Getting Back on the Horse

Content Advisory - Sneaky m/f sex on a desk

It had been a Class A, bona-fide, complete and utter shit of a day. Work that morning had sucked beyond all belief. The lunch break with her boyfriend Judd, which was meant to be the bright spark in her day of dreary dismalness, had in fact been its own date of doom.


“It’s just not working,” he’d said.
“It’s not you, it’s me,” he’d said.
“I love you – I’m just not in love with you anymore,” he’d said.
“I’ll be gone by eight,” he’d said.

Her mouth opened and closed a lot; reminding her of a guppy she had when she was six. Blindsided by the avalanche of clichés cascading from the mouth of the man she’d planned happily ever after with, she’d been too shocked to do anything more than nod at him and then walk back to the office.

And so at six p.m., when Alyssa had endured the rest of the working day and finally trudged away from the office, she still had two hours to kill before she could safely head back to her apartment. The vicious wind bit at her head and fingers. Plunging her hands deep into her pockets and turning her collar up high, she hunched her shoulders and pulled her neck into the cashmere coat like a turtle in its shell.

She wanted to go somewhere safe and familiar. Home would have been the first choice but seeing as Dick-Wad was in the process of getting his stuff out, staying away seemed like a sensible option for her already fragile self-esteem. She did not trust herself enough not to do something stupid, like blubber like a baby and hang on to his leg, begging him to stay. She shuddered at the thought.

Low self-esteem maybe, but enough self-respect not to hang round when I’m not wanted.

Instead, she walked into The Shamrock, an Irish bar a couple of blocks from home. As the wind blasted her in from the street, the bar’s boozy familiarity wrapped itself around her like a coat. It was a small bar completely typical of any Irish pub the world over. From the green baize and Guinness posters on the walls, to the polished wooden bar and floors that echoed the conversations and laughter of patrons around its open spaces. It could be in New York or it could be in Dublin and that was its charm.

Hiding here with the locals, she might find a familiar face and perhaps a shoulder to cry on as she got quietly slaughtered. Yep, hiding here until the coast was clear seemed like the best idea she’d had all day. Shrugging out of her coat and sliding on to one of the high wooden bar stools, she leaned across the bar and caught the eye of the barman. He raised an eyebrow of recognition at her.

“’Lyss m’lovely! Top o’ the evenin’ to yer!” His blue eyes twinkled and a warm and welcoming grin stretched across his face.

“Your fake accent is truly appalling Liam,” she groused at him good-naturedly. “Shut up and bring me a bourbon – straight up.”

The barman reached a muscled arm to the shelf behind him and grabbed a bottle. With a flourish, he tipped the bottle and the nip splashed its way into the glass. He slid the glass across the counter to her waiting fingertips. Alyssa picked up the tumbler and threw the amber liquid straight past her lips and down her throat. Her eyes watered slightly but her face remained impassive as she slid the glass back across the bar.

Liam’s eyes widened just a fraction.

“And again.” Her voice was flat, her normally sparkling green eyes downcast. Idly, she picked skin from around her nails as she waited for the second drink.

“Hard day at the office?” he enquired.

“Yeah, you could say that.” The second bourbon took even less time to disappear.

“And again.” Already, the warm glow extended from her belly to her extremities. A slight frown crossed the barman’s face.

“You’ll brew yourself a mother of a hangover, if you keep that up.”

“I was planning on it.”

“Is it work ‘Lyss, or is it that useless good for nothing boyfriend of yours that’s put you in such a funk?”

“The latter.” She frowned. “And how did you know he was good for nothing?”

He shook his head and looked at her as if she was some sort of simpleton.

“Jesus ‘Lyss, everyone thought he was an asshole.” He paused, “Everyone except you.” Sighing, he smiled at her and tipped his head to the side. “But, I’m guessing you’ve worked that out now.”

She couldn’t prevent a rueful smile of her own.

“Yeah, I’ve worked it out. Big time. Bottoms up!” Tipping her head back, she dispatched the third glass of bourbon in the same way as the previous two. Stretching to one side, she pulled a bowl of pretzels in front of her. She poked them absently into her mouth one after the other, trying to make the baked saltiness fill the abyss of emptiness inside her – the abyss she knew had nothing to do with hunger.

“’Lyss, you’re looking at this the wrong way. This should be a celebration, not a commiseration.” Liam’s voice was low against the background hum of tweedily-dee fiddle music, cheerfully bouncing from the P.A system.

