2B or Not 2B

They froze, neither of them having the thought to spring away from each other. For a split second, an image of him yanking up the hem of her dress and thrusting into her danced across her mind. Then, he let go of her with some reluctance, but not before dragging his hand across her breast, leaving her nipple hard and aching.

"I got you," he said softly, his breath tickling her ear and sending shivers all the way down to the base of her spine.

It took another few seconds for her to realize that she was still leaning against his dick. Jesus. She stood fully, straightening the hem of her dress and clearing her throat. "Thanks. Lost my balance for a moment there."

She thought she heard him mutter, "So did I."

Brynn suddenly remembered the other occupants of the elevator, but thankfully the mom was still scolding her kids to settle down. They reached the lobby what felt like five million years later. Once outside, she started towards her car when a large hand grasped her shoulder. She turned.

"Hey, Brynn?" Tristan said, his mouth an unyielding line and his dark eyes serious. "Sorry. I...sorry."

Oh, god. He was actually addressing the accidental tit grab. What could she say? Oh, it's fine, happens all the time, or maybe, Once more, with feeling? Finally, in a burst of boldness, she settled on, "That could have ended worse for me."

He arched a brow as he stared at her, and she watched him try to discern whether she was flirting with him or not. Gosh, he was adorable. She wanted to sit on his face.

"Glad I could be of service."

She forced a confident smile. "So, Saturday?

"I'll be there," he nodded.

xXx

"Oh my god, he grabbed your titty!" Kim said with a cackle as she splayed across Brynn's bed.

Brynn stood in front of her full-length mirror, critically eyeing her body in the underwear she wore. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "He was just making sure I didn't fall!"

Kim ignored her. "And you basically sat on his penis! I can't believe you're just now telling me this, it's delicious."

For a moment, Brynn considered emptying the contents of her laundry basket all over her friend. "Can you focus?" she asked, exasperated. "What should I wear?"

Kim grabbed her glass of wine off the nightstand and took a hearty sip. "Okay, well, definitely not that," she said, gesturing towards Brynn's plain white bra and beige bikini briefs. "We need something that gives those itty bitties a little oomph."

She grasped her own boobs, outraged. "They are not itty bitty!"

Brynn turned back towards the mirror. While admittedly not huge, her tits were a healthy B-cup and capped with pink nipples that had certainly received their fair share of attention and compliments. She wasn't the fittest person out there, but her stomach was only softly round, and her hips and ass were no less than generous.

Her skin was just shy of too pale, and free of any blemishes save for a soft smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose that her older sisters had teased her endlessly for. Her lips were plump, her nose was small, and her gray-blue eyes were large within her heart-shaped face.

"Okay, okay, here," Kim said, rolling off her bed and standing, albeit a bit unsteadily. She flung open Brynn's sliding closet doors and began rifling through the contents. "You don't want to go all out because you're just having dinner at home, but you do wanna be all cute, because, hello, you want some dick. Let's see."

As Kim went to work, Brynn sat cross-legged on her bed, propping her elbow on her knee and her chin in her hand. Maybe this wasn't the best idea. Maybe he wouldn't show. Maybe she wasn't ready to do this. Maybe he would think her Game of Thrones poster was juvenile. That is, if she intended on bringing him into her bedroom. Did she? She thought of feeling almost every inch of him in the elevator, and her face heated. Maybe she would let him take the lead...if he even wanted her.

"Hey," Kim snapped her fingers in Brynn's face. "I am not letting you anxiety-talk yourself out of this, Brynn O'Mara."

"I wasn't," Brynn said, shaking her head too quickly.

Kim looked at her pointedly before throwing an outfit on the bed next to her. She looked at the fitted, high-waisted jeans that she knew showcased her ass, and the long-sleeved, off the shoulder cropped wrap shirt. She wouldn't be able to wear a bra with that.

"You don't think the shirt is too much?"

"No way. The green goes so good with your hair, too, like Christmas!"

Brynn scowled.

From across the apartment, a knock sounded on her front door, and she almost jumped out of her skin.

Kim laughed. "Relax, it's just the hubs. Make yourself decent, and I'll go let him in."

