She walked into the corporate clean Starbuck’s, the chairs all neatly swept of crumbs, the faux mahogany inlay tables sparkling, as if they had never had a cup of coffee rested upon them. The store was crowded, relentlessly polite baristas working furiously to satisfy the needs of caffeine-deprived customers, and she fell into queue behind the last of these customers.

She was dressed for work, although unlike most, her work uniform consisted of scrubs and white clogs, not suits and heels. Her long dark hair was pinned into its customary chignon, and she projected an air of confidence and efficiency that was probably more display than actuality, had she the time to think about it. Reaching the counter, she ordered her standard – an extra large caramel macchiato, nonfat, no whip, then moved down the line to wait patiently for her order to be called.

She felt someone bump her from behind in the queue. Not a bump, really, a nudge, a slight graze over her ass with what was surely a hand. Turning around, prepared to be furious, she stopped, stunned. It was him. Him, the one exception to her many rules against dating colleagues, him, the firefighter she had met and kissed like an out of control teenager one night in an empty call room in the emergency department at the hospital. Him.

Her breath suddenly came short as she took in his presence. He was smiling, and in that moment, she felt the flood of hormones and wetness overtaking her body. She looked up, up into his beautiful hazel eyes, and her fingers tingled with the need to run her hands through his greying hair, to touch him again. He stepped closer, leaned over, and whispered, lips just brushing her left ear, “Your order is ready, my dear.”

She turned back around, trying to gather herself, grabbing the cup of coffee like it was a life preserver on a sinking ship. Trying to calm herself, she found a table and sat down, hoping that he would leave, that he wouldn’t come sit with her, but no such luck was to be had. He pulled out a chair, the legs scraping on the slate floor, and sat down at the table with her.

“Trying to avoid me, love?” he said, a distinct twinkle in his eye.

She responded by staring down into her coffee, studying the plastic lid with an intensity usually reserved for examining patients.

She said nothing, but her body was already betraying her distinct pleasure at his presence. Pupils dilating, her breathing coming now in irregular gulps, her skin flushed to her fingertips. Fuck. She wanted to take him home, take him into her bedroom, finish what they had started so many months ago.

As if of their own accord, her feet slipped out of her clogs and began sliding up his legs, sliding up to his inner thighs, her right foot coming to rest on the slight bulge in his uniform trousers. She made eye contact, lifting her green eyes to meet his, her words tumbling and stumbling out of her mouth.

“Does it feel like I am avoiding you, love?” she asked, smiling as she felt the bulge growing beneath her bestockinged right foot.

He said nothing, pushing his chair squeakily back, her foot falling back to the floor as he stood. Oh fuck, she had forgotten how handsome, how stupidly handsome, he could be. He walked around to her side of the table, laying a calloused hand on her left shoulder, the warmth of his skin radiating through her scrubs into her very core.

He leaned down, again his lips brushing against her ear, and whispered, “No, it does not feel like you are avoiding me. You and I both know that you don’t go on shift for another hour and a half. Walk me to my car.”

It wasn’t a question, it was an order, and she obeyed, standing, smoothing out her scrubs, feeling the fuschia pink lace bra beneath, and the wanting hardness of her nipples poking insistently at the lace.

She slipped her feet back into her clogs, grabbed her as yet untouched coffee, and followed him out the door.

She couldn’t keep her eyes off of his perfect ass. What was it about BDU’s that made a man’s ass so fucking attractive? Lost in her reverie, she almost ran into him when he stopped and turned around. Quite without warning, his lips were on hers, her back against his car, her own lips betraying her again, parting to allow him full access as she pressed herself into him, her body begging for his. She felt his strong hands sliding up under her scrub top, felt them sliding under her bra, and for once in her life, she didn’t give a damn who was or wasn’t watching.

Moaning softly, her curious hands ran down over his chest and belly, glancing over his groin before coming to rest on his belt buckle. He had her now. She had to be taken by him, had to give herself wholly and completely over to him, and she needed him to do it now. Breaking the kiss, she whispered, “Please, Sam...please…” her voice trailing off, the language centre in her brain failing her as she tried to express her want.

“Get in the car.” Her coffee was all but forgotten now, resting on the hood of his vehicle, but he grabbed it and placed it carefully in a cupholder in the 2013 Toyota Highlander. She leapt into the passenger seat, buckling herself in, restraining herself as she wanted to be restrained by him. To her surprise, though, he left himself unbuckled, then reached over and with a click, unbuckled her seatbelt.

She looked at him, stunned for a moment, and then turned to kiss him again, thinking that this was what he wanted. Instead, he placed his hands on the back of her head, and whispered, “Suck me, slut, show me what you can do.”

His hands dropped from her head, and in one quick movement, his BDU’s were down and his beautiful, swollen cock sprang free of his boxers.

Oh god, she thought, oh my dear god. She hesitated just for a bit, and then bent down, parting her lips again and taking just the head into her mouth, her tongue gently probing at his slit, tasting what she had wanted to taste for so long, before taking his entire length deep into her mouth and throat, desperate to swallow him down, desperate to choke on his length.

She felt his hands on the back of her head again, unpinning her hair, heard his soft moans echoing in her ears, felt him thrusting his hips up into her wanting mouth. Fuck, she loved this, loved the feeling of him fucking her mouth and throat. He tasted of sex, she thought, tasted of need. She slid him almost all the way out of her mouth, looked up at him, eyes closed in bliss, and that was all it took. She gave a long flat lick up his balls to the tip of his hardness, then, hair falling into her face, she inhaled him again, taking him balls deep into her mouth and throat, wanting to please him, wanting to please herself.

She felt him tense up, felt his fingers dig into her scalp, and then... then that perfect moment when he sprayed her throat with his cum, almost gagging her, as she swallowed down every last drop, her mouth milking his cock, her breasts heavy on his thighs, her hands squeezing and stroking his balls. Finally, reluctantly, she slid him out of her mouth and sat up. Her hands were trembling as she picked up her coffee and took a sip.

She looked at him, watching him pull up his boxers and refasten the belt on his BDU’s. Smiling broadly, she said, “How did you know that I like a little cream with my coffee?”

He turned to her and kissed her hard, whispering against her lips, “I’ve always known, love. Now go.”

With that, she climbed out of the Highlander clutching her coffee, straightened her scrubs again, and went to her own car, satisfied beyond what anything Starbuck’s could possibly have provided.