by Jennie Kew
Biting back a smile, I finally ask, "Would you like to come inside, watch a movie, eat ice-cream and…" I feel my face flush with heat. "Fuck?"
He stops on the step below me, his face now level with mine. He slides his hand under my dress and trails his fingertips up my inner thigh, stopping just below my pussy and drawing lazy little circles on my flesh. His voice is soft, dark. "I thought you'd never ask."
Oh.
Dear.
Lord.
Did I say soaked? Because I think my panties just drowned and went to pantie heaven. I swallow hard and lean toward him, his mouth, that wicked grin, so close, so tempting… but I pull away before our lips meet and turn toward the door.
I'm horny, not easy.
Jason snaps his teeth together. "Tease."
He follows me inside and up the stairs to my apartment. I take his jacket and hang it on a hook by the door, fish the ice-cream out of the shopping bag and grab two spoons from the kitchen. "So, what do you want to do first? Movie, ice-cream or…."
"Fuck," he says as he takes the ice-cream from my hands and sets it down on the kitchen table. "Definitely fuck."
The spoons clatter to the floor as his mouth crashes against mine and he swallows my moan of approval. His hands glide down my body, and I can feel him through my dress, hot and searching, eager and ready.
Just like me.
"Your bed. Where's your bed?" he says, nuzzling my throat and nibbling my earlobe.
"No. No bed." I push him back, making sure he can see me, hear me. Understand me. "I want you. Here. Now. Lights on. Pants off. I want you to give me what I always want and never get—hard, dirty, no-holds-barred fucking."
He sucks in a breath, his nostrils flare and his eyes darken. "That is one of the hottest damn things any woman has ever said to me."
My fingers shake as I reach down and grab the hemline of my dress, slowly dragging the clingy, black sheath up and off my body, revealing my pale, wobbly flesh and the black lacy bra and panties trying in vain to hold it all in. His eyes grow wide, and I can't tell if it's with lust or fear. Until he pushes me against the refrigerator, lifts my legs around his hips, and shoves his tongue down my throat.
Lust. Definitely lust.
"If you want dirty, I'll give you dirty, but you have to give me something in return."
I try to ignore the fridge magnet digging into my back even as I'm loving his fingers digging into my thighs. "What do you want?"
Please don't say ice-cream.
Please don't say ice-cream.
Please don't say ice-cream.
"Your shoes."
My… what?
He wants my hot-pink snakeskin, five-inch stiletto, bargain-basement knock-offs? Brow scrunched in confusion, I ask the only question I can think of in such an unfamiliar situation. "Huh?"
A rumbling chuckle shakes him and he presses forward again, kissing me until my toes curl. "Sweetheart, you could have walked around naked with the words ‘follow me home and fuck me’ spray-painted across your tits and it would have been more subtle than those goddamn shoes. I don't care what we do tonight, but those sexy stripper heels do not come off. Deal?"
Excitement fires low in my belly and I nod. "Deal."
Jason carries me to the kitchen table and plants my ass down beside the pint of ice-cream. His fingers are warm against my skin as he spreads my knees apart, his tented trousers brushing the inside of my thighs as he stands between them. I lean back on my hands and let my gaze slide over him, watching him unbutton his shirt in what can only be described as the most torturously slow striptease in history. I want to rip that shirt apart and watch the buttons fly across the room, but as each button popped reveals a hint of more tight, tanned muscle, I console myself with the knowledge that, for tonight at least, this man is.
All.
Mine.
The last button pops and I sit forward again, slide my hands under his business shirt and push it off his broad shoulders. The soft white cotton slides down his arms and falls to the floor with a quiet swoosh, and he stands there staring down at me, his grin gone, his eyes dark, his chest rising and falling under my fingertips.
Swallowing down my nervousness, and pretending I know waaay more about seducing a man like Jason than I actually do, I slowly drag my fingers over his chest and explore every buff inch on the way down. His hands are on my thighs, stroking, squeezing, creeping closer toward my pussy. My hands are at his belt, the metallic buckle cold against my fingers as I pull the leather free, but as I reach for the button at his waist I freeze, a cold trickle of reality running down my spine and shocking me out of my lustful fantasy.