She had to fight back a smile as she noticed how comfortable Kim was in her apartment. Brynn quickly threw on an oversized t-shirt and athletic shorts, throwing her hair up before going to meet Kim and her husband in her half kitchen, half living room space.

"Heard you got a hot date tonight," Julian said with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

Brynn looked at Kim. "I see nothing is sacred."

Kim shrugged before finishing her wine. "Not when you're married!"

"Hey, don't sweat it, player. I know you'll knock him dead," Julian teased, punching her lightly on the shoulder.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," she laughed. "Okay, I have to get my ass in gear and start cooking. Say a prayer, please. I'm a little rusty."

"You could always impress him in other ways," Kim said in a sing-song voice.

"Goodbye," Brynn said pointedly, ushering her favorite couple out of the door. Once she was alone, she spoke to no one in particular. "So it begins."

As soon as the lasagna was in the oven, Brynn rushed to the bathroom for a quick shower. After, she let her curls air dry, arranging them to fall in waves over her bare shoulders and down her back. She kept her makeup light and neutral, and spritzed her favorite scent over her wrists and neck. She dressed and stood in front of her mirror once again, smoothing her hands over the thighs of her jeans.

Her shirt just barely teased the realm of impropriety, outlining her breasts and leaving a faint impression of her nipples. She turned to the side and admired her butt, and last week's pedicure was still looking good, her toes a soft pink. "Okay," she murmured. "This is fine."

A knock sounded on her door, and her stomach somersaulted. She danced from foot-to-foot for a moment, hyping herself up. It's just dinner. You love eating! Brynn shut her bedroom door behind her as she walked across the apartment, taking a breath before she unlocked and opened the heavy door.

Oh, damn.

1B stood on her doorstep, a maroon Henley stretched across his muscular form, his dark wash jeans and white tennis shoes the definition of casually sexy. She wanted to ignore the bottle of wine in his hands and jump straight into his arms, as they'd held her so nicely before.

"Hi," she said, her voice soft.

Brynn didn't miss the way his gaze flickered over her body, though lightning quick. His dark eyes were hungry. "Hey. You look nice. Hope you like red?"

She swallowed. "Thanks, and that's perfect. Do you wanna come inside?"

Tristan was still looking at her. "Yes."

Brynn's face heated as she realized the double entendre. She stepped back to let him in, instructing him to leave the bottle on her small, rounded kitchen table that was already set with two places. He kicked his shoes off by the front door.

"I gotta say, it smells amazing in here. I'm already pretty impressed."

She smiled at him as he leaned against the counter by her sink, taking in the surroundings. Though the kitchen was slightly outdated, she kept her place pretty neat. Her apartment faced west, and the sun was beginning to sink in the sky, drowning the place in golden light.

"Good to know you're so easy."

Tristan raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, wow, I totally - totally did not mean it like that," Brynn said, covering her mouth with her hand.

To her relief, he tilted his head back and laughed. "I mean, you'll definitely have to get me through dinner first."

She busied herself with opening the bottle of wine and pouring two glasses, the liquid sloshing close to the rim. Easy, she reminded herself. They exchanged pleasantries until the timer went off, and Brynn listened with amusement as Tristan regaled her with the latest prank in the described war that was going on at the station.

Once they were seated and she had served them heaping portions of the carb overload, Tristan pointed his fork at her. "You're not from New York, are you?"

Brynn placed her chin in her hand, surprised. "What gave it away?"

"That Midwest drawl," he said. "We got a guy from Milwaukee that transferred in a couple years back. All those flat vowels."

"Flat!" Brynn repeated in mock-outrage, trying to ignore how much she was coming to enjoy his smile. "I'm not a cheesehead, though. I'm actually from Chicago, which is, of course, the superior city of superior pizza."

Tristan placed a hand on his chest. "Damn, straight for the jugular! I suppose it's superior if you like eating your pizza with a fork and a knife like some sort of animal."

They chatted and laughed through dinner, and Brynn learned that he had three brothers as well as a sister and that his father and grandfather were both FDNY, that his favorite color was purple and how much he disliked winters in New York. She divulged as much as him; it was like talking with someone that had always been in her life, and his relaxed nature and sense of humor put her at ease.

Hours later, after cleaning up, they sat on the aging couch that Brynn had discovered at a college yard sale several years ago, each down to the last glass of wine that the bottle of red had to offer. "So, what is it that you do, exactly?"

