Best Women's Erotica of the Year, Volume 1 Read online

  Adventures, Aya realized, only stop happening when you stop looking for them.

  DATE NIGHT

  by D.R. Slaten

  “Is this seat taken?” a low male voice asked.

  “No,” she replied without looking up.

  She felt him take a seat. She didn’t even look at him. She just looked at her drink, lost in her thoughts.

  “Are you here alone?”

  “Yes,” she replied. This time she looked up.

  She was met with gorgeous green eyes. A dark, mossy green color, flecked with brown. She watched his pupils dilate. His eyes weren’t the only gorgeous thing about him. Strong jaw. Strong male features generally. But the mouth—the mouth was lush. Full. Pink. Not dark pink, a lighter version, strawberry-lemonade pink. Those lips totally contrasted with the rest of him.

  “Are…” She had to clear her throat. Saliva had pooled as she’d inspected him, catching in the back of her throat and making it impossible to continue to talk. “Are you here alone?”

  “Yes,” he told her.

  He didn’t avert his gaze. He stared straight at her. Even though his eyes didn’t move, she had the feeling that he saw all of her anyway, that he was taking her in, drinking her down. He didn’t need to glance at her breasts or her ass to indicate he was attracted. He just was. And she knew it.

  Maybe it was the way his pupils kept dilating and his eyes kept opening. Or the slight flaring of his nostrils as he took in her scent. Unspoken, his body was communicating with hers in a multitude of minute ways. She knew hers was as well.

  “Oh.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say. Her brain had short-circuited.

  The bartender walked over, silently waiting for his drink order.

  “Oban. No ice. No water,” he ordered.

  “You have good taste in scotch,” she said. Another inane comment. Shit, she was going to sound like she was a half-wit if this kept up.

  “I like to think so.” His mouth tipped up slightly.

  He picked up the glass the bartender had delivered and brought it to his mouth. Taking a small sip, she watched as he swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed in one smooth motion, not jerky like she saw on some men.

  Getting turned on by a man’s Adam’s apple had never happened to her before. She was at a loss for words at this newfound interest. It bordered on kinky. It bordered on the absurd. Maybe it was a cross: kinkily absurd. Or absurdly kinky. She wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, it was just wrong to have such a thing shoot a tingle through her body.

  “Do you come here often?” he asked, looking around the bar.

  It was a lounge really. A place for businesspeople to drop in after work, before the night crowd showed up for the meat market. A small cottage set in the middle of a large urban area. It even featured a bocce ball lawn next to the outdoor seating area.

  “No. I was at loose ends. Got tired of being stuck at home. Decided to get out and my feet brought me here,” she answered. “You?”

  “Me either,” he said. “Although now, I’m wondering why.”

  Zing. Total pickup line. He was flirting with her. Holy-hot guy was flirting with her.

  She took a drink of her cosmo, stalling for time before she needed to respond. The last thing she wanted to do was say something stupid again. Apparently, her witty, sparkling self had taken a hiatus when she saw holy-hot guy, leaving her bumbling and tongue-tied. Maybe he would notice her tits instead of her less-than-erudite self. That would be good.

  She finished her cosmo and signaled for another.

  “Where do you normally go if not here?” she asked. Whew, at least that didn’t sound stupid. It sounded like she was interested in learning more about him. No, not stupid at all.

  “I’m a homebody,” he said. “I putter around my house. Bars and stuff aren’t really my scene.”

  “I totally get that,” she replied, keeping her answer short and hopefully less socially awkward.

  The booze was hitting her. Vodka always went straight to her head. Then it traveled through her body, leaving a nice, warm glow in its wake. She’d have to nurse her next cosmo because if she drank more than two, she would not make good decisions at all.

  As they chatted, he finished off his drink as well. For one minute she feared he would pay his tab and leave now that the scotch was gone, but he didn’t. When he signaled for another, she let out a huge internal sigh of relief. Thank Christ he wasn’t leaving, because that would completely suck. She was diggin’ on him. And she thought he was diggin’ on her.

