Give Me Moor by Charlene_Flanagan,Charlene_Flanagan

The bell on the door dinged as people flitted in and out of the coffee shop. The smell of cinnamon rolls, vanilla lattes, and strong black coffee wafted around the air conditioned café, buzzing with weekday regulars. Sarah typed away at her laptop, finishing up the first draft of her dissertation on feminism in literature. She chose to write about characters like Elizabeth Bennet, Catherine Earnshaw, and Hester Prynn–women who embody traditional femininity combined with a free-thinking, rebellious, and an indomitable spirit; her research would focus on how these women were far ahead of their time, yet completely relatable in the world of dating apps, cancel culture, and trigger warnings. Taking a swig of her double espresso, she tucked back the strands of hair that had escaped from her low twist up-do amidst the ferocious typing and frantic texting with her professor, begging for an extension on her deadline. ‘I shouldn’t have lingered at the bar or had all those tequila shots,’ she thought to herself. Then again, she wouldn’t have spotted the gorgeous teaching assistant, the one the entire female population in her Victorian Literature class were low key crushing on, sitting alone at the corner table.

She smiled, thinking back to the night. The air was heavy with suggestion, and she was inspired by the strong women she’d only been reading about. But if she were being honest, she was probably most inspired by Prynn and the reason she was labelled A–for adultery. She took a deep breath, and noticed that the caffeine jitters were starting to take control. She needed food. She couldn’t survive on caffeine and bad decisions alone. Well, almost couldn’t. She made her way to the counter, standing in line to place her order. She needed carbs to soak up all the tequila. She was running on fumes–three hours of sleep, and dorm room microwave meals. As she stood in line, her thoughts drifted back to the bar, the animated discussion about symbolism, Marxism, and how the theory could and should be applied to her dissertation. They argued, laughed, discussed her professor, and after a lot of alcohol, she slowly noticed his strong jaw, a faint scent of cigarettes mixed in with the musky scent of his sweat and the leather from his cologne. He’d been leaning in, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes every time he stopped to sip his beer. Sarah’s breath began to get ragged, and her fingers instinctively went to her mouth, feeling her chapped lips, still raw from hungry kisses. Absentmindedly smiling as she recalled the way her skin grew hot under his touch, she was rudely brought back to reality when a visibly annoyed gentleman tapped her shoulder and rolled his eyes when she asked him why. Embarrassed and clearly flushed, she apologised, stepped up to the counter, placed her order, and made her way back to her window table at the corner of the café.

Spritzing on a face mist in an attempt to calm her arousal, she tried to get her mind out of the gutter and refocus on her paper. “The wildness of the moors,” she wrote, “mirrored the overarching theme in Wuthering Heights.” ‘Wild,’ she thought, ‘moors’, she mumbled, ignoring the words on the screen, once again losing herself to that corner table at the bar, cigarette smoke, and those piercing brown eyes. She hadn’t expected to bump into him–and she figured a guy like him probably had a list of women on speed dial. She was just another notch on his belt. But she didn’t care. She wanted more of him, all of him. Unfiltered, unadulterated, raw. Quite like Heathcliff.

Last night for her was different–she felt bold, daring even. And she needed to pick his brain for “research”. But the buzz she had going took the conversation down a path she knew was tethering on illicit. The fact that she knew it was wrong, stirred this lust to learn and absorb. She’d gotten a small taste of his mind, and there was an undeniable thirst to take it all in.

The waiter cut through her heated memories as he placed the cinnamon roll on the table. Looking up, she smiled her ‘Thank you,’ too riled up to speak. Fidgeting with the collar of her shirt, she felt her pulse quicken as images of the night came flooding back.

A dozen beer bottles and six shot glasses were strewn across the table. Sarah was tipsy, and giggling at every word that came out of his lips. She’d noticed how prominent his cupid’s bow was, and how, when he smiled, a barely-visible dimple teased at the corner of his mouth. She loved his shaggy hair and his black-rimmed glasses. She’d always had a thing for men with glasses. She heaved and excused herself, making her way to the restroom. The beer needed an outlet, and she needed to calm herself. After she was done, she splashed cold water on her face, staring at her flushed reflection in the mirror. Dabbing a paper towel to dry her face and compose herself, she decided she would make her move. As she reached for the knob, the door swung open and he pushed her back into the restroom. She looked up at those brown eyes, his tall frame towering over her. His breath smelled of tequila and cigarettes, and she could feel her knees start to weaken. He held her gaze, looking from her lips to her breast, and back into her eyes. Sarah licked her lips, and gulped, and before she could speak, she felt his lips press down on hers in a slightly sloppy, wet kiss. She didn’t mind the way his tipsy mouth maneuvered over hers, the way he bit down gently on her lower lip. She recalled the way his salty skin tasted as she nibbled on his earlobes, and licked his neck before sucking his flesh between her lips, leaving a big scarlet mark where her mouth had been.

