Rebecca Sherwin's Blog, page 5

The Grind

Part 1

I am rushing to work, with my blond hair still damp from the shower,  tucking my red blouse into my black trousers. I pull my keys out of my bag as I near the entrance of ‘The Grind’, the small coffee shop on the corner of the high street, and find the right key.

It’s only seven a.m. and I was supposed to have the morning off, but Erin called me to tell me she had forgotten her keys. So here I am, looking a state, handing my gorgeous co-worker my keys.

“You’re a life-saver,” she sighs, shoving the key in the lock and throwing the door open, “Ken would have my apron if he knew I’d dragged you in again.”

Subtle, Erin, real subtle.

“Who’s going to tell him?” I ask, my usual response, “I can keep a secret. It’ll be easier with two of us anyway.”

We walk inside, locking the door behind us, until we open in half an hour. Erin turns the power on, while I head to the coffee machine to get it going. I’ve build up a dependency on the energy-giving ground bean. You have to, working in this place. It’s a hot spot for people on their way into the city; they stop by in their expensive suits, with their brisk tones and lack of manners and inhale cup after cup of morning juice.

“So how was your night, Abs?” Erin asks, and I roll my eyes. She obviously wants to talk about her night; she’s the nymphyist nymph I’ve ever met.

I, on the other hand, was given the innocent name, Abigail. I shortened it to Abby in college because of the ridiculous ‘hey baby Abigail’ comments at school. Erin calls me Abs, the only person who can. Because she thinks it gives me sex appeal.

“It was okay. I didn’t really do much.” Never do. It comes with being thought of as the virginal blonde Abigail, “you?”

“I spent the night with Brandon.”

Ah, Brandon. Guitar playing, serial tattooist Brandon. One of Erin’s many men. I think she assigns them each a day. Hell, she probably has enough to have to pencil in time slots.

“I bet you did,” I laugh, and head to the back to grab the syrups from the fridge.

I’m no virgin; there have been a few encounters. Three being the operative word. I’m no virgin Mary, but I’m definitely not a sexual connoisseur, and do not have the knowledge of toys and positions that Erin loves to share with me.



We open the doors at seven thirty and there is already a small queue of people outside. They flow in and I make my way back to the counter, where Erin has taken pride of place at the till. I wash my hands and prepare to be the coffee maker for the rush.

“What can I get for you?” I hear Erin ask as I’m pouring frothed milk on to a cappuccino for one of the short stumpy bankers that frequent the shop every morning.

“I’ll have the usual.”

There is no response from Erin. I smile to myself, put the lid on top of the Styrofoam cup and slide it across the counter to the banker. He mumbles a thank you and I shake my head and turn to the customer Erin has still not spoken to.

“Oh, he has a triple shot, cappuccino, extra hot.” I look to the man I’ve served and dreamt about many times, and down at the sachets he holds in his hand, “he puts the sugar in before you put the milk on. Good morning, Sir.”

I smile at him and turn back to the machine to put his coffee together. I put the cup on the counter, and before I let go he wraps his hand around mine, holding it to the cup, and tips two sachets of brown sugar into the coffee. I gasp.

“Sorry,” I mutter. I obviously didn’t move my hand away quick enough. He’s in a rush to get to work, “Sorry.”

When he doesn’t move his hand, but strokes his thumb along the back of my hand, I look up to meet his green eyes. Vibrant and sparkling, a world of intelligence and culture behind them. I’ve seen him before, Triple-Shot-Extra-Hot man, but I’ve never really seen him. I’d guess he was in his late twenties, a good few inches above six foot, and chestnut hair clipped at the sides and left unruly on top...

He frees my hand and I fumble back to the machine to pour the milk into the cup.

“Chocolate on top?” I ask. He changes his mind daily on the little cocoa on top, I don’t know why.

“No chocolate today,” he speaks slowly, in the low voice that has become like music to my eyes. They say coffee gets you going in the morning. For me, it’s this man, “I’ve had my sweetness for today already.”

I blush as his gaze flicks to my lips. I snag the bottom one between my teeth and bite hard.

