Overtime

The rest of the week was hot. As in pushing ninety degrees. Didn't it snow just a week ago? Welcome to Colorado, I grumbled. Saturday it finally started to cool down and I wondered whether I might need a coat that night. Then I remembered—my coat was still in Sandy's car.

While she and I had carpooled to the post-game party on Wednesday, I'd let Steve take me home. We'd spent several delightful minutes kissing goodnight, but concerns about work the next day had discouraged anything more. He told me to be at his place at seven, to dress sexy, and to bring an overnight bag if I wanted. When my smile betrayed what I thought of that last offer, Steve just kissed me again and reminded me about owing him six minutes.

Oh, I was looking forward to this evening!

And apparently I wasn't the only one! When I pulled up at Sandy's to get my coat, Pete was also arriving. He was carrying a gym bag and smiled sheepishly when I noticed it.

"Displaced for the night?" I teased.

"Yeah, not that I mind," he retorted.

"I would hope not!"

Pete just grinned in response.

Sandy let us in after giving Pete a long kiss. She went to get my coat and then her phone rang, leaving me and Pete standing awkwardly in her living room. He turned to me.

"Don't hurt him, Liz," he said.

"What?"

"Don't hurt him. He's been excited and happy for a week now. He gets this sappy look when he talks about you. I don't want you to break his heart. Or if you're not serious about him, I want you to break it earlier rather than later."

I stared at Pete in disbelief.

"Isn't that the speech that big brothers give the guys who date their little sisters?" I finally asked.

He shrugged in response.

"And what makes you think I'm not as serious as he is?" I demanded.

"Are you?"

I paused. I couldn't evade the question, I realized. Then I realized I knew the answer.

"Yes, Pete, I am."

He visibly relaxed.

"He scares me sometimes," I continued. "Not so much for anything he's done, or anything that I think he'd really do, but because of how I respond to him. It scares me to think of how quickly I'm ready to do whatever he asks."

"Do you trust him?" Pete asked.

"I guess so."

"Then it doesn't matter."

"I trust him," Pete continued, when he saw my hesitation. "I'd trust him with my life."

"Pretty high praise."

"He deserves it," Pete replied. "Look, several years ago, when he was still recovering from Katherine, Steve got involved with someone he shouldn't have. It turned out she had a boyfriend she'd failed to mention. The boyfriend found Steve at a party one night and threatened to beat the crap out of him. Somehow Steve got the guy calmed down despite the fact that the guy was drunk off his ass. They eventually ended the evening sharing hockey stories."

I looked suspiciously at Pete. "So ... what happened to them?"

"The girl? Who knows? Good riddance."

I glowered at him.

"He didn't tell you that story, did he?"

"Steve said you two met at a party and discovered a common interest in hockey. He didn't say anything about a girl or you wanting to kick his ass."

"Well, he wouldn't, would he?"

"True."

"Later," Pete said, "I realized he would have thrashed me if it had come to it. I also realized—how can I not trust a man who chooses not to hurt me when he has every reason to?"

I just nodded my head at that. Somehow I was more impressed with Steve for protecting Pete's confidentiality than in the details of the story. Sandy returned with my coat then, so after a little teasing about long showers on a Saturday night, I slipped away home.

Home presented its own dilemma. What to wear? In the end, I chose a slinky blouse over a knee length skirt and the stockings again. I was going to have to buy more lingerie, I mused. Then I decided to be daring. Steve was going to tease me tonight? Two could play at that game! I slid my panties off and shoved them in my overnight bag.

The teasing began the moment I arrived. Steve greeted me with another deep passionate kiss. Fortunately my toes were getting used to the tingling. When he released me and stepped back, his eyes trailed down and back up. I feigned an air of haughtiness and struck a few poses.

"Monsieur requested something sexy?" I purred.

"Oh yes!" Steve said, "though you'd look sexy in rags."

That earned him another kiss which turned into several more. I pulled back before my knees could completely give way.

"So where are we going?" I asked.

"We're not," he replied. With that, he took my hand and led me into the dining room.

It was classic. Starched white tablecloth and napkins. Fine china and crystal. Candles ready to be lit. I just smiled at Steve in wonder. He grinned back.

"Don't get interrupted by waiters this way," he said.

I just squeezed his hand in anticipation.

"Speaking of which," he began, leading me over to one of the chairs. "I believe I have some minutes to collect."

I beamed and nodded in reply.

"I'm going to collect my first minute now," he said. "Please lean over and place your hands on the back of the chair. Then close your eyes."

With a shiver, I complied. I heard him quickly slip into the kitchen and return with something.