I look at Jason, my eyes wide, my heart sinking fast.
"What's wrong?"
I want to cry. "I don't have any condoms. Shit." I can't believe my evening is about to be ruined. Again.
I want sex, dammit. With Jason. And I want it now.
Maybe I could run down to the deli—except they're shut. Fuck. No, not fuck. No fucking tonight, folks.
Fuuuck….
"I don't normally carry one around either," Jason says, and reaches into his back pocket. "So I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of buying a pack. Just in case." An unmistakable flood of gratitude and relief flows through me and I kiss the ever-loving life out of him. I also tear his fly open and slide my hand inside his briefs, wrapping my fingers around his rather impressive cock. He gasps. "I guess you're okay with it."
Smiling sheepishly, I take the box of condoms from him, pop it open and take one out. "A six-pack, huh?"
He grins as he shucks his trousers and briefs. "Call me optimistic."
"I think I'd rather call it a challenge. And ribbed for my pleasure, I see."
"I'm nothing if not a giver."
I rip the foil open with my teeth and toss the packet over my shoulder. "Come here." Taking his cock in my hand, I enjoy his sudden intake of breath, the way his stomach quivers and his muscles tense as I slowly roll the condom over the full length of him.
The long, hard, thick length of him.
I bite my lip as anticipation flares inside me.
Jason's fingers tangle in the lace of my panties and he yanks me forward so my butt rests precariously on the edge of the table. Placing his big hand in the middle of my chest, he gently pushes me down until I'm flat on my back. Grabbing a chair, he seats himself between my legs. When I raise a brow, he says, "What? I always eat at the table."
"E-eat?" I swallow hard but my eyes shoot wide open. Is he about to do what I think he's about to do? Just to be sure, I say, half-jokingly, "Please tell me you're not talking about the ice-cream."
His mouth kicks up in that wicked grin of his. "Now there's an interesting idea. Can't say I've ever licked ice-cream off a girl's pussy before, but I did promise you dirty." And he reaches for the pint that's slowly melting on the table.
"No!"
His hand stops a mere inch from its target. "What, you don't like the ice-cream idea?" He frowns at me as I stare at him, my mouth flapping open and shut with no words coming out. "Or is it me eating your pussy that's freaking you out? What's the matter? Don't you like oral sex?"
"No. I mean yes. I mean…." How do I explain this to him? My cheeks heat and I turn my head to hide my embarrassment, to hide my ignorance, but the words come out anyway. "I don't know if I like it or not. I've never had a guy go down on me before."
"Why the fuck not?"
Jason sounds genuinely baffled, which makes me feel even more embarrassed. I move to sit up, to close my legs, to feel less open, less vulnerable, but he doesn't let me. He's on his feet again and leaning over me, pressing his body between my thighs and pinning my hands to the table.
"Look at me, Felicity."
I turn my head to face him and look up at his curious expression, but it's hard to focus on anything with his cock jutting up between my legs, pressing against my mound, pushing the lace of my panties against my clit in the most ah-may-zing way. I can't help the moan that escapes me, n
or can I help but notice the way he starts rocking his hips, gently smooshing that lace into my clit over and over again as he speaks to me.
"Is it because you're curvy?"
Eyes rolling back in my head, I say, "You can say the F-word, Jason." He rocks against me again, and my hips roll up to meet him. His eyes close and he groans. I lick my suddenly dry lips. "It's all right. I am what I am, and what I am is fat. And yes, my size was the most common excuse given."
Jason grunts, a sound of disgust. "Fucking amateurs. And I bet every single one of them expected you to go down on them, didn't they?"
I nod, embarrassed again, imagining what he must think of me now.
But his expression softens, his mouth twitching into a lopsided grin. "Well then, it's a good thing for you I'm no amateur."
I snort a laugh. "As if I'd know the difference."
