James hugs me for a little longer than usual, and helps me put on my jacket.
I nearly run out the door, and down the path to my car. I hit the gas so fast the tires squeal before throwing me forward into the LA night. Tears start to stream down my face, and I breathe quickly through gritted teeth. My hands shake so much I can barely grip the wheel, and there’s a knot in my stomach that feels like I just swallowed a four-pound rock.
If there’s one thing that feels worse to a woman than being fucked like an animal, it’s not getting fucked at all.
I slam the brakes so hard that the car slides sideways out of control, spraying the gravel of Jax’s driveway for yards. The sound of screaming tires and sprayed pebbles cuts the silence of the air like a crescendo. I push the door open and jump out of the car, marching up to the front door with steel purpose and hot blood filling my body.
Maybe it was the sound of my car, maybe it was his sixth sense, or maybe it’s just the magic of fate, but Jax opens the door as soon as I’m on the steps. All he’s wearing is his boxers, and a familiar expression on his face.
He should be surprised. Confused. He shouldn’t be expecting this.
But he watches me stride towards him like he’s been waiting for it. Like he knew it was coming. Like he knows.
I almost run the last few steps, throwing my body into arms that grab and hold me the way I’ve needed to be. My tongue finds his like writhing snakes making love. He tastes overwhelming. Forbidden. It’s like I’m a teenager having my first drink. Like the first night spent away from home. Like the moment you realize you got away with it. A junkie with a new drug. Eve and the apple.
It tastes like everything I could ever need.
Chapter 7
Jax
When I was seven we didn’t have much money. My dad worked construction, long hours of hard manual labor that sent him straight to bed when he’d get home. As I was coming up to my eighth birthday he started spending even more time away from us. I didn’t want much for my birthday, just to spend some time with my dad, so it had me feeling kinda bad. My birthday fell on a Sunday, and when I ran downstairs, once my mom had kissed me and wished me happy birthday, he just told me to go play outside. Fighting back the urge to cry, I stepped outside – and in the middle of the driveway, I saw a beautiful red bike. Turns out he was doing overtime for weeks just to pay for it.
In high school, just after the girls started turning from giggly beanpoles into young women with curves and fire, I started slacking off. I needed a clean record in Spanish class to pass my senior year. When Ms. Herrera, a young teacher with a figure like a classical guitar, kept me after school, I was already thinking about what I’d do when I flunked out, whether I should repeat the whole 12th grade or just drop out and start working. Instead, I lost my virginity, and passed more than my paper test with flying colors. After that, I realized what I’d been missing during my awkward phase. I was a late bloomer, but I quickly made up for lost time. I came into my own, started working out, realized the power I could hold over the opposite sex with a six pack, a smirk, and a few good pick-up lines. And I never looked back.
These are just a couple of the high points in my life. The turning points. The things that stand out in a life filled with hedonism, success, and the finest things money can (and often can’t) buy.
Opening my door and seeing Lizzie, her body flying towards me, her lips exploding against mine – that pretty much tops them all.
I slip in and out of the moment like it’s a dream; positive that this is too perfect to be really happening; too sudden to not have a catch. I can’t see her, but the curve of her ass in my hands is unmistakable, the smell of her hair so close to my face triggering sweet memories that flood back.
A volcano erupts in the pit of my stomach, sending hot fire through my body. I’ve been holding back for so long, suppressing so much. The misery of the past few days has made my body stiff and unresponsive, like it doesn’t want to do what I tell it to – but when Lizzie jumps up against me, wrapping her legs tightly around my hips, my body comes alive once again.
I reach out, slam the door shut, and carry her inside, our lips still locked together in a tongue-fuck so ferocious that it’s like we’re trying to choke each other.
I carry her into the living room. Her hands run deep into my hair, pushing and pulling. She claws at my back like she wants to tear me apart at the spine. I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t care.
