by Trent Jordan
Poor Phoenix. I didn’t think he had ever been contained and controlled in such a fashion. The shock in his eyes… it was a massive turn-on.
“Luckily, I like you,” I said as I unbuttoned his pants and let my fingers brush over the outline of his quivering dick underneath his boxers. “And because I like you, that means I might just make it fucking awesome.”
I ran my fingers under his shirt, scratched his belly, and smirked as he quivered. So, he had a ticklish spot. How unfortunate for him.
How fortunate for me.
“Take off your shirt and cut. Now.”
“You—”
“Don’t question me.”
This is so fun, I thought. Just minutes ago, we were on the verge of tears and sharing intimate secrets. Now—perhaps because we’d allowed ourselves to get so close—I felt so much more ready to take some control back of myself.
I felt ready to show Phoenix my wild side.
Phoenix did as commanded, revealing to me a body that I would often not see in real life—it probably wasn’t an exaggeration to say his body was in the top percentile of men I’d ever seen shirtless. It looked better than it had felt on the bike, and that was saying something.
“Good boy.”
“What the fuck...”
I let that little quip from Phoenix go. It was fun to have him not know when I’d “punish” him. Ignorance wasn’t just bliss; it was pleasure.
“Now then,” I said, still slowly wrapping my fingers around his boxers, deliberately taking much more time than I needed. “Because you treated me so well on our date today...”
I pulled his boxers halfway down, enough so that I could feel his bare cock with my fingers.
“You’ll get some pleasure.”
But...
I didn’t quite pull them down.
“Eventually.”
I took my shirt and bra off, drawing a “nice” from Phoenix. I didn’t break character, but it felt so damn nice to hear him react that way. Any girl who said they didn’t want a little validation topless was full of shit, even if we kept ourselves in decent shape.
I crawled up his body, kissing him from his lower abdomen all the way up to his lips, smothering my groin into his half-exposed crotch. I could feel him, even now, still swelling and stiffening with anticipation. I almost wanted to see if I could get him to come without ever touching him or putting him in my mouth or pussy, but that felt like a challenge too extreme for a first time. After all, he wasn’t a toy—I actually liked Phoenix.
Really fucking liked Phoenix.
“Oh, fuck, Phoenix...” I growled as he kissed me back with equal passion. Maybe if I trusted him enough, I’d let him have the wheel at some point. I could—
He flipped me over and started kissing my neck.
Oh, hell no. Oh, fuck no, he did not!
With a force that must have surprised him, I rolled him right back over and stared into his eyes.
“I’m the one in charge here,” I said. “You do as I say. You got that?”
Phoenix looked like he was trying not to smile, like showing he enjoyed it would make me punish him. It just made it that much more fun. Maybe I would “punish” him.
“Absolutely,” he said. “Whatever you want.”
Don’t worry. You’ll go back to being in charge after this.
“Just never thought—”
“What?” I said, kissing and nibbling his neck. “That I could be this way?”
I slid my hand down into his boxers and, for the first time, started stroking his cock. Damn, just feeling its girth and imagining it inside of me was enough to make my already soaking-wet pussy start to tense.
Maybe we really would orgasm without any intimate pleasuring.
“Surprise, Phoenix,” I said. “Just be glad you came back to me.”
“I’ll say,” he said, barely getting the words out over his groans of pleasure.
He looked like he was on the verge of trying to regain control. A man could only go for so long being teased before he tried to force the issue.
Luckily for him, I’d done enough foreplay to the foreplay. It was time to get to the real good stuff.
I lowered my body down between his legs as I completely removed his boxers. His cock was a sight to behold—though it was of good length, its most impressive feature was its girth and its vascularity. At the risk of sounding hyperbolic, it really did look powerful; certainly, it was going to be the most impressive one I’d had in me before.
But first...
I started by licking from the base up to the tip. Hearing that initial groan, that first “oh, fuck,” was one of the hottest moments in sex for me. It told me that I’d gotten off to the perfect start, and that everything else was just going to be smooth sailing from there on out. The only “downhill” was when both of us had climaxed and were cuddling, or when going downhill was the ideal.
I then took as much of him into my mouth as I could and deepthroated him until I couldn’t go any further.
“Damn!” he cried.
I pulled back only to breathe, but I didn’t take any break in pleasuring Phoenix as my mouth went right back to the tip, kissing, sucking, and stroking him off.
“How the fuck—”
Phoenix couldn’t even finish his words. That, to me, was just as pleasurable as someone who could use their tongue or their fingers on my sex; perhaps not in the literal, physical sense, but there was a deep satisfaction that arose from making him squirm like so and beg for such pleasure.
Like I said, I was a bit of a control freak. Few things in life were as pleasurable as allowing that freak to do whatever she wanted.
“You like it like this, huh?” I said. “Well, in that case...”
I sped him up for about a dozen seconds. I could tell he was trying not to come so early, and while I didn’t think he actually would, it was clear he would lose this battle sooner rather than later. I was in no rush to make him come—just because I got pleasure from seeing him get some didn’t mean I didn’t want some of my own.
I stopped. Everything.
“How do you feel?” I said as he gasped for air.
