I gasp for breath when Jett drops down, covering my breast with his mouth, sucking and licking while massaging with his hand. I’m withering under him, agitated...turned on, I don’t know, but I can’t stop from squirming. There’s a warmth that’s spreading throughout my body and a tingle forming between my legs. My fingers grip the back of his head. His hair is too short to pull, so I push his head against me, savoring how his wet tongue feels on my nipple.
Jett’s hands work at the button and zipper of my jeans, and when he gets them unfastened, he shimmies me out of them, lifting my bottom off the couch as he forcefully tears them from my body. He’s on his knees, one hand resting on the top of the couch while the other adjusts himself in his pants as he glances down at me. His breathing puffs out in short, quick bursts as he watches me. Here I am, completely exposed. The one garment of clothing still attached to my body doesn’t do much good when it’s scrunched down beneath my breasts. I’m uncomfortable and I want to cover myself.
“You’re so beautiful,” Jett says, his voice deep and gravelly. “If you’re not ready, we’ll stop right now.”
I stare up at him, not sure what to do or what to say. I want him to continue, but how do I let go of all the years of abuse? How do I close off that part of my mind so the rest of my body can release the pent-up aggression and turn it into a life changing orgasm? Is that even possible?
When I don’t respond, Jett asks, “Do you want me to stop?”
I can’t form the words, so I shake my head no. When Jett starts to remove his shirt, my mouth slightly parts, and I bite my lower lip to keep from groaning.
Fuck me.
The sight of his bare chest makes my heart skip a beat. The way his muscles flex when his arms slip free from the sleeves of his shirt, and how they constrict when he straightens his torso makes my core clench. And when I didn’t think I could lose my mind anymore, he stands and drops his pants. Good gawd. I’ve never seen anything like it. His cock, of course, is just as beautiful as he is. Long, thick, and smooth. The tip is already glossy from his arousal beading at the slit.
I lick my lips, not that I do that. I don’t. I’ve had cocks forced into my mouth too many times. Ask my mother’s pimp what happens when a dick is shoved into my mouth unwanted. It gets bit off, that’s what. And yes, I have bitten off more than I can chew. But the sight of Jett’s bulging cock makes me salivate.
Jett’s waiting for a cue, a signal to impale me with his stick. I give nothing away. I’m too in shock at how big it is. Will it fit? Will he rip me in two? Shit, this is a bad idea. But I want it in me...I do. Like, real bad. I spend my days second guessing myself and can’t make a decision to save my life. It’s time I stop thinking too much, just like Jaz said. What’s the worst that’s gonna happen? I don’t come, and that’s nothing new. So, I really have nothing to lose.
I nod once.
Fumbling for something in his pants pocket, Jett pulls out a condom and works quickly, slipping it over his erection, then grabs my hands and pulls me off the couch and into his arms. I’m spun around so my back is against his chest and his cock is probing against the gap between my thighs, right at the mound of flesh that’s eagerly awaiting his entrance. His hand slips over my tummy and presses me tight against him while he brings my right arm up, caressing my skin with his fingertips as he folds my arm around his neck. I tilt my head to the side, look up, and tug Jett’s neck down so our lips can meet. He kisses me softly while his palm skims up my belly and finds my breasts. He fondles each one before gliding his fingers down the center of my stomach, then buries his fingers between the lips of my wet pussy.
I can’t stop my body from flinching every time he slips a finger inside me then drags it up and over my clit. He twirls a finger over the tight bud before dipping back into my core. The only thing keeping me standing upright is Jett’s arm covering my breasts, his hand gripping my shoulder, pinning me against him. If it wasn’t for his secure hold, my knees would give out on me, and I’d be on the floor. But then I feel myself falling forward, and Jett’s fingers digging into my hips, which keeps me from toppling over.