“Three pound twenty,” Erin barks, forgetting her manners.

The man pulls his wallet out of his tailor-made trouser pocket and hands her a ten pound note.

“Keep the change, girls.” He smiles at me and reaches for his coffee which is far enough away that there will be no more physical contact. Unfortunately. A brush of hands with this man is all I’m going to get, so I will make the most of it. The memory of the spark of electricity, and instant ignition of something deep within me, will come to bed with me tonight, “See you tomorrow, Angel.”

He nods, still looking in my direction and turns to leave.

“Have a good day, Sir.” I call after him, watching as he leaves.

The muscles of his back ripple beneath his suit jacket and there is no doubt that the body beneath the clothes is sculpted, powerful and female-attracting. My body hums at him calling me Angel. Anyone else would have got a torrent of abuse, or at least a snide remark for making assumptions about me because I have blonde hair, and was denied height during adolescence, but the way his voice caressed the words was like the full fat mocha the next customer orders.



~

I am shifted on for the open the next day, and get the shop open with ten minutes to spare, managing to sit down with my now cold coffee and watch the queues build outside. Erin turns up just as I’m opening the doors, and takes place by the coffee machine.

“When he comes in today, I’m going to corner him.” she says, referring to the god that called me Angel yesterday.

Yes, I dreamt of him. I dreamt of him calling me Angel, while whispering in my ear and pulling my naked body to his. I dreamt of him running his hands over every inch of my body, while I kissed and licked and nipped his. I dreamt of my back arching as he explored my body in the expert way I know he possesses. And when I climaxed in my sleep, he was right there with me, telling me I was a good girl and stroking my sweat soaked hair away from my head as I came back down from the other realm he sent me to. I woke up, gasping for breath, and took a shower in the early hours of this morning.

“Corner him for what?” I ask.

“Didn’t you hear him call me Angel?” she asks, and I stifle a laugh. Oh Jesus, “I’m going to see if he wants to meet up...after hours.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I ask, turning to my next customer and taking her order.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

I shrug and continue tapping orders into the till and giving the receipt to Erin.



The god comes in as the rush is ending, and I step back, retracting. That man was in my dreams last night, providing me with the best orgasm I’ve ever had, and my memories did no justice. He’s dressed in grey today, a day’s stubble covering his jaw, and the ice blue tie he has contrasts with his eyes.

“Good morning, Sir.” I greet, turning to Erin who is already scrambling to rush his coffee so she has time to ‘corner’ him.

She makes the biggest mistake she could have made when making this man’s coffee for him. She hands him the cup, the cappuccino expertly prepared, and reaches for a lid to secure on top.

He clears his throat, “I put the sugar in before the milk. It ruins the coffee otherwise.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Erin giggles and flicks her hair behind her shoulders, “I’m sorry. I’m nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?” he asks, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Because I wanted to ask you what you were doing this weekend? I thought maybe we could hook up.”

Smooth. Apparently people do what she just did. That’s embarrassing; I’m embarrassed for her. Or of her, I haven’t decided yet.

“Excuse me?” he calls and I know he’s calling me. I lift my head to look at him, pursing my lips to hide my smile, “could you?”

He nods towards the coffee machine, completely ignoring Erin. She turns bright red, and pulls me to the coffee machine, slipping behind me to take control of the till.

“No one does it like you do...what’s your name?”

No one does it like I do? How I wish he was talking of something other than the coffee I’m pouring.

“Abby. My name is Abby,” I drop the coffee on to the counter, pulling my hand back and shoving them into the pocket of my apron. If he touches me again, I’ll embarrass myself, never mind Erin.

“I’m Edward,” he offers, pouring the sugar slowly into the cup. He sounds cold. Is he angry that I didn’t give him the opportunity to touch me? “No one does it like you do, Abbie.”

“Thank you, Edward. I’ve worked here a while.”

“I’m not talking about the coffee.” He leans over, resting his forearms on the counter and for the first time I smell him. Oh god. He smells good. I don’t even know what it is; it’s just so...him, “what time do you get off?”

