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I hate blind dates. After a rather terrible experience with a guy who spent four straight hours talking about nothing but his pet ferret Daisy, I decided to swear off them forever.

I’ve also sworn never to get a tattoo, but I’m the proud bearer of a small set of blue wings between my breasts…you see where this leads me.

My best friend Lex (short for Alexandria) called me at work last Wednesday.

“Jen,” she bubbled. “I found him. Jackson Brutt. The perfect guy for you!”

After breaking up with my last long-term boyfriend over a year ago, I’ve tried all types, without much success. I tried to convince Lex that I wasn’t really in the mood for a date, but she insisted that I at least meet the guy for drinks. She told me he was expecting me Friday evening at Hewlett’s, an upscale but not overly ritzy place close to my office (the nerve of that girl, I swear….). Since the date had already been set up, I figured I’d spend an hour or so with the poor guy (with a name like “Jackson Brutt,” I assumed he’d be somewhat of a loser), be charming and cute, and leave before dinner.

That Friday I dressed up more than usual for work. I wasn’t trying to impress the guy too much, but I figured I’d give him a little thrill for his money. A peek of cleavage, a bit of leg, that sort of thing. I chose an above-the-knee suede skirt in khaki with a slit up my thigh to five or six inches below my waist. I also wore a tight-fitting deep red button-up blouse with a Mandarin collar – my favorite top because it matches these sexy red leather pumps I found on a business-slash-shopping trip to New York. I decided on a basic black silk demi-bra and V-string to complement my outfit…not that he’d ever see them; I just like the feel of silk against my skin.

I showed up at Hewlett’s at 5:30, the time Lex had set with Jackson. Lex had planned so well that she’d even reserved a table for us so we’d find each other immediately. I dug through my purse for the scrap of paper I’d written it on…the circle booth in the back left corner. I looked up. It was empty. Good. Time to get settled in before Jackson arrived. I told the host I had a table under the name Brutt and he led me straight to the corner.

I sat down and ordered a cosmopolitan. I sipped it as I gazed around the restaurant. Suddenly, I felt a hand at my elbow. I whirled around. A man was standing beside me.

“Miss Packard?”

I gave him a once-over. He was tall, maybe 6’2″, with dark brown hair and blue eyes. His face was angular, but not pointy. My first impression: striking, and very sexy. Was this him? Lex hadn’t told me he was so…attractive.

“Jackson?” I asked.

“Yes, but you can call me Jack. Nice to meet you,” he said, releasing my elbow and holding out his hand. I took it and gave it the requisite shake, still incredulous that he was so stunning.

“Do you mind if I sit down?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No, no, not at all.” He slid into the booth at the other end.

Struggling to regain my composure (wow, Lex…he’s gorgeous!), I attempted small talk. “I took the liberty of ordering a drink. I hope you don’t mind.”

He smiled. “Feel free to order anything you like.” He Web Tools signaled to a passing waiter and ordered a Scotch.

“So, Alexandria told me you work for an architectural firm. Are you an architect?”

I nodded. “Yep.” I launched into a monologue on how I became what I am, my major projects and my firm. Jack paid polite attention, smiling and nodding appropriately.

“So, Jack, what do you do?”

He took a drink of his Scotch. “I’m in the restaurant business.”

“Oh, really? Which restaurant do you work for?”

He looked down almost shyly. “I own a few. You probably haven’t heard of most of them – they’re located in Seattle and L.A., where most of my family lives. The one I spend the most time in, however, is in Boston. It’s called…Hewlett’s.”

This took a moment to sink in. “Hewlett’s? As in…here?”

He laughed. “Yeah, here.”

“You own it?” Jack was not at all what I expected. I was prepared for a bespectacled, pale and pudgy web-designer/computer nerd coworker of Lex’s. Instead, I got the suave, extremely wealthy owner of one of the best restaurants in Boston.

“Mmm-hmm. It’s the only restaurant that I take a personal interest in. The rest I inherited from my father, but Hewlett’s is all mine.”

Jack and I continued to talk over two more rounds of drinks, dinner (absolutely fantastic pepper-lime chicken and grilled vegetables) and chocolate martinis. The more I learned, the more I was intrigued. Jack spent most of his time in Boston, though he did travel to the west coast once or twice every quarter. He lived in a flat in the city, but also had a house in North Bend, a little town close to Seattle. He met Lex when he had her design the web site for one of his L.A. restaurants – a little Thai place visited regularly by the stars of Hollywood.

What amazed me the most about Jack was that even though he was incredibly rich, he never once seemed to be bragging. This was definitely a man I could enjoy….

As our martinis slowly disappeared, our conversation grew more personal. I told Jack about my ex-boyfriend and my disappointing string of one-night stands. He revealed that he had recently left his girlfriend of two years, one of Seattle’s finest, because she demanded that he propose, complete with a 1.2 million dollar engagement ring from Tiffany’s. As I took the last sip of my drink, Jack leaned over to me.

“Jen, I don’t want to seem too bold, but…well, would you like to come to my place for some coffee or something?”

I silently thanked Lex for her excellent matchmaking abilities.

“I’d love to.”

We left without paying the bill (it was, of course, on the house) and Jack hailed a cab. He gave the driver directions to his flat and we relaxed into the leather seat. During the bumpy ride, Jack’s fingers brushed mine several times, but I couldn’t tell if it was truly from the turbulence or just extremely well-timed.

We pulled up to a 1930’s factory building with “Ziegler’s Tires” painted in white on the side. Jack saw my quick look of confusion and leaned over. “Don’t worry, the inside’s a lot better than the outside.