I suppose it’s a good thing Jett moves fast. There’s no time for my brain to catch up to the next movement. My legs are kicked apart and my tight core is slammed into, making me cry out. I can’t say that it’s not painful...it is, but it’s a welcoming pain. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a cock inside me, I have to be stretched out for Jett to fit. But he’s obviously up for the challenge, because he shifts back on his heels, pulling out of me, leaving only the tip of him in, then tilts my hips so when he pushes up on his toes, he’s able to push all the way in.
He growls while I groan.
When he’s all the way in, he holds himself steady, waiting for the walls of my pussy to conform around his shaft. Then he starts out slowly, drawing out without leaving my warmth completely, then re-enters with a sharp thrust forward. Each push adds more punch than the last until he’s using my hips as the handles he needs to ride me from behind. As he pummels forward, he jerks me back onto his cock until I’m crying out, but not from pleasure...from pain.
It’s not the kind of pain you might think. He’s not physically hurting me. But all the times that some asshole rammed his dick in me, forcefully taking what wasn’t given to them, has my mind crushing any hopes of an orgasm. Don’t get me wrong. The feeling is there, but it’s not growing any more than an intense burning tingle deep in my core. I’m trying so hard to block out the bad memories and the pain that came with being taken against my will that I’m losing focus on what’s feeling good. And what feels good is Jett. He just doesn’t realize, the rougher he is with me, the harder it is for me to suppress the bad experiences I’ve had with sexual encounters. And every time I think he’s ignited a pending orgasm, it fizzles out to a dull buzzing within my belly until it’s completely snuffed out, and I’m left feeling nothing but Jett moving in and out of me.
My eyes are shut tight, allowing myself to be drowned by the noise of our bodies slapping against each other’s. I’ve learned to turn the sounds of juices squishing together into white noise. It usually brings me comfort, but the only thing that’s soothing me at the moment is Jett’s palm gliding down my spine, then back up so he can grip my shoulder. With one hand on my hip and one on my shoulder, Jett’s thrust are becoming frantic. And even though I’m not praying for it to be over, I’m wondering how long it will take Jett to come.
A coolness rushes between my thighs, and I’m tossed to my back on the rug before Jett dives back in. He has my legs resting on his shoulders and has his fingers digging into my thighs as he keeps my bottom off the floor. My hips hop up and down every time Jett pounds into me. Sweat is dripping down his forehead and beading across his chest, making the backs of my legs stick to his skin. He’s staring down at me in deep concentration, and I know he’s digging deep to try and make me come. I don’t have it in me to tell him it’s not working, and I sure as hell don’t want to fake it with him, but the way his face is drawn and turning red, I think he might actually give himself a heart attack with trying to get me off.
Don’t get me wrong, this feels great. And I’m moaning and crying out when the head of his cock nails me in just the right spot, but the poor guy isn’t going to be able to hit the secret hidden button that even I don’t know about. But I let him try, regardless, until my pussy is sore and we’re both exhausted.
“Fuck!” Jett snaps. I’m hopeful he finished himself off, but by the way his face is contorted, he’s clearly frustrated. Still connected, he wraps my legs around his waist as he leans down, resting his forehead against mine. His warm breath tickles my face as he pants.
I have no other words than, “I’m sorry.” I should have at least warned the poor guy as to what he was about to get mixed up with, but nope, I threw him out to the wolves. I let him try for my own selfish reasons only to watch him fail, which I knew he would to begin with it.
His head pops up and he gazes into my eyes. “Don
’t be sorry, Gray. Never be sorry. If anyone should apologize, it’s me for not doing my job right.”
I cup his face with my hands and press my lips onto his. “You’re amazing, Jett. And I’m being real right now when I say it’s not you it’s me. You know what you’re doing, that’s for sure. Please, don’t stop, I want you to come.”
His head shakes in my palms. “If you don’t come, I don’t come. Understand?” I open my mouth to protest, but he shuts me up with a passionate kiss. When he retracts his tongue from my mouth, he repeats, “Understand?”
I nod. “Understand.”
