Pleasure Point: The Complete Series

by Evans, Jennifer

  “Take your top off.” I slid the running top over my head. “You wearing a bra?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s it look like?” It was a sports bra, but I said, “It’s black, kind of a sheer fabric.”

  “Take it off.”

  I dragged the bra over my head, and threw it on the bed. “Done.”

  “Oh baby, I’ll bet your nipples are nice and hard. Stroke them then pinch them.”

  My head buzzed with excitement. Jax wanted me. My fingers moved to my mouth, then my breasts, where I slowly circled. “I’m licking my fingers.”

  “Yeah, that’s good. I’ll bet your mouth is warm. I can’t wait to see your tits. I couldn’t stop looking at them the other night. Take your panties off.” I slid my running shorts off. “What do your panties look like?” They were a pair of gray boy shorts.

  “They match my bra. Black lace with a red bow.”

  “Take them off. You got the chair in front of the mirror?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sit down and spread your legs.” I yanked the panties down and sat in the chair. The image of my naked body, my legs draped over the sides and my pink wetness on display was a huge turn-on, like looking at a porn magazine. Jax’s voice was husky when he said, “I wish you were here to touch my cock. It’s hard and standing straight out. Damn, it feels good when I touch it. Wish your mouth was all over it.”

  Hot damn! My juices flowed. “I can’t wait to suck it,” I said, feeling bold and caught up in the moment.

  “Touch yourself. Can you see your pussy? Is it swollen and wet?”

  My fingers moved to my sex. Hearing Jax talk that way, a gush of warm love juice rushed out of me. “I’m so wet and ready.”

  “Touch it. How’s it feel?”

  My fingers made slow circles. “Nice. Wishing it was your tongue.”

  “Stand up and bend over.”

  My hand started to cramp from the phone, and I quickly connected my earbuds so my hands would be free. I bent over the chair and looked at my reflection in the mirror. “I want you to slide into me from behind.”

  His breathing was heavy. “Sit down and spread your legs again. I want you to come.”

  I sat down, spread my legs, and stroked myself using delicious circular motions. My head lolled back as tightness spread through my legs and the heat moved into my pelvis. “Oh yeah, baby. I’m going to come soon.” I increased the speed of my fingers, then paused, spreading my lips and exposing the sensitive bud that held the power over my ecstasy. “I can see my clit in the mirror. It’s so swollen, baby.” Jax let out a groan.

  “Put your fingers inside your sweet honey pot then suck on them.” I did what Jax said, and the scent and taste of sex was enough to put me over the edge. “Oh, my God … I’m going to come.” I rubbed harder until I felt the buildup and then gave myself over to the delicious contractions. “I … I’m coming.” I closed my eyes as my back arched. I shuddered and gasped into a full body orgasm.

  Jax said, “Yeah baby, I wish I was there to fuck you.” And then, his breathing changed. “Fuck … I’m coming, really hard.” He let out a moan, and we were both silent for a few moments. “Holly, you still there? You okay?”

  I let out a breathy sigh. “Better than ever.”

  His laugh was low. “Haven’t done that in a while.”

  “Me neither.”

  He said, “And I’m glad it was with you.”

  We talked for a few more minutes while I curled up on the bed, pulling my feather comforter around my naked body, a smile on my face. Jax was scheduled to be home in two days, and we made plans to rendezvous at his place. “Hope you don’t mind driving to Encinitas. I fly into San Diego, and I want to see you right away.” I couldn’t wait. “Holly … thanks. Thanks for understanding everything.”

  * * *

  The night he returned, I raced around my house getting ready, excitement surging through me. I blared some of my favorite sexy music, danced around the house, and put extra care into my hair, makeup, and outfit. I was especially excited for Jax to see my sexy lingerie—a pair of sheer pink panties and a matching underwire bra that pushed my breasts up.

  I met him in the parking lot of his apartment building. He hopped out of his truck with a huge grin, pulled me into a hug, and said, “Thanks for meeting me, babe. You are a sight for sore eyes.” My heartbeat sped up, and my body suffused with heat.

  He grabbed his gear, and as we were walking toward his studio apartment, we passed a cute little towheaded kid in the hall.