“I had no idea—”
“You’ve said that about a dozen times already,” I said with a playful laugh. “How would you like to be inside me?”
“I’d fucking love it,” he growled.
He sat up, his abs flexing to bring him closer to me, to try to pull me down. But with one firm hand on his chest, I pushed him right back.
I wasn’t done.
“I told you, I control how things go,” I said, taking my remaining clothes off as I spoke. God, it felt fucking good to be naked in front of him. God, I felt an uncontrollable urge to have him inside of me. “And it’s gone pretty well for you so far, hasn’t it?”
Phoenix could only laugh, probably because I had resumed stroking him off midway through my words. It was amazing how a man, even the most articulate of them, could be reduced to just babble and drivel by touching one spot on their body.
I climbed up his body after spitting on his cock one more time, crawling over his every muscular ridge and bulge toward his face. When I found his lips, I kissed him passionately, my tongue crawling and dancing around his. I ground my hips against his, and my juices spilled all over him.
“Oh, fuck yes, Phoenix,” I growled, half-laughing, half-moaning in pleasure. “I can’t wait to fucking have you inside of me.”
Phoenix said something that sounded like a mix of “yes” and “please” but wasn’t actually a coherent word. I could have kept torturing him like this, but the problem was I was getting impatient too. This couldn’t entirely be the Please Phoenix Show, after all.
I grabbed him and positioned him right outside my sex. There was no moment of hesitation, no moment of “do I really want to do this?” Hormones had blinded me, and arousal was driving my actions now. There wasn’t even a thought like “no turning back now.”
And let’s just say once he was inside me... it wa
s the closest thing I’d ever had to a divine experience.
“Oh my God...” I whimpered.
I temporarily lost sight of the fact that I liked to be in control. Phoenix filled me so much that I just let myself bathe in the pleasure coursing through my body. I had dunked my head under the water of sexual ecstasy.
But such feelings of pleasured helplessness were short-lived, and with two firm hands on his shoulders to push myself back up, I took control.
“Still my turn.”
I took control of Phoenix’s body and used it for my own ends, knowing full well, of course, that he could have his met in the process. My nails curled into him, my legs tightened around his hips, and his name became the most commonly uttered word. I tossed my head back and closed my eyes as I ground against his hips, shifting my weight and my body to the spots necessary to keep pushing toward climax.
Usually, when I came, it was purely because I more or less willed myself to the spot; most men didn’t have the equipment or the skills to get me to the heavens. But Phoenix not only had the right equipment, he knew just when to take initiative and when to let me do the work. I swore, it was like he already knew how my body operated.
When the first orgasm struck, it was like my body just toppled over. My pussy quivered around his cock as my arms became too weak to hold myself up; Phoenix wrapped his around me, his bulging biceps pressing into my sides as he kept pounding through my pulsing. He prolonged the orgasm a good several seconds just by that alone.
The second orgasm came when I’d decided to let him have his choice of position, where he chose doggy style. That didn’t mean I’d completely just wilted and let him have his way; I still shook my ass on him, told him to hold still, and did it my way. Doing so brought me to another climax faster than just about any other time that I could ever remember.
The third and final orgasm was, hilariously, a little short-lived; I was back on top, leaning forward, and my orgasm came just seconds before Phoenix started to come. He had to pull out and finish on my ass just seconds before the potential for a major accident would have happened inside.
But in those three orgasms... oh, sweet heavens, how fucking good it all felt.
“Christ,” Phoenix said.
I giggled, cupped his cheek, and kissed him. I got up, hurried to the bathroom, wiped myself down, and returned to the bedside.
And then, as if someone had yelled “Cut!”, I went from the dominating freak that wanted everything done my way to a post-orgasm, love-struck lady who wanted nothing more than to feel her muscular man’s arms around her.
Phoenix easily acquiesced, wrapping his arms around me. I let out a contented sigh, and he did the same. I waited for him to speak first, but I’d done such a number on him that he was probably going to pass out just from sheer exhaustion first.
“Oh my God,” he said, his voice just barely above that of a loud whisper. I giggled. “Oh, my, God.”
His words got louder, and my laughter, in turn, mirrored the volume of his words.
“Oh, my, God!” he said one final time. “Where the... where the hell did that side of you come from? I never would—”
“Have guessed that a friendly, charming bartender like myself could be such a freak in bed?” I said.
It was kind of funny, but not in a way that Phoenix would have guessed. It was more just funny how, even around guys that I wanted to sleep with, there was just some sort of hesitancy with admitting that I wanted to sleep with them. I could kiss, I could compliment, I could flirt, I could dance, but it was like sex was something that I knew might intimidate a lot of men. But once the moment of pleasure came, not a single man had ever run off because of my asserting manner.
“I love sex, so why wouldn’t I want to control it?”
“Hah, I guess we’re a great match in that regard.”
“Hell yeah, we are,” I said, feeling Phoenix let out a deep exhale.
Which is why you’re leaving in two months, right?
Something you still can’t admit.
It was a damn good thing silence fell. It was a good thing that in the darkness, I could only see the faintest of expressions on Phoenix’s face. It was a good thing that, because we were cuddling, I could turn so I didn’t have to face him.
