He knows that she’s embarrassed the first time that she tells him. She doesn’t look him in the eye, but rather focuses on a spot on his chest and inhales sharply. They’re both naked, lying face to face, she has one hand under the sheet stroking him firmly and the other is supporting her head.

            His body press towards her hand and when she rubs her palm over his tip, the hand that isn’t supporting his own head lands possessively at her waist and he’s digging his fingers into the dip above her hips.

            “Jim,” she exhales his name and her hand slows a bit.

            “Yeah,”

            He looks at her, eyes sparkling with lust a hint of fear.

They’d gone out to a nice restaurant earlier that night and she’s worn more makeup than usual. The fine sheen of sweat across her face has smudged some of her eyeliner and her lips look swollen where the subtle color has ended up both on and off her lips.

            He’d watched her as she straightened her hair in the bathroom, taking extra mind with the underneath and her bangs. He watched her fingers as she delicately separated the strands and wondered how he’d gotten so lucky as to find someone that cared so much to look beautiful for him, even if he told her a thousand times she could never brush her hair again and still be beautiful.

            He looks at her now and the sweat has dampened the strands of hair around her face, tiny curls forming along her hairline and where her hair brushes against her back and at the nape of her neck.

            Her hand as come to a stop now and she’s still looking at him and then quickly away, a question in her expression.

            “Jim,” she says his name again and he hears her voice shaking.

            She’s not exactly the most demure partner he’s ever had, which is an interesting thing that he learns about her. She can turn it off when she wants, but for the most part, he’s never heard someone so skillful at talking filthy, so loud about what she wants him to do to her.

            But now her voice is shaking and this is a different feeling all together. Like hesitancy, like she’s afraid he’ll judge her.

            “What is it, Pam?”

            “Can we try… something else?” His brain tries to think of all the things she could possibly mean, all of the things they haven’t done yet, that she hadn’t been to shy to ask for (“I want to be on top of you this time,” “How about right here, against the counter?” “Do you think you could hold me up against this wall?”).

All of the things he can think of only make him harder and he thrusts once, unexpectedly, into her open hand.

            He kneads his fingers into her waist, slipping his hands down once, twice against the start of her ass and waits for her to say more. She doesn’t.

            “What do you want? I’ll do it, whatever it is, if you want it I’ll do it,” his mind is clouded with lust and there’s almost nothing she could say that he wouldn’t agree too.

            A blush climbs her face and she leans in towards him, her mouth pressed against his ear and her breathing makes him shiver.

            “Would you fuck me from behind?”

            He grunts loudly, body falling forward against her and they’re no longer side to side but he’s pressing down on top of her, licking her neck, her collarbones the tops of her breasts and sighing “yes yes yes, oh God” into her skin.

            He can feel the relief flood her body and suddenly she’s not holding back anymore, her fingers threading through his hair and pulling and pushing his mouth towards her nipples, her head thrown back, fanning her hair out across the pillow.  

            When his mouth finally closes around her, she arches her chest up toward him and lets out a moan that’s more of a sigh, feminine and carnal. He pulls back from her only some and her hands are rough in his hair already, pulling him back to her.

            He dips his head and scrapes his teeth over the skin around her nipple before biting gently at the softness of her breast. That never fails to make her practically writhe beneath him.

            “Oh, fuck! Jim, please!” Her hips thrust against him hard and he looks up at her, eyes closed and sweaty. She releases his head with one hand and throws an arm across her forehead. It slides off the slick skin into her hair and he immediately pins it there.

            His teeth find her again and she’s frantically whimpering, makings sounds that Karen only made when she was about to come, but here he’s not hardly even touched her yet.

            “Please, I want you now,” her pinned arm is fighting him and his head is reeling. He lets go of her slowly and she immediately tries to get up, roll over. But he brings his hand up between her legs, stroking her roughly.

            He presses his forehead into her chest and closes his eyes. “Shit, Pam, you’re so wet,” he slips two fingers inside of her easily and she gasps, paws at his back.

            “Oh fuck, oh fuck, please just fuck me, please.” He’d truly never expected her to be so loud ever, if her workplace conduct would have been any indication of her sexual demeanor.

            He pushes the pads of his fingers upward, hard. She’s arching off the bed almost completely, and he smiles to himself when she curses again, continues to beg.

            He teases her for a while and she fights him the whole way, begging for him to stop touching her, just fuck her.

He ignores her pleas and brings her close before pulling back from her. His hand closes around himself and he strokes roughly while she opens her eyes and blinks in anger and disbelief and desperation.