  “Hey Gary,” Jax said. “How’s Blue-ee?”

  “He missed you,” the kid said, handing Jax his house key. “Got some waves while you were gone.”

  Jax leaned over and mussed the kid’s hair. “Thanks, buddy. I owe you a surf session. Catch up with you mañana.”

  I was a jumble of nerves and anticipation as Jax opened the door. A gust of wind from an open window hit us, crisp, night air. Jax dropped his bag on the floor, set his board down, spun around, and pinned me against the front door, his mouth on mine, his hands in my hair. His fingertips trailed down my back until they were on my ass. He gazed into my eyes with those electric blue eyes.

  “I would offer you something to drink, but I think I need a drink of you right now.” He moved his warm hands under my shirt and stroked my belly. I sucked in my breath. He lifted up my shirt and dragged it over my head. When he saw my bra he let out a low whistle. “Damn, you’re sexy. I can see your tits right through that bra.”

  His eyes filled with raw, needy heat. He softly stroked the sensitive tips through the sheer fabric, then bent his head down to lick and bite through the bra. The rosy points sprang to attention under the touch of his warm tongue. He pulled away and unclasped the front of my bra, springing my breasts free. “Sexy, baby.” He fondled and caressed my breasts while gazing into my eyes. Then he took my hand and wordlessly led me to his bed where he laid me down.

  First, he flicked on a low light. Then he unzipped and pulled my jeans off so that I wore only the sheer panties. His hard-on strained underneath his jeans, and my heart sped up so much I thought I would hyperventilate. Kneeling down between my legs he slowly massaged my swollen lips through my panties. “Looks like you got your panties all wet.” He smiled and slid them off, his eyes mesmerizing. “Jesus, I want you.” The look in his eyes was hotter than hell. I desperately ached for his mouth, and then he spread my legs, his warm mouth kissing my sweetness. His tongue went straight to the perfect spot, and he expertly teased, and kissed. How did he know exactly where to touch me? The sensation was hot and wet, the delicate play of his talented tongue creating shock waves through pleasure-packed bundles of nerves. I arched my back, a whimper escaping my lips as he took a deep taste of me before returning to my clit. Holding his head in place, my legs shuddered. I closed my eyes, my muscles tensing, the thrum of blood loud in my ears. I couldn’t hold back, and my body seized. I climaxed with an orgasm that shot straight up my spine. I fell into a vortex of colors, music, and joy, my hands in his hair. Catching my breath, I looked at his smiling face. “Where’d you learn how to do that?”

  He answered by standing up, removing his shirt and unzipping his faded jeans. I was entranced by his powerful chest and his chiseled abdomen.

  His gaze roamed over my breasts, between my legs, all the way down my body and back up to my face. “I need to fuck you, baby,” he said. I nodded as he pulled his jeans off. When he removed his briefs, his gorgeous cock stood at attention. He opened a bedside table drawer and grabbed a condom, stuck the foil piece in his mouth and tore it open with his teeth. Jax lowered his body over mine, pushed himself inside of me and pumped his hips with slow, deep strokes that reawakened my orgasm. I wrapped my arms around his neck and his lips found mine. He kissed me passionately, his mouth tasting like the ocean. My legs curled around his fine ass, while my fingernails scraped his sculpted back. He moved slowly, his blond hair falling over his face, his eyes clouding in a trance. He kissed my n
eck and ears, his breath hot, while he thrust inside, his breath quickening, and then his strokes became quicker, more furious. His face contorted in a mask of passion as he came, then collapsed on top of me, his weight a welcome haven of warmth and security. His eyelids fluttered as he gently kissed my forehead and my hot cheek. “I’ll last longer next time. Couldn’t stop thinking about you. Just couldn’t wait.”

  We lay facing each other, the only light in the room was cast from an orange lava lamp and the glow of the moon through the picture window. He smoothed my hair and said, “You are so beautiful. I thought about you on the trip.” He held my hand and kissed each of my fingers. Then, he softly stroked my face, gazing into my eyes and smoothing my hair with his masculine hand.

  “How was the trip?”

  “Same old stuff, a bunch of surfers playing animal house. Actually, it was pretty insane. Waves were gnarly huge.” He looked at me with intensity. “I had time to think.”

