“Yes.”
“All right. Then...it’s a date.”
The words “it’s a date” and the way Jim’s voice wrapped around them like warm honey put her on a high immediately, one that she rode like a magic carpet out of the conference room. It was a small blessing that Jim wasn’t at his desk, because if they’d made eye contact she very well might have pulled him up onto her cloud and had yet another public declaration of feelings, which might have led into a very public display of feelings. But he was in Michael’s office, no doubt offering to help supervise as Dwight repainted, so she tucked away those thoughts and desires for a more private time. Like, for instance, later that evening, at her apartment. Or his. She wasn’t picky. That thought propelled her a little higher into the atmosphere, and she somewhat giddily floated towards the kitchen. Or at least, it felt that way. In reality, her feet stayed firmly planted on the faded blue berber carpet and she had to stop herself from skipping past Karen’s desk.
Oh.
Karen. Pam deflated, just a bit.
He wouldn’t have asked her on a date if he’d still been with Karen. Right? He’d said the word date, after all. That had specific connotations, romantic ones, and you didn’t really do things with romantic connotations when you were in a relationship with someone.
Well, maybe that wasn’t true.
Okay, it definitely wasn’t true. She could be honest about that now. Her friendship with Jim had been interspersed with plenty of romantic moments: that first lunch, that slow sway, that dinner on the roof. The way he’d stolen her breath with I’m in love with you and pulled her body so close to his when he’d kissed her against his desk.
But still. This was...this was them. It was Jim and Pam. So much had stood in the way for so long, so surely now there was nothing. And yeah, maybe it’d be a bit awkward if they had to work with his ex-girlfriend, but she’d had more than enough practice in working with exes. And besides, maybe it’d be fun to keep it on the down low for a bit. It might even be kind of...sexy. She blushed at the thought--not that it was the first time that had the words Jim and sexy threaded into the same thought, but it was the first time that she herself had a real chance of starting to turn those thoughts into reality--and swallowed a little excited giggle.
So, yeah. It was over with Karen. It had to be. Her feet lifted (metaphorically) a little higher off the ground.
“Uh, Pam, if you still need time that’s okay. But I’m kinda thirsty.”
Pam whipped her head towards the timid voice over her right shoulder and that excited giggle bubbled to the surface. “Oh, Toby, sorry! I’m just a little distracted.” So much so that she didn’t even realize she’d been standing in front of the soda vending machine for who knew how long. She flashed him a wide smile and quickly ran her dollar back and forth against the edge of the machine.
Toby smiled back at her. “That’s okay. Been kind of a crazy day, huh?”
Pam pressed a button, collected her change, then deposited it back into the machine. “Yeah. But great, too.” She pressed again, the thunk ka-thunk of the can falling to the chute like a symphony to her ears. The two drinks--one Coke, one grape soda--were cool in her hands and she squeezed past Toby towards the door. “See ya, Toby!” She didn’t notice the way his expression drooped when he noticed the sodas she was carrying. She was too busy floating.
Jim still wasn’t at his desk when she got back, but that was okay. She’d been taking the most advantage of her stolen glances at him during working hours, but she’d get to see him tonight. On a date. She didn’t have to tide herself over with in depth analysis of the back of his neck, not anymore. So she just slid the grape soda onto his desk and allowed herself to skip (kind of) back to reception.
When he exited Michael’s office, the sight of the can made him pull up short. She didn’t miss the slow smile that spread across his face and the way he closed his eyes and gave a little nod. He didn’t look at her, but made a bit of a show of settling into his chair and popping the tab open. The sound thrilled her, made her heart beat a bit faster. She watched (because of course her eyes had been riveted to him since the moment he crossed the threshold of Michael’s office) as he slowly spun his chair around to face her. He took a sip and leaned his head back as he swallowed (her eyes then became riveted to the bob of his Adam’s apple as it slid up and down his throat), his eyes closed in what she’d love to describe as ecstasy. His tongue slid across his lower lip, searching for any stray droplets. There were none that Pam could see (because obviously her eyes were now riveted to his lips) but she understood his need to search for extra grape-flavored deliciousness. She would have done the exact same thing.