The minute you touch me.

“Six.”

“So if I were to come back at a quarter to, am I likely to coerce you into having a drink with me?”

I’m nodding before I even register his question.

“I’ll see you at five forty five then Abigail. And,” Oh god. He leans closer and I feel his warmth radiating off him as he whispers in my ear, “I prefer it when you call me Sir.”

He steps away from the counter and folds his arms while I shakily put together the rest of his order.

“I’ll take the chocolate,” he says, “it’ll tide me over ‘til later.”

I blush. I don’t need to look at my reflection in the stainless steel machine to see it. I’m hot, my skin is prickling with heat, and arousal pools in the bottom of my stomach. My hands tremble as I shake over the cocoa, and I only just manage to get the lid on the cup without sending it spilling everywhere.

“Until tonight.” He hands Erin the money, without looking away from me, and turns to leave.

“Have a good day...Sir.” I call out in a sheer act of bravery, and don’t miss his step falter.





“You want me to stay?” Erin asks.

It’s one of a handful of sentences she’s spoken since this morning. I don’t know if she’s embarrassed by her behaviour this morning, or if she’s angry that Edward ignored her, and gave me all his attention. I’ll bet it’s not the first time a girl has made the mistake of trying to call the shots with him. Or the first time a woman has fallen all over him and his charm. And judging by how he ignored and brushed Erin off with ease, I don’t think it was the first time he rejected said falling women.

“I think I’ll be okay.” I answer, taking out the filters of the machine to put them in the dishwasher.

“But he could be a rapist, or a murderer, or...a...anything else dangerous.”

“You weren’t worried about that when you unabashedly asked to hook up with him.”

“Yeah, well,” she snorts and pays attention to a particular stain on the table, “I’m well and truly bashed now. Thanks to your innocent act.”

The second the words leave her mouth, the bell above the door chimes and we both look up to see Edward strolling in, his tie loose around the top of his white shirt, the top two buttons undone, and his jacket under his arm. The stubble is darker, but he looks as enigmatic as ever as he glances sideways at Erin and makes his way to the counter.

“Hi,” I say, suddenly feeling awkward. He’s not here for coffee this time, he’s here for me. And I don’t know why.

“She’s still here?” he asks, nodding towards a chagrined Erin. I nod, “I was hoping we’d be alone.”

There’s no mistaking the intention in his eyes, although his expression and body language give nothing away. That body. The body I crave on mine, under mine, behind mine. But I thought I’d only ever have that in my dreams.

“Good luck with that.” Erin walks past the counter and throws her j-cloth on the counter between Edward and I, “this one doesn’t put out.”

The jealousy leaks from her voice in streams shrouded in a green aura, and she makes her way to the back. No doubt to get ready to finish early and go and see one of the many who haven’t rejected her.

“She’s a treat.” Edward smirks and beckons me to join him on the other side, “So you don’t put out?”

He’s serious suddenly and the nerves hit me. His intentions, if not clear before, are crystal now.

“I...Not usually.” I answer, almost honestly. I don’t usually put out, bordering on never.

“But...”

“But nothing.”

He nods, thinking, “I see.”

I meet him on the shop floor and he gets his first good look at my body. The uniform does no justice. I’m in shape, but inherited my mother’s petite frame. My blouse swamps me so I tie it in a knot at the side, and realise that my stomach is showing. Edward bites his bottom lip as his eyes reach my bare skin and then shoot up to my face.

“What you see isn’t what you get with you is it, Abigail?”

“I’m sorry?”

 I follow him to the table with a sofa on one side, and two chairs on the other. Edward settles himself on one end of the worn leather sofa, and pats the seat next to him, for me to take. I sit down, facing him and cross my legs under myself. Edward relaxes, faces me and draws his knee up onto the sofa, resting it against mine.

“I think there’s a lot inside you, that you keep hidden.”

“That’s quite an assumption, for someone who just wants me to put out.”

“Watch your tone,” he sanctions and I feel my eyes widen. What? “I’m not making assumptions. I’m telling you what I know.”