  “And?”

  “And, I’m thinking that I need to move on.” He rolled over to his back, clasped his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. Move on from what? From me? Was he only doing this to get me out of his system? “What happened to my brother was a nightmare. But I know I have to come to peace with it.”

  Relief flooded through me.

  I stroked his chest and rested my head on his shoulder while he gently combed his fingers through my hair. “How about if we just enjoy our time together and let life take us where it wants? Seems like you could use a break.” I nuzzled in and made small circles on his chest with my fingernails. “I think you and I could be really good together.”

  He answered by rolling over and kissing my breasts, my stomach, and then down between my legs to work his Jax Priest magic that, I swear to God, could be bottled and sold for millions. We made glorious love for hours.

  I had to leave Jax that night to get home to the pups. He walked me to my car, kissed me deeply and passionately, and then said, “Thank you, Ms. Holly Robertson, for the very happy welcome home party. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  I drove to Laguna Beach with a huge smile on my face.

  Jax

  I was on my way to meet with my surf team manager in Irvine and I couldn’t get Holly off my brain. I knew what was happening, and I didn’t do a damn thing to stop it. Holly reminded me of Rosalyn. They both had the same athletic way, the same soft femininity, and that alluring scent of sandalwood. In fact, Holly was the same age Rosalyn would’ve been. Damn, she was sexy.

  But the thing of it was, I thought I could really care for Holly. No one would ever replace Rosalyn, but honestly, just the thought of Roz sometimes made me angry. She’d left me, didn’t want me, and Holly was here. I wanted to give Holly and me a chance.

  The phone rang, jolting me out of my reverie. It was Butch.

  “Yo,” I answered.

  “Setting up surf lessons today, but I’ve got only one so far,” he said.

  “What happened to my thousands of adoring fans?”

  “That’s what I’m wondering. The lesson’s scheduled for three. What time you coming in?”

  “On my way to a meeting at Mystic Seaweed. I’ll be by after, around noon.”

  “Ah, your real paycheck.” The monthly stipend was not a fortune, but it paid the bills. My job was to provide exposure for the brand by wearing the company logo on my clothing, having the logo on my surfboard, and talking up Mystic Seaweed aggressively. My job was also to win surf contests.

  My phone signaled another call was coming in. I saw it was Sandy Farnsworth. Without meaning to I blurted out, “Why’s she keep calling?”

  Butch said, “Who?”

  I took a swig of my coffee. “Remember Sandy, the one I took to lunch?”

  “You mean the babe whose kid you gave surf lessons to?”

  “One and the same.” The phone beeped again.

  “I forgot to ask you how lunch went with her.”

  I hadn’t told Butch anything about Sandy’s proposition because I felt sorry for her and didn’t want to embarrass her. “It was okay.”

  “Is she interested in you?”

  I hesitated before answering. “Maybe. But she’s married, and I’m dating Holly.”

  “So, end of story. It’s nice though, that you had lunch with her. If she wasn’t married, I’d say send her my way. Don’t know if she’s into amputees though.”

  Butch didn’t give himself enough credit sometimes. He was athletic, funny and personable. “You never know.”

  “In my dreams.”

  Walking into the lobby of Mystic Seaweed that morning, I whistled to myself, experiencing a bounce in my step I hadn’t felt in a while.

  “Hey Jax,” the receptionist said and waved, “Brad’s waiting for you.” I smiled at the lovely surfer girl who sat at the front desk in the massive lobby. The white walls with the high ceilings were covered with photos of the surfers they sponsored; there was even one of me modeling a wetsuit. I remembered that shoot. One of the photographers had told me to think about the latest piece of ass I’d had. I shook my head and walked on down to Brad’s office.

  “Yo, Jax come on in,” Brad said, motioning me to sit in the chair opposite his desk. He was just finishing up a phone call, and I could see him mouthing “yada, yada, yada” and making accompanying movements with his hand.