“Man, I haven’t had one of these in a while.” The low timbre and soft volume of his voice sent a lightning bolt directly to the pit of her stomach and made her think of you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that, which was number one on the list of “sexy things Jim Halpert has said in that gravelly voice.” Man, I haven’t had one of these in a while was now number two. She could feel a blush that almost certainly matched her pink cardigan rise on her cheekbones.
“Oh, yeah?” Her retort wasn’t that witty, but it made him smile anyway. “I guess there’s something to be said about revisiting an old favorite.” The mental fist pump she gave herself was very enthusiastic. She could do double-entendre and loaded statements. She could be a tease, kind of.
Jim’s eyebrows shot into what would have been his hairline had he not gotten a haircut (holy crap did she want to mess up the careful styling so badly) and she watched in amusement as they danced across his forehead while he tried to get a hold of the conversation. It could have been her imagination, but his voice had taken on a markedly rougher quality when he responded. “Well. Why mess with perfection?”
Pam’s breath caught in her throat as she gasped. Jim gave her a smile that somehow toed about a million lines: amused, surprised, elated, hesitant, wanting. She squeezed her thighs together, not ready for just how badly he was affecting her with his playful banter. They were at work, for god's sake. But the thing that was the most exciting was that this was her Jim. He was coming back.
“Hey, idiot, it’s just a soda. There are far superior drinks. For example--” and then Dwight was off, rattling off a list of beverages that surpassed the off brand grape soda that Jim had apparently lost his mind over. Pam was thankful for Dwight, for once in her life, because she had been about ten seconds from jumping over the reception desk and latching herself onto Jim’s grape flavored lips.
Pam turned back to her computer and left Jim to Dwight’s admonishments. They could talk about it later, on their date. She floated a few feet higher, threatened to float right out of the building, but had to catch herself on the lip of her desk when the door to the hallway flung open and Karen marched in.
Her surprised exclamation was hidden by Karen’s sharp “Jim, can I talk to you for a moment?”
The back of Jim’s neck was bright red and tense as it had ever been as he followed her into the kitchen. Pam hoped he’d look back, so she could give him a reassuring smile or look or something, but he didn’t.
She plummeted back to solid ground with a resounding thud.
Pam paced the small square footage of her living room, one hand worrying at her necklace and the other constantly flipping her phone back and forth: battery side, screen side, battery side, screen side. No calls, no texts, no nothing. She watched the tiny digital clock flick from 6:37 to 6:38 and she suppressed the urge to scream. It was like the damn thing was mocking her, but she couldn’t put it down.
Pam had had the perfect vantage point of their argument, which mostly consisted of Jim looking contrite as Karen nearly yelled at him. Pam had wanted to call Stanley, ask him to put her on speakerphone so she could hear more of what was being said, but she fought the urge. Even from as far away as she was she caught snippets: how dare you do this to me? and a FOUNTAIN, Jim? and you said you UNDERSTOOD why we couldn’t stay here and don’t expect to get out of being my coworker as easily as you’re trying to get out of this relationship, among others. Since it had already been pretty late in the day when Karen had stormed in the door, their fight lasted past 5:00 and Pam wasted no time in leaving for the day. She felt like everyone had been giving her sidelong glances as they tried not to pay obvious attention to Jim and Karen. They had all been at the beach. They all knew.
She’d risked sending off a text to Jim before she left the parking lot. Fear of Karen catching her idling in her car like she’d been laying in wait for Jim prompted her to send without second guessing: Hope you’re ok. If you want to cancel, I get it. Text when you can.
That had been at 5:04, more than an hour and a half earlier, and she’d spent almost that entire time pacing in front of her steamer trunk-turned-coffee table. If she was being honest with herself, which was almost harder than being honest with everybody else, she was kind of pissed. She should have been rifling through her closet for something that wasn’t a grey skirt and pink shirt and cardigan combo, softening her curls with the curling iron she’d had for ten years and used about that many times, giving her eyes a little bit of a pop with her brown liner pencil and kind of shimmery shadow palette.
