"Ma, I got it, alright? I know. I'll be home soon. I just gotta pick up a few things, okay? Yeah. I love you, too." Three boxes of Mac and Cheese, butter, milk, hot dogs, that's all I need and I'm standing in the peanut butter isle struggling to hang up and get my phone back in my pocket before he glances this way again. Jesus, he's smoking hot over there debating over one shit instant coffee brand and another shit instant coffee brand. He's all tight jeans, plaid shirt and the face of a Greek fucking god with these green eyes that shine from the 15 feet between us. I fumble with my purse, shoving it behind my arm, and adjust my uniform. Shit, like any amount of tugging or straightening is going to undo a nine hour shift waiting tables and nothing is going to hide this ugly orange color and this white apron, I should just turn around and walk away now but fuck, fuck, fuck, He just looked at me. I tuck my hair behind my ear and try to look like I give a fuck about crunchy or creamy peanut butter when I realize he's walking toward me and my heart begins to beat so fast I can't breathe.
"Hey," he says from beside me and I nearly jump. His voice is deep. So deep. The kind of deep I'm feeling in my panties and I squirm a little, glancing up at him to see a friendly smile even as I'm blushing. "Do you know which of these won't taste like cat shit? My brother usually buys the coffee but he's busy tonight so..." he trailed off, and I can feel him looking me over. I can't look him in the eyes again, not with all that three days since he shaved on his face and I think my voice has packed up and left town anyway. I shift from one foot to the other and shake my head, tucking hair behind my ear again. I wish I didn't smell like food and grease and cigarette smoke. He smells like cinnamon buns and leather. Oh, God.
I can feel him shift uncomfortably next to me. He shoves both boxes onto the shelf, displacing peanut butter, saying "I don't want this, anyway. I'd rather have fresh coffee." I steal a glance and he seems relaxed, watching me casually like I'm not behaving like an awkward teenager. I can still feel his voice somewhere deep in my panties, a pulsing heat with every word he says, and I'm sure he knows it when he asks, "Do you want to... go get some coffee?" He shrugs and some small 7th grade part of me falls over dead onto the floor while the 30 year old part of me stands here shocked, my hand frozen by my face, midway to brushing my hair behind my ear again.
"Yes," I say, quietly, when I'm screaming inside OH MY GOD YES! PLEASE! CAN I TAKE YOUR PICTURE? MY MOTHER WILL NOT BELIEVE THIS! I WILL NEED PROOF! but I keep that bottled up nice and neat and try to give him a smile without somehow tripping all over myself. God, he smells delicious. He smiles easily. He's so warm. He's so confident. He's so comfortable. He's so not got the top three buttons of his shirt buttoned and my heart is fluttering quick in my chest again. "I'd love to." I manage to catch his eyes with mine and I have to catch my breath, his eyes seem brighter, and I happen to catch him lick his lower lip and That's it. I swallow my every fear and I let my adult self step up and not fuck this up. I reach out to him, lacing my fingers into his and (Oh Jesus FUCK his skin is a warm, working rough that I imagine touching me other tender places) I turn to guide him. Thank God, he follows, because I didn't have a plan for if he wouldn't. I lead him back past the cereal, the sodas, the alcohol, the eggs until we reach a black "Employees only" door. I glance back at him, my hair bunching at my shoulders, but he's smiling mischievously and it does things to his face that make me want to do things with his face and that scruff of his on my inner thighs.
I grin back to him then push the door open. There's gotta be something back here. We wind through pallets stacked on an open floor until We come across a small office marked "Manager". He tugs at my hand. I turn to see him pressing a finger to his lips and I've got this ache crawling across my skin. He turns the handle of the door, quietly. It clicks and he pushes it open, slowly, but we find it empty. I feel his hand pressing at the small of my back and a heat explodes inside me that has me wrapping my fingers into his shirt, tugging him inside and pushing the door shut behind him. I can feel his muscles under his shirt as I lean into him, lifting up onto my toes, and pressing my lips against his. They're sweet and soft and full and he moves against me, his hands running up my sides and down my back and over my shoulders and into my hair as his tongue glides over my bottom lip and into my mouth and I can taste the cinnamon. His hands move down and he leans in, gripping my thighs and lifting me, but all I care about is his sweet lips and the way his beard feels tickling across my lips and the way he's strong enough to lift me up and set me onto the desk like I'm not a full grown adult. His hands slide up the outside of my thighs, under my uniform skirt and it feels exactly the way I'd imagined, his work hewn hands rough and gentle and my hips roll as he slides between my legs and against me, kissing me again.
