The Siren. Tiffany Reisz

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      Speed Mating

      By Sophia Valenti

      Bars are totally not my thing. Yet that Friday night I found myself standing in one of the most popular watering holes in town. I’d arrived straight from the office, feeling just a little uncomfortable in my white silk blouse, black pencil skirt and pearls while everyone else in the jovial crowd was dressed so casually.

      Why had I agreed to this? Damn that Michelle. She can get me to do almost anything. After much cajoling—and flat-out whining—she had convinced me to go with her to this speed-dating event. Yeah, I was single, but that wasn’t a problem for me. I was happy with my life, I’d argued. But when that stance didn’t work, she played the pity card, telling me that she was looking for a boyfriend and needed me there for emotional support.

      Call me a sucker—I went. And that’s how I wound up in a crowd of murmuring singles, each of us sporting a numbered sticker. Michelle, with her bouncy blonde curls and blushing cheeks, looked beautiful and eager and had already caught the eye of several gentlemen. Meanwhile, I leaned back against the bar, trying to remain unnoticed by potential suitors for as long as possible while I sipped my cocktail and listened to the moderator give a rundown of the rules: The women would sit at one side of the table and the men along the other. Each couple had five minutes to chat, after which a bell would ring, signaling for the guys to shift down one seat. Sounded simple enough. I could pull off being friendly for a couple of minutes at a clip. Sure, I wasn’t interested in hooking up with anyone, but I didn’t plan on being impolite. I could smile through this for my friend’s sake.

      I downed my drink and turned to place my empty glass on the bar, and that’s when I saw him. Chatting people swirled around me, but their noise and movements faded into the background. He commanded my total attention. With thick black hair and piercing blue eyes, he looked like he’d stepped off a movie set. I took note right away of his broad shoulders and muscular arms. He certainly filled out a T-shirt better than anyone else I’d ever seen. The cotton fabric clung to his toned frame in just the right way, giving a tempting hint of how well cut his muscles were. My gaze traveled down his flat stomach with unabashed slowness, wandering along his torso to his jeans.

      I instantly got lost in a fantasy of what lay hidden beneath that worn denim. The man’s lips curled into a smile when he noticed my interest, but it wasn’t a cocksure expression. It was more of a friendly acknowledgment that made my heart beat a little faster. The look on his face gave no doubt that he was checking me out, too. I was pleased to see that he was donning a number. That meant our paths were definitely going to cross before the night was over—and I couldn’t wait.

      A bespectacled woman holding a clipboard—clearly one of the event organizers—grabbed my handsome admirer and seated him halfway down the wooden table from me. I counted the seats—figuring that I had to struggle through at least forty minutes of chitchat before I could have the only one-on-one that I was truly interested in.

      I have to admit that I barely remember my conversations with Misters One through Eight. I think there were a veterinarian and an accountant somewhere in the mix, but one well-meaning man blended into the next. I did my best to feign an appropriate amount of interest; they couldn’t really hold my attention. Whenever the bell rang and it was time to switch partners, the stranger would toss another smoldering look my way. Each flash of his eyes made my panties a little more damp, and arousal was swirling inside me with an ever-increasing intensity. I’d never before had such a profound attraction to a complete stranger. But I wasn’t going to waste any time overanalyzing the situation—who was I to argue with fate?

      It was the longest forty minutes of my life, but eventually, I found myself face-to-face with the object of my barely concealed desire.

      The stranger smiled broadly and extended his hand as he greeted me. I took his hand in mine, enjoying the feel of his strong grip.

      “Hi, I’m—”

      “No names—numbers only,” he interrupted, his words laced with a teasing tone. “Rules are rules.”

      I laughed at his faux concern for the event’s regulations. “You’re absolutely right. Nice to meet you, number nine.”

      “The pleasure’s all mine—” he glanced down at the number perched on my chest, “—twenty-seven.”

      He sat down and held my hand as we exchanged playfully flirtatious banter. His fingers casually stroked the base of my palm, sweeping downward across my wrist as he spoke, keeping his eyes locked on mine. The sensation of his fingers against my skin sent tingles up my arm and straight to my pussy, which was very nearly molten by that point. I could have listened to him talk for hours; his voice was deep and sensual, and lulled me into a sexy stupor. I tried my best to keep up my end of the conversation when the only thing running through my head was I need your cock inside me. In truth, there wasn’t much that could be discussed within a five-minute time span. But by the time the bell rang, I knew for sure that I wanted him—and I wanted him badly.

      This time around, the moderator announced that since we’d reached the halfway mark, we would have a fifteen-minute intermission. Number nine continued to hold my hand as he tossed his head toward the back of the bar, his eyebrow quirked up in an unspoken question.

      I could barely contain my own wicked smile as I nodded, and together we left the table. Most of the crowd stayed up front, clamoring for the bartender’s attention, while he and I slipped into one of the restrooms, completely unnoticed.

      I locked the door behind us and backed him up against the tiled wall, bringing my lips to his. He tangled his fingers in my long, brown hair as he returned my kiss with an eager passion. My hands roamed over his body, enjoying the feel of his hard muscles. Pulling his shirt out of his jeans, I slid my hands up his chest,and he groaned into my mouth as my palms glided against his flesh.

      I wrapped my arms around him, stroking his back and bringing our bodies closer together. Grinding my hips against him, I felt the erection that was hidden beneath his clothes—so hard, so perfect, and all for me. Number nine broke our kiss to speak, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright as he held me at arm’s СКАЧАТЬ