But no, she was still in her work clothes (sans sensible pumps and cardigan, of course, but she was so agitated she hadn’t even had the patience to wrestle with her hose) and her stomach was twisting itself into knots over Jim, but not in the way she’d planned. Freakin’ Karen. Freakin’ Jim. Why couldn’t he have just broken up with her after their beach trip? Why did he even have to come back to Scranton with a girlfriend in the first place?
Her phone vibrated in her palm and she flung it across the room in surprise. “Shit! Shitshitshitshit!” she chanted as she rushed to retrieve it from somewhere near a bookcase. The battery compartment had popped open when it connected with the wooden shelf and Pam kept cursing as she fumbled to get it all back in place. Never in her life had her phone taken so long to turn on, and she fought the urge to throw it across the room again when it played it’s twinkly little start up sound. Finally, she pulled up her messages and swallowed her heart back down to where it belonged when she saw one from Jim.
Do not want 2 cancel. Address plz
She texted back her address with shaking fingers, then stayed crouched on the floor over her phone like a damn goblin as she waited for his response.
Omw. Need 2 talk 2 U.
“Shitshitshitshitfuckshitfuckfuckshitfuck,” or something a lot like it became Pam’s mantra as she resumed her pacing. She’d wear a hole into her shitty rental carpet before too much longer. But her apartment was in the middle of town and equidistant from pretty much everywhere, so she probably would only have to wait a maximum of fifteen minutes before--
A knock at her door. Her phone flew out of her hand once more and she heard the telltale sound of the battery falling apart again, but she left it. Her hand was on the knob and pulling the door open before it occurred to her that there might not be that great of an outcome to this evening, but then it was too late. Jim was in her entryway, taking up the entire doorway with his length and his broadness and his, just, Jimness. He’d lost his jacket and tie but was still in his work shirt and pants, hands fisted in the well-fitting trouser pockets. That gelled hair was all messed up, much to Pam’s chagrin. She wouldn’t get the opportunity to do that herself, damnit.
A sudden worry flashed through her mind. Had Karen messed his hair up? In the heat of the moment? Well that would just be the cherry on the shit sundae that this day had turned out to be, if Jim had realized that he belonged with sleek and sexy Karen Fillapelli, the high powered female executive type that mousy little Pammy couldn’t hold a candle to. And now here he was, giving her the courtesy to tell her to her face that he’d made a mistake, he didn’t want to take her on a date, and oh by the way he and Karen would be moving to New York tomorrow and could she please fax over ten thousand copies of their sales reports for the last eight hundred quarters first thing in the morning?
That was ridiculous and she knew it, but she was well and truly mad by now, at a million different things. Which was also ridiculous, considering that everything she’d ever wanted in a man was in her doorway, blocking out what was left of the sunset because he was just too damn big, looking at her in an apprehensive, scared, eyebrows knitted together kind of way. But she couldn’t help it. It had been bubbling under the surface for a while now, tamped down by meekness but waiting for the right opportunity to come exploding out of her like Mount Vesuvius.
Great job, inner volcano. Way to pick absolutely the worst time to erupt.
Across her threshold, Jim cleared his throat. “Uh, is it okay if I come in?” Pam exhaled and stepped to one side, allowing him to brush past her and into the tiny linoleum tiled area that she counted as her entryway. “I’m sorry, Pam. That didn’t...this isn’t how I wanted it to go.”
Goddamn him, apologizing right off the bat. It made her feel even more ridiculous for being so mad all of a sudden. She tried (unsuccessfully) to let it go with a slightly ground out “it’s fine.”
He snapped his head up to look at her. He looked kind of terrible, and her heart ached for him. Her irrational anger started to melt away and she moved to comfort him, but his face twisted into a look she’d only seen him give none other than Dwight K. Schrute. “Um, okay? Something wrong here? I mean, you sound kind of ticked off.”
Well.
Jim flung his hands out in frustration. “I mean, I just had to draw out a break up conversation over an entire day. Oh, and most of that happened in my place of work, so that was super fun. I guess I thought I could come talk to my best friend about it, maybe over dinner, but if you’re mad--”
WELL.