            “Fuck me, now,” her eyes are dark and wild and he’s never wanted anything more than her in this moment. She lifts herself up on her elbows and stares at him before she slowly rolls over.

She’s still arranging her arms and legs around him when he grabs her around the waist and pulls her backwards.

“Oh!” She presses her hands, fingers spread, into the tangle of sheets and when he’s pulled her far enough that her ass is resting against his stomach, she’s already panting again.

He runs his hand down her spine and she arches downward, accentuating the curve, and starts to whimper when she feels him rearranging himself behind her, pressing the tip of his cock against her opening.

He runs his hand along her spine again, the other direction, pushing the skin with the heel of his palm and feeling the beads of sweat that have already formed. She pushes back against him but he enters only a tiny bit, the angle is wrong for him to go in any more than that.

As much as he wants to drive into her all the way right now, it’s more fun to torture her like this, see how long until she can’t take it anymore.

He fists her hair in his hands, tangled and knotted, pulling it forcefully to the side to expose her neck.

“Shit! Just, ugh! Just do it, please!” She arches her back one way then the other, trying to get him to do something. “I need you inside of me, Jim. Please, just fuck me,” he growls from somewhere deep in his throat and decides that enough is enough.

He reaches between them and directs himself, pushing into her hard, knowing she’s already so wet, and so close.

“Oh, fuck!” She’s immediately gasping and whimpering, clenching around him tight when he bumps the same spot he was doting on earlier. “I’m so fucking close, Jim, go, please.”

He starts moving, trying to start out slow, but he’s close, too, already and picks up speed immediately. She arches downward, her head thrown back and lets out a loud moan, he answers in kind.

“God, Pam,” he gasps. He’s got one hand splayed on her back for support, the other on her hips, guiding her rocking motion that answers his own thrusts.

Her moans are getting more frantic, every push it seems and she’s getting louder, higher pitched until he can tell she’s trying desperately not to come just yet. But he wants her, too. Wants to see how she’ll come in this position, which way she’ll arch, what her hands will do, how her hips will move.

He reaches the hand not supporting himself underneath of her and presses his finger into her clit, rubbing hard circles.

Her fingers dig into the sheets, clenching hard and he can feel her tighten and this is the edge and she’s about to go over.

“Jim!” She arches her back upwards towards him and ducks her head down, the crown of her head pressing into the mattress. She shoves her hips back against his hard, once, twice, twisting almost violently and he’s got to hold on to her to stay inside.

But she’s groaning so loudly and clenching too tightly that it doesn’t matter he wants to last a bit longer, because he’s coming, too, his hands spread wide on her hip and back and she’s still riding out her orgasm when he feels himself start to let go.

He’s only ever really loud when he comes and now she’s panting frantically as her body seizes and releases and he’s grunting her name over and over before their breathing is slowing gradually and he falls to his side, pulling her with him.

He slides out of her slowly as he softens, but she’s still spooned up against him, breathing still louder than normal, and he wraps his arm around her possessively and kisses the damp curls at the nape of her neck.

“I guess straightening it was a waste, huh?” She sighs and leans back into him further.

“Well, I like it curly, too, so it doesn’t matter to me.”

The lay in silence for a while and he’s almost sure that she’s asleep until she sighs quietly and laces her fingers with his.

“Thank you for doing that with me,” she breathes it softly into the darkened room.

“I meant what I said. Whatever you want, I’ll do it, Pam. Just ask me, and I’ll do it.”

She giggles and he’s marveling at how different she can seem from one moment to the next.

“I’m serious! You don’t have to be embarrassed or anything, just look me in the eye and say ‘Jim! I want…’ and then you would say what you wanted. Okay?” Now he’s chuckling a little too, even though he means it, and he can tell that she knows that.

“I’ll remember that,” she looks over her shoulder at him, a wicket sort of gleam in her eye, and he kisses the corner of her mouth.

“You’re just going to start brainstorming things now, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” she turns her head back and sighs again.

They lay in silence for a while longer, this time he’s sure she’s asleep.

            Two days later, he finds a post-it note stuck to the box of pens in his desk.

Would you fuck me from behind tonight?

            He does.

            The post-its start popping up all over: His toothpaste, the silverware drawer, his pocket, covering the odometer on his dash.

            Simple sentences, all the things that she could possibly think of that she wanted to do with him, asking him in a simple question “would you?”

            And when he brings them to her, a smug look on his face, sometimes his belt already undone, she always looks him in the eye and asks again in person.