by Amy Faye
"How's your food?"
She looks like she's about to lose her mind. How little food can she eat that she's sitting there poking at it like she wants to eat more but can't physically fit any more in her mouth?
"Oh gosh, it's great, but just—"
"Is too much?" the chef offers. He's standing there, too. It's a strange experience all told. Not one that Jeff's had before. Presumably, from the way that her eyes were wide as saucers for a while, neither had Cathy.
"Too much. Yeah."
The Japanese guy's at least as old as Jeff's father, but he's got a sort of rough-hewn look to him and when he smiles, it looks as natural as can be. Which Jeff's never described his father as, not even once.
"Good?"
"Incredible!" She immediately throws herself into trying not to be rude for leaving food there, explaining between bites how wonderful it is, even as she tries to stuff her cheeks like a squirrel to get as much food inside her body as she can.
The smile widens. So does Jeff's. This was a good choice, whether she can finish the food or not. He does, however, have to try not to think too hard about the check. His normal day, he barely spends ten dollars on everything. One of the perks of being busy all the time, and having several people willing to just give you stuff, all at the same time.
But it doesn't really matter. He can more than afford it. It's just that the sticker shock always hits whenever he actually has a chance to spend anything.
She's trying to communicated her pleasure with the smile she's got on her face. It's not hard to see that she thinks that she ought to punish herself for not finishing her food. Or at least, she thinks that someone else will think that she should be punished, and she's not willing to fight with that person.
She should have worn a jacket, he thinks as she shivers on the way out. He's got one in the back seat of the truck, but he hadn't brought it out to the restaurant, and now that the sun's dipping below the skyline, the afternoon warmth is fading fast.
"So you liked it, huh?"
"Oh gosh, yes. Loved it."
"Good. Cold?"
"Just a little. I'll be fine."
The walk to the truck is short, but by the time they get their she's got her arms wrapped around her. It creates an appealing valley between her breasts. Jeff almost felt sad when she slipped into the warm car and that valley started to go away.
"But you didn't like it as much as you like me, though, huh?"
She looks over at him, a gentle smile spreading across her face. "What makes you say that?"
"I can just tell, I guess. I can read your mind."
"Oh yeah? What am I thinking?"
"You're thinking that I'm not going to guess what you're thinking."
She raises her eyebrow. "Nope."
"Sure you're not. What are you thinking then, miss unreadable?"
He eases the car onto 275 and merges into the evening traffic, his mind only halfway on the conversation, halfway on making sure he doesn't miss his exit. That would be a bit embarrassing to say the least.
"I was thinking that you deserved a reward for taking me to such a lovely dinner."
"Oh yeah? What kind of reward were you thinking?"
"Do you want to know?"
"Of course."
Only halfway on the conversation. Mostly he's thinking about which way to go. Which is why the idea of what she's going to do next doesn't even occur to him until she's already unzipping his jeans.
"Hey—what are you doing?"
"I'm giving you my reward. Early dessert."
She leans over and stops talking, her hot mouth engulfing his hardness. The pleasure that runs through his body is enough to make his hands tighten around the wheel, the thrill of getting what she's giving is enough to get his mind off the road for an instant. He has to force himself back into focus.
"Jesus, Cathy. Don't—"
He's not sure how he intended to finish that thought. What she was supposed to not do. Did he want her not to do it? Jesus, no. All he wanted was for her to continue.
His right hand finds a place to rest on the back of her head. Jeff's eyes point forward. He has to keep his focus on the road, and the fact that he can't focus on the pleasure, that it has to stay on the edge of his consciousness, only drives it harder, only makes him need it more.
She lets his cock, as hard as it's ever been, slip out of her mouth for a moment and runs her tongue up and down its length. His hips jerk up against her without his permission.
"Jesus, Cath—"
And then she sits up, leaving him hard and hanging out of his jeans.
"That's enough for now."
He feels a surge of anger, and then arousal. "When we get home—"
"What's going to happen when we get home, Jeff?"
He lets out a laugh, one that's dark and violent, putting himself away with one hand as he eases the car around the turnoff.
"You'll find out."
"Am I going to get the dessert you promised me?"
His jaw tightens until his teeth click together. "You know you are."
"Good," she says. She reaches across with one hand and presses her palm into his cock. "I'm looking forward to it."
Chapter Nine
She liked the way that his face strained, liked the immense power that she felt over him. She'd never have that kind of power over someone again, not one on one. He needed it, needed it so bad. The minute she'd say no, she knew that she had to have it again. She had to have that kind of control.
Her heart thumped in her chest, and her thighs were begging to be toyed with. The place between her thighs, her deepest place, begged for her fingers to find it, to tease her lips apart and dip inside.
She held off, though. Forced herself to manage that arousal. Forced her hands to stay away from the places that they so desperately wanted to go. She crossed her legs and tried not to notice the way that it only helped build up more arousal.