The tightly screwed lid of Pam’s inner volcano (whatever, that analogy didn’t even make sense because volcanoes didn’t have tightly screwed lids and that just made her even more angry) exploded. “Oh, I’m sorry, I was under the impression that I was going on a date tonight, but I guess not. Which, by the way, didn’t include talking you through your very recent breakup!”
Jim’s eyebrows went so high they were in danger of flying off of his forehead. “Excuse me? I wanted to go on a date tonight, too, Pam, in case you didn’t get the hint from my asking you out to dinner. I can’t help that Karen wanted to have one of her trademark ‘discussions’ about something that I left very clear back in New York!”
Pam strode the length of her living room with her fists balled up, fuming. She got as far as the tiny space would allow before doing an about face. Jim was still in her entryway, hands on his hips and an incredulous expression on his face. If she wasn’t so mad she’d think it was hot as hell. “Well you know what, Jim, maybe you should haven’t come back to Scranton with a girlfriend in the first place. Then we could have been going on dates this entire time and wouldn’t be having this conversation at all!”
Jim sputtered in disbelief. “Well, Pam, what was I supposed to do? If I remember correctly, I poured my heart out to you before I left. Actually, I all but reached into my chest and handed it to you, and what’d you say? Huh? In case you don’t remember, it was ‘I can’t.’ And don’t worry, I remember, because it played on a constant loop inside my head for about six goddamn months.”
Pam gasped. He was right, of course, damn him. But she wasn’t in any position to be thinking rationally, so she pushed that thought of her mind. Instead, she blurted out something she’d been wanting to say for an entire year. “But you know me, Jim, you know how I am! I’m not like you, I don’t do big gestures! You dropped a bomb in my lap and essentially gave me an ultimatum. Was I supposed to run away with you right then and there?”
“Well I don’t fucking know, but it sure would have been better than what we’ve been doing! You could have at least given me the courtesy of telling me yourself that you’d called off your wedding. I had to hear it from fucking Kevin Malone through a text, which I didn’t even believe because I just knew that if that was true, you’d have told me yourself. And then I get confirmation from Michael! Michael, Pam. Where were you all last summer?”
She didn’t have a good answer for that. “I don’t know, Jim, I was scared, I guess! All of a sudden the man I’d planned a life with was gone, and then so were you, and I was scared I’d just fucked it all up, so I didn’t do anything. I should have sooner, and then maybe we wouldn’t have wasted so much time.” She was starting to lose steam. She didn’t want to fight and she assumed Jim didn’t really want to either, so she was about halfway across the room to him when she remembered: “But I did try, I sent that text after our phone conversation! I reached out, and yeah maybe it was a bit late but I did something! You couldn’t even text me back!” She felt tears prick her eyelids and she hated it, hated her tendency to cry whenever she got the slightest bit worked up, but all the steam she’d started to lose was building back up behind her temples and in her chest and she couldn’t help it, it all came spilling out. “And then you came back in the merger and blew me off with your little speech about being evolved and you had a shiny new girlfriend who clearly is an upgrade from boring plain Pam, and I had to watch you flaunt her all over the office like nothing had ever happened between us!”
Jim raked both hands through his hair. “Pam, are you kidding me? Talk about flaunting a relationship, what about you and Roy? We were just getting back into a friendship, which, my bad that I couldn’t immediately bounce back from you breaking my heart into a thousand fucking pieces, and then you start things back up with him? Did you not learn anything from the first time?”
“Of course I learned from the first time! I should have never been with him in the first place, let alone gotten back together with him. But you were with Karen and it was so fucking lonely and I just needed somebody, someone to try and fill the hole in my chest that you cored out when you left!” She heaved in a breath that turned into a dry sob and turned away from him, arms crossed beneath her breasts and chest heaving as she tried to reign in her emotions. This was so not how she saw the night going.