Brynn took a sip of her drink and rolled her eyes. "I'm a cog for an evil corporation, currently, but I'd love to go back to school for my Masters. It's actually kind of a dream of mine to teach college-level psychology one day."

Tristan whistled. "You do seem like kind of a nerd - in a good way," he said with a grin, catching her hand as Brynn moved to whack his shoulder. Her heart hammered as he brushed his thumb along hers. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-five," she shuddered. "I'll officially be in my late twenties in a few months."

"You poor thing," he said, his tone suggesting he had about zero sympathy for her. "I would have guessed you were younger. I remember my late twenties."

"You can't be that far off," Brynn said, sitting up a little and searching his face, inches from hers. How had they gotten so close? He was still holding her hand.

Tristan leaned his head against the back of the couch. "I'm...thirty," he whispered, closing his eyes.

Brynn couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up in her throat. "Wow, you're practically ancient. Ever get the feeling you should have done something important by now, like solve world hunger?"

He let a blustery breath out. "Mine was dismantling the criminal justice system, but I decided to play with fire, instead."

She drained her glass and placed it on the coffee table in front of her. "I normally don't like reds, but that was amazing. Thank you."

"Ditto in regards to the lasagna. Is it a recipe passed down through generations?"

Brynn shook her head, hesitating. "Not exactly. I, um, actually learned it from my ex-fiancé."

She held her breath as he sat up straighter, his expression serious. "Wow, you were engaged? Why didn't it work out?"

She hesitated again.

Tristan pulled his hand back from hers, his expression apologetic. "Hey, sorry if that was too deep. You don't have to talk about it."

Brynn shook her head, waving her hand. "No, it's fine. It was almost over a year ago. I dated him all throughout college, but in the end, we just weren't compatible." She smiled to lighten the mood. "What about you? Long, sordid history of women?"

To her amazement, Tristan looked a little embarrassed. "I actually haven't been in a serious relationship since, like, high school, if that even counts. Hasn't been super important to me. So it's not too long or too sordid, but it has been a pretty steady stream of hook-ups."

Brynn's eyebrows shot up, even though she'd been half-expecting this. "Of course it has," she teased. "You have the whole tall, handsome fireman thing going on." She waved her hand up and down, indicating his general visage.

He looked up at her through dark, thick lashes, and her breath caught a little. "Handsome, huh?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Don't let it go to your head or anything." She paused before asking a second question. "So, do you...do you have a type?" God, that was forward. It had to be the wine.

Tristan looked at her, and the corner of his mouth twitched. "In what context?"

Was he really going to make her say it? Brynn struggled to formulate the question in a way that was tactful. "I guess I'm asking what you're normally attracted to in a woman."

He ran a hand through his close-cropped hair, considering. "Mmm. I don't tend to discriminate. I guess I'm attracted to that softness some women have, if that makes sense. Long hair. A sense of humor. Some degree of intelligence," he shrugged. "What about you? Ever been with a Black man before?

Oh, okay. Right for the jugular, to quote his earlier words. Brynn blushed. "Um, no."

Tristan's eyes glimmered. "Something told me that was the case." He reached out, and she stilled as he brushed her hair back from her face, warm fingers moving over her cheek. "You're really fucking pretty, you know that?"

And just like that, all sense of eloquence left her. She tried to open her mouth to speak, but no words came. Heart thundering in her chest, Brynn tried to ignore her suddenly on-fire twat. Tristan's fingers moved from her cheek and down her throat; oddly, she wanted him to stop there, wrap his long, dexterous fingers around the back of her neck and pull her to him forcefully, taking away the option to deny him. His fingers continued their descent, grazing over her collarbone. Eyes the color of her favorite dark chocolate dipped to her lips.

She realized he was waiting for her to give him a sign, to show him that she wanted him, like it wasn't painfully obvious. Brynn looked into his eyes and nodded once, emphatically.

"Come here," Tristan groaned, sticking his fingers into the loops of her jeans so that he could yank her onto his lap.

Brynn let out a breathless laugh as he did so, until she found their faces inches apart. Her arms settled around his neck. He leaned his forehead against hers, and they sat like that for a moment, her knees on either side of him, comfortably astride him. He smelled divine, rich and spicy, and she could almost taste the scent of the wine that clung to his lips.