  Brad Dixon was my surf team manager, and we went way back, having met on the Pro Surfing Tour when we were both teenagers. A pro surfer’s career generally went something like this: early amateur success, first photos in the surf magazines, first sponsorship deal, promotional surf trip and magazine travel feature, a couple of seasons on the qualifying pro tour, more photos, and new, more lucrative sponsors. Then, if they’re lucky and surf well, the world championship tour, more surf trips, more endorsement ads, success on the tour for a few years, and eventual retirement. And some, like Brad, became surf team captains, which meant it was his job to corral us whack-job surfers who only wanted to surf and somehow make a living doing it.

  I sank down into the zebra print slingback chair, and slipped my feet out of my Vans so I could run my toes through the imitation sheepskin rug. Brad had his office decorated like an ‘80s porn star’s bedroom: black lights, fake fur throws, and pillows made out of purple velvet fabric. Photos of his team members were plastered all over the walls.

  Brad hung up the phone. “Hey bro, you want coffee?”

  “Already made the Starbucks run.” I pointed to my cup.

  Brad took a deep breath and sat up straight, brushing nonexistent crumbs off of his desk. He steepled his fingers in front of his face. “Thanks for making the drive up here, man. Not the best day for me.”

  Brad’s job wasn’t always easy. While I got to surf for a living, Brad was stuck in his office behind a computer, something that would’ve given me an instant headache. And when he did get to go on surf trips, it meant keeping the surfers from getting into too much trouble. I could tell stories. Once, Brad had to beg the authorities not to press charges when one guy on his team—and I won’t mention any names—got caught with his pants down with a hot young thing who turned out to be … well, young. Those chicks liked to pile on the makeup and the sexy low cut clothing that made them look like they’re twenty-five instead of seventeen. And no, it wasn’t me. I didn’t go for gum-smacking seventeen year olds no matter how much makeup and lingerie they wore.

  Brad drummed his fingers on his desk and looked out the window.

  “Fucking corporate office.” He sank back into his leather chair with a heavy sigh. “I’ll come straight to the point. Worst part of my job is telling people like you that they’re getting the axe.”

  “What?’

  “Dammit Jax, pressure’s coming down from management. You know how it is. Oh hell, you don’t know how it is, but all they look at is the goddamn numbers. How much are you making for us? How many surf trips do we have to shell out dough for to sell the latest line of wetsuits and bathing suits that eve
rybody’s gonna forget about next year?” He took a swig from his water bottle, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked me straight in the eye. “Sorry dude, but your sponsorship’s getting canceled at the end of the month. Who knows? My job may be next, which I hope to God it’s not ‘cause lord knows, the wife’s put us into enough debt as it is.”

  Brad’s wife was a sweetheart of a lady who had it in her mind that she was going to have a house in the ‘burbs, a Lexus, and was already pressuring Brad to start a family. At least all I had to worry about in the financial department was me and Blue-ee.

  “So that’s it? After eight years, I’m getting the can?”

  “Pretty much.” He exhaled heavily. “Sorry, dude. When this shitstorm blows over, you and I need to take a trip to Indo together, ride some gnarly tubes and forget all this corporate bullshit.”

  After our meeting, I sat in my truck, gripping the steering wheel, the sun turning the truck into a hothouse. I had to remain calm. People lost their jobs all the time. It just happened to be my turn.

  My phone rang. It was Butch.

  “Surf lesson cancelled today, so I won’t be needing you.”

  I didn’t say anything. I had looked forward to the surf lesson to help blow off steam, not to mention, make a little money.

  “You still there?”

  “Yeah. I’m still here. But wondering if I should be.”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “You got a minute?”

  “‘Course I do. What’s up?”

  I tugged at a loose thread on the knee of my jeans. “Guess who got to be part of the cutback at Mystic Seaweed?”

  “No way.”

  “Yep. They’re keeping me until the end of the month then my bank account’s going down to zip.”

  “Well, what happened? Did you talk to Brad?”

  “It’s not Brad’s fault. Guy’s just doing his job.”

  “Jesus, buddy, sorry about that. What’re you going to do?”

  “What can I do?”

  “Get your game back.”

  What Butch was doing his darndest not to mention was that I hadn’t been performing. “Yep, guess I need to win some contests.” It didn’t matter how great a surfer I was, all they cared about was rankings, and the top surfer in the world could sink to the bottom in a heartbeat.