With a sharp snort of disdain, her own blue eyes narrowed and she snapped, “What’s there to celebrate? I’m twenty-eight years old and my bastard of a boyfriend has just given me the ‘it’s-not-you-it’s me’ speech. As we’re speaking he is moving his stuff out of our apartment to go fuck-only-knows where, because I was too fucking gob smacked to ask.” She sucked in a long deep breath and exhaled slowly, bringing her voice back under control. “I’m not really up to singing and dancing just yet thanks. But I will settle for getting very drunk until I am able to go back to my cold empty apartment for one.” Despite the deep breath, she could not keep the wobble from her voice.

The barman’s gaze darkened and a tic pulsed in the side of his jaw. His voice seemed to drop even lower as he locked his gaze with hers and bent close across the bar, so close she felt his breath on her face as he spoke.

“I meant celebrate being free of the sonofabitch. You deserve better. You are beautiful and smart. Men will be beating down your door once they know you’re back on the market.”

Throwing her auburn hair back over her shoulder, she howled with laughter. “Hah! I wish! I’ve been out of the dating game so long, I don’t even know how to talk to a man anymore. The thought of going through all that hoopla again makes me squeamish.” She wrinkled her nose emphasizing the point.

“You know what they say,” he paused for effect and lifted an eyebrow, “you’ve gotta get back on the horse again, Sweetheart.” At her quizzical stare, he continued, “Get out there and find someone to give your self-esteem a boost. Find yourself a new ride.” This time when he paused, a cheeky smirk flitted across his lips and his blue eyes glimmered with merriment. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have to look too far.”

As her cheeks heated with a tell-tale blush, she pulled her gaze from his. He handed her a soda, and she gulped it down. The bourbon, pretzels and rapid turn in conversation had turned her mouth as dry as the proverbial desert. Liam moved away and started pouring black syrupy pints of Guinness for a couple of regulars, perched like crows on stools at the other end of the bar.

She watched his lithe movements as moved behind the counter and she looked at him—really looked at him—because she’d never been available and he’d never seemed interested. From his halo of shaggy blond hair, over the athletic muscles of his proportioned body, to the tips of his booted toes, he was a Grade-A specimen of masculine perfection. Alyssa mentally berated herself for never noticing this before.

Excitement flickered inside her. The seed of the idea he had planted with his saucy smile grew roots and anchored itself somewhere low down and dirty, causing all her lady-bits to tingle in the most delicious way.

Liam sauntered back to her end of the bar, clearing away her drained glass.

“What can I get you next?”

Flashing him a look of pure mischief she said, “A horse.” His nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply. He leaned over the bar and spoke close to her ear, his breath sending delicious shivers up and down her spine.

“I beg your pardon.” His voice had dropped an octave.

“You heard me. A horse. I need something new to ride.” Brazening it out, she pulled back and looked him square in the eye, daring him and double daring him and praying like hell the bourbon and her tingly lady-bits had not led her instincts completely astray.

Quirking his lips and dropping one eyelid in a lazy wink, he drew close again and whispered into her ear, “Neigh.” Every nerve ending, in every sensitive place within her went into high alert. She squirmed on her stool.

Standing abruptly, he signaled to a guy clearing tables.

“Hey Joe – I’m taking my break now. Okay?” . Liam turned back to her now startled upturned face and murmured, “Meet me out back.”

“Now?” she squeaked.

“Absolutely,” he grinned. I’m not giving you any time to change your mind.” And with that he spun on his heels and walked away from her, down the length of the bar and through a door marked ‘Staff Only’. Stunned, she slumped slightly on her stool staring at the door Liam had just disappeared through. Slowly her spine straightened as she grabbed hold of her senses. He was sexy. He wanted her. She wanted him. The only shame in this whole situation would be if she let it pass her by because of some misplaced fear or insecurity.

Casting a furtive glance around her to check she was not being watched, she traversed the length of the bar to the ‘Staff Only’ door. She hesitated for only a millisecond before her hand pushed the smooth hardwood and she stepped through the frame. The door swung back on its hinges, slapping her lightly on the ass and she muffled a squawk of fright. A narrow corridor led back to the kitchen and several doors lead off on each side. Liam leaned on the wooden frame of one, his head cocked.

“I thought you’d chickened out on me,” he drawled.

