by Love Belvin
“That’s taking advantage!” I tried in vain to incite a fight.
“No, it’s not.” He nodded slowly, eyes penetrative. “Elle, I can fuck you while you’re drunk and have full consent just as when you’re sober.” I gasped at that offensive fact. He could have me while I’m drunk and I’d let him without thought. “But I knew you wouldn’t be exactly eager to do this, so I needed to oil you up to find out why.”
Fear ascended in my belly and emotions clawed up my chest. I shook my head frantically.
“Jackson, I can’t do this.” I heard the unshed tears in my cry.
“Yes, you can.”
“No!” I shrieked. “You don’t understand…I’ll admit it. I’ve been drinking! I had my last sip of my fourth glass of wine when you opened the door to your sister’s room.” I was growing hysterical by the moment, chest rising and falling, hardly taking in air.
“Elle, there can’t be anything I’ve never seen before that’s causing this paranoia. There’s nothing you can have beneath that would turn me off. I’m 100% attracted to everything about you. I need you to trust me on this.”
This was unnerving coming from a man who didn’t drink. Dammit if he wasn’t right, my guard has been lowered. Had I been at full capacity, I would have hauled ass out of there the moment the word naked slipped his mouth. I felt vulnerable…emotional.
“You’ve taken this too far.”
Jackson stalked into my face with his shoulders broadened and brows knitted. “If you didn’t trust me, you wouldn’t be in my home at this hour, plotting on me to come and get you. If you didn’t trust me, you wouldn’t have entered into this arrangement with me. Had you not trusted me, you wouldn’t have allowed me to fuck you against the wall in a public restaurant. Elle, you do trust me. I just needed to compromise your inhibitions enough so I can see all of you. I want you, slowly and unhurried, not rushed in a wild and highly charged quickie. I’ve craved this. I’ve wanted this since you left my hotel suite the first time I had you. I want to taste every inch of you. Tonight. In my bed.” He point behind himself. “And I’m going to do it tonight.”
Employing my wit, I demanded on a sharp breath, “Information exchange!” Quickly thinking to quantify, I breathed, “And you must take me home right away, when I’m ready.”
Jackson didn’t flinch when he slowly nodded his headed, agreeing to it.
“And you have to be completely honest and forthcoming!” He nodded again, though I could register his hesitance. “Okay,” I whispered, wearily. “How could you take a woman in a bed that used to belong to your mother…under her roof?”
Jackson’s lids sealed as he exhaled. There was a moment before he murmured, “When my father died, he left me everything he could legally. It was fucked up, but there was nothing I could do about it. My mother was in no condition for me to transfer everything over to her after his decision. She hadn’t been sleeping in here for months before he died, angry with him. So, right after we buried him and learned about his will, infuriated, she emptied this room, throwing all the furniture out, including his clothes and moved into a guest bedroom downstairs. She said he’d given me full dominion over everything he possessed in his wake, including his businesses, so I might as well take his bedroom, too.” He glanced around. “It’s underused. The bed is new. I may have slept in here a half a dozen times. Almost right after he died, not being able to take her wrath toward me, I finally moved into the apartment he’d bought me for my 18th birthday at Trump International. I cleaned it out, seeing it was his fuck pad for years while I held off, and then moved in. As you can see, I’m not exactly welcomed here, but I have to drop in to make sure things are functioning, my mother is safe, and Candice is good.”
I’d gotten so caught up in his disclosure that I regretted when it ended. I had so many questions: Did his dad really cheat? How did he feel about that? Did he witness it? Why in the hell did Valerie despise him so? But Jackson had been more forthcoming than I bargained for. He’d lived up to his end of it. He’d complied. And that’s when it hit me.
I was on the other side. For years, I’d manipulated men, set them up to expose them for my gratification. Yes, they got something out of it, but I wasn’t exactly preyed upon all the time. It was no different tonight. I’d eagerly accepted the invitation, worn the perfect dress, selected the right footwear, and cleverly placed the right panties. But now, I stood in front of my present day predator being strangled by fear. The stakes were too high. This had not been calculated….by me.
