As Jackson continues to abuse my mouth for his pleasure, I can hardly breathe. My vision is becoming blurry from the combination of my lack of oxygen mixed with wet tears. Then, all of a sudden, he stills and I feel his hot, salty release slide down my throat, spurt after spurt.
Immediately a feeling of euphoria takes over. Before I can comprehend it, its quickly replaced with a high I have never experienced before. I dabbled in my mother’s drugs when I was young, but this feeling has nothing on the way cocaine or pot made me feel. I’m floating and it’s fascinating. Jackson controlled my body to the point of a release. I release every last doubt, every last worry – every last thought in my mind, and just float away.
I can’t wait to feel this way again. I can already tell, I’ve got a new addiction in Jackson and the way he takes control of me.
Jackson pulls out of my mouth and lifts me up from underneath my arms. He drags my limp body up and lays me down, my back on the bed with my legs dangling over the side of the mattress. His strong hands grasp behind my knees, pulling me up and toward his mouth. Now, the only part of my body touching the bed is the back of my head and my shoulders. I reach my arms up behind me to grasp onto the bedding, arching myself even higher, pushing my core right over his starving mouth. Holding me flush against his face, he proceeds to furiously eat me. He’s rougher than he was last evening and my limp body is suspended in the air due to sheer force and willpower.
Jackson’s lips wrap around my clit as he places my legs over his shoulders, then grabs my bottom with his strong fingers. I come as he sucks me in deep, screaming out his name as my body goes completely lame. I am unable to arch my back a moment longer to hold myself to him. He moves my legs from his shoulders before picking me up. Cradling me in his arms, he places me down on the bed so delicately that I almost cry at his gentility. My exhausted eyes then watch as Jackson pulls on his clothes from the night before.
“Did I hurt you?” His concerned eyes roam over my face and I smile softly.
“No,” I whisper, unable to fully express the high I am still flying.
“I’m glad bunny. Be a good girl and sleep, now. When I come back, we’ll go out.” He kisses my temple lightly before turning to leave.
Jackson didn’t hurt me, not really. What he did do was surprise the hell out of me. As the high ebbs, my brain starts to catch up to the rest of my body. I think back to his talk of easing me into the lifestyle and I am suddenly freighted.
That was taking it easy?
I wonder what harder things he’s into and if I can handle it? Silently I admit that I liked the power of wearing him down and doing something he wanted, needed, even if he tried to hold it back. Now that I took that power and handed it over so freely to him, is it what I truly wanted?
I fall asleep thinking about this morning’s activities, about how we pleased each other without speaking a word. The silence should have made it feel impersonal, strange even, but it didn’t. I have never felt so intimate with another person before in my life.
The sound of dishes clanging around in the kitchen rouses me from my dreamless sleep. I roll over and snag my phone to see that it is after one in the afternoon. I literally slept the entire morning and I’m bordering on being a sloth.
I slide out of bed and grab an oversized Yankee’s t-shirt. I put it on hardly conscious of the fact that it belonged to Sammy. It is the most comfortable shirt I have. I then step into a pair of panties before making my way toward the noises. As I approach the kitchen, I come to an abrupt halt at the sight before me.
Jackson is standing in my kitchen wearing faded jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. The cotton fabric is so tight, it looks like one wrong move would cause him to hulk out of the thing, ripping it to shreds with just the power of his muscles. However, it’s not his build that surprises me. What surprises me is the fact that he is plating pasta, grilled chicken, and broccoli; he’s literally taking it from take-out containers and putting it on actual dishes. I didn’t think single guys did that kind of thing.
“Sleeping Beauty is awake.” He says, grinning at me like a triumphant teenager. His eyes roam over my body and he freezes in place, his jaw clenching.
“I am, and that smells awesome.” I inch my way toward the delicious food and the equally delicious Jackson.
“What are you wearing?” he asks me, his voice eerily calm. I look down at my overly large and long, shapeless shirt before I shrug.
“An old t-shirt. It’s soft,” I state.
“Whose shirt is it?” He asks with narrowed eyes and I suddenly pale at his question.
“Uhh…”
“’Uhhh,’ what, Marguerite?” His face is as hard as granite and completely unwavering. It is slightly frightening.
“Sammy’s,” I squeak, closing my eyes and praying for some kind of divine intervention to swoop in and rescue my stupid ass.
“Take it off,” he bellows. I take a step back and start toward the bedroom.
“Stop,” he calls out, and I do - my eyes meeting his.
“Take it off right fucking now.” The look in his eyes makes my hands shake as I do what he commands. I strip the shirt from my body, leaving me standing before him in nothing but a pair of panties and a shred, maybe, of dignity.
“Toss it to me,” he orders. I throw the shirt with all of my might, hitting him in the chest.