She swallowed, “I almost did.” Her voice sounded loud in the confined space of the corridor. He held out his hand to her. Taking it, she was surprised at the warmth and strength of his grasp. He pulled her through his doorway and pushed it shut behind them. With a muted click, he locked the door.

They were in a small office housing little more than a desk, chair and shelves crammed with mountains of paperwork. Wasting no time, Liam pulled Alyssa into his embrace, dropping soft kisses over her upturned face. Eventually their lips met and all gentleness fled.

Whispering to her, “I don’t have much time as I would like – just let me take care of you, Okay? His gaze pierced right through her and for the second time that day, she was so shocked, all she could do was nod her approval.

With a wolfish grin, he laid her flat on the desk. She barely heard the crashing pens and paperclips as he swept a space clear for her. Kneeling on the floor, he gently pushed her legs apart. She jolted as his calloused hands seared a path under her skirt, from her knees, over the softness of her inner thighs. The cool office air crept over her exposed skin, as her skirt gradually bunched around her waist. Feather-light, he kissed and stroked his way closer and closer to the core of her, which already clenched with need. She lifted her hips to him, urging him on. Pulling her panties to the side, he exposed her sex for the first time. He groaned his approval as he ran a finger down the slick and swollen seam.

Alyssa’s back bowed at the sensation. Giving her no reprieve, he plunged the lubricated digit deep within her. Slowly, he slipped it in and out of her, all the time his lips flitted over her sensitive skin, nipping and licking. He eased another finger in, and another. Each time she hissed her approval, her pelvis undulating – wanting more. Slowly, he built up the pace, his attention everywhere around her pussy but the place she wanted it most.

She growled in frustration. Her hips lurched in a frenzied motion all of their own, riding his hand, trying hard to tip herself over the edge.

“What do you want ‘Lyssa,” he taunted from between her thighs. “Tell me, so I can give it to you.”

Her movements were agitated and feral, her moans plaintive and desperate. She did not care about the hard desk beneath her, or the harsh fluorescent light glaring down from above – her whole world was centered on an orgasm hovering just outside her grasp. Oh God, touch my clit, she thought.

“Tell me,” he teased, his fingers continuing their evil magic, her head spinning, her lungs heaving, her hips now lifting right off the table in a feverish attempt to find release.

“Oh God,” she wailed, “Stop torturing me! My clit, please, touch my clit…”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he grinned, as he dipped his head to her snatch and inhaled the musky scent of her. Without preamble, he sucked the sensitive bundle of nerves into his mouth, swirling around the swollen bud with his tongue. He thrust his fingers deep, reveling in her liquid heat. Her body curled up, her fingers tangled in his hair and she screamed as she finally tipped over the edge. Grasping his already tousled hair like a woman possessed, she gripped his head and clamped him vice-like to her pulsing center. Her sheath gripped his fingers, her head thrashed from side to side as she lost herself completely to the pleasure coursing through every cell of her being.

She was vaguely aware of Liam, standing up. The world was in soft focus as she saw him lift his slick fingers to his mouth and lick them one by one. She could only shudder weakly on the desktop.

“You are so beautiful Alyssa.” His voice was soft, as his gaze raked her from head to toe. He reached forward and gently pulled her skirt back down, restoring her modesty. He leaned forward and kissed her. The taste of her arousal was all over him. “Joe will come looking for me any minute. I’ve gotta go. Come out as soon as you’re ready.” He unlocked the door and slid out into the hall.

It was only a couple of minutes before she rejoined him in the bar, gliding back onto her stool. Only her heightened color gave any indication anything unusual may have happened while she was away. She smiled shyly at him.

He handed her a large mug of coffee. She looked at it curiously.

“Coffee?”

“Yep. Don’t want you going to sleep.” He grinned like a Cheshire cat. “I’ve got plans for you later and I’d prefer you conscious.”

She raised an enquiring eyebrow at him. “Plans?”

“I know you were hoping to go ‘riding’. Get back into the groove, find your mojo and all that jazz…” The sentence petered off. Alyssa had no idea what he was talking about.

“And…” she prompted.

“Well, technically, you didn’t actually go for a ride,” he paused for effect, “and it would be very rude of me to promise something and not deliver.” He dropped another one of his saucy winks. “You never know, perhaps I could find some spurs, or a whip or two.”

For the third time that day Alyssa was struck dumb and she could only gulp back a mouthful of coffee and nod her approval. 

*** 

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Copyright © 2011 Greta Goddard

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

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