  “Are you seeing someone? Hooked with anyone? Um, sleeping with someone? Shit, I don’t even know the correct terminology anymore, I’ve been out of the dating scene so long,” she said as her brain totally panicked at his earlier comment about being a homebody. There was only one reason someone as hot as he was stayed at home, and it wasn’t because the ball game was on.

  His laugh was low; it reverberated through her body, figuratively and literally. He’d shifted slightly closer to her, enough so she could feel the heat he was putting off and the rumble of his laugh.

  “Not tonight,” he said.

  Dare she ask? Did she care? Umm, yeah. Not so much. So she left it alone. She knew what she wanted. A wrong answer to any question she posed and she’d be ethically bound by girl-club rules about staying away from taken men. But he’d said he wasn’t taken tonight. Good enough. There had to be a supersecret exemption to the girl-club rules when it was holy-hot guy and he wasn’t involved for the evening. There were lots of potential reasons for that, but none she wanted to examine too closely.

  “I need to go to the restroom,” she said. Then she decided to be bold and daring. “Um, you wanna go somewhere more private to talk?”

  Shit, she’d done it again. “Talk” was a euphemism for a lot of things. God, she was a huge dork. Her dating muscles were definitely out of practice. Completely flaccid.

  He gave her a long look. This time he didn’t stop his eyes from traveling over her body. He had an unobstructed view since she’d stood up before announcing her intention to slip away to the bathroom.

  Her dress was killer and enhanced her body in every way. The short cut emphasized what was probably her best feature—her legs—though the long-sleeve, turtleneck style covered most of her body. A pair of plain black stilettos completed the look, further showcasing her legs. Even without a “perfect” body, she knew how to play up her gams.

  She could tell he liked her legs. His eyes flared when they surveyed her lower half. Something about long legs on a woman made men hot. It was a good thing, at least for her. If he was picturing her legs doing all manner of naughty things, then he might say yes to going somewhere and “talking.”

  “Yeah, I want that,” he said. His eyes remained glued to her legs.

  She drained the last of her cosmo. By then, his eyes had come back up to look at her face, but only for a moment because she turned to walk to the bathrooms in the back of the lounge.

  Bernie’s was a quirky bar. One door to the bathroom read “heartfull” while the other read “heartless.” No simple “boys” and “girls.” She picked heartless. It was huge. Much bigger than any single bathroom she’d ever seen at a bar.

  She couldn’t believe she’d been so forward. It wasn’t like her. She blamed the damn drinks; obviously vodka and cranberry juice had given her more than a buzz. It had given her courage—and a full bladder. One of those things she’d already taken care of. The other, she was about to take care of.

  After peeing, she washed her hands and went to open the door. Holy-hot guy was on the other side. She was at a loss for words. She hadn’t expected him there.

  He didn’t wait for her invitation. He entered the bathroom, locking it behind him.

  “I paid the tab. Let’s talk,” he said.

  She had nothing to say. Every thought she’d ever had fled in the wake of the predicament of being alone with him behind a closed and locked door. They looked at each other, evaluating the sit
uation—but not for long.

  He pulled her to him. She went. He had his mouth on hers in the blink of an eye. Smoky, smooth scotch overlaid the very distinctive taste of man. Of him. She moaned. He tasted fantastic. His tongue tingled her lips as it brushed past to delve into her mouth. Locked in the give and take of sharing a breath, his tongue swept past her teeth to touch and be touched by her tongue, a delicate dance of in and out. Forward and retreat. Tasting. Teasing. Tormenting.

  In contrast to the frantic meeting of their mouths, he gently braced her back against the wall, making sure she didn’t slam up against it.

  This was yin and yang, his hard body pushing into her softening one. She could feel her pussy preparing for him. The telltale wetness between her legs increased by the minute. He pushed her thighs apart with his leg, pressing against her mound, the pressure exquisite yet not enough.

  When he felt her heat, her dampness, he groaned. “You are so fucking hot. I can’t stop thinking about your goddamn legs. They must go on forever.”