I watch in morbid fascination as he shakes it out and turns it around to find Sammy’s last name, my last name, and Sammy’s number printed on the back. I gawk as he rips the soft material in half. Without a word, he tosses the torn fabric onto the floor and glares at it with pure hatred and disgust. He pauses only for a second, then his feet move so quickly I don’t realize that he is charging in my direction until it is too late. My feet scramble backward until my ass comes in contact with the granite kitchen countertop.
“Jackson!” I gasp when one hand around the front of my throat and the other grabs hold of my hip, his fingers digging into my nearly naked flesh.
“Never, never wear another man’s anything around me again,” he seethes, pure anger dripping from his every word. Does he even see me or am I invisible in a sea of red?
“But… Sammy’s gone and… I… it’s a comfortable shirt,” I stutter as I mumble.
“Could be a fuckin’ priests shirt and it wouldn’t make me less angry than I am right this fucking second, Marguerite. No part of another man touches you. You are mine. The promise of you is mine. No other man enters our relationship, ever. Sammy will always be a ghost hanging around, but when we’re together - like this – when we’re intimate, no other fucking man fucking exists,” he states. I nod, my eyes wide. I’m sure I look just like the frightened bunny he describes me as.
“I don’t mean to scare you,” his voice sighs harshly. His hand slides down my throat and around the nape of my neck, his fingers slowly raking up my spine to dive into my messy hair.
“I… I’m okay,” I say shakily.
“I’m a jealous ass,” he chuckles humorlessly.
“You were a little scary,” I admit. I look into his eyes with a smile and I can see, they’re softer now his anger seeping out of them.
“How do you feel?” his voice is gentle and he runs his nose along the side of mine.
“I’m okay, I promise,” I say as he kisses the corner of my lips his hand slides away from my hip and he cups my panty covered core.
“How does your body feel?” His voice has turned from soft to husky and I know that he is thinking about last night. I needed something but was unable to voice what it was, and he knew exactly what I needed before I did.
“Really great,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck. AS I hug him, fear leaves my body as anger leaves his.
“Good,” he rasps. The hand in my hair releases its hold and slides down my spine to cup my ass.
“Go and put something else on before you sit down. It’s time to eat, beautiful,” he whispers. He doesn’t mention the jealous rage again and I don’t dally
, I do as he asks.
If I’m good maybe he’ll reward me. After I shamelessly begged to please him; I submitted this morning and the reward was phenomenal. His mouth on me – bringing me more pleasure than I have ever known. If I’m really good, maybe he’ll let me pick my reward? All I can think about are more orgasms. I have never come so many times in such a short timeframe and I think I might be addicted.
“Tell me what you do for a living,” I ask before I shove an unladylike bite of pasta, chicken and broccoli into my mouth. I wonder where he bought it. It is heaven.
“I want to tell you…” he trails off as he takes a sip of his water.
“But?” I ask chewing the to-die-for food. I seriously almost orgasm at the garlic and herbs that explode in my mouth.
“I want you to be truly mine before you try to get out of this thing between us,” he says. His words are like a riddle and they make me even more curious than I was moments ago.
“Are you in the mob?”
Jackson throws his head back and laughs, his eyes twinkling and his smile broad. He looks so beautiful.
“No,” he says as his smiles turns sad. “But I already know that my job will be a reason for you to try and run.” he says with a sad smile. He must know how unnerved I already feel and how my already strong feelings for him are making me shifty and nervous.
“You will tell me though, right?” I ask, my eyes focusing on him. When he smiles and tells me yes, I don’t feel like he is lying or trying to deceive me. He is simply too scared to tell me his occupation.
Am I the kind of woman who wouldn’t want a man based on his occupation? Am I that shallow? I like to think that I’m not shallow at all, that I would embrace whatever Jackson’s career is; but how well do we know what our reactions will be once we are faced with hard truths and realities? Besides, I do want to know the man, the career truly means very little to me, though it would be nice to know.
“It isn’t illegal?” I need to know at least that much. For some reason, Jackson smiles widely and shakes his head.
“No. Go and get dressed, beautiful, we’re going out.” My eyes widen in surprise.
“Where?” I almost regret my question when I see his eyes darken. Though, at the same time, I feel my body shiver with a thrill laced with excitement.
“A club, it is extremely private. I want to show you some of the lifestyle options that are available,” he says with a wink.
I stand up and start to rush off, only to be stopped when I feel Jackson’s arms wrap around my waist from behind, his nose skimming the curve of my neck.
“No man will see any part of you that I do not wish him to see, but know that where we go you are mine. Once we enter that space, it is up to me what I do to you. Rest assured, no man will touch you and you will remain by my side the entire evening. Not everything that you see is something I’m interested in, but I want you to see what you like, what you might want to try with me later. When you’re ready.”
“Is it like that other club?” I ask, my voice raspy, so raspy I don’t even recognize it.