"Do you...?" He breathes, pulling away from me just a fraction, looking into my eyes and his own are alive almost like a flame flickering behind them.
"Yes. Yes. God, Yes. Please, yes." I say, pulling him, grabbing at his back, digging my fingers into those muscles near his shoulders. He kisses, nibbles, pulls his tongue up my neck and it's all I can do to keep from screaming with pleasure already. I can feel his cock, hard and taught in his jeans, pressing against me and the ache is strangling, my plain white (oh, lord, I roll my eyes remembering them) panties soaked already from excitement. "Do you have..." I venture even though at this moment I couldn't care less but he's digging in his back pocket before I can get all the words out. He's got the little foil package between his teeth and I'm pulling at his jean's zipper, trying to help when he unbuttons and pushes his jeans and underwear down just low enough. I gasp, just a little, as he rips the condom open and skillfully slides it over his rock hard cock. He gives me this cute little smirk that makes me giggle and I'm trying to wiggle out of my panties. He helps to pull them off, tossing them on the floor without even a comment on how plain they are, then his lips are on mine.
That sweet taste of cinnamon, his hands moving behind me, catching my ass and moving me to the edge of the table and I can feel his cock right there, my every muscle on fire, and aching, and throbbing, and screaming when he pushes into me. I claw at his back, gasping, and rock my hips against him, his cock hitting every good spot inside me when he pulls back again, his back arching, his chest pressing against me and it's my own moan filling the room around us. Then he's moving, each thrust careful, slow and exactly what I want. I place one hand on the desk behind me, because I'm rocking back and back and back again and I'm pushing just as hard back into him, his body making contact with mine in ways that already have that intense tingle building deep within me. I reach up and touch his cheek, this gorgeous fucking man, holding his eyes with mine and breathing hard, his hands strong on my hips pulling me to him as he begins to move quicker and again until we are a furious mess and I'm nearly screaming with each press inward and he is chanting, "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck" under his breath. It's the hottest thing ever and that tingle building has reached explosive proportions until I've got my back arched and my hand clawing down his back, gripping his shirt like my life depends on it and rocking against him as stars are born and dying at the edge of my every nerve ending. My entire body shaking, this pulse shoots through me again and again until my vision almost blacks out and I'm filled with a wash of warmth. He slows, slightly, and I look to see him grinning, this face of pride and even joy. I can't help but laugh seeing his eyes actually twinkling. He moves quicker again, pushing harder, faster, and I watch as his face becomes slack and he moans, this sound that pulls another tingling pulse through me, and then I feel his cock twitching, the pulse of his own orgasm as he holds my hips tight against him.
It's a strange little happy moment. He smiles. He leans in and kisses me, his cheeks flushed and breathing still ragged. He still tastes of cinnamon. He pulls away from me, pulling out, leaving a void but also this feeling of pleasure and fulfillment. He removes and tosses the condom into a trash can under the desk which makes me laugh. He grins again, pulling his jeans back into place. He bends down and fetches my panties for me, sweetly holding them and I slide each foot in, then guiding them up my legs onto my thighs. When I go to stand to pull them up, my legs give a little and he catches me and it's his turn to giggle. I look into his eyes, happy, and get on my toes to kiss him again. Those lips just as sweet, just as soft, and he kisses back tenderly.
"What's your name?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
I shrug.
"What's it matter?" I say, grinning, as I turn away from him and open the door. I cast a glance back to him, the blue jeaned, plaid shit wearing, green eyed Greek god and I give him a little wave. He just smiles and That's the last I see of him before the door clicks shut.
I walk quickly to the front of the store, exit without buying a thing, and drive straight home. That was exactly what I needed after work, not mac and cheese and hot dogs.