His teeth grind together in arousal, set hard against each other. And then they pulled into a driveway. Her driveway. It didn't take long to make it to the door, but she had already waited too long. She'd already had to hold herself back for more time than she was remotely capable of, and now she needed whatever he could offer her.
He followed behind, no questions asked. Both of them knew where this was going now, and neither one wanted to stop it. He leaned into her, his body pressed against hers, her back up against the wall. Her toe reached out to close the door behind them, and once it shut and she heard the handle click home, it was as if it had never been there in the first place.
"Jesus, you feel good," she purred. His body was something out of a Greek statue, like it belonged to a God. She wasn't sure when it had happened but she'd lifted her leg up and wrapped it around his waist, pulling him into her with a heel even before they've taken their clothes off.
He stepped back and she let him go. His shirt coming off told her she made the right decision. His skin clung tightly to his muscles, showing each separate part, the separation between his abs—
A shudder rippled through her body, daring her to lose control.
"Your turn," he growled.
She looked up at him, giving him the best doe-eyed expression she could manage. "I can't reach the zipper. Can you help me?"
She turned around and bent over a little, her hips sliding back until she felt herself pressing against him. He couldn't resist moving his hips, pressing himself against her ass, and she couldn't help enjoying it.
Then his fingers found her zipper and worked it down slowly, exposing more and more of her back to him. Exposing more and more of her skin. His lips traced the line behind, pressing on each inch of exposed skin until it reached the bottom, and he pushed the shoulders of her dress down.
Cathy let them slip down her arms, let them free her breasts. They weren't as big as some girls she'd seen, a consequence of a lifetime spent worrying more about staying trim than about… anything else, really. Would he be disappointed?
Cathy's hands came up naturally to cover herself, to hide her no-doubt disappointing breasts. If he couldn't see them, then he couldn't be unhappy with them, and she could go on imagining that he might find something appealing about her.
One of his smooth-skinned hands grabs her arms, both wrists at once, and pulls them away. The way that he does it doesn't leave any room for questioning or fighting, and he does it with a strength that says she couldn't fight back if she wanted to.
Yet, the expression in his eyes doesn't show any disappointment. He looks at her hungrily. His eyes are full of need and desire and nothing else. Nothing humiliating, nothing embarrassing. She shivers before she realizes what she's doing and presses her back up against the wall.
Jeff closes the distance with her, his head dipping to press his lips into her neck.
"I can't afford to have a mark," she gasps out, the pleasure of his mouth on her sensitive skin making it hard to form the words properly. "Don't leave a mark."
His teeth bite down and pull just enough the give her a halfway mix of pain and pleasure that makes her mind go blank.
"Then I won't."
He dips his head lower, and now his hand starts to loosen on her wrists as it starts to be too long a reach, but she doesn't fight to stop him. His teeth find the hardening bud of her nipples and tug softly, eliciting a moan that she isn't sure comes from the pain or the pleasure.
And then his hand starts to explore as well, dipping deeper and lower and searching for a place on her body that lets her sample the pleasures that she so desperately needs. Her body reacts on its own, bucking her hips forward to get him to rub the exact spot she needs, and it works. She gets what she needs, like scratching right on an itch, or a massage hitting the knot in her back.
Only this is through her whole body, somewhere too deep in her psyche and too wrapped up in need to do anything but suck in a breath and close her eyes and try to enjoy the sensation for as long as she can, fleeting milliseconds followed by another and another.
She lets out a gasp that doesn't sound like herself, that doesn't sound like her at all. She's a good girl. She would never want—would never need—anything like this. She's never done anything like this before, and she's not supposed to be doing it now.
The sudden chastising voice inside her mind drives her to a heady, erotic mixture of guilt and need, a pleasure that won't be denied, and the more that she tries to deny it, the more that she can't.
"Oh, God, please give me more."
He drops to his knees and hooks his thumbs on the waist of her panties. "You got it."
They drop easily to the floor when he pulls them down over her hips, and then he wraps his arms around her thighs, pulling her knees around his head until she's got her weight resting on his shoulders. He doesn't seem to register the weight at all, as if she weighs nothing, and then—
Oh god. All of the thoughts in her head go flying away as his tongue flicks across her clit, as the very tip of his tongue presses against her, up into her hood and teasing out pleasure that she's never felt before. Never even dreamed of before.
"Oh fuck," she says. She sounds distant and needy and pathetic and Oh God she's all of those things and she'll be whatever he wants as long as he doesn't stop.
He pulls her in between his lips and sucks, and her legs aren't doing what she tells them to any more. They're pulling him in closer, her toes are curling, her entire body is getting tight. He sucks again, switches back to his tongue, and she starts to lose track of what she's feeling any more, except that it's better than anything she'd ever imagined before and the only thing that she could possibly ask for that would be better than this is—
God. She feels one of his fingers beginning to probe her entrance, and then when he pushes inside, his fingers wriggling around to find each and every sensitive spot inside her, she loses herself completely to the tangled, writhing mass of need that she's never realized that she always wanted to be until she had it.