But shit if a small…atomic part of me didn’t want to try him out. To see what could happen if I opened up myself in this way to Jackson. He’d always been compelling, but what would happen if this turned out to be a huge mistak—
His mouth hit my neck, eliciting a shriek of surprise, leisurely worked its way up to my lips and immediately, I was struck by intoxication never before felt. Jackson’s mouth against mine was even better than it was that night at Gild Hall the first time I met him, admittedly, because I hadn’t known he didn’t share this act with anyone else…not even me after that night. We’d indulged in mind-blowing sex since and not once had he graced me with the consecration of his mouth. My arms fell and I stood shakily on the tips of my toes, weakened by the agility of his tongue against mine. I barely noticed his hands lowering the zipper of my dress. Could hardly focus when he pulled it from my shoulders and unhooked my bra, allowing it to fall to the floor along with the dress. I knew these things, but was so enraptured by his kiss, desperately not wanting it to end.
But it did.
Jackson withdrew his masterful tongue, then his magical lips and stepped back. My chest rose as I sucked in a deep breath, realizing the time had come. But Jackson’s eyes didn’t descend below. They remained in mine as he peeled his t-shirt up and over his head and then did the same with his undershirt. My chest heaved manically. Now I couldn’t remove my gaze for fear of him dipping his down low. By his infinitesimal movements, I could perceive him kicking his shoes off.
We stood there for seconds long, eyes locked, bodies still—mine humming with fright.
Again, why are you still here?
Jackson stepped forward, leaning into my frame and placed a tender kiss on my temple.
Before he pulled back, he whispered courteously, “I’m going to remove your panties and boots now.”
I realized he wasn’t asking permission, just informing me, handling me with care. Air gushed from my gaping mouth as I nodded, barely. Slowly, he sank and my abs involuntarily tightened to the point of pain. With a tense face, I braved a glance down to see his shoulders shrink and felt the long chain of air he released from his mouth against my steeled stomach.
Heaving, I whispered, “I know. You don’t have to go through with this. I understand.” But I still couldn’t move to run.
He’d seen them. Every dozen or so that circled my blemished waist. They were a huge reason why I’d only had sex once before Jackson, after leaving West Virginia. It was the cause of me preferring quick, abbreviated and spontaneous encounters over those like…this. Like what Jackson was proposing here, tonight.
I felt Jackson’s head hit my belly then his hot clammy hands on my cheeks behind.
“I-It’s…” I stammered. “It’s okay. I’ll put my clothes back on.”
“Elle, look at me!” He demanded as his neck snapped up. My eyes flew to his. “I was expecting a gory stab scar…or…nasty bullet wound—and I would’ve been willing to endure them for you. But baby,”—his chords trickled his plea—“these are feminine scars. They’re your war scars. They validate your strength, your journey into womanhood. They aren’t anything to be ashamed of.”
My abdominal muscles leaped at every syllable of his affirmation, his acceptance of my marred skin. My stretch marks and fading abdominal keloid from an incision. My emotions were toppling.
“I bet you have questi—”
“Not a moment before you’re ready to share the answers.” He cut me off with h
is vehemence.
Utter shock couldn’t even describe my sentiment. Not only had Jackson just admitted to not being dissuaded by my scars, he seemed to have been touched by them.
That revelation was confirmed the moment my entire upper torso jolted when Jackson swiped delicate and worshipful strokes of his tongue on my lower abdomen, tracing the horizontal scar and each individual blemish. His eyes were raptly engaged in studying them and his mouth was equally busy caressing them. His hands held me close to him as he took his time embracing my disgrace.
And by the time he’d had me rotated at a 90 degree angle, I realized he would address each one of my shameful, zigzagged, maroon reminders that were stark against my pale skin. In the quiet of the room where nothing could be heard but my rampant breathing, I sobbed internally. I hadn’t cried in years, certainly wouldn’t do it here in front of Jackson, but I couldn’t control the inner weeping my body refused to contain. I kept the whimpers to a minimum and managed to endure the involuntary shuddering, and yielded to the new wave of inebriation Jackson was spurring with his approval of my unchasteness.
