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The Perfect Fix

Erotic Short Story - The Perfect Fix  by Lexi Sylver

It is surely the hottest day of summer. The humidity clings to me like a second skin. As I make my way to the lingerie boutique I own and operate, I mentally chastise myself for having worn jeans and a tank top today. I precariously balance my steaming cup of coffee in one hand while jiggling my keys in the door to unlock it, managing just barely to avoid spilling the hot caffeine all over myself. I sigh. I am most definitely not a morning person.

Depositing my mug on the counter, I rush to punch in the alarm code. I check the time, glad it's still 8:00 a.m. I still have half an hour until Jason gets here with his truck to completely overhaul the tiles in the front entrance of my store as part of my renovation plan. I close my eyes, waiting for the caffeine to pump through my veins and make me feel awake so I can start the day.

It's 8:15. I lift myself out of my seat and peruse some of the brand-new bra and panty sets I recently received. I smile, feeling the silky fabrics between my fingers, examining the new lace sets imported from Spain, my favorite of which I am already wearing, pilfered yesterday . Ah, one of the perks of owning my own lingerie store is having a gratuitously extensive array of sexy European underthings to slink myself into.

The door opens and startles me. I turn around, inhaling sharply. Good God, this can't be the same man who originally quoted me the price of the tile job. Today Jason is without his professional-looking glasses and clipboard, his dark blond hair a disheveled mess. He's wearing a white cutoff t-shirt and dirty white jeans, contrasting with his bronzed skin and revealing his excessively shapely arms. If he had been attractive to me before when he was decked out in his button-down shirt and black pants, he is infinitely more sexy to me now.

He greets me in French with a sly smile, his blue eyes bright despite the early hour. My brain kick-starts again, and we shake hands, his hot grip lingering, letting me feel the roughness of his hands. I lean against the counter, feeling slightly dizzy. I look a mess, yet he is still undressing me with his eyes. I feel completely naked under his dirty gaze, and try to control my breathing. I find my words and manage to reply, asking him if he has everything he needs. His eyes roam over my body hungrily, reluctantly saying yes. I still register the unspoken end to his reply.

There is pure sex dripping off his body, I can feel it, taste it, smell it. Never before have I met someone so saturated with masculinity. His magnetism unconsciously draws me closer to him, my elbows sliding slowly over my newly installed counter. Neither of us speak, hesitating to break the spell. I can almost hear the space between us crackle with electricity.

I realize I am acting very unprofessionally... and so is he. I am a business owner, after all. He's here to fulfill the contract I signed last week. I reluctantly ignore the throb of yearning in my jeans and close my mouth to stop myself from drooling. I give him a brisk nod and turn away, telling him he'd better get started. When I turn back around again, he is already outside, getting the supplies out of his truck. My eyes open a bit wider as he bends over, watching his perfect ass and the red boxers peeking out the back of his jeans.

I shake my head, attempting to clear my dirty thoughts. The only way to ignore him is to immerse myself in work, and I do, simultaneously blasting loud heavy metal music to counter the noise from Jason's tools. I get busy arranging and rearranging the color schemes on the bra racks, figuring it's been long enough so I can see how he's doing. I check the time. 8:25! I steal a glance outside through the windows, and see Jason staring at me. We lock eyes for a moment, until I turn away again, blushing. What is wrong with me! I feel like a teenager in high school, walking past my crush's locker and trying not to stare for too long. Then again... in high school the meat never looked as ripe and fresh as the tall, broad-shouldered specimen on his knees in my store entrance.

It is the longest hour of my life. I try unsuccessfully to avoid looking through the windows at him, tuning out the feel of his eyes on me as I "work", mindlessly moving things around and back again, unable to do anything. My desire for him is simmering its way to a new boiling point. I peek outside again. He is turned toward me, bringing the hem of his t-shirt up to his face to soak up the sweat from the heat outside, allowing me to stare openmouthed at his perfectly formed, tanned abs. How does he have so much time to work out when he's so busy laying tiles, I wonder, sighing deeply, wishing he'd lay me instead.