“You know nothing about me.”

I look around for Erin, ready to use her as an escape clause.

“I know you’re not a virgin.”

“What?”

“You know how to use your body. That comes mainly from dancing or from sexual confidence. You don’t have the quads to be a dancer, so I deduced that you are sensual.”

Holy shit, he’s watched my body. My blood heats at the thought, wishing I had had the experience to notice it, and the confidence to use it to my advantage.

“I know you want me.” He continues and I open my mouth, to say what I’m not sure, “it’s in your eyes, your body language. Even your voice.”

“So you’re stalking me?”

He shakes his head and laughs, before reaching for my hand and lacing his fingers with mine, on the back of the sofa.

“Not my thing,” his eyes look into mine and if green could burn they’d be sending sparks, “I don’t hide in the bushes and observe. If I want something I go and get it.”

“And you want me?” it is meant to be a realisation, but it comes out a high pitched squeak, and quite clear that I need it confirmed.

“I told you. No one does it like you do.”

“Does what?” I’m in over my head here. I don’t know how to do this mysterious, alluring stuff.

“Ask me again.” He says. I look at him confused, but when he cocks an eyebrow, I know what he’s talking about. I look for Erin again, to make sure she isn’t listening in, and keep my voice low.

“What do I do...Sir?”

“Good girl.” he lifts his free hand to cup my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb. My insides somersault. I dreamt of him saying that, “Turn me on. No one does to my dick what you do.”

Oh god. He said it. And my god, did it sound good. No longer like warm chocolate mocha, but something darker, and raw. I swallow hard, and shake my head, unable to find words in the university-educated brain I possess.

“Say nothing.” He whispers, and Erin comes back round to the front.

Edward moves his hand from my face, settling it on my leg, his fingers squeezing my inner thigh. I feel my underwear instantly saturate, my body preparing for his hands to move higher. My brain telling me he has his hands on me. His prowess intimidates me, but his gentile comforts me, and at the this moment, there is nowhere I would rather be.

“I told you it was an act.” Erin scoffs and leaves the shop, slamming the door so hard, there is no time for the bell to chime.

Edward stands up, and my body almost convulses from the loss.

“Where are the lights?” he asks, making his way to the door and flipping the lock. I can’t speak, so I’m glad when he notices the panel for the lights next to the door and flips them, so only the dim lighting behind the counter remains.

“You can trust me, Angel.” He says, sauntering towards me, and untying his tie, “I just need to you to tell me you want this.”

“I want this.” I need it. I need to feel what I’ve dreamt of so many nights. I need to be shown what a man in control can do. I need this man.

“And you trust me?”

Do I? Do I trust a complete stranger with a body guaranteed to win in any physical fight with me, with a mind educated enough to talk rings around me? Yes. I do.

I nod.

“Pardon?”

“Yes, Sir.”

His smile would be cute, if it weren’t for the carnality in those dark green eyes.

“Stand up.” He orders, adjusting himself, drawing my attention to the strain in another pair of tailor-made trousers. Oh god.

I quickly do as I’m told and stand in front of him. Edward makes short work of unbuttoning my work blouse, exposing my heavy breasts held up by a black balconette bra; it is paired with a pair of lace hotpants. It was the only matching ensemble I had clean this morning.

He surprises me by putting his tie around my neck and leaving it to hang around my scorching skin, and deftly undoes the buttons on his shirt, sliding it down his strong arms to pool on the floor at his feet. My mouth hangs open as I take in his torso. Rock hard, every muscle defined – muscles I didn’t even know existed.

“Turn around.”

I comply, turning to face the wall where a picture of a young group sit at tables outside a shop, laughing over their cups of coffee.

Edward unclips my bra, pressing his body to my back as he slides the lace down my arms and onto the floor with our shirts. His fingertips brush my hands as he brings them behind my back and encourages me to clasp them together. When I do, he leans down, whispering in my ear.

“Don’t move your hands.”

