Page 29

DIESEL

O wning a bar definitely has its drawbacks when you end up spending your weekend nights pouring drinks for other people.

During my time off Sunday morning, Symphony had a study group for some big project on Monday, so that was another day with a hard-on that wouldn’t get quenched between her legs.

I’ve given up questioning why my dick is so taken with her in particular. We’ve evolved into something roughly approximating a relationship. There are no rules saying we can’t see other people, but it doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m not interested in any orgasmic caterwauling but hers for the moment.

I guess I’m in it until it plays out.

I arrive at the bar first on Sunday afternoon, once again making up for missing Friday night with a delicious evening of steak and Symphony.

Alone in my office, I pull out the envelope holding my drawings of her.

I bought a proper sketchbook, and it has a pocket inside the front cover.

I thought I’d put the original ones in there.

Not that I need the reference. Every inch of Symphony is cemented in my memory. I could draw any part of her.

I unseal the flap. The sketches make my body wake up even more. Damn it. When is she done with that study group?

I tuck the slips of paper into the pocket and trash the envelope.

I don’t have any pressing bar work to do, so I set to making a new drawing on the first clean page.

I have a proper pencil set with varying lead sizes, if I can remember when or how to use the different ones.

I vaguely recall cross hatching and smudging from that long-ago instruction.

I slide a pencil from the middle of the selection and start with a rough outline. She’s naked, always naked, because that’s the feeling I’m seeking. It’s almost painful, roughing out her breasts and darkening the nipples, knowing I can’t touch her right now.

I show her leaning over the arm of her sofa, gazing at me with soft eyes. Her hair tumbles over her shoulders.

I’m trying, over and over again, to get her lips just right when my phone buzzes.

I ignore it for a moment, pleased with how perfectly the pencil erases on the textured paper with the right eraser. I’m not quite satisfied with her mouth when my phone buzzes again.

Right. The message.

I pick up the phone.

Symphony: Study group done. I’m brain dead memorizing dictatorial regimes.

Symphony: You already at the bar?

Me: Yeah, sitting at my desk.

Symphony: You promised to do unspeakable things on it to me.

Me: So ready for that.

Symphony: I can be there in forty-five.

Me: Jose will be here by then.

Symphony: Your door has a lock.

Me: It does. Get that sweet ass over here.

Symphony: Coming!

Me: Not until I say so.

Symphony: Be my daddy dom, baby.

I laugh and set down the phone. I look at the sketch. I’m not in the mood for the soft one now, so I flip the page.

I draw my desk, the piles of pages, the neon signs. Then Symphony, casting only light curves across the page at first, not sure what direction to go.

But it takes shape, her ankles cuffed to the drawers on either side, back arched, breasts high in the air. You can only see her chin, the rest of her head falling back, hair cascading across the folders.

She clutches the far corners of the desk. There’s no way to secure her to those, but I draw in cuffs, anyway.

I save my favorite part for last, those thighs and the hot center between them.

Jose bangs on the door, and I take a break to let him in and let him know Symphony will be here eventually.

I should stop the drawing and put it away, but I’m eager to finish. I can’t stop where I was.

I close the door and return to the sketch.

I take care making the flesh of her pussy supple and soft and incredibly accurate. My cock jumps as I use the pad of my thumb to soften the lines.

Drawing her is almost a sex act in itself. Maybe that’s why I’m addicted.

I add shadows and details, my grip on the pencil getting tighter.

But then there’s a timid knock on the door. I glance at my phone. Shit. How has so much time passed? I slam the sketchbook closed.

“Come in,” I call, dragging the top drawer open to shove it inside as Symphony strolls in.

But I’m clumsy in my haste, and the drawer is nearly full. I shove hard enough that it bends, and when I flatten it out, the old sketches fall out of the pocket and onto the floor.

One of them flits on a current of air right as Symphony arrives next to my chair. The scrap of paper lands on her shoe.

She bends down. “What’s this?” She lets out a gasp as she recognizes herself from the bridal suite. “Did you do this?”

Shit. “Yeah. I, uh, sketch.”

“It’s good.” She turns her head to examine it more closely. “Are one of my boobs slightly bigger than the other?”

“Yeah. They are.”

“Huh.” She lifts her gaze to meet mine. “Do you have others? Of me, I mean.”

“I only do you.” Shit, that was a confession. I quickly add, “You want to see them?”

“Of course! These are wildly good. And fucking hot. I might drop my clothes right here.”

“Might want to close the door first.”

“Yes, sir, daddy dom.” She closes the door, flipping the lock. “Show me more.”

I pick up the other scraps. “These were quick sketches. A little feverish.”

That gets her attention. “Feverish?”

I lay them out. “Yeah.”

She sets her purse on my desk to take them from me. “Drawing me makes you hot?”

“So fucking hot.” I flip the sketchbook to the one of her on my desk.

“Oh, shit.” She touches her finger to her ankles drawn in cuffs. “You want to do that?”

“I was inspired when you called me your daddy dom.”

“I would be down for this.”

Fuck. My cock strains against my jeans. I grab her waist and turn her around. “You’re not wearing a skirt.”

“Nope. You’ll have to get me undressed this time.”

I run my hands down her legs. She has on the red heels I remember from the first night. Fuck. “I’m going to strip you naked.”