Once he was done, Jackson slowly unfastened my boots and peeled them from my thighs, discarding them. He slowed when pushing my panties down. My anxiety rose again. I knew another discovery was about to be unveiled.
“What do they mean?” he asked gruffly.
“Which one?” I applied coy. It was only a miracle that he’d just caught on to them.
“Let’s start with this one.” His fingers caressed the microscopic Arabic script in my inner right thigh.
My panting returned. This was my first time explaining my tattoos to anyone. I scraped my top lip between my teeth, fortifying myself. That was also the longest script.
I whispered cowardly, “Jackson, this wasn’t a part of the agree—”
“Tell me!” he howled impatiently.
The tears almost spilled. But when my mind registered his reverential caress, it was hard to rebuke his curiosity.
“Light doesn’t shine through dark vessels,” I barely heard myself.
Jackson paid moments long, observing and tracing the curvature calligraphy.
“And this one?” he inquired of the one in my right thigh, close to the crease of my pelvis.
“Su-surrender to darkness.” I swallowed hard.
“And these, stacked here,” he murmured before softly kissing the stacked three-level Chinese symbols under my hair line, just inches above my bare genitals.
My neck collapsed from the dragging of his lips over the sensitive area. The most painful venture.
“Tired, sad, and lonely,” I shrieked.
Jackson dropped his face into my pelvis, his forehead against my “feminine war scars” on my lower belly and exhaled. I didn’t know what to do…what would be his next move, so I remained, calming my rampant emotions.
Then he stood erect, broadly and pensive over me.
“Do you know how damn desirable you are?” His expression stoic, sober. “I’m going to worship every inch of your body tonight.” His swore, throatily.
I gulped, all air collecting in my throat.
Jackson was tense…rigid, almost angry like. I saw his jaw flexing, neck straining and fist clenched at his sides. His erection conspicuous along his thigh, in his jeans. I caught the flare of his nostrils when he growled, “Go lay down on the bed, Elle.”
I leaped into motion, skulking to the massive bed. Once there, I scooted up to the center, feeling awkward sitting up, wobbling legs extended before me. Gone were the feelings of mortification from exposing my scars, and here were those of painful anticipation of what was coming. I watched on bated breath as Jackson peeled his belt from the loop and pushed his jeans and boxers to his ankles, kicking them off. His penis vaulted out with force, thick pulsing veins wrapping around its full length, the head glistening, telling of his immense arousal. With agonizing pace and a virile display of flexing muscles, he pulled off his socks, one by one.
With reserved speed, Jackson treaded to the bed, providing full view of his unbelievably ripped frame. He was giving me full vantage of his body, as he’d taken of mine. My thighs flexed, almost closing, subconsciously attempting to curb my arousal. At that reflex, Jackson shook his head, warning against withholding anything from him. He crawled on the bed in a feral manner, incredibly animalistic. My heart raced audibly in my chest.
Jackson’s mouth lunged onto my neck and I clenched the beddings beneath my palms. I cried out, shrieking as if in pain. But I wasn’t. Jackson’s delicious mouth glided and suckled over my neck, down each shoulder and arm, addressing every pore of my skin. When his talented mouth traveled over my breasts, tantalizingly scraping my nipples to the point of tautened peaks, the levy broke. I felt the pooling beneath me and whimpered feebly. I was completely drenched, hadn’t been so wet since my teen years with men who held a different appreciation for it. Men who didn’t work for the level of arousal Jackson had generated tonight. He paid another visit to my abdomen, licking and sucking down to my thighs where he scraped his teeth after patiently rolling his tongue over my trembling flesh.
He took me at the toes, nibbling and massaging to the point of me thrusting my sex to the open air. Never had I been so aroused. Not once in my life had my body been adored. No man had ever paid reverence to every sector of me.
Jackson then flipped me over, trailing his mouth up the back of my thighs, up to my cheeks where he bestowed chaste kisses to each then sharply biting into the right, earning a shiver from me. My whole body bucked and shuddered uncontrollably. I’d lost the ability to regulate it under Jackson’s tutelage.