I move from one end of the store to the other, pacing like a caged lion, trying desperately to focus on my menial tasks. I manage, for a full minute, to think about something else, and then the door opens, closes. I turn to see Jason, a sheen of sweat over his face and arms, standing right behind me, close enough to touch. I jump back as though electrified, asking him if everything is all right, completely caught off guard.

He says nothing for a moment, making me wait in frustration for his response, brushing his eyes over me again as I do the same to him, taking in every inch of his tall frame. He licks his lips. I shiver, brushing my fingers against my mouth to make sure my jaw isn't hanging open.

"Tes longues ongles ne t'empêchent pas de travailler?" he says, asking if the length of my nails impedes my work. I shake my head.

"They'd leave some nasty marks on someone's back, non?" he asks in heavily accented English, which I didn't know he could even speak.

The lust smolders inside me, my blood hot, my breathing erratic. I nod, thinking about how badly I'd absolutely love to leave the imprint of my fingernails dragged over his back.

He turns one arm out towards me, and asks me to scratch him, just once, to know what it would feel like. I am at a loss for words, struggling between the need to touch his hot velvet skin, and trying to seem composed, professional, oblivious to his abundant virility.

I glance at his upturned forearm, then back at him, dragging my long nails down from the crux of his elbow to his wrist, hard, hearing the scrape, watching him suck in a breath between his teeth, exhaling sharply. I retract my fingers quickly, and we both watch the red lines appearing on his caramel skin. He smiles slowly, both of us ready to lunge on each other, breathing heavily. My hands ball into fists at my sides, preventing myself from reaching out to touch him again. I summon all of my restraint and take a step back. He moves closer. I step toward the wall behind me, and he inches forward again. He is so near that I can feel the heat emanating from him.

"Tu sens si bon," he murmurs, his lips coming closer to my ear, breathing me in. You smell so good.

There is nowhere to go. He has me pinned between the wall and his tough body. I feel the dampness of his sweat on his shirt, inhale his musk, his eyes capturing my gaze, informing me there is no way out. His rough hands grab my waist, crushing my body right up against his, making me feel every ridge of his hardness.

The door opens, and he moves off of me. The customer takes a long look at Jason's delectable body and my pink cheeks, raises an eyebrow and waits for me to approach her. Shooting me one last, lusty sideways glance, he goes back outside to continue working. I fight to breathe normally again, smiling at the woman, who thankfully doesn't ask me about him, and help her find some sexy lingerie for her boyfriend's birthday.

I feel his eyes boring into me through the window, although I can still hear the buzz of his tools. His image is vivid in my mind, it's as though I'm right next to him, watching the sweat drip off his brow, watching those muscular arms twitching with activity. His presence is so consuming and disquieting that I have intense difficulty passing my client's credit card through the machine.

When she leaves, I am overcome with the desire to meander outside just to bask in Jason's sexuality. We stare at each other through the window again, and I am propelled by an intangible force through my front doors, finding myself standing directly in front of where he is kneeled, his head level with my waist. He looks up at me, his eyes shadowed and dark. It is unclear now who has become the predator, as we wait for the other to initiate something. Slowly he shifts his weight and gets up from the ground, rising tall in front of me.

I move backwards towards the door, pushing it open, hoping my lusty expression is self-explanatory. He follows me into the store and I turn the bolt behind us. For a second my rational self kicks in and I wonder if we should have put away his tools first. The thought dissipates when he grabs me and wrenches me toward him forcibly, his hot mouth immediately suppressing any possibility of argument on my part. My lips part, taking his tongue into my mouth, surprised at how sweet he tastes. His erection rises and presses against my belly, arousing me further. I lead him slowly to the back, sequestering us to where no one can see.

