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  “Maybe,” I answer, not giving too much away but not rejecting him just yet either.

  “Can I join you, ladies?” he asks as we turn to make our way back to our table.

  “Sure.”

  As we take our seats, I take a sip of the refreshing wine. I’m aware of his eyes on me, so I play just a little, licking my lips as I enjoy the cool, sweet taste.

  Roxy laughs.

  “I’m Dan,” the guy says as he continues to watch me.

  “I’m Jemma, that’s Roxy and Tia,” I tell him. The guitar strums and the song changes to a Thirsty Merc song. A few people in the crowd make their own dance floor in front of the singer, obviously, fans of the original band.

  I’ve got itchy feet; I really feel like dancing.

  “So, Dan, are you much of a dancer?” I question, pretty sure he will chicken out, but he surprises me and stands.

  “You are in luck. I do like to dance,” he confesses. “Although I can’t guarantee I dance well.” He chuckles.

  “You ladies coming?” I ask the others as we head over to the newly made dance floor.

  They follow, and we all let loose a little. Dancing is a favourite pastime of mine that I love; I could dance for hours on end to any kind of music.

  I sway and move my hips to the song. The others in the crowd are oblivious to us—it seems everyone is enjoying themselves and lost in the tunes.

  Dan doesn’t disappoint. He isn’t the best dancer, but he isn’t the worst. He moves his hips and arms in time with the music—he actually has rhythm—and doesn’t have any embarrassing moves like the chicken wing arms flapping wildly, the robot, the swimming strokes, and a few others that are lot worse and I just try to forget.

  Dan’s gaze turns to mine, and he smiles. His smile is infectious, and I return the grin. He dances a little closer to me, and his hand touches mine. Zap … electricity.

  I’m mentally ticking boxes in my head. Box one, he has the body, box two, he is easy on the eye, box four, he bought the drink, so all that is left now is … can the guy kiss?

  It’s like he reads my mind. He moves in closer again; our fingers touch, and he grabs my hand. I don’t object as his other hand finds my waist; he tugs me, connecting our bodies. Part of me wants to dive in for the kiss, but sometimes feeling wanted is nice.

  His pastel blue eyes lock with mine as he yanks my body flush against his, making me blush just a little. His lips eagerly find mine, and he softly kisses me, slowly at first, but as I kiss him back, I feel our hunger for more increase.

  I slip my tongue into his mouth, and he moans in response. Knowing that he likes it encourages me to massage his tongue a little faster; my hands find his arms, and I rub my fingers along his firm triceps. This drives men crazy.

  He follows my lead and massages my tongue with his and deepens the kiss, holding me tight, my tits straining against his firm, muscly chest.

  The wind is pulled from my lungs. I come up for air and break the seal.

  There it is …

  All four boxes ticked.

  Now if I were looking for something long-term, I would slip him my number and go on a few dates. But this is the twenty-first century. Why should I be expected to keep it in my pants when guys never do?

  Sex is fun; it’s enjoyable. No relationship expectations or contracts, no one telling you what to wear or bossing you around. I enjoy my independence!

  Well, sure, I get lonely. Sometimes my bed feels a little cold, but when I freak out and become claustrophobic after sex, it puts it all back into perspective.

  In the words of Alice Deejay, “Better off Alone.” Why should I change a good thing?

  ***

  In the kissing department, this guy gets a ten out of ten. It's rare I give such a high score; he should consider himself lucky.

  "Wanna come back to mine?" he asks me between our touchy-feely kissing adventures.

  "My roommate is away working."

  "Sure," I reply casually even though I’m feeling antsy and hornier than a bitch in heat. Keep cool, calm, and collected.

  “Just let me tell Roxy, and we can go,” I add as he dives in for one last kiss.

  I stride slowly over to her, and I can’t hide my smile. I try, but when my bestie sees my face, her mouth widens.

  “You dirty ho. Guess I won’t be seeing you till tomorrow,” she states, winking. I can always count on her for support and understanding—of course, this includes the playful insults. Who is she to deny my fun and freedom?