“Better hurry, or I might get away.” She pushes forward as if she’s going to escape, but I catch her easily and trap her against the desk, my cock raging against her belly. “Don’t be naughty, baby girl, or I will punish you.”

“Keep talking that way, and I’ll give you all the reasons to.”

This is what I’ve missed out on by only having drive-bys with random girls. Things can … develop.

I wrap my hand around her neck, lowering my mouth to hers. She tastes like mint and chocolate. I suck on her tongue, reaching down to unbutton her shorts.

She moans when I don’t take them off but instead slide my fingers inside her panties. She’s fucking wet. She’s been thinking about this. Probably on her way here.

I press two fingers into her, smiling against her mouth when she melts against me.

“Diesel, yes. God, how you know me.”

I do, and I plunder that knowledge until she clutches my shoulders, on the cusp, then I withdraw.

“Ooooh, you are mean.”

“Mmm. You will come when I tell you.”

She closes her eyes. “Do I love this game? I’m not one to wait.”

“The waiting makes it more intense.”

I push her shorts down. Ah. No panties beneath. Nice. “Now, step out of those like a good girl.”

She likes playing the role. She steps out of her shorts and kicks them aside.

I lean in. “Take that top off and show me those tits. Tweak the nipples. You know the way.”

She swallows hard as I sit in the chair and roll back to give her space.

At first, she seems shy in the harsh light, glancing up at the overhead, tugging her shirt down as if it could cover her naked lower half.

“Don’t make me wait,” I warn her and unbuckle my jeans, pulling my cock out to stroke it as I look at her.

This gets her. She watches my hand move up and down the shaft and sways from side to side to the rhythm. She inches the bottom of the shirt up over her belly and ribs.

I take in the red bra that matches the shoes. I’m going to need some colored pencils.

Then the shirt is over her head and landing on my desk. The bra is substantial, covering more than I’d like. I keep stroking, waiting for it to come off. Her thighs are tightly closed, and I need to see that pink.

“Foot up here,” I tell her, patting my knee.

She lifts a leg, and I grasp her ankle, setting the red heel on my thigh. The point of it pokes hard against my muscle, but it’s a good pain, and it grounds me now that so much of her is visible, so tantalizingly close.

She reaches behind her back and unhooks the bra. It loosens, and those glorious breasts shift with their freedom, giving me a hefty amount of cleavage to admire.

I stroke her ankle with one hand and my dick with the other, practically salivating.

She rolls her shoulders forward, and the red fabric slips. She squeezes her arms together, hiding what I want to see as the garment slides down her arms.

It falls off her wrists and catches on my cock. We laugh for a moment, then I tell her, “Arms over your head, you naughty tease.”

She thinks about it, twisting her hands and looking at the ceiling.

Then I’m done waiting and roll forward, drawing her close with an arm behind her waist.

Her startled hands move to my shoulders, and before she can even right herself, I have my mouth full of soft, pillowy breast.

She laughs and holds on to my head. “Poor daddy dom couldn’t wait any longer.”

She’s so close that my turgid cock grazes against her bare folds. She inhales sharply, and my need for her surges in a way I’ve never felt in my goddamn life.

“It’s right there,” she says. “I want it real bad.”

My voice is a rasp. “The condoms are in my back pocket.”

“I’m on the pill. Let me sink down on it bare.”

The blood rushes from my head. “I’ve never barebacked.”

“Bareback virgin,” she says. “I’m going to steal that first.” And she slides down on me.

Fuuuuck. She’s pure silk, tight and smooth. I lose my head for a moment and have to grapple for control.

She shifts so her feet are on the ground. “Sit back, biker boy, daddy dom, and let me fuck you this time.”

She pushes me against the back of the chair and lifts my chin so I can’t watch, only feel.

Her body glides up mine and down. I’m fully dressed other than my exposed cock, so there’s only one point of contact, skin to skin.

My head rushes again. This is way more intense.

“Don’t come until I say you can,” she teases.

Fuuuck. I feel like I’m going to pass out. The way she wraps her pussy around my cock unleashes a rush of lust and heat. She pushes my shirt up, inching her hands up my chest.

“I’m going to work you hard, and you’re going to hold out,” she says.

I can’t even mutter a feeble, “Yes, ma’am” She’s turned the tables on me completely.

She moves faster, with more intensity. Her hands grip my ribs.

I have to hang on, hold back, force myself to keep control.

She slams down on my lap, again and again and again, her breathing increasing. A small keening cry comes from her, and I lift my head to watch, knowing this will be my next work of art.

Her head is thrown back, breasts swaying with every crash onto me. She’s pink in more places than usual.

She’s so fucking beautiful.

Her hands creep up to my nipples. She grasps them both and pinches hard. “Now, Diesel, now!”

The pain, the pleasure, her command, the glory of her body, and the slamming of her tight sheath on top of me take me over the top.

I crash upward into her, unleashing into her body, warm and wet and filled.

She cries out my name and a string of curses and inarticulate words, her body blossoming with color.

The way she tenses down on me as she comes makes it draw out in spasms of intense pleasure. I hold her waist as she grinds down, still going, still crying out, until finally she collapses forward on my chest.

I hold on to her, cradling her against me. She breathes heavily against my shoulder, our bellies connected skin to skin.

My hands slide down her back.

I’m here. With her. In the quiet.

And there isn’t anywhere I’d rather be.