[DAY 11] S C R E W D R I V E R

T H E  T A S T E… a Screwdriver is not a “vanilla” drink although if you’ve tasted it enough times, you can spot hints of the flavor married in the taste. Because of the mix of orange juice and vodka, Screwdrivers are smooth going down and has a tinge of spice in the aftertaste. When you take your first sip, chances are you’ll screw your face up at the taste. You can’t help it. The vodka is potent and although it is hidden a bit by the orange juice, it does little to keep you from having this reaction. This drink is not like it’s more acceptable drink sister, Mimosa. Though it’s fruity, it isn’t bubbly. Nor does it care to be. It’s got bite. Liquid sass. A Screwdriver is a simple drink, an easy sip. All it takes is you having it once (a good mix at least) for you to want it all the time.

TITLE: S C R E W D R I V E R

(A vignette from the Drinks On Me Series)

I pressed my mouth against his and tasted the vodka on his lips. The stubble of his beard tickled my chin and sent a charge between my thighs.

Watching him all night as he mingled with everyone else. Slowly taking his time as he made his way over was torture.

He made me wait for him on purpose.

Tease.

Corporate office parties…

The exchange of cordial words annoyed me.

I hated small talk.

You know the kind. Conversations always surrounding the weather and what I did or planned to do for the weekend… or in this case, the holidays.

Ugh, who cares?

Workplace bullshit. Water cooler politics.

Tonight’s office party was sponsored by the makers of all things intoxicated. Coworkers were out here advertising their assets in outfits they wouldn’t dare wear in their cubicles.

Office parties always brought out the nasty in us all. And that night wouldn’t be any different.

I tugged at his dress pants and he switched positions on me pressing my back against the wall behind the coats. His hand slid up my thigh and I made room for him to find the button to activate my freak.

What was a room without doors to two people who didn’t give a fuck? He had enough drinks in his system to ignore logic and my common sense became uncommon the moment I stepped through the lounge entrance and locked eyes with him.

“Right here?” I asked on his lips. The stretch of his grin against my mouth was all the answer he gave.

He pressed his body close to mine. His hand smoothed up my little black dress, grabbed a hold of my panties and slipped them down my thighs.

I kicked them off when they were low enough and held on to the back of his neck when he lifted me off my feet and placed me on the table behind us. I pushed most of the coats to the floor, leaned back, and watched him lower himself in front of me. He swiped his tongue between my slit and tickled my hood with his lips. Flicking his tongue back and forth over my nub then sucking on it like I glazed it with something sweet.

He rested my legs on top of his shoulders. Used his fingertips to spread my lips apart. Flattened his tongue and painted my tiny pink ball with it. He angled it, dipping the tip in my center. He ate like I was a meal. Slurped like I was his drink. Tongue fucked me like we were in love.

He had me on that table grabbing at coats, searching for something to assist with keeping my moans to myself.

But it was like I said, we didn’t give a fuck who heard, who caught us. The things they would say. The gossip they’d whisper amongst themselves whenever we weren’t around.

He pulled me closer to his mouth when I tried to run. Heat enveloped me. His hands slid up to palm my breasts, and he held on as my thighs muffed his ears and I wined my hips against his tongue.

I trembled while I rode his face. The sensitivity making my pussy pulse. He kept his jaw still as I percolated against his lips. My body vibrating against the sensation that made my nipples hard.

I tucked my lips into my mouth and pressed my hands against his head bringing him even closer to my kitty so he’d feel it purr.

He hummed against me and lapped at my juices causing me to jerk at every whip of his tongue. He responded by spreading my legs wider.

He unsealed his lips and looked up at me only for a moment to ask, “shall I keep going?”

I panted while nodding, pushing his head back into position and replied, “you should have never stopped.”

END.

Tomorrow at midnight… M I M O S A.

Previously… R U M & C O K E.

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Into erotic anthologies? Forbidden has five short stories, starring twelve characters. Click Here to read the first few pages of the intro for Forbidden.

4 Comments

  1. Latasha martin December 24, 2017

    He really shouldn’t try to talk while he’s eating😉😉😂😂 It goes down at office after work parties😍😍

    Reply
    • bkmosley December 24, 2017

      😂😏 yesss, office parties be LIVE!! That’s when you really get to know the colleagues… after they’ve had a few drinks in them 👀🙊

      Reply
  2. LeTara December 24, 2017

    Whew! That was fire!

    Reply
    • bkmosley December 25, 2017

      🤸🏾‍♀️💃🏾 Thank you!!! ♥️♥️

      Reply

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