Chapter 28
Andi
I like my job, usually, but this week has been a rough one. The best part about dealing cards is interacting with the people, and I come across some very interesting people. On the other hand, the people are the ones that make what I do challenging. They’re either super nice, or they’re the biggest, cheapest set of assholes alive. And the rich ones are the worst. You’d think they’d tip big...and some do, but the majority like to stiff ya like a big, fat dildo up the ass. For having a bank account to support the United Nations, they are some of the stingiest people. Funny how that works. The ones that come in, who are just there to have a good time, are the ones that share their winnings. Those are the ones you want to come to the tables. And this week, it’s been a bunch of uptight, tight-fisted pricks.
So, on top of not being tipped out much, I haven’t seen Drew at all this week. And by the way it sounds, this weekend won’t be much better. Drew is preparing for a big case, so he’s been staying late at his office. I’m tempted to show up unannounced at his office, wearing only my long pea coat. I’d let him fuck me on top of his desk. Get me hot and bothered until his important papers are sticking to my sweat-lined back. I’m telling ya, I can’t get enough of that man. Not only is he fucking hot, but he has a brain too. He’s not like those models that are pretty to look at, and then they open their mouths and it’s like a bunch of air comes out of the gaping hole. Nope, this guy is flippin’ sexy, smart, and an all-around nice guy. He’s not at all like your typical sleazeball attorney either. He’s genuine and kind, and wants to do right by his clients. Drew is amazing, and I need to see him.
Friday nights are meant to be for us girls to go to the local bar and find our next boy toy. But I haven’t spoken with Gray since Jaz and I left her so-called dinner, where she proceeded to rant her paranoia about Jett knowing what we do on the weekends. I thought by giving her this last week to herself she’d have a chance to regroup, pull herself together, and come back down to reality. I can’t imagine she’d want to continue her weekend escapades if she still thought Jett was on to us. Maybe taking a break is a good idea. At least that’s what Jaz and I think. We’ll take a breather for a couple weekends then reevaluate. Besides, now that Drew is in the picture, I don’t care to partake in fertilizing our garden with human remains. We had a good run, but honestly, I don’t want to fuck anyone else. And I don’t have the urge to use my spoon either. Maybe it won’t last long, but while Drew and I are doing the whole couple thing, I don’t want to do anything that will potentially fuck up what we’ve got going on.
So, I’ll take my chances and go to Drew’s after I get off of work. I’ll run home, shower, and grab my jacket, and I’ll show up at his office ready to role play.
Ooh, that will be fun.
Now all I have to do is get through the next two hours and I’ll be good. I’ll deal the cards, wave my hand over the felt, and take these fool’s money, then get the fuck out of here. Let’s hope I can keep my mind off of Drew so I can concentrate on counting these cards. The last thing I need is to screw up and be out of a job. These casino sharks are no joke. Make one wrong move and your head will be on a stake before you can reach your car.
I take my shower and blow-dry my hair in record time, then add just enough makeup to enhance my natural beauty. I spritz perfume across my wrists and dab at the top of my jawline to give my neck a hint of sweet peony and vanilla before slipping my arms into my long pea coat, buttoning the jacket and tying the belt around my waist. I slip my feet into a pair of black stilettos, grab my purse, and head for the door. But when I swing the door open, Drew is on the other side with his fist in the air, ready to knock.
He’s smiling while my lips draw into a pout.
Dammit, why is he here?
He just ruined my surprise. Ah, who cares...would you fuckin’ look at him? Drop. Dead. Gorgeous. He’s wearing a dark gray pinstriped suit matched with a fitted white dress shirt and a blue tie that is undone and hanging loosely around his neck. If my tongue could roll out of my mouth and land at his feet, it would.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he says.
The way the words roll of his tongue makes my mouth slick with saliva. “Hey,” I answer.
Drew’s eyes wander down my body then back to my face. “I’m sorry, were you on your way out? I can come back.”
“No!” I say a bit too sharply. I take a calming breath before adding, “No, you don’t have to leave. I was actually on my way to come see you. But you beat me to it.” My pout returns.
Of course, it doesn’t last long when Drew’s lips spread wide across his face and his eyes light up. He cocks up an eyebrow when he asks, “Are you wearing anything under that coat?”