“Well I was lonely, too, Pam. I was so goddamn lonely and hurt that I thought I might fucking die. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, and I was so scared to come back here and be around you and you not want me, so I did a shitty stupid thing and used Karen as a shield. I shouldn’t have done that. And you’re right, I blew up your life and to be honest, I don’t really know what I expected you to say, but it just...I love you so much, Pam, and I just couldn’t do it, I didn’t know how--”
He sounded so heartbroken and raw and vulnerable and Pam was crying in earnest when she turned to face him. His voice trailed off and he looked up at her, green eyes rimmed red from unshed tears and a grief stricken expression on his face. This was obviously not how he’d expected the night to go, either.
Maybe she could fix it. Maybe they could fix it.
She didn’t think, just traveled the distance between them with outstretched arms, a breathy I’m sorry, I love you too on her lips just before their mouths met. She wasn’t sure if he heard her so she tried her best to get it across in her kiss. Under other circumstances she would have tried to be sweet or sexy or something other than completely desperate, but that’s not what the situation called for. It called for pouring everything out in the way she opened her mouth under his lips when he kissed her back, the way she slid her tongue against his, the way she flung her arms around his neck when he wrapped his around her waist and pulled her body to meet his in a way that left her toes barely touching the carpet.
His hands were everywhere, burning a hot path across her back and her sides and her shoulders and the place where her thighs turned into her ass. She arched into him, pressed her body into his the same way that she pressed her lips into his: hard and searching and a little bit frantic. There was a clash of teeth and lips and tongues swiped below lip lines, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t care, not when he had one large hand underneath her pink striped button down and steadily moving towards her breasts. His teeth found her bottom lip and she gasped into his mouth when he bit down harder than she expected him to, but it sent a spiral of fire through her entire body before it settled into liquid want low in her belly.
Jim pulled away out of necessity and buried his face in her neck while he caught his breath. She could see the back of his head, found a patch of hair that was miraculously unmussed, and she took the opportunity to thread her fingers through it. Her nails scratched at his scalp and he jerked towards her, their bodies aligning just so, just the right angle for her to feel his erection straining against those fitted work pants and goddamn this skirt.
She didn’t realize that she’d spoken that last part out loud, not until he chuckled darkly against her mouth and pulled his roaming hand from beneath her shirt. She tried to pull back so she could voice her displeasure at the cessation of the way his fingertips had been toying with one of her taut nipples over the fabric of her bra, but then he set a hand on each of her thighs and pushed them upwards, wrinkling and folding her skirt until it bunched up around her waist. He kept his hands there, fingers curled around the fabric, and walked them backwards until the backs of her knees banged against her steamer trunk coffee table. There’d be a bruise there tomorrow, but who the fuck cared about things like that?
Jim changed their trajectory more towards the couch and she let him push her down onto it. She landed on her elbows, propped up so that she was more or less at eye level with his belt buckle. Obviously that was more than okay with her, and her eyes became riveted on the way the fabric of his slacks conformed to his impressive erection. Her eyes had been riveted all over the damn place today, but this place was by far her favorite. She reached for him, wanted desperately to have her hands all over him, but he hitched his hips away and she looked up at him in confusion.
Fuck, he was hot. She stared openly, unable to hide her lust. He couldn’t stop staring either, and she must have made quite the picture. Her skirt was hiked up around her waist, her heaving breasts thrusts towards him and straining at the buttons of her shirt, her panty hose clad legs spread across her couch in a way that could be described any number of ways--lusty, inviting, wanton, and take me now please god just a few of them. He raked his eyes across her body from top to bottom, lingering at her breasts and the apex of her thighs and her lips and then finally snapped his gaze to hers. It was so intense, so full of want and need and now that she whimpered.
He fingers deftly went to work on the buttons of his dress shirt and she watched, transfixed, as more and more of his broad chest became visible. Her eyes drank in the dusting of chest hair (a fantasy that she was very happy to see was reality) and the way it fanned around his flat nipples and felt her hips buck towards him, begging to be touched. To be filled. When his shirt was completely unfastened, he shrugged it off his shoulders and got busy at his belt buckle.
“Well, Pam? Are you going to join me, or are you going to just let me get naked by myself in your living room?”