He winks. "Trust me, you'll know." Letting go of my wrists, he trails his fingers down my body, hooks them into the waist of my panties and drags them down my legs until they dangle from my foot, stuck on the stiletto I'm not allowed to remove. His fingers glide across my mound, and I send up a silent prayer, thankful I remembered to wax. Grabbing the ice-cream, he rips off the lid. "Buckle your seat belt, sweetheart."
My body shakes with laughter. But when I feel his tongue lash against my clit I almost jump out of my skin. Holy shit, that felt great. And then he does it again. And again, and again and again, until I think I'm going crazy. My back arches off the table and my hands grab at nothing, clenching around thin air and then springing open again, reaching for something, anything.
I'm pretty sure my mouth is hanging open. And I don't care. For the first time in my life, a man is going down on me and I intend to enjoy every fucking second of it.
I moan his name as I feel his fingers slide inside me, but—
"Fuck that's cold!"
He laughs out loud and his shoulders jiggle my thighs where they hold them wide. I lift my head and see him watching me over my stomach, a wide grin stretched across his face. I watch him dip his fingers in the ice-cream and then draw them across my mound again and down over my clit. The shock of the cold heightens my awareness of him, makes me more responsive to his heat as he laves my pussy with the broad side of his tongue.
My breathing hitches. I’m hot all over. My back arches again and I can't keep still. I reach down and feel for him, run my fingers through his hair and buck my hips against his mouth. He sucks and licks, hard and urgent. His fingers piston in and out, hitting me deep and with bruising intensity.
I'm coming.
Dear Lord I am coming. And it is so much better than I ever thought it would be.
My body shakes and my brain melts, my hips thrust and my toes curl. I'm falling, I'm writhing, I'm praying to God that it never ends, and then I'm sucking in breath after breath, sated beyond belief.
But Jason's not done with me yet. He stands and lifts my legs, holding them to his chest. My feet, my sexy stripper heels stick up on either side of his head and he turns to press a kiss on my ankle. "Now we fuck."
I've barely caught my breath, but his cock is pushing for entry. I bite my lip and moan as he stretches me open and fills me up. And oh my Lord, when he starts to move, sliding in and pulling out, slowly at first, sooo slowly, I feel every inch he's giving me and know without a doubt that yes, that ribbed condom is 100 percent completely and totally for my pleasure.
Holy fuck.
His hands are hot as he holds my ankles and spreads my legs apart. If I lift my head, I can see his cock gliding in and out and in and out of me, slick and shining with my own arousal, and it makes me feel so open, so sexy. So dirty. And the way he’s looking at me, like he wants to eat me out all over again….
Yes, please!
"What are you thinking about, sweetheart?"
What am I thinking? During the best sex I've ever had in my boring little life? "Besides, thank God we both love Chocolate Fudge Brownie?"
"Well it is the best ice-cream ever."
I flash him a grin of my own. "I'm thinking of doing something like this." I may not be as experienced as I would like, but I'm no novice either. Tugging my legs free of his hold, I cross them across his chest and rest my ankles on his strong shoulders. If I thought I felt full before, it's nothing compared to how I feel now that everything has tightened two-fold.
Jason's head falls back and he groans, guttural, almost animalistic. "Oh yeah. I like the way you think."
He digs his fingers into my thighs, using my body as an anchor, and thrusts faster, harder, hitting me deeper and making me cry out again as another orgasm tears through my body and makes me undulate with pleasure.
Pinning his wild stare with my own, I demand, "More."
"Play with yourself."
The steel in his voice says it's not a request.
Letting go of the table edge, I slide one hand between my legs and the other to my breast. My nipple is hard but not from the cold. I slip my hand inside the lacy cup of my bra and tug at my sensitive flesh, feel the weight of my breast dragging down as I pull up, and enjoy the slight pain that adds to my pleasure.
Between my legs is warm and wet. My clit is still sensitive from Jason's tongue lashing and lace smashing, and it makes me jump when I touch it. If I reach down just a little farther, I can feel the rubber-covered steel of his cock as he fucks me. I push down a little, applying pressure as he glides in and out.