"This is an amuse-bouche, a pre-appetizer," he whispered in my ear. "A teaser, really."

Something touched my lips.

"Please open your mouth."

I complied and Steve slid a bit of food in. Strawberry, dipped in dark chocolate. Before I had quite finished, another pressed against my lips. This time, Steve finished by caressing my lips with his fingers while I let the taste flood my mouth.

Then Steve stepped behind me and pressed in. I could feel his hard cock pushing against my ass through all the fabric in between. He did a slow grind, nearly dirty dancing without a sound. I pushed back into him, careful to not lift my hands from the chair. As I slowly let the last flavors fade on my tongue, Steve began to run his hands up my back. First just the fingertips, in lazy slaloms between hip and shoulder, then his palms, with the gentle pressure of a masseur. Slowly Steve's hands became a little more daring, sliding past my side and tickling up my ribs. I continued to gently press back, enjoying the feel of his body against mine.

Then Steve moved his hands to my hips, holding me square and tight against him. He thrust his pelvis against me and I shuddered, feeling his shaft nestled between the cheeks of my ass. I imagined where it would have sunk if we had been without our clothes.

Steve slowly leaned into me, pressing his whole torso against my back. His hands glided up until he was cupping my breasts. I could feel his breath on my neck. Then he began to kiss me behind the ear.

I moaned. He was driving me crazy! Somehow he was in perfect synch. I couldn't keep my attention on his cock pressing my ass for more than a moment before he'd caress my nipple, distracting me. Then the jolts from his kisses would flood my body. I started gasping and trembling, spending my few coherent thoughts on what else was in store.

When he stopped!

I let out a groan of frustration as Steve released me and stepped back. Only the chair prevented me from collapsing to the floor. I whirled around to face him, wild-eyed.

"That's one minute," he stated, smiling. "I'll go get our appetizer now."

With that, Steve headed into the kitchen leaving me to sink into the chair and compose myself. I straightened my blouse and caught my breath. I was sure my hair was a little mussed, but all I could do was quickly run my fingers through it. Steve returned, whistling, carrying two small plates and what looked like a small soufflé with some crackers.

"Blue cheese cake," he said.

He urged me on so I sliced a small bite. It was warm and gooey--the consistency of warm brie. The taste was perfect--strong enough but not sharp. As I savored it, I could only wonder what other hidden talents Steve had besides cooking. We made small talk about our week as we slowly consumed his feast.

"You like?" he asked, as I finished the last bite.

"Oh, I like," I replied. "Though I liked the pre-appetizer better."

Steve beamed, and I saw an opening for some teasing of my own. I leaned forward and spoke in a stage whisper.

"I would say that it made my panties wet, except for one thing. I'm not wearing any."

Steve's face cycled from surprised to delighted to devilish within a few seconds.

"Is that so?"

"Oh yes."

"Then maybe I should claim my second minute now."

"Mmmm," I purred, "Maybe."

That got to him.

"Please slide your chair back and then turn it until you are sitting sideways to the table."

I grinned and complied. Steve walked around the table and knelt down in front of me. He placed his hands on my knees and gently pushed them apart.

"Now," he began, "we need to ... verify ... this claim ... I believe." His fingers were caressing my inner thighs and as he slid his hands back and forth he pushed my skirt up.

"Let's see, stockings ... stockings..." He was sliding his hands up my inner thighs as he spoke.

"Still stockings ... what's this? Bare flesh? You really are wearing stockings!"

I almost giggled. His fingers probed further and I slid to the edge of my seat to accommodate him.

"More flesh ... more ... more ... why, you aren't wearing panties!"

I just grinned as he stroked my folds and then clit with one finger. It was hard under his touch.

"Why, I do believe," Steve said, dropping his finger down from my clit, "that your panties would be wet." With that, he thrust his finger inside me and I gasped. He began stroking me and I started to lean forward.

"Hands on the side of the chair please," he cautioned.

I dropped them into position and leaned back.

"Of course, I might need to look a little closer."

With that, Steve removed his hands and pushed my skirt up, completely revealing me. He slid forward and before I could do anything, his mouth was upon me. I gasped when his tongue found my clit. I started to reach down with my hands when I remembered his command and returned them to gripping the sides of the chair. Steve didn't pause. Within mere moments he'd figured out just how much pressure I liked and what sort of licks and strokes to make.

I looked down but Steve didn't look up. He was holding my hips now, preventing me from squirming out from under his tongue. The jolts of pleasure started then, shooting up from his touch. I closed my eyes and let myself go. In mere moments the jolts turned to waves and I let out a cry as my orgasm crashed through me.