When he agonizingly made it to my neck, Jackson lowered his body over mine, hovering, and I could feel his appendage stabbing the small of my back.
“Your flavor is amazing,” he groaned directly against my face. “Now turn over so I can taste your pudding.”
Squirming uncontrollably, I twisted beneath him until my breasts touched his chest. Then Jackson lowered his mouth to mine, using his tongue to trace the lining and slit of my lips. As soon as my mouth involuntarily opened to take more of him, he dipped until his head was sandwiched between my thighs. Jackson didn’t give me a moment to prepare when his tongue began lashing my engorged flesh, swiping and sopping my valley. My pelvis juddered violently around his head. Securing his access, he placed his palms flat on my inner thighs, stretching me to complete exposure to endure his ministrations. Jackson feasted on me with brio.
My release was mounting and I fought to keep it at bay. This was until I realized it was fruitless. The stirring in my groin only intensified. The brewing quickened. Jackson wasn’t slowing on his deep draws and thorough tongue swipes. Incredibly intoxicated with lust, I took a glance down my body, viewing my hard copper nipples, my flat scarred abdomen—and for the first time without disgust—down to the lustrous and smooth waves of Jackson’s short cut bobbing against my pliant, slickened valley. I caught a lewd glimpse of his stiffened and extended tongue sparring against my swollen and gelled nub. And just like that, I imploded.
“Oh, god…” My back lifted from the mattress. “Jaaaaaaax!” I screamed my feral oblivion.
My belly crunched and hips bucked. My shoulders leaped and twisted in the air as though I was possessed. In fact, my entire frame behaved as such. I came so hard and violently, my eyes glossed with tears, body and emotions synchronized and amok. This went on for minutes long until the tornadic sweeping let up and my shoulders collapsed onto the mattress, arms stretched awkwardly astride my torso.
As I lay lifelessly on the bed, I tried to focus my eyes in on Jackson, who stood on his knees between my limp thighs, ripping into a gold aluminum package I recognized with his teeth. Once opened, he started to pull the lubricated rubber out. Jackson paused.
No…
Dizzily, I shook my head, desperate with anticipation. I even reached down, grabbing his length with both hands, stroking him.
“Jackson!” I implored on a pant, not recogni
zing my own voice. “Hurry. Please.”
I jerked him with fervor, so revved up I implied upward thrusts in an attempt to meet him. He was taking too long. This was excruciating…wanting this man so desperately after a life-altering orgasm. But unabashed and in the moment, I wanted nothing more.
The muscles around his eyes loosened with a sentiment I’d never seen in a lover. The phenomenon frightened me, threatening my wanton state.
“Jackson…” I whispered, squirming and fisting halted.
“It’s coming, baby,” his tone thick, placating. “You’re just so fucking delicious ravished.”
And at that, I was totally seized by his forceful determination to lead me into this place of blissful credence. Baring it all to him had that quickly taken me to new heights of pleasure. I lowered my guard and forfeited my self-restraint to Jackson.
Feeling my lips part on my somber face, I murmured, “Yessss…”
In less than three seconds, Jackson was sheathed and diving inside me with unmatched zest. There was no adjustment period to fit himself in; my walls urgently slurped him and began meeting his strong plunges. It happened all so quickly; I seemed to have lost control.
“No,” he growled over me as he ceased his incredible thrusts. “Pace yourself. This is supposed to be slow and building.”
Slow? Building? I can come right now!
But I had to hand him the reins. This was his show. This time.
Against his hard eyes, I nodded, acquiescing to his navigation. Jackson followed up with a nod himself before resuming a slow, thorough grind into my atwitter walls. He plunged deep, pushing into the recesses of my cavity, his sacs meeting my perineum. He withdrew completely, rubbing the rim of his mushroomed head provocatively against the ridge of my opening. With each push I sucked in air and on every pull, air slew from my lunges. Jackson’s mouth busied at my neck, roving over my dewed skin. He moved down until his supple lips covered my nipple. I felt the first strike in my groin, but refused to lunge unto him. I didn’t want to interrupt this keen pace he’d created. His clever mouth drew and his tongue thrashed around and around and around and around and—