  “Be safe and smart,” she whispers in my ear. “Oh, and have fun.”

  “Yes, Mother,” I say sarcastically as I hug her and Tia. I give them one last wave as I head over to get outta this joint with sexy blue eyes.

  “Let’s go,” he states, leading the way down the stairwell.

  He eagerly walks me out the front, and we wait in the taxi line. Only one person is in front of us, thank God. I’m feeling impatient. His hands roam under the back of my top, sending goosebumps down my spine and making me shudder in anticipation.

  He leans in for a kiss; it’s filled with hunger and passion. He is just as desperate for this as I am. I need this release. I need my itch scratched badly.

  I pull back for a breather. God, if my mother could see me now, all slutty in the car park of a club, she would have kittens. Well, sure, she knows I’m no angel, but too much PDA with a random I just met really doesn’t do much for my credibility—or hers, for that matter. Whoops. Sorry, Mum.

  “Easy, boy, let’s wait for your place,” I whisper, trying to tone it down a notch and pull the reins in just a little.

  He nods in agreement even though I can see him practically undressing me with his eyes. This man is either as insatiable as I am, or it’s been a while and he’s desperate.

  Either way, it’s turning me on.

  He wants me.

  Not in a stalker kind of way, either.

  It’s lust.

  It’s hot.

  I want exactly what he is offering.

  I manage to keep him off me for the fifteen-minute car trip. I hop out as he pays the driver, and then his mouth is on mine, kissing me hard.

  His rough hands are on my tits, grabbing a handful. I eagerly push into his body and lift my leg, rubbing his hard crotch.

  I'm about ready to ditch his pants and mount him; the waiting is killing me!

  "Unless you want your neighbours to see your bare ass, let's get upstairs," I order.

  "You got it, hot stuff," he says with his rugged voice.

  I smile at his comment.

  Nothing like the ridiculous “sweet buns.” And his voice is sexy as hell!

  He hastily grabs my hand and drags me through the foyer of his apartment building and up two flights of stairs. I playfully slide my other hand into the back of his jeans, eager for more.

  He hurriedly lets us in, and we walk into the darkness of his apartment. Without any more hesitation, he pulls me into his arms and kisses me ferociously.

  Yes! I like this intensity.

  “You said when we got to my place,” he states cheekily as he backs me into the wall and kisses me hard.

  Fuck. That is hot.

  I moan and kiss him back just as vigorously. All bets are off …

  He lifts me to straddle his waist. I don’t hold back as he squeezes me tight, now rubbing his hands inside the back of my jeans across my bare arse.

  Flick. He playfully snaps my thong. I chuckle into our hungry kiss.

  His lips form a smile then he sucks on my tongue, changing the mood to seductive and getting me wetter instantly.

  He grips my arse as he walks me into what I assume is his room. I decide to break the kiss and be a little more playful, licking and nibbling on his earlobe.

  “Mmm,” he moans in satisfaction.

  He leans me onto the bed and playfully unbuttons my jeans and starts to pull them down.

  "Heels too, genius," I say playfully, knowing he won’t get the jeans past them.
/>   "Only to get the jeans off and then they are going back on," he orders.

  I like his way of thinking ...

  Though I can't promise I won't stab him in the back or neck when I change positions.

  The room is pitch-black. He disappears for a second. A lamp flicks on, and he is back, admiring my purple leopard-print thong. He plays with the little silver heart.

  "Nice touch,” he says, smirking as he flicks it then traces around the outside, finally stopping at my favourite spot.

  It's my J spot (Yeah, I know, G spot, but J for Jemma).

  I’m not sure if I can handle the teasing. I fist his hair, running my nails along his scalp, and eagerly pull his face to mine, kissing him deeply as I arch my body up against his.

  I don’t really do subtle.

  “You read my mind. You sure you don’t wanna go slower, baby?” he questions, panting.

  “Not this time.” He smiles, probably at the thought of round two.

  With no more hesitation, his lips are on mine. He kisses me hungrily; we moan at the passion and intensity.

  He traces kisses down my neck, soft nibbles along the way, then licking.