The backstore is lit with a sole light fixture, casting a faint glow on our skin as Jason backs me up against the wall, his large hands squeezing my ass. I quickly hoist up his shirt, eager to feel his bare skin against mine, rewarded by the sight of his sculpted torso gleaming with sweat. I find this absurdly sexy, and roughly grab him, my nails digging into his back. He growls, pushing me back and quickly stripping me of my shirt, leaving me in my turquoise and black lace bra. He unzips my jeans and I shimmy out of them, revealing my tiny matching thong. His eyes burn into me appreciatively, licking his lips, making me snap again. I can't stop touching him, the feel of his sweltering flesh under my fingertips irresistibly addictive.

I hoist myself up on the counter placed against the opposite wall, sitting on the edge and pulling him to me by the front of his dirty jeans. Jason breathes on my neck, biting into me, grabbing my hair and roughly pulls my head back. I revel at the slight pain this causes, making me moan, shivering as his mouth sweeps over my shoulder, down to cover my nipples, which are visibly poking through the thin fabric of my bra. I grip onto the back of his head, arching my breasts closer to him, moaning loudly, his teeth biting hard into my nipples. A tremor of need courses through me, and I fumble to unzip his pants, his tongue moving lower down my body.

His jeans fall to the floor, bringing up a thin cloud of dust from the work he'd just done. His thighs and calves are hard, thick whips of muscle and I bite my lip and smile at my good fortune. I slip off his red boxer shorts, finally revealing one of the hardest, thickest, most perfectly shaped erection in all my experience. My clit twitches in anticipation, but before I can even reach out to wrap my hand around him, he kneels on the floor in front of me, lifting my ass to peel off my G-string. He watches me as he parts my legs brutally, dragging his wet mouth up my inner thigh, from my knee to the scorching hell between my thighs. His tongue touches my clit just gently and my entire body jerks back. Jason smiles wickedly, and grips my legs to prevent me from moving, lowering his mouth to my softest, pinkest lips.

My eyelids close halfway and I let out a long, drawn-out moan, the feeling of his slick tongue over my clit unbearably wonderful. His large hands roam over my breasts, and I bury my fingers in his thick hair, clasping it firmly as he moans between my legs, the small vibrations making me shiver. I am so consumed with my need for him, the evidence of which is dripping slowly down my thighs onto the countertop. I try to wriggle away, dying to have his thick cock inside me, and cry out with urgency. He stands up slowly, his blue eyes dark and sinful.

"Viens ici," I instruct, casting my gaze down to his luscious hardness as I reach out to grab him, thrilled by my inability to fully wrap my hand around his thick organ. He inches closer to me, looping his muscular arms tightly around my thighs and dragging me to the edge of the counter. I guide his throbbing head between my legs, groaning at the feel of him stretching me out as he pushes further, faster, the ecstasy of him sliding into me exquisite.

The strength of Jason's thrusts forces me to lean my weight on my arms behind me, watching his cock disappear within me over and over again, his powerful body tensing with each movement. He lifts up my legs, holding them tightly against his chiseled chest, driving deeply, the pleasure almost ripping me in half with his vigor. We moan, breathing fitfully together, a universal language of eroticism, communicating the intensity of our pleasure.

I grab his perfect ass with one hand, digging my nails into him the way he likes it, and he grunts, pumping faster in response, his hot breath against my ankles. My moans grow louder, filling the space with continuous echoes, along with the sound of his solid thighs slapping against my flanks. The heat inside me is intolerable, begging for release. Jason abruptly moves my legs back down and lifts me off the counter, thrusting into me in midair, and I lock my legs around him loosely to allow him space to do with me as he pleases, his large hands grabbing my ass, holding me upright.

I bring my mouth to his neck, breathing in the spicy scent of his sweat and virility, drunk with passion, about to erupt. Almost sobbing with pleasure, my soft body seizes up and my thighs clench him from each side, and I sink my teeth into his shoulder. He doesn't stop, incessantly pounding into me as my walls squeeze him, releasing my torment, small drops of my juices trickling down his tight balls. When I loosen my pressure on him, my entire body feeling like a limp noodle.