Falling to my knees on the rug – the deep, shagpile one that I spent last night faceplanted onto – I lay Lizzie on her back. When I pull away from her there’s an almost crazy look in her eyes. Sweat glistens on her neck, and she’s breathing so hard her mouth is open. She looks like a wild animal.
I’d say something, but she doesn’t even look like she’d understand – right now the only way she wants to communicate is physically, and that’s fine with me – I’m fluent.
I grab her blouse with both my hands and tear it apart, revealing the tender flesh of her heaving tits. With a flick of the wrist I undo the front of her bra and it pings apart. I dive onto her like a wolf on prey, sucking and biting at her hard nipples. Her chest rolls and arches against my lips and tongue like a bucking animal. Her hand scratches all the way down my back, along my six pack, then strokes and clutches at my package. She’s rough – too euphoric for finesse – but I’m so hard it would take a hammer to hurt me.
It’s been a long-time coming, and now that the moment has come, my cock ain’t letting me down – it’s stiff as steel.
I work my tongue down her stomach to her belly button. Lizzie moans in between breaths, her pelvis thrusting itself at me like it’s got a mind of its own. I grab the waist of her skirt and pull it down. She slinks and weaves her body to help me pull it off; her hips, pussy, and legs emerge from it like a fucking Greek goddess emerging from the ocean.
It’s hard to forget anything about Lizzie, but I sure as hell forgot how beautiful her pussy was.
I dive into it, stroking her clit with my lips. Rolling it around like I’m painting a picture with my tongue. There’s an animal in me that just wants to fuck Lizzie’s brains out, but there’s something even stronger in me that wants her to moan more, to gasp more, to shudder and shiver in my hands more.
Her hips start winding like a belly-dancer, her hands grasping at the rug like we’re on the Titanic. The low purr has become an uncontrollable howl. With the grace of a dancer she winds her body around, putting me on my side, her pussy still against my face, and my boxers against hers. As I continue to lick, this time upside-down, she yanks my boxers away and releases the thing she’s been teasing and coaxing like a favorite pet.
As I work my fingers inside her, teasing the walls that I’ve been thinking about since the last time we fucked, she takes my cock in her mouth. Either she forgot everything I taught her about working it slow, or she’s too frenzied to care – either way it doesn’t matter, because when I feel her lips wrap around the shaft, the warm wetness of her mouth, the firm slide of her tongue, I have to clench my ass not to erupt. She takes in so much I can feel her throat, I can feel the gentle spasms of her gagging, and it teases so much blood into my cock I almost get woozy.
I could do this for hours; lying on our sides, throwing my face into her intoxicating smell, her addictive taste, while she does the same to me. But I have to fuck her. I want to see her. I need to get my cock so far inside her that I’ll never be able to get out. I pull away and step to a drawer where I grab a condom and have it on me in seconds.
She gasps as I grab her ass cheeks and lift them in the air so that she’s on all fours. I could just fucking sit here and look at her ass, I could fucking come just by looking at the curve of her waist, the vulnerable way she arches her back. Actually, I couldn’t – no man could resist doing what I’m about to do. Even wild horses would struggle to keep my cock from ramming inside of her. A gun to my head, a knife to my neck – nothing could stop me.
I gr
ab her by the hips and pull her backwards onto my cock with a grunt, slamming into her, taking in the rough sound of her moans like it’s church music, smacking her ass ‘til it’s red. Everything about this feels exactly right. This is my heaven.
She groans as I thrust into her again and again, deeper and deeper. I don’t need to hear it in plain English: she wants more. And I give it to her.
I pull her hair back in my fist, grab her throat, reach around and yank her tits roughly, urging her ass to slam against me faster. My cock’s so hard it feels like it’s filling her up. I’m swinging it around inside of her like I’m searching for something, and when I find it, she screams like a woman possessed. A scream that comes from deep within, the kind that of scream you make when you feel like you’re about to face God. I keep hitting that spot, faster and faster, and she keeps panting and moaning until she’s got no more breath in her body, her orgasm rolling through her like a storm.