She felt his erection press up against her as he lifted her off the ground and she wrapped her legs around him. The kissing grew intense. She felt the cool air tease her exposed breasts as he pulled down her tank top and lacy bra, taking her protruding right nipple between his teeth, his thumb grazing across the other. Her breathing got laboured as she struggled to keep her desire from consuming her. Grabbing the back of his head, she entwined his hair between her fingers, tugging at it a little harder, asserting her control. “Not here,” she whispered. “Let’s go back to your apartment. I know you’re not too far from campus.” His desire weighed heavier than his surprise, and composing themselves, they headed out of the restroom, paid their bar tab, and walked the 10-minute stretch to his studio apartment.

The silence was palpable, and Sarah’s legs couldn’t seem to get her there fast enough. They were almost at his apartment when suddenly, he pulled her closer, pushed her up against the tree along the sidewalk, and stuck his tongue down her throat. His fingers teased the elastic band of her panties, as he unbuttoned her jeans. Slipping a finger inside the lacy fabric, he felt the wetness of her mound. Parting her lips, he slowly traced tiny circles on her swollen clit, flicking gently as he watched her succumb to her pleasure in the dim silver moonlight. Her breathing became short and rapid, and he could see her body tense, writhing in pleasure under his touch. Her legs began to tremble ever so slightly, and just before they could buckle under the weight of her climax, he pulled his hand away, sucked his fingers, buttoned up her jeans, and began walking the last few meters to his apartment.

Once there, he slammed the door shut and pulled her into him, cupping her breasts. His back to the door, he pressed his erection against her toned buttocks. Massaging her breasts, he lifted her top off, pinching her nipples through the lace of her black bra. Pulling down the cups, he began kissing the back of her neck, grinding his boner between her butt cheeks, denim being the only constrictor. A low moan escaped her lips and he massaged harder, pinching her nipples between his index and middle fingers. Swiftly turning her around, he lifted her off the floor her by her ass, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. Taking her nipples one by one between his teeth, he occasionally flicked his tongue across her perky breasts, slowly leading her to the bed. Throwing her down, he spread her legs with his knees and glanced at her naked chest, staring at his prize.

The moonlight filtered in through his bare windows and cast a silver-grey shadow across his strong jaw. Bending over, he unbuttoned her jeans once again, this time releasing her legs from the confines of her tight, skinny jeans. He wet sex glistened through the black lace of her panties. Lifting her by the hips, he pulled her to the edge of the bed. He bent down on his knees, taking in the smell of her arousal. Lifting up the side of her panties, and pushing the fabric to one side, he gently glided his thumb over her visibly swollen nub, rubbing as he watched her arch her back with each flick of his fingers. When he heard the longing in her moan, he slid off her panties, and buried his face between her legs. He opened his mouth wide enveloping her lips and swollen clit, the warmth of his breath, gently heating up her already aroused sex. Each breath made her squirm with desire, and after he teased and tormented her, he began to glide his lips over her clit, darting his tongue back and forth, up and down, allowing the pressure to build as he tasted her wetness. Sliding one finger into her, he began massaging the insides of her pussy, slowly inserting more fingers and picking up pace. Soon, the muscles tightened around his fingers and she began to quake with pleasure as he finally let her climax, the denial from earlier making its escape. And just as she could feel her body start to calm down, he stuck out his tongue and held the entire length of it firmly against her pulsating mound. She’d never gotten head like that before, and it felt like he was only getting started.

And he was. He didn’t let her excitement die down, just flirted with it enough to keep her in an endless state of arousal. ‘I like playing with my food,’ he teased repeatedly. He’d eaten her out on the couch, bending her over the railing of his balcony, ate her out as she hovered precariously over his face, using the armrest of his lounger as her only support. He toyed, teased, licked, fingered, and left her a heaping pile of juices and shaky knees. And when he was fully satisfied that he’d played enough, he slid his long, thick member into her soaked pussy, gently inching his way deeper, stretching her walls and testing her limits. She was tight; she’d never managed to take a cock as big as his. At least not before tonight.

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