Jason slowly lays me down on my back on the countertop, still buried to the hilt in my heat. I am still shivering as he continues to slide into me, slower now, a wry grin on his succulent lips as he peers down at me.

"Tu as bien aimé ça?" he asks me. Did you like that?

I hoist myself up on my elbows and gaze more intently at him, still slightly flushed from my climax, glancing down at his gently moving erection, and licking my lips, communicating what else I'd like.

"Je n'ai pas encore fini avec toi," he growls. I'm not done with you yet.

I tremble with anticipation at his bold words, knowing he is capable of pleasuring me endlessly, and longing for it.

Jason slides out of me completely, and I feel his lack of warmth immediately, wanting, needing it back. He drags me back to the edge of the counter, hoists me up again as though I weight absolutely nothing, swinging me around to press the heat of his brawn against me. Jason pushes back inside me, gliding easily through my juices, with such power that I am thrown halfway back onto the counter, gripping onto the edges to steady myself. I cry out with exhilaration, still dazed, and realize I am looking directly in a dusty mirror at the reflection of his sculpted torso and my hunched body.

He drives deeply into me with long, measured strokes, clutching my hips firmly. I watch my knuckles turn white from their grip on the sides of the counter, my nipples grazing the cold surface as my breasts swing back and forth with each thrust. Jason brings one of his hands to the front of me, rubbing my clit with his rough forefingers. The combination of disparate sensations sets me afire again, succumbing even more, if possible, to his power.

His strokes come a bit slower now, adding to my torment. I need more, I want all of him, I can't get enough of his skin. I rise up on the counter, sliding my knees seamlessly onto the table, my thighs spread as far apart as possible, my back arched, his thrusts now as deep as possible, making me moan with the pain of it. He reads my body language perfectly, running his hand along the downward slope from my ass to my neck, wrapping my long hair around his hand and using it as a leash to pull my head back. His hips roll into me, his pelvis slapping loudly against my haunches, and he starts smacking my ass, hard enough to remind me this is too vivid to be a fantasy.

The heat diffuses throughout my core, my moans emitted from the profound depths of my primal self. My calves slide further apart on the smooth surface, granting him complete access, his hand slipping in front of me, pinching my clit, his other hand still tugging my hair back, making me watch our frenzy in the mirror. I feel a bead of sweat drip from Jason's brow onto my back at the same exact time as he delivers a firm slap to my ass, and I lose it completely, groaning barbarically, imploding, as wave upon wave of convulsion washes over me, shaking both of us.

I hear Jason cry out too, and feel him slide out of me, his hand pressed into the small of my back to keep me still. I watch him stroke his shaft rapidly, then feel the hot beads of his cum spill onto my back, down my ass and up to my shoulders, see the thrill of sweet release on his face.

He turns around to find a roll of paper towels, effectively capturing the rogue rivulets of cum that threaten to spill to the floor, cleaning the product of our tryst off my quaking skin. I slip off of the counter to face him, and he presses his succulent mouth to mine, kissing me deeply, slowly, both of us drained.

"Merci," he murmurs against my lips, stepping away from me to pull on his clothes, watching me drunkenly locate my clothes. "Je crois que mon travail va prendre un peu plus de temps que prévu." I think my job is going to take a bit longer than expected.

I arch an eyebrow at him, amused. "Prends tout le temps qu'il te faut," I respond, biting my lip. Take all the time you need.

He grins widely, covering my mouth with his briefly, walking back outside to continue working under the beating sun. I can't seem to wipe the satisfied smirk off my face, knowing I can look forward to at least one more back-room session with my delectable handyman.

The Perfect Fix was originally written, published and copyrighted by Lexi sylver on July 1, 2009. All Rights Reserved.

This story is also posted up on Celis T. Rono's blog, along with my story Any Vixen Sunday: Morgan's First Taste. Thanks Celis, for your support and amazing comments!

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