As her pussy contracts, tight and wet around my cock, I explode inside her like a tidal wave, gathering momentum for miles.
I clasp her waist as I throw my head back, almost howling with pleasure. When it dies down I slide my hands up her sides and cup her breasts, before we roll to our sides, spooning, and sink into the rug like dying animals. Sleepily, I roll off the condom, tie it, and toss it onto my clothes.
Lizzie purrs and moans softly, the aftershock still dissipating throughout her body. I stare at the back of her neck, and stroke her beautiful hair across her shoulder.
For the first time since she showed up, I’m wondering why she’s here. She’s supposed to be with James. Our arrangement was supposed to be over. And either way, this wasn’t exactly a lesson.
Still, it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. Lizzie misses this. Unless James has multiple personalities, he’s not exactly going to be good in bed. I’m the only one who can give this to Lizzie.
I’m the only one – and I want her to know that. This may be the last chance I get.
I gently put my arms under her neck and legs, roll her towards me, and lift her up. Lizzie’s eyes are half-closed, still rollicking from the orgasm. She gazes at me dreamily, as if waking up, and I carry her to the bedroom and lay her down, then get in next to her.
We look at each other for what feels like hours. Straight into each other’s eyes. No words. No movements.
I bring my hand to her face and stroke it. Gently teasing the hair away from her face, rolling my thumb across her cheek. She smiles and closes her eyes.
It happens as slowly and as gently as what happened in the living room was hard and fast. Our lips barely touch as we kiss, our breath and the electric energy between us carrying the spark. I think I can feel the tingle of her cool hands exploring my abs, but it’s so soft I could be imagining it. We bring our bodies together inch by inch, savoring every contact, bleeding every sense from every nerve ending.
I reach over to the side of the bed and pull out a condom. Lizzie takes it from me immediately, her eyes fixed upon mine as she tears it open and almost worshipfully places it over my cock. Carefully, she pulls it down all the way, making sure ever brush of her soft fingers on my cock gets the maximum effect.
I let out a harsh breath, reaching for her, but she just sucks two of my fingers into her mouth and places my other hand on her chest, where I can feel her heart beating through her warm skin.
Then Lizzie climbs on top of me, my cock already hard again where it strains between her thighs, but it’s not like before. Before it felt like a red hot steel poker, and now it feels like sculpted marble – cool and tactile. We hold each other’s eyes as she gently rolls the tip of my dick against her clit. My hands search her body, chasing the little vibrations and prickled hairs up her spine, her shoulders.
She holds the end of my cock against her slick opening for what feels like another hour, letting me in bit by bit, stopping and feeling, basking in the anticipation as much as the sensation. When she lets me inside I lift myself up so that she’s sitting on top of me, and she winds her legs around my back. We grind against each other. Our bodies slowly merging, our hands still gently experiencing.
Like two long-distance drummers slowly coming in sync, we find a rhythm. A slow beat, the kind that signals something big coming. Lizzie’s thighs squeeze my sides, her pussy clutching at my shaft, her back arching and flexing. I respond in kind, clenching my ass to get in deeper, pulling her back in time with her thrusts, flashing licks and bites across her breasts.
We’ve been silent up to now, the only sound being our heavy breathing, but I start to grunt as I feel the low throb of my sex coming to the fore. Lizzie’s face contorts into a pleading one, a desperate one, a lost one.
“Fuck me, Jax,” Lizzie says, breathily. “Please.”
“I wanna fuck you forever, Lizzie. I wanna make your body mine. I wanna hear you scream my name. Over and over.”
“Jax.”
She starts to shudder, and our bodies are so close I experience it myself.
“Jax.”
The wetness thuds and shakes out of her like a gushing river before she allows herself to release.
“Jax.”
Her arms wrap around my head and clutch me to her breast as she comes onto me.
“Jax…”
I close my eyes. This is everything I could ever need.