  She couldn’t speak. That skill had left her. Her eyes had drifted to half mast as she delighted in the pressure of being sandwiched between him and the wall.

  As her thighs spread, her dress rode up. His hand moved to the juncture between her legs. He stepped his other leg in between hers, widening her stance, as his hand caressed her thin silk panties.

  “Are you wet?” he asked, knowing full well she was. The evidence was under his hand.

  “Yes,” she said through her swollen mouth, glistening still from their kiss.

  “Christ, your pussy feels like an inferno. It’s gonna burn my hand.” His breathing was becoming more uneven.

  He moved his hand into her underwear, his fingers moving over her clit. She jerked at the contact. A small whimper escaped her mouth. A huge conflagration ignited at his touch, bursting through her body.

  At that moment, she didn’t care that she was in a lounge bathroom, several people on the other side of the door. The entire focus of her existence centered on his hand: the warmth of it as it rested against her skin, the texture of his fingers as they moved against her clit. Even if she’d wanted to pull back, his legs made it impossible to close herself from him. She was open, wide. He ruthlessly exploited her predicament.

  Her head moved back against the wall, exposing her neck. His mouth was on it in a second later, kissing and licking her, tasting and feeling her. She knew the beat of the pulse in her neck had quickened. The blood had rushed to her pussy so fast—maybe that’s why she was lightheaded, she thought.

  He couldn’t kiss too far down her throat—the turtleneck got in his way—so he suckled the exposed flesh, contenting himself with that part of her for now.

  As his fingers moved from rubbing her clit like it was a magical genie lamp, she moaned in protest, but sighed as soon as two fingers moved into her passage, massaging her intimately. He angled the palm of his hand to over her clit, giving her needed friction to take her to paradise. He scissored his fingers on the withdrawal and closed them back up as he moved them into her.

  Finally, he pushed them until they came to the depth behind her pubic bone. Curling them up slightly against her spongy flesh, he applied pressure to her clit with his palm at the same time. She felt the first radiation of electrical pulse-like jolts move in an outward radius from between her legs. Her hands moved up to massage her breasts over her clothes, helping those jolts turn into tingles.

  He pulled back.

  “No,” she protested. “I’m close. No. Please. Don’t stop.”

  “Tell me you want me. Tell me I can have you. Tell me yes,” he whispered against her ear as he brought his mouth up from the middle of her throat. He pulled back so he could see her face. It was flushed with desire, her mouth dry from need. She licked her parched lips.

  “Yes, please yes. Please,” she breathed out. “Please.”

  She heard her underwear ripping. She hadn’t felt anything. Didn’t know his hands had moved to remove the barrier between them. Next she heard the rasp of his zipper.

  As his cock slid between the lips of her pussy, he moved his hand around to her ass. He lifted her up slightly until he could fully lodge the head of his cock at her entrance. She was so wet, nothing prevented him from sliding fully into her as she slid down and he powered up.

  “Fuck, you feel so good,” he told her.

  “It’s the same for me. Please. Too good. I need you to move. I’m too close,” she begged.

  He moved then. With purpose and with force, fucking into her in long, deep thrusts. Almost all the way out, before he snapped his hips to push back in. His mouth sucked her earlobe in, worrying it as he moved in her.

  “Oh god. You feel so good.”

  She opened her eyes slightly, and then all the way. She was shocked as she saw their reflection in the mirror across the room. They looked wanton. The picture they made spiked her arousal. She didn’t know how that could be—she was already at the peak of anything she’d ever felt. She watched as his ass flexed when he pushed back into her.

  She was holding onto his shoulders with both hands as he lodged his cock into her. Still watching him fuck her, she gripped him harder. She needed this to end.

  Her skin felt too tight. Her body felt too tight. She was almost to the point of overload and she needed to come, more than she needed her next breath. If she’d been given a choice at that moment to breathe or come, she would have chosen to suffocate. Hands down.

  Her fingers reached her clit. It didn’t take much at that point. She crested, crashing to the other side as everything inside her exploded in a moment of blinding pleasure. He moved his mouth over hers, absorbing the low, animalistic moan she released as she came into him.