I take a nibble of my bottom lip with my top teeth then grab a fistful of Drew’s suit jacket, yanking him into my house and pulling him into me, smacking our lips together in a hungry kiss. His hands cup my face just below my jaw and holds me snug against him. Our mouths stay tangled until he pulls back on a quiet burst of breath, resting his forehead on mine. “Damn, I’ve been wanting to do that all fucking day.” The warmth of his breath heats my skin even more than it already is, but when he steps back, a coolness rushes over me. I want him to invade my space. I want him touching me with his hands, his mouth, his whole body. I need his caress like a cookie needs milk. I need him against me, on top of me...inside me. Like, now.
But fuck, he’s too much of a gentleman and walks away from me, taking his tie and suit jacket off, laying them neatly over the top of the couch. He unbuttons the cuffs of his sleeves and rolls them up his forearms, showing off his tattoos, then leans back against the couch, gripping the fabric between his palms, which only accentuates the muscles that run along his arms. I brush off a shiver when I approach him and rest my hands on his chest, letting the rise and fall of his chest surge through my palms, calming the pitter-patter of my own heart.
You know what they say, don’t you? The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. And I’ll do whatever I can for my man. I reach up on my tiptoes, peck his lips with mine, and whisper, “You hungry?”
He sighs, like he’s ashamed to admit that he’s hungry for food and not for me. He hangs his head, but his eyes turn up to look at me. “Starving.”
I take his hand. “Come with me, silly. I have just the thing to feed you.” I lead him into the kitchen and direct him to a chair at the table as I move through the kitchen. I pull items out of the pantry and the fridge and arrange them along the counter. Using an old family recipe passed down from my great nana, I begin to put together a lasagna. And there’s no better pair to the hearty meal than some buttered bread and a bottle of Pinot Noir.
Drew sits and stares, watching me work my kitchen with ease, before asking, “Do I get you for dinner?”
I glance at him from over my shoulder, matching his smirk with my own. “I’m for dessert.” I wink. I continue to work, layering the dish as I talk out loud. “I was taught, if your man is hungry, you feed him a good meal. And you, my dear, are going to get a real special treat.” I slip the dish into the oven and spin around, leaning back against the counter. “All we need to do now is figure out how to kill thirty-five minutes.”
I push off the counter and saunter toward Drew, who is motioning me to go to him with a few bends of his index finger. He’s positioned the chair so it’s facing out toward the kitchen, so when I reach h
im, I stand so his leg is between my thighs. He tugs on my coat belt, but doesn’t untie it. “We can have dessert first,” he suggests with a sly grin.
I playfully smack him in the arm. “That will ruin your dinner, and I didn’t just slave away in the kitchen for you to be too full to eat it. Don’t worry your pretty li’l head, you can still have dessert.” I clip the tip of his nose with my finger before adding, “That is if you eat all your dinner.”
And boy does he eat. Damn this boy can pound down. It’s a wonder how he’s so skinny and fit with how much he can shove in that ripped stomach of his. I’ll be surprised if he’s still up to dessert, not that dessert comes in the form of food, rather me served up, tied up, or however he’d like me.
The dishes can wait ‘til morning. I have everything piled up in the sink, but the man that’s waiting for me in the living room is far more important than dealing with lasagna stained plates. I come around the corner and stop short as I catch a glimpse of Drew handling my bowl of eyeballs that I have sitting on my bookshelf next to my James Patterson collection. I hold my breath, watching as he holds the eyes and rolls them around in his palm. I’m not sure if I should turn around and hide in the kitchen or approach with caution. Either way, I have to act casually...if I can. I pray that my emotions aren’t written all over my face. For fuck’s sake, I spend my days in a casino. I have seen my share of poker faces, it’s time that I use my own.
Taking a deep breath, I stroll into the living room like I’m unaware that Drew’s man-handling my collection of real eyeballs. “Ready for dessert?” I ask, standing up straight with my hands on my hips and my ankles crossed.
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