Chapter 8
Lizzie
Did that really happen? That had to be a dream, right? Don’t open your eyes, Lizzie. Don’t open them just in case it wasn’t a dream. Just keep them clos-
Shit.
There he is. With his perfect cheekbones and that hair which never looks out of place – even when it is. He’s facing me, his eyes closed. He’s sleeping for sure, but he’s still got that smirk on his face which tells me that what happened last night was no dream.
Over the chiselled silhouette of his jawline I can see the orange-blue glow of the sun rising.
Fuck! Today is the day of the charity event! Of all the times to go and create a shitstorm, Lizzie, you sure picked the worst.
At a speed of about an inch-per-minute I turn over in bed and climb out. I try to stay as quiet as possible – which isn’t that hard considering I’m as naked as the day I was born and not even covered by a bed sheet.
I tiptoe out of the bedroom and into the living room. I feel crazy, and I probably look ridiculous, but as long as nobody sees me then I don’t care. I find my clothes and put them on, foregoing the panties and bra – Jax will be glad to add them to his collection I’m sure.
God bless Jax’s talent for architecture, because the front door opens and closes silently without too much effort, and I run across the gravel to my car in bare feet. The key is still in the ignition, as if it knows I need to make a getaway. A few seconds later I’m out of there, speeding home like if I go fast enough I’ll leave my problems behind.
Fat chance.
The biggest problem I have right now - bigger than the gigantic charity event which almost a thousand people are attending, and which my boss is counting on me to arrange; bigger than the fact that I left a date with a good guy who is sweet and kind and treats me well to screw Jax – is the fact that I feel fucking fantastic.
I wish I felt dirty and sleazy for what I just did. I wish I felt apologetic and regretful. I wish that I felt fantastic because James said he respected me too much. I wish I didn’t want to do the very thing that I know is bad for me.
It would be so easy. Jax makes me feel so good, so alive. He does everything right, at the right time, in the right places. But he’s also done that with a thousand women before me – and probably a few thousand after.
Why did I run from James? Isn’t he everything I want? A decent, good-looking guy with a stable career and a big heart, who respects women and would do anything for me – isn’t that everything most women want? So why do I feel like it’s a struggle?
My brain is twisted in so many directions that I nearly trip when I enter my apartment. I slam the door
shut and lean against it, as if some monster is chasing me. I know that slamming the door won’t do any good though – I’m my own monster, and I’m chasing myself in a circle so fast it’s making me dizzy. I take off my clothes (which is easy, since Jax ruined most of the buttons on my blouse when he tore it off) and set myself a schedule. Shower, breakfast, business-like but attractive outfit, planning my day, then getting to work.
I jump in the shower and try to focus my mind, but it’s like steering a car through a forest at two hundred miles an hour. So instead I scrub at my hair like I’m angry with it, like I’m trying to wash away the mess of thoughts that have nothing to do with work.
“Isn’t it always like that?” I say out loud, as if hoping somebody will appear in the bathroom to offer advice. “The good things feel bad, and the bad things feel good. It’s why diets are so hard. It’s why I never go to shopping malls on pay day. It’s why I have to remind myself to work out on Sundays. Feeling good is a sure sign you’re doing something bad – and that makes Jax very, very, bad.”
When I step out of the shower I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. There are teeth marks around my left nipple so clear that you don’t even need to be a dentist to identify them as coming from Jax.
“Great,” I say, “the mark of the devil. At least Jax knows how to pick his spots.”
I’m feeling almost normal when I start getting dressed. I’ve taken all the crap involving my personal life, stuffed it into a mental sock drawer, and decided to address it when I have the time, mental clarity, and patience – which isn’t now. Right now I can only handle one mess at a time, and the mess I need to handle now is the one that my boss, and entire company, is counting on me to bring through. Focus, Lizzie. There will be time for drama later. Get through today, and then it’ll all be much easier.
That’s what I tell myself, anyway. Reality, it seems, has decided that little Lizzie is not quite done yet.
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