Her fingers dig into his hair and pull him in closer, mashing his face into her and taking as much as she can get, more than she could ever need and more than she can handle and it's still not enough to quench her need, but she's too far gone now, until everything in her body tightens up and she can hear a woman screaming like a whore with her voice.
Chapter Ten
Jeff let her down slow, after feeling returned to her body and she finally had a way to express herself outside of screams and moans and trying to pull all of his hair out. Her breaths came in short, hard pants, ragged pulls from her lungs, even as she took the weight off his shoulders and set it onto her still-wobbly legs.
Even as she blinked and smiled. "Jesus that was good."
He smiled to himself. He could tell she'd liked it, but somehow hearing the words come out of her mouth was that much more appealing, as if it made some sort of difference to him that she was willing to tell him what he already knew.
"You liked it, huh?"
She blinks slow, like her body's forgotten how in the aftermath of the orgasm that ripped through her and now she's just having to relearn it all again from scratch. "Jesus Christ yes."
"You wouldn't mind returning the favor, then, would you?"
She didn't answer, just pushed on his chest. Jeff let himself slip back, scrabbled back a few feet until his shoulders pressed into the sofa and propped himself up there, while she worked the zipper on his jeans and pulled his hardness free from his.
When her fingers wrapped around it, he could already hardly contain himself, could hardly hold back the need that threatened to overtake him.
The sensitive skin around his shaft glided up and down under her gentle movements, but even that little stimulation was enough to drive him up a tree. His breaths were ragged and loud and his heart was thumping hard.
"What do you want," she asks. The girl who was driven past the breaking point, who could hardly control herself and the arousal she was feeling, is gone now. She's replaced by this girl who is driven by the desire to be in control.
Part of him wants to fight back, wants to take what he needs. Part of him wants to give her what she so wants, to give her the control over him that he can see she needs.
"Your mouth. Suck my cock."
She smiles and dips her head and presses a chaste kiss against the head of his cock, giving it a tug a moment later as she straightens back up.
"How was that?"
His face twists up in an expression that is somewhere between frustration and amusement.
"You know that's not what I wanted. Suck my cock."
Her head dips and this time she takes him inside her mouth, the warmth engulfing him. His hips bucked up to meet her, pressing into the back of her throat. She pulled back and took a deep breath, looking up at him from his lap with an innocent expression.
"Was that better?"
"Don't stop."
"Yes, sir," she says. Her voice didn't sound like it was obedient, though. It sounded like she was just waiting for the perfect chance.
His hand guides her head, pressing her in all the places that he wants her. Faster now, and then slower again, taking him deep before going faster again, shorter strokes and focusing on the head, right where he wants her.
And then, as he begins to feel the edge of orgasm on the horizon, she pulls away, forcing his hand away, and she settles back on her tight, cute ass.
"All done."
He groans out his frustration before crawling towards her. She scoots away a little, but not for long, until she lets him catch her. "What are you going to do to me?"
"What do you want me to do?"
"You know what I want."
"Say it, then. Tell me what you want."
&
nbsp; "I want you inside me."
She's pliant when he puts a hand on her shoulder and pushes her back until she's laying down. She spread her legs for him, but he takes one and props it up on his shoulder anyways, spreading her wider as he guided his hardness towards her entrance.
"You want this?"
"Oh God, yes," she says, her hips straining to reach as he teases her entrance. He slips inside easily when he starts to press, her folds spreading to allow him entrance, lubricated by her arousal.
And then he slips back out again, just as easily. It's a sacrifice for him, taking away what he wants so desperately. She groans in disapproval.
"No, keep going."
"Are you sure you don't want me to stop?"
"Don't you dare stop," she purrs, hopeful and needy.
"Good."
He pushes himself back into her, leaning in on her leg and pressing himself hilt-deep, feeling something deep inside her pushing back against his intrusion. With his return to her warmth, he feels her walls already squeezing down, clamping on his shaft and trying to draw out whatever they can from him.
His hips move slow at first, in long, drawn out thrusts that take as much as he can give her. The need inside him grew as he moved, and he wasn't moving slowly for long. Her hand came up to cover her mouth, but he pulled it away.
"I want to hear you."
"Fuck," she said. Her other hand shot up to cover her mouth, and he pulled it away again.
"Tell me what you want."
"Oh God, please."
"Please what?"
"Jeff, please."
"Please, what?"
"Just keep going, don't stop, please." She let out a moan and her hands scrabble to get some kind of grasp on the floor, but her fingers slip on the hardwood.
He grabs her shoulders and fucks her harder as her insides try to hold him in place, try to suck him in deeper, to complete an evolutionary need that neither one of them can deny any more.