen Trinh writes funny, heartfelt contemporary romances with diverse Asian American characters. Her debut novel, Crushing on You, was a finalist in two categories of the 2020 NJRW Golden Leaf contest.

She lives in Silicon Valley, where she soaks up the sun and photosynthesizes to power her writing. Or maybe it’s all the coffee.

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