Oh god. Her hands shook in excitement and want and holyfuckthisishappening and fuck these fucking buttons! It was like all of a sudden the holes were way too small for those huge things (and that thought caused a dark curl behind her belly button because holy shit that’s a huge thing pressing against his fly) so she switched her attention to her panty hose. Of course, panty hose are difficult to get off even in the best of times, so that too became a source of frustration. She just wanted to be naked, for fuck’s sake, not--
And then Jim--Jim who had his unfasted pants riding on his hips low enough for her to see the logo of his boxer briefs, Jim who of course had that damn ‘V’ that guys have, just below their hip bones, Jim with the delicious ribbon of dark hair that disappeared beneath the clothes he was still wearing before she was able to follow it all the way down--reached down and somehow found the smallest, least conspicuous run in the inner thigh of her hose. His finger wiggled into it (Pam nearly fainted due to the waves of pleasure that rolled through her at that tiny amount of skin on skin) and gave a tug. The thin fabric of the hose ripped like wet tissue paper, and then he was able to get both sets of fingers in and pull in earnest.
So that’s how Pam Beesly found herself spread eagle on her couch, skirt bunched around her waist and hose intact all the way up to mid thigh, where the giant hole that uncovered all of her most sensitive areas was. Well, most of them, and she was working hard at the buttons of her shirt to uncover the rest. Above her, Jim shucked his slacks and underwear, and Pam honestly thought she’d never recover. The sight of Jim Halpert standing over her, naked and breathing hard and covered in a thin, glistening sheen of sweat might just kill her. And if that didn’t then maybe the memory of him literally ripping into her panty hose might, once she had the proper amount of time to fully process it.
And then any thought at all went out the window, because Jim lowered himself onto her, nestled his hips into the cradle of her body, the place where she burned and ached for him. Her hips went off the couch so she could press against his hard length, and he groaned into the skin of her collarbone.
“Fuck, Pam,” he said against the part of her neck where her pulse jumped erratically. One of his hands was at her buttons, unfastening them with much more dexterity than she seemed to possess, and the other slid down her hip. He shifted his body so that he straddled her outside thigh and she pushed her leg against him. His hips bucked towards the contact and she grinned in self-satisfaction, all the way up until the moment his hand found the wet patch of her underwear and pressed the damp fabric against her clit.
“Ohmygod, yes,” she gasped, and grabbed his hand with one of her own so she could push it harder against her center.
His tongue found the skin behind her earlobe, then traced the shell of her ear. His breath was hot against her when he spoke and she moaned at the sensation, almost unable to stand it. “I didn’t mean to--this is not how I pictured tonight. I don’t--I don’t want to stop, but--”
“No. Don’t stop.” She used her free hand to push his head towards hers and kissed him hungrily, teeth biting lips and tongues battling for dominance and both winning. Jim’s hand searched for the waistband of her underwear, ripping her hose even more, then finally found his target. His hand pushed beneath the sensible cotton fabric and slid through damp curls until his fingers slipped against her slick skin once, twice, then inside the place she wanted him to touch her most.
His name left her mouth in a staccato burst, bracketed on either side by a moan or a curse or a something, she didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. His finger pumped and she felt herself clench around him, already so close. It was too much and not enough and ohmygod how did she still have so many fucking clothes on?
To Jim’s incredible surprise, she pulled her head away and pushed against his chest until he drew back far enough to look at her. His eyes were heavy lidded with want and she thrilled at the knowledge that she did that, but she could see the confusion in them as well. He sat up onto his knees and Pam missed his warmth but loved the opportunity to watch the way the muscles of his body worked as he moved. He sat there for a moment, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, and she cocked her head in admiration.
“Are you...do you want to stop?”
Pam shook her head out of her reverie of unabashed lust. “What? No! God no. I just want to get naked.”
The smile that spread across Jim’s face was a dangerous thing and Pam loved it, loved how it made her feel sexy and powerful and zapped electricity directly to where she was dripping wet and ready for him. “I can help you with that.”
And help he did. Pam’s ruined hose were tossed over his shoulder, followed quickly by her soaked panties. She finally got the better of her damn shirt and threw it somewhere away; she didn’t care if she never saw the fucking thing again. Her bra was unhooked at lightning speed and then all that was left was her grey skirt, still bunched around her hips. She’d need to stand so she could get to the zipper, but as she wiggled and reached Jim put his hands on her hips and stilled her movements. He had a dark look in his eyes when he told her to leave it.