He steps away from me and I hear him undo his trousers, and hear the belt hit the wooden floor, and then the sound of his shoes being flung off.  He reaches round and holds his hand in front of my mouth.

“Spit.”

What? He clears his throat, and I do as he asks, spitting onto the palm of his hand. He knows what he’s doing, I said I’d trust him. No going back now. There are a few seconds of silence, before he slides his erection through my locked hands. His hard cock slides back and forth through my tight grip, lubricated from my saliva, and my knees almost buckle from the thought of touching him.

“Can you feel how hard you make me?” he asks, continuing slowly so I can feel every inch of him, every vein throbbing, until my hands reach the base, my fingers stroking against his balls, “no one else does this to me.”

Oh god.

“I ache for you.” He growls, his breathing harsh, “I leave here rock hard every morning. Because of you, Abigail.”

I shiver at his use of my name.

“I want to see you.” I breath, my arousal growing with every stroke, every thought of what my hands are doing to him.

“All in due time, Angel.” He whispers against my ear, sending shockwaves through my body.

He slides out of my hold and pulls the tie from around my shoulders, brushing the smooth material over my hardened nipples. I release a moan.

“God, I love that sound.”

He threads the tie between my wrists, and ties them together securely. When he releases me, I pull against the constraint.

“It won’t hurt,” Edward promises, sensing my unease, “I promise I won’t hurt you. I want to show you what your body can do, when you let someone else take control.”

I nod, my gaze trailing to his steel cock as Edward turns me to face  him. God, it’s huge. I didn’t expect anything less, but I’ve never seen anything like it. Its swollen and pulsing, and he’s fisting it with one hand to support the weight.

“Sit down.”

I sit on the sofa, and Edward kneels in front of me, his hands on my knees. He slides them round the back and jerks me forward so I fall back on the leather, before gently but swiftly undoing my trousers and sliding them off my legs. He stands up, leaning over me and braces one hand on the back of the sofa. He leans down and presses his lips to me. His other hand slides inside my underwear cupping my sex as his lips slide over mine. He runs his tongue over my bottom lip, inviting me to open my mouth, taking my bottom lip between his teeth and snaking his tongue into my mouth. I’m desperate to touch him, to wrap my arms around him and hold him close as he expertly explores my mouth, and his hand spreads my arousal all over my lips and my throbbing clitoris.

“You’re so wet for me,” he whispers, dropping his head to kiss and suck and bite my neck.

I gasp as he inserts a finger into me, sliding through the wetness he has solely created. I struggle to catch my breath as me moves inside me, stretching me, filling me, sending me climbing. I’m flying, and looking down on this beautiful man as he fucks me with his fingers, strokes my clit with the palm of his hand, and trails his mouth along my shoulder, down the valley between my breasts, paying attention to each one with his incredible mouth as he moves lower. He dips his tongue inside my navel and slips his finger out of me before sliding my underwear down my legs, leaving them at my ankles.

His scorching tongue finds my sex. He’s on me, inside me, around me. It’s too much. It’s not enough. I squeeze my hands together so hard they cramp. I can’t move. I want to push him away. I want to pull his closer. It’s too much.

“Edward.”

“That’s it, Angel. Say my name. Feel it.”

I cry again, calling his name as he slides his fingers back into me, his tongue flicking my clit, swirling, pressing flat. I’m going crazy.

I fall tremendously, thrashing and writhing on the sofa, throwing my head back and letting out the scream Edward has built within. My body quivers and shakes, and convulses and trembles. My toes curl, my hands grip tighter. He stops.

I look down at him as he looks up at me, his mouth glistening and curled up in a smile of victory. I can’t catch my breath to say anything. All I can do is shake my head and pant. And try to piece my brain back together in order to have a rational thought.

He strokes his hand down my swollen lips and my body shudders. I shake my head.

“I...I want...” I pant, each exhale a whimper.

“What do you want, Angel?” he asks, his smile jumbling my thoughts more.

“I want you to fuck to me.”

I rush to say it. Afraid I’ll run out of breath. Afraid I’ll lose the confidence to ask.