There was no way he wouldn’t say something about how much of a disparity there was between my words and my laughter and the way my face looked. Fuck, I was glad I couldn’t see myself, and I knew how I felt.
I began to feel not just like a shit, but a manipulative piece of shit. OK, yes, in general, men were the ones who lied about the future to get laid, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t have done it. And what made it worse was that I hadn’t so much lied as I had just failed to bring up a tough conversation. In other words, I’d avoided the obvious, easy mistake, but I hadn’t had the courage to make mention of a painful truth.
I’d just thought, “Oh, well, it’s just in the moment, so why not?” And now, the answer to that question was coming through “loud and clear”—because once I’d had sex with Phoenix, I—
“Whatcha thinking about?”
“Huh?”
“You’ve gone strangely silent. Thought you might be sleeping.”
“Oh.”
Tell him the truth. Tell him what was running through your mind.
He deserves to know, Jess.
He has to know.
Instead, I didn’t say anything. The thoughts had paralyzed my lips, reducing me to inconsequential and meaningless one-word utterances. Fight as I might for the courage, that courage was only theoretical. There was nothing I could do right now to unearth the words without sounding like a bitch.
Which, at this point, sure seemed inevitable.
“I...”
“What?” Phoenix said, all of the humor and lightheartedness gone out of his voice. He knew the truth. He knew that even if I was feigning enjoyment, something was irking me. “You OK?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“You want to talk about it?”
No. Not really, but...
I sighed, I squirmed, I shifted—I did whatever I could to try, just try, to see if I could blurt out—
“I’m moving in two months.”
... the words I have to say.
And there they are.
“What?”
I sought an explanation, but every time I had an idea for how to say it, it just sounded fucking awful. It made me seem like a real piece of shit.
Which, frankly, I was for not telling Phoenix about this earlier.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
It was really all I could get out. I kept waiting for Phoenix to get up and go to the couch. He would have been fully justified in doing so, fully excused if he had left without a word and left me like a whore in my lonesome self—or better yet, kicked me out. He wouldn’t be treating me any worse than I had been treating him.
But as the silence progressed and the minutes passed and his arms did not leave me, I eventually understood that he wasn’t leaving tonight. He wasn’t going to kick me out.
But that didn’t mean I fell asleep quickly.
Truth be told, I wasn’t sure when I actually fell asleep. I just knew that at some point, my eyes had closed, and when they had opened again, the room was brighter.
But even though the sunlight was directly pouring through the window, it was still a much colder morning than the evening that had precipitated it.
For starters, I no longer had the thick, muscular arms of Phoenix around me. And even though I knew full well that he was still near—I could hear him shuffling around in the bathroom—I could just feel that the environment was different. I had a strong reason to suspect that he had not gotten up to use the bathroom and then come right back for cuddles.
I didn’t see any of his clothes strewn out on the floor. Which meant...
He came back into the room as he put his cut on. The pleasant, playful demeanor that had underlined his behavior y
esterday had vanished. Here stood a hard, emotionally distant, tough biker—perhaps a face that looked hot on a poster, but anxiety-inducing in person.
“Get dressed,” he said. “We leave in five.”
“Five?”
“And that’s not negotiable,” he added as he headed to the living room. “You’re leaving my apartment in whatever state of dress you’re in then.”
“Phoenix, wait—”
But he didn’t. Now, I was no longer in control.
He was.
He shut the bedroom door. Maybe he was also grabbing a morning beer; I wouldn’t have blamed him if he decided this was a good time to get some alcohol. I sure could have used one.
Neither of us wanted to believe the other’s worst side was real, but here it was in all of its ugly glory. Just because Phoenix had hidden the morose, darkly afflicted side of him yesterday didn’t mean that he’d magically made it disappear entirely. In fact, if anything, it meant it was going to be uglier today than last time.
I remained in the bed for a good two minutes, just somehow hoping by the power of... I didn’t know, fucking magic, that he’d change his mind. He’d come in, say he’d thought about it, and he was sorry. Or that he’d sit on the edge of the bed, I’d find courage, and I’d apologize for not telling him earlier. But after those two minutes, the self-preservation instinct to not ride home naked kicked in, and I hurriedly put my clothes back on.
When I emerged into the living room, Phoenix was sitting on the couch—the very one we’d made out on last night—sipping, what else, a Blue Moon. The sight would have made me chuckle if not for every-fucking-thing else around it.
“Phoenix—”
“Shut up,” he growled, taking an enormous gulp of his beer. “If we talk...”
He paused. He gulped. He glared at me.
“I will lose my shit. I am so fucking tired of losing things I think will be there. I am...”
He didn’t finish his last sentence.
I felt awful. The maternal instinct in me wanted to hug him and hold him. But every bit of logic told me that was a stupid idea.
“Let’s fucking go,” he said. “Sooner I get rid of you, the better.”
“Phoe—”
I didn’t even finish his name. His glare was so intense and so strong that it shut me up. He headed for the door, and I felt like I had no choice but to follow him. Ignoring his orders was a good way to...