"Hey, 2B?"

"Mmm?"

Her eyes fluttered shut as his hands caressed her back, and her nipples beaded as they rubbed against his rock-hard chest, separated by the material of their thin shirts. There was no way he couldn't feel them.

"Look at me," Tristan said.

She didn't open her eyes for a second, fearful that as soon as she did, their comfortable bubble would pop, and all of this would be over. Finally, taking a breath, she looked. He cupped her face in his big hands, leaning her back as he sat up a little straighter.

There was a beat of silence before his mouth descended on hers, and a strangled sound escaped her throat. His arms went around her waist, crushing her to him, but his lips were surprisingly tender over hers, coaxing her to explore, to open to him. His kiss seared her from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. There was a dull rushing sound in her ears as the apartment around them disappeared, and all she could taste, touch, feel, was him.

Yes. More.

And suddenly Brynn didn't want tender, at least, not in that moment. She wanted him to ravage her. She didn't think before sinking her teeth into his plump bottom lip, and he grunted, pulling back a little. Their heavy breaths mingled in the dim light; they had been so distracted by each other that they hadn't even noticed the sun had long since gone down.

It was as if he'd read her mind. "Yeah? It's like that, huh?"

"Maybe," she whispered.

His hands were in her hair then, tugging at the base of her skull to lift to her chin. He devoured her mouth, his tongue opening the seam of her lips to tangle with hers, and he tasted like wine and cinnamon gum and something that was just uniquely him.

Something hard bumped the space between her spread thighs, and Brynn instinctively ground against him, dying to feel his skin against hers. She unwound her arms from his neck, sliding her palms down his chest, his abs, and moved towards the hem of his shirt, but Tristan caught her wrists. His grip was just shy of too tight. "No."

Uncertain, she leaned back, and he took the opportunity to dip his fingers into either side of her off-shoulder neckline and pull.

"Oh," she gasped, hands immediately going to her bare tits, color blooming in her cheeks.

"Not a chance, baby girl," he said, hands on her wrists again. He was gentler as he pulled her hands away from her chest, and she blushed as he unabashedly stared at her breasts. She sucked in a breath as his hands completely covered them, calluses rasping against the tips. "You're so soft."

Her eyes closed as she reveled in the sensation of his fingers on her, pinching and rolling them until they were diamond hard. And then she felt his mouth, hot and wet, close over her nipple, his lips sucking before his teeth grazed her.

"Oh, my god," she said, nails digging into his muscled shoulder. "Yes. Yes." She felt his dick jump under her and was helpless to stop the wetness that flowed from her pussy and soaked her flimsy thong as she rocked against him. "I want - please, I need - "

Tristan released her tit with a soft pop and chuckled. "So needy. Relax, Brynn, we're just getting started."

Brynn resisted the urge to pout, but was placated as his hands moved to the button of her high-waisted jeans, deftly undoing them.

"Take these off," he said.

She stood to do so, sliding the tight material down her hips and ass, conscious of the way her snug, damp thong clung to the lips of her pussy, showcasing the cleft. There was something distinctly feminine about standing before him almost completely nude while he remained fully clothed, and she forced herself to remain standing straight, open to his gaze.

"Turn around," he said, demonstrating the motion with his index finger.

Brynn slowly moved, and she almost jumped when he stopped her by touching his hand to the small of her back

"Damn," Tristan breathed, running his hands over her plump ass, squeezing and lifting the flesh with both hands. "This is incredible."

Brynn let herself simply feel, and closed her eyes as she tilted her head back as Tristan fondled her body. He peeled her underwear from her hips, grabbing her hand to help her steady herself as she stepped out of them. Her body was on fire, but she found herself frozen in that spot, suddenly too shy to face him despite everything that had led up to this.

He was behind her then, his body wrapping around hers, urging her to lean against him. He cupped her tits from behind, thumbs moving over her nipples, erection pressing into the small of her back, and a whine tore from her throat when he pinched her. "When you were up against me in that elevator, Brynn, fuck. This is all I've been able to think about since then." He turned her around so that she was facing the couch, and then moved her to sit on it before kneeling in front of her.