The creaky old elevator carried us up to his Online Web Tools flat. It was very open, decorated in dark wood, rich leather and airy fabrics…very classy, even for a rich guy.

Jack headed straight to the kitchen. “How do you take your coffee?” he asked.

“Black,” I replied, taking a seat on the enormous leather couch.

Jack returned in a few moments with a pot of coffee and two mugs on a wooden tray. “Do you like jazz?” he inquired, before turning towards his high-end stereo.

“Love it,” I replied, tasting my coffee. It was just strong enough to be worth it, but not bitter.

He put in a CD of something I couldn’t quite identify. We relaxed on the couch and talked more about our past loves. Suddenly, Jack leapt to his feet.

“Let’s dance,” he proposed, holding out his hand. I stood, and he pulled me to him, locking his arm around my waist and taking my hand in his. We swayed back and forth to the music, not keeping a strict beat but letting the notes flow over us. As the song stretched on, our bodies pushed closer and closer together, until my head was on his chest and both of his arms were wrapped around me.

When the music ended, I looked up at Jack. Without breaking our eye contact, he bent his head, and our lips met. His mouth was warm and soft, the flavor of coffee still on his tongue. We kissed again, this time with more passion, tongues entwining, seeking, finding pleasures both of us had been missing. As the kiss grew longer, it became more insistent, until we were grinding our lips against each other’s, forcing our tongues into each other’s mouths.

Jack broke the kiss and stepped back slightly.

“Jen,” he said hesitantly. “It’s been a while…if we keep going, it’s going to have to be fast.”

I could barely stop myself from jumping on him. I needed him, needed his hands on my skin, needed him inside of me. I didn’t care how. “Fast is good,” I replied, and he pulled me hard against him. Jack picked me up off the floor, pulling my skirt up enough that I could wrap my legs around him. He carried me to the couch and stretched me out on the leather, lying on top of me, hands still wrapped around me.

I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair, pulling his head towards mine for an even deeper kiss, if possible. As we made out, I could feel him growing harder against my stomach. I pointed my toes against the arm of the couch and slid up so that his stiffening cock was nestled between my legs. As I squeezed my thighs together, he moaned.

“Yeah, Jen…god, yeah.”

His hands moved to the front of my blouse and began to unfasten it, one agonizing button at a time. I arched my back so he could reach the last few buttons. As soon as he finished, he threw it open and dove into my breasts, kissing and sucking on the exposed flesh, lapping at my tattoo (never say never). His hands snaked back to the clasp of my bra and deftly unsnapped it, freeing even more skin for his attentions.

When he took one nipple into his mouth, I couldn’t help myself.

“Mmmm, yeah Jack…just like that…suck my nipple, it feels so good!”

He responded by moving to my other breast, his Çevrimiçi Web Araçları hand covering the one he had just been sucking. His tongue was so hot. I felt like my nipples were on fire…god, it felt so good. His teeth scraped against my skin, biting while he sucked at my breasts, hard. By now, we were frantically grinding against each other, both craving release.

He sat and pulled me up with him. I immediately leaned forward to untuck his shirt and unbutton his pants. I almost pushed him off the couch in an effort to get him to stand so I could yank his khakis down, freeing what I was sure would be a beautiful cock.

He kicked off his shoes and I pulled down his pants and his boxers, finally revealing what I had been missing. His cock was a little over six inches long, and thick enough that I couldn’t encircle it with my finger and thumb. Without hesitation I took it into my mouth until the head hit the back of my throat. I could hear him mumbling something, but all I cared about was sucking him. I bobbed up and down on his cock, kneeling on the couch to get the best angle, kneading his balls with one hand and steadying myself against his hip with the other. He was smooth, sweet, salty…so many sensations wrapped up in this most primal of actions: mouth on cock.

I licked and sucked on his balls as I stroked his shaft, then returned to teasing the head of his cock with my throat as I took him all into my mouth. I felt him tug gently at my hair.

“Jen,” he moaned. “Jen, you better stop if you want me to fuck you.”

At those words, I stood up and pulled off my skirt and thong. I was dripping wet, and the lips of my pussy were bright pink and slightly swollen.

“Lay back on the couch,” he directed. I did, spreading my legs. He sat between them, slowly sliding a finger into my pussy.

His touch was exquisite, but I craved something biger. “More,” I whispered. He quickly complied, adding his index finger to his middle digit and gliding them in and out of my wet pussy. I pushed my hips toward him.

“Now,” I gasped. “Please, Jack, now!” Before I finished my sentence, he withdrew his fingers and plunged into me, filling me completely with his rigid cock.

“Fuck yeah,” I moaned. Jack fucked me hard and fast, my back sliding against the leather as I clutched at him, my fingernails leaving raised, red trails on his skin. I could tell that gliding in and out of my tight little pussy was getting him close, and I pulled my legs up to my shoulders to let him go even deeper. The new position provided delicious friction against my G-spot.

“Mmm…fuck, Jack. God, fuck me hard! God, your cock feels so good!”

I’m not a slut, I promise, but I do like to talk dirty…I can’t help it. The words just come out on their own.

Jack licked his fingers and reached down to rub my clit. This sent me over the edge, and we finished together, his cum spilling into me as my pussy clenched rhythmically around his cock. He collapsed on me, exhausted, and began sucking my earlobe.

“God,” he whispered. “That was amazing.”

“Hell yeah,” I replied.

We lay there for a few moments, basking in the afterglow of a really good fuck. Suddenly, Jack smiled devilishly. I realized we were both still semi-clothed – me in heels, he in his shirt – and wondered if he was laughing at our state of disarray.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he replied innocently. “Just wondering if you were ready for round two….”

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