He moans. "Do that again."
I do it again. His eyes close and his jaw drops. His fingers bruise my thighs and he pumps his hips like a demented madman, then roars at the ceiling. He's coming.
And so am I.
Heavy breathing fills the air and a sudden chill assaults me, the loss of Jason's hot skin and hard muscle as he pulls out and slumps in the chair again causing me to shiver. I sit up and hug my arms around my waist, not just for warmth but to hide my belly, too. Jason doesn't notice. He's on his feet again, disposing of the condom, and then he's back in front of me, brushing sweaty strands of hair off my face and lifting my mouth to his.
"Thank you," he says before slipping his tongue inside my mouth. I wrap my arms around his middle and drink him in, his flavour, his scent, that rich male musk and cologne mixed with the smell of sex and melted chocolate. When he pulls back, he's smiling. Not cocky, not grinning, but smiling.
Warm and sexy as hell.
And I can feel that my bra has magically come undone.
Eyes narrowed as he strips me of the last of my clothing, I say, "Dare I ask what you're thinking about?"
He licks his lips. "I'm thinking I'd like some more ice-cream."
I pick up the pint and look inside. It's pretty squishy but not a total write-off. I pick out a brownie chunk and eat it, find another and feed it to him, smile as he nibbles my fingers. "We need spoons."
The grin is back. "I have a much better idea." And he takes the pint and squashes it in his fist so cool, mushy ice-cream spills out of the tub and all over my naked breasts.
I squeal with delight as Jason's head descends. He pushes me back on the table again and this time crawls on up here with me. His tongue is warm but tickles my flesh as he licks the sticky, gooey mess clean from my skin. He reaches for another condom, and I watch him sheath that impressive beast once more, and as he slides inside my pussy and bends his head to suck ice-cream off my breast, one thought—one perfect, sexy, dirty thought—pops inside my head.
"Best. Ice-cream. Ever."
The End
What's Next
Pushing Rope
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…
Especially if that woman happens to be an ancient Greek water spirit with a wicked jealousy streak and the ability to curse her lovers with their worst nightmares. Take me for example, Asmodeus: archdemon of lust, prince of lechery, king of carnal desires…. I'm not even sure what she thinks I did to deserve my fate, all I know is my peep don't work and there's only one woman in the world who can fix it, and after t
hree long, dry, sexless months she'd better fix it soon, or you can bet your ass there'll be hell to pay!
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Acknowledgements
A few years ago I scribbled down an idea for a number of quick and quirky erotic stories. It was nothing particularly grand or important, just something that tickled my fancy at the time. That idea sat on the shelf until I rediscovered it a few months ago, and decided the time was right to make The Q Collection a reality.
A huge thanks to all the people who helped me make this project come to life. To the team at Hot Tree Editing for their help tidying up my weird writing style, and to Shea at Addendum Designs for the bootylicious cover!
A special thank you to my beta-readers, Bec McMaster and Kylie Griffin who hold me accountable at every turn, and the ELE girls for their continued love and support. I really couldn’t do this without you. And to my family for all their encouragement, their love and understanding, thank you for being you and for putting up with me being me, especially my husband, Dan, who supplies me with writing fuel (peanut M&M's), and when needed, resets my equilibrium by making me laugh so hard I snort (so attractive).
Meet the Author
Jennie Kew is the author of The Q Collection, a series of quick and quirky erotic short stories, and the Bennett’s Bastards series, contemporary erotic romances set in the hinterlands of South East Queensland.
Jennie has always enjoyed reading but is a relative late-comer to writing. She never had aspirations of becoming a published author until a dance with death made her ask herself what she really wanted out of life, and she’s been writing ever since.
When not sitting in front of her computer, Jennie can usually be found reading a book, watching a movie or building stuff out of Lego. She lives in regional New South Wales, a stone’s throw from the nation’s capital, Canberra, with her husband, her husband’s magnificent beard, a teenage giant and their feline overlords, Max and Tallulah.