  He reaches my breast and yanks down my top and bra, exposing my hard nipple. Wasting no more time, he flicks it with his tongue and sucks on it hard. I’m sure there will be a hickey, but it’s so good.

  He exposes my other nipple and rubs it with his thumb and forefinger, flicking and massaging. Wetness pools in my groin. I can’t help but thrust upwards again.

  “Aren’t we eager?” he whispers.

  “Take your pants off and I’ll show you,” I pretty much order him, sick of pussyfooting around.

  “Fuck, that comment just made me even harder,” he replies as he stands and takes off his jeans. The tent he’s pitching in his boxers is quite impressive.

  He pulls them down, exposing his thick, long, erect cock.

  “Well, I’m impressed, big boy,” I tell him, and he chuckles loudly.

  “Lie down,” I order him. I’m up on all fours already as he lies down, following my command. His breathing is laboured, and his cock twitches. Knowing the thought of getting head turns guys on is a total turn-on for me too.

  Control …

  I waste no time gripping his cock; it’s so warm, and throbbing from his excitement. He moans.

  I gaze at his now dark blue eyes, which are watching me intensely. I keep my gaze fixed on his as I flick the tip of his cock with my tongue. He trembles.

  Now for my party trick.

  I take no prisoners.

  I open my mouth wide and take the full length of his glorious cock into the back of my throat, totally catching him off guard—as I like to because the shock value is a huge turn-on.

  I deep throat him and suck all the way to the tip then repeat, over and over, as he moans so loudly I know it’s good.

  “Fuck, woman,” he shouts in pleasure as I continue my assault. I won’t be finishing him off just yet; a girl’s not a camel.

  My turn.

  I’m now in control.

  “Saddle up, big boy,” I say, grinning, then I bite my bottom lip. It’s something I do when I’m turned on. Kind of a pause before I attack, jump on what I want.

  His eyes widen as he eagerly reaches over to his top drawer. He rips open the foil packet, and in ten seconds flat, he’s rolled the rubber along his length.

  I follow his lead and stand as I remove my thong and singlet top. He watches me unfasten the matching purple leopard-print push-up bra.

  My tits bounce free. I’m pretty proud of my DDs.

  His eyes widen as he leans forward for a feel, cupping them both.

  I hastily push him back onto the bed as I’m ready for full throttle.

  I hungrily climb on top. Feeling the tip of his cock at my dripping entrance, I push slowly. His hardness slides inside me; that initial feeling never gets old.

  I moan as I take his length all the way.

  His thickness is great, very impressive.

  I move my hips, taking him deeper, then all the way out, then deeper in again.

  He thrusts upwards as we find a nice rhythm.

  Eagerly, he pulls me down hard and pushes inside deeper, just the way I like it. Hitting my spot.

  “There,” I scream as he repeats the thrust, driving me insane. I ride him like a cowboy would ride a horse.

  His thickness and length fit inside me like a hand in a glove; his hard rod glides in and out perfectly.

  “My turn,” he states as he flips me onto the bed.

  Most boys I’ve been with don’t know what they are doing; this guy is a man!

  His tip finds my slickness and he thrusts deep inside, hitting the jackpot over and over and over. His rhythm and thrust is perfect; I’m so close to unravelling, and it will be a big one.

  I hungrily pull his face to mine and kiss him hard, feeling so fucking hot and horny.

  His hips thrust harder as he fucks me hard and fast.

  “Yes,” I scream in pleasure as my orgasm hits me like lightning. I convulse and shatter into oblivion; my juices explode as I ride the wave of ecstasy.

  He doesn’t stop; massaging my J spot, he adds to the intensity. I totally come apart again, faster and more intense.

  He follows with his own hard orgasm. As he fucks me into oblivion, he moans and shakes, his last few thrusts intensifying.

  His breath is hot on my neck as he kisses me softly.

  I don’t freak, enjoying the closeness and our laboured breathing post orgasm.

  “You are one hot woman, Jemma,” he states then kisses me one last time on the lips before he climbs off.

  “Let’s get showered,” he suggests, and I nod, feeling sticky and sweaty yet totally fucking satisfied.