  His mouth plundered. Nothing else described the way he ate at her mouth. Hungry for her taste, hungry to receive the sounds of her pleasure.

  Instead of throwing back his head to groan out his release, he gave his pleasure noise to her. Staying melded to her mouth, he jammed his cock inside her as hard as he could. Very soon, he was jerking and pulsing inside her.

  Moments passed; they could have been a lifetime as far as she was concerned. The bathroom was an oasis of silence and labored breathing. The silence remained as they regained their breath together.

  He gently released her legs. She slid them down with him still inside her. He stayed next to her as she regained her equilibrium.

  “Let me get something to clean you up,” he told her.

  He’d come inside her. In a bathroom. In a bar.

  He withdrew slowly, almost as if he were loathe to leave her body. She in turn was loathe to have him leave.

  As soon as he was out, she felt the gush of their combined fluids slipping from her. He hurried to the paper towel dispenser, wet some down and brought them back to her. Then he cleaned her. Softly. Reverently.

  He kissed the top of her pussy when he was done, then threw the paper towels into the trash.

  She pulled her dress down and looked at herself in the mirror, righting her hair and smoothing her hands over her body.

  He’d already put his cock back into his pants.

  He turned to her.

  “I love you,” he said.

  “I know. I love you too,” she told him. “Thank you for doing this. Thank you for making my fantasy come true.”

  “Anything, Lyssa.” His face was soft as he gazed at her. Then his mouth moved into a full grin. “Next week’s date night is mine. So be prepared.”

  She giggled. “I can’t wait.”

  He took her hand. “Let’s go home, honey. I’m not done by a long shot.”

  “Okay,” she agreed. These date nights were fun. And they kept their marriage interesting. Especially the sex—the sex rocked when they played out their fantasies. “Take me home.”

  FLYING SOLO

  by Rachel Kramer Bussel

  I’ve made sure my camera has plenty of battery left for this trip, because you’re not here to watch me. I wish you
were, but life sometimes keeps us apart. You didn’t ask me to, but I want to send you photos of me naked, turned on, wet for you. Even though you’re not talking up a storm as you usually are when we travel, I feel you with me as I pass through security, and especially as I head to the gate and start casually, quietly, discreetly looking around, the way we did on our honeymoon. Has it really been four years? They’ve flown by.

  I’ll never forget sitting with you and hearing you whisper, “Find someone to take back to our hotel room with us.” You didn’t specify if it should be a man or a woman, and although I’d never considered it before, the idea of being pressed between you and another man made me so excited I almost spilled the medium coffee I’d just purchased. You took it from my hand and blew through the small opening in the plastic top for me, raising your eyebrows. I giggled, then started looking. I reached for your hand for support; you squeezed it but then let me go. I fiddled with my wedding ring, twisting around the new gold band over and over, afraid I looked like a kid in a candy store.

  You’d whispered to me again. “I’m just so madly in love with you, and I think this should be a new tradition; when we travel, we find someone to join us. Just for fun, no strings attached.” I’d spent the entire time before we boarded perusing every adult sitting around us, mentally undressing them, wondering who had piercings or tattoos, who was kinky, who was the best kisser. I pictured the tall man in a suit, speaking rapidly in Spanish on the phone, with his cock in your mouth. I pictured the short, curvy beauty with her head buried between my legs while you entered her from behind.

  “Well?” you’d asked, as they started to board the plane.

  “I can’t decide. And I certainly can’t go up to any of these people. What am I going to say? ‘I just got married and my husband wants to have a threesome?’” Yet even saying those unspeakable words made me wet, made my mind and heart race. I’d told you that I was bisexual after our third date, wanting to make sure you wouldn’t have that awful, frat-boy, “That’s hot!” reaction that even most seemingly sophisticated men busted out once I revealed I went both ways. You just nodded and let me tell you all about Simone, the gorgeous woman with the smoky voice and beautiful, curvy body I’d most recently bedded.