And then he was on top of her again, using her skirt to pull her body towards his so he could line himself up at her entrance. He teased the head of his cock against her slick folds, pushed it against her clit with delicious pressure, then sunk into her without warning. Her body bowed in response, her hips arching up off the couch in search of more.
He hissed her name through clenched teeth, moved one hand from where it was wrapped in her skirt to grip her ass so he could hold her to him. She circled her hips and found the friction she was looking for in the way her clit brushed against him so she did it again, harder. A litany of curses punctuated by his name streamed from her mouth, and he bent his head to swallow them with his kiss.
Pam could tell he wanted to stay there, stay buried inside of her as deeply as possible, but after a few moments biology took over. He started to pump his hips: nice and slow at first, so that he could draw almost all the way out of her before plunging back inside. She appreciated him trying to draw it out--their first time together--but she was so consumed by lust and love and how badly she needed to feel him that she couldn’t help but slip one hand between their bodies to the place they were joined. He groaned when her fingers moved over him as he moved inside of her, and then hissed a fuck, Pam into her ear when she began circling her fingertips against her sensitive flesh.
He sped up then, any pretense of a rhythm lost. His mouth laved attention against her cheek, her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, before finally covering one of her nipples with it’s wet warmth. She felt him bite down, hard enough to hurt in a good way, and she felt her body began to spasm. Her fingers flew against her clit and she urged him on, harderfasterJimpleasegod, so close to an orgasm that she just knew would leave her utterly destroyed. He answered in kind, fuckyesPamsogood and she was about to fall right over that edge and into oblivion.
Jim’s hips snapped towards her, all rough and primal and delicious, and she could tell by the way he was panting against her breast that he was close. She kept one hand busy between her thighs and brought the other to the nipple in his eyeline, tweaking and pulling and rolling it between her fingertips so he could see. She watched him watch her, watched as his mouth dropped open and his eyes screwed shut and his body shuddered with his release. She rubbed herself, hard and fast, desperate to catch up and come with him--and then she did.
She was right. She was destroyed. It exploded throughout her body, leaving every muscle tense and contracting for what felt like forever. He pushed himself against her, probably hard for the bones of his pelvis to leave a bruise, but it felt so good. She jerked against him, fingers still slipping against her swollen bud, searching for more. He knew what she wanted so well already, knew how to give it to her, so he put his lips at her ear and whispered how fucking amazing she felt around him, how unbelivably hot she was, how he couldn’t wait to get her down the hallway to her bedroom so he could do innumerable dirty things to her body. She turned her head towards him and obviously he could read her mind, so he crashed his mouth to hers and kissed her until the stars receded from behind her eyelids and she started to come down.
Neither of them know how many minutes elapsed before they started talking, but it was long enough for the sweat on their skin to cool and their heart beats to level out.
“So,” he said.
“Um,” she started at the same time. They laughed, and he nodded against her sternum to indicate that she should go first. “So, um, yeah. That happened.”
“Yeah. That sure happened. Is that...is it okay?”
If she had any bones left in her body she would have craned her head to look at him. “Are you kidding? Absolutely it was okay. Just, you still owe me a first date.”
“This doesn’t count?”
“Uh, no? As far as first dates go, this one sucked. We never changed out of our work clothes, we fought, we didn’t even make it to dinner.”
“You seemed to be enjoying yourself a few minutes ago. I mean, I’ve seen When Harry Met Sally, so I know you womenfolk can be convincing fakers but...that looked real to me.”
“Yeah, well. This doesn’t count as a first date. I still expect to be wooed.”
He moved his head so he could look up at her, his hair tickling one nipple. She felt herself start to stir again. “I guess I might be free for breakfast before work tomorrow. That sound okay?”
She shifted beneath him, already ready for some of those things he’d been promising just a few moments ago. This teasing little conversation needed to be over, like now.
“Yeah, perfect. It’s a date. Now, about those things you wanted to do in the bedroom…”