  Chapter 2

  Variety is the Spice of Life

  My work is really the only constant in my life. It’s the longest I’ve stayed in one place, to be honest. I usually get bored with routine or arsehole bosses.

  But sometimes there is an exception to the rule, and God, I love my current job as a veterinary nurse. I’ve been with PAWS Veterinary Clinic for four years, and sure, there is room for growth or a higher position, but I have no time to study for a veterinary degree. Plus, it's more fun this way. Less pressure!

  I basically get to hug and play with some of the cutest puppies and kittens between a few of the not-so-fun parts of the position. No two days are ever the same. We administer needles, give meds, perform surgeries, neuter, boarding, flea baths, and the newest program we offer is puppy school.

  I'm trained in all areas and constantly volunteer to mix up my roster. Variety is the spice of life. In all aspects of life …

  Karly is a licensed vet and works with the owner, Tony. She is in her early thirties, engaged to be married, and she just had her dark brown hair styled into the cutest bob. It frames her face and suits her Lois Lane glasses.

  Jasmine and Crystal are assistants like I am; both are single and like the party life. We get along like a house on fire. Jasmine has dark curly hair that she mainly pulls back into a bun. She is originally from New Zealand and has beautiful olive skin and green eyes.

  Crystal is a bleached blonde; her hair is very short, spiky in parts, but layered to achieve the fashionable messy look.

  Most days are a hoot. Of course, we tone it down when the boss is around or just have our conversations in another room to hide some of the crude comments and actions. I’m sure he’s onto us, though.

  If we do our work and respect the animals and customers, Tony seems to be fine with our eccentric behaviour and sarcasm.

  Tony is nerdy, with dark hair and glasses, a bit on the tubby side, but when it comes to animals, he knows his shit. Even worked at the main veterinary hospital in Melbourne with twenty staff beneath him. His move to Sydney devastated them. He opted for the smaller practice and more time with his family; he and his wife have two young girls.

  This is another reason we are always super bu
sy. People travel with their pets for the best care, and that is what they get with Tony. He has a highly-regarded reputation.

  He is also a very fair boss unlike the arseholes I’ve crossed in the past.

  Mind you I’d rather work for The Bondi Vet, Dr. Chris Brown, with his blond hair and chiselled body, he is very easy on the eyes.

  Yes, please, the image of him holding a Labrador puppy makes my ovaries explode.

  “Jemma, can you please give Dash in cage three a flea bath?” Tony requests as I finish printing a vaccination certificate.

  “Sure thing,” I reply, cringing at the thought of a hundred little fleas jumping on my arms as I kill them with the toxic shampoo, but I love the thought of stopping the itch for the little guy.

  I run the warm water and collect Dash, who I find out is the cutest Dalmatian, from his cage. Placing him into the warm water, I lather the shampoo and start to scrub. I’ve seen much worse with fleas; this one is manageable.

  I find myself thinking about Dan as I rinse and repeat the shampoo.

  Of course, being the latest conquest in a line of many, he actually didn’t disappoint. He kept his end of the one-night stand bargain and satisfied me in the bedroom, unlike bad lay and others before him.

  As I reminisce about our encounter, his super-short brown hair and striking features, including those gorgeous blue irises, I keep racking my brain, trying to figure out who Dan reminds me of.

  I think of him thrusting inside me and envisage his face; he was indeed very nice-looking.

  Then it hits me.

  He looks like Justin Timberlake in Friends with Benefits; that toned chest, stubble on his face. He’s without a doubt a hottie. Not to mention the humour. I love that movie.

  Dan kinda gave a guy-next-door impression, but then, of course, when we had sex, he became a hotter, dirtier version. Imagine having a neighbour like that …

  “Come here, little guy,” I say to Dash as I dry him and place him on the plastic to comb out the dead fleas. Little suckers …

  It takes around ten minutes to comb them all out. I’ve spent over an hour on an extreme flea infestation before; it still haunts me.

  “All done. I bet you feel so much better,” I say in my cute animal voice. We all have that high-pitched voice when talking to babies and animals.