“Like this?”  Edward asks, gripping his cock and stroking himself along my entrance.

“I don’t care.” I swallow hard, the bravery surging through me, “but I want it hard and fast and rough.”

He nods and smirks, sliding his hands underneath me and standing with me, holding me over his shoulder. I shriek and kick my legs, but he’s too strong and I’m too weak. One hand undoes the tie, while the other slips two fingers inside me again. I cry out and my insides coil instantly.

“I need you,” I cry, flexing my wrists when they’re freed, “please... Sir.”

“Hmm,” he growls.

He carries me across the shop and sits me on the counter.

“You think you’ll ever be able to think about anything but me when you’re at work if I fuck you right here?”

I shake my head, “no chance.”

With that, he guides my hands around his neck and eases the tip of his cock inside me. I hold my breath, my mouth open, my nails digging into his skin.

“Breathe,” he says, stroking his hands through my hair and I exhale a moan as he slides further into me.

“Oh god.”

“It’s okay. Just breathe.” I do as I’m told, putting all my energy into each breath as each glorious inch of Edward fills me and stretches me.

“Fuck.” I pant as I feel his hips against my thighs, and he stills.

“You okay?” he asks.

“You’re huge.” I cry, it’s almost a sob.

He smiles, but regains himself quickly, “does it hurt?”

“God no.”

He rolls his hips, stroking something deep inside me and I let out a drawn out moan, giving myself to him. Edward begins to move slowly, in and out of me. He speeds up, clearly satisfied that I have relaxed enough and each thrust send a wave of ecstasy through me, and soon I’m lost to the control of this man as he grips my hip with one hand and takes a fistful of hair with the other. The woman moaning in euphoria sounds nothing like me, and the groans and curses coming from Edward sound raw and primal. He’s relentless. So fast, so strong. I feel the bruising on my lower back from the counter, but it only fuels my lust. I’m building, climbing, flying falling. I’m everything and he’s everything as his lips find mine and he kisses me with fervour and need, rolling his hips and stroking something so deep inside that my body ignites and I feel the oncoming climax. I detonate, my muscles squeezing and pulling. I cry out, calling his name in a voice that is too sensual to be mine.

“Fuck,” Edward curses, before jerking into me violently, “Abby!”

He shatters, dropping his head onto my shoulder and slowing, his breathing erratic, his chest heaving, sweat trickling down his pecks.

“Angel.”

He looks up at me, resting his hands either side of my legs, and easing out of me slowly. I wince, but the burn is nothing compared to the pleasure he has just given me. If I ache for weeks, it won’t be enough.

“I’m not one for compliments,” he says, and I slide over the counter, shakily land on the floor and grab us two bottles of water. I hand one over the counter to Edward and walk around to meet him on the shop floor. He’s guzzling down the water, standing naked in the shop where I work. And he’s just fucked me senseless.

I put one foot in front of the other and make it to my clothes, wincing again as I pick them up off the floor and put them on. When I have done the last button up, I look for Edward and notice he has already dressed, and it shoving his tie into his pocket.

“I’m not one for compliments,” he continues, stepping towards me and wrapping his arms around my waist, “but there is nothing that can beat that.”

I roll my eyes, “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious. That was incredible.”

He plants a kiss on my lips and releases me. He waits while I clean up, turn the lights off and lock up.

“Can I walk you home?” he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets, cold from the chilly October air.

“I live across the road. I’m good.”

He takes my face in his hands, and brings my face up to look at him.

“Are you okay?”

“That was the best thing I’ve ever done.” I answer honestly.

“Me too.” He presses his lips to my forehead, lingering them there before letting me go, “Goodbye, Angel.”

“Goodbye, Sir.”

Edward watches as I cross the road, and I turn to watch him walk in the other direction. I head home and know I'll never see him again. He has awoken something within me and my returning arousal thanks him. The triple-shot-extra-hot sex angel.


Comment received from 'Hollie' :
"I just read part 1 and it was really really good!!! Well done! I literally didn't stop reading it until the end! Def reading the next part when I get a chance xx"