“No, this is not a public place. This is a place you must be invited to attend. The players are much more serious than that club. It makes that club we met at look like an eighteen and under night club for kids.” I lick my dry lips and close my eyes, overwhelmed by excitement and anticipation of what is to come. This shouldn’t excite me as much as it does, it should terrify me. Shouldn’t it?
“What should I wear?” I feel Jackson’s hands slide down the sides of my waist and around to inside of my panties as he kneads my fairly abundant ass.
“Wear a satin or lace bra and panties. Clothes are not permitted inside, for submissives, so if you have a trench coat that would be good, or just a simple one piece dress that is easily removed. And the highest heels you own, baby,” he insists as he continues to knead my plump flesh.
I close my eyes and envision my lingerie, trying to think of the perfect outfit; then Jackson’s hand slips from my ass and he slaps my cheek hard, making my core tingle.
“Go, babe.” I nod and rush toward the bathroom.
I take my time showering, shaving, washing and making sure I am buffed and polished for whatever Jackson has planned for me. I can’t lie and say that I am not nervous about this exclusive party he is taking me to. It makes me excited but scared all at the same time. I know this role that I have chosen with him could bite me in the ass. I only hope that this sudden spontaneity and trust won’t get me killed or raped.
I rifle through my lingerie drawer and curse the fact that Sammy didn’t give a shit one way or the other if I dressed in pretty things for him. Now I have nothing. I settle on a balconette style bra, which will lift my breasts and give them their best eye appealing look. I slide on a pair of low-rise bikini lace panties that are completely see through at the bottom - both in black.
To cover myself up, I wrap my body in a satin dressing gown and then slip on my nude, extremely high heels. I leave my hair straight and long, keeping my bangs angled straight across my forehead. The bangs are a newer look for me and have taken some getting used to, but I like them.
Once I step outside of my bedroom, I see that Jackson has changed into black slacks and a matching button down shirt. his hair is perfectly combed and he looks like a business mogul, ready to take on the world. The dominance he emanates is astounding.
“Here.” His command is soft, but it’s a command nonetheless. I slowly walk toward him and his hands go directly for the tie of my gown, pulling the string quickly. Once the wrap is released, his eyes take in my entire appearance.
“Twirl,” he directs, spinning his finger in the air. I slowly spin in a circle.
When facing him again, I see that his eyes are black and gleaming with hunger. His hands grab a handful of my lace covered ass as his mouth lightly sucks on my earlobe. The sensations of hard and soft are sending mixed signals throughout my body. I want his hard punishing hands with his gentle mouth all over me, the contradiction is dizzying.
“So fucking sexy babe. Christ.”
WE PULL UP TO THE party and I gape at the sight. It is an extremely posh area of Manhattan. Not that I live in the slums, considering Sammy made sure we kept up with the Jones’, but this place blows mine out of the water – and I haven’t even been inside yet. The doorman opens my car door and I slowly slide out, careful not to panty flash him as I take his hand to rise.
“Thank you,” I murmur, walking from him and reaching out toward Jackson’s outstretched hand.
I am so nervous that my body feels cold and my hands are trembling. We walk and I listen to my high heels click against the fancy marble floors as we make our way into the waiting elevator. I follow after Jackson and listen as he gives his information to the front deskman.
Jackson has been quiet the entire time and I wonder if he’s nervous too. I shake the thought away, knowing he’s probably really excited. I have no idea what to expect and I’m scared, really scared. I didn’t think this whole situation through and I’m seconds from running as fast and as far away as I can.
Jackson releases my hand to slide an arm around my waist, pulling me closer to his side. His nose skims my cheek before he nuzzles it just below my ear, a place I am quickly learning is his favorite spot. His lips lightly touch me sending even more chills throughout my body, and my breath hitches at his contact.
How can something so soft and seemingly innocent make me feel so desired and needy?
“Calm down. Nothing will happen to you here. You’ll be safe with me. Tonight is more of an introduction than anything else? We are going to observe so you can tell me, what turns you on and what you might like to try.”
I press my lips together and look down at my shoes, taking a deep breath. I can do this; I can see complete strangers doing depraved things to each other. This is what Jackson is into and if I am truthful, I am extremely interested in some aspects myself. What little we have done so far has been fantastic and what I saw at the club, m
ost things anyway, intrigued me.
We walk into the Penthouse and my eyes are assaulted with visions of bare flesh all around me. Looking around the room my mouth is agape as I take in the scenes before me. I can feel the sweat beading between my breasts as I watch one woman being, what I now know is, flogged. One man hits her ass and thighs as she enthusiastically gives head to another man.
I did a little research after attending the club where Jackson and I met. I had to look up what the hell the woman at the other club was being hit with. The internet enlightened me to many new things. I’m not longer under the impression that the cat o’ nine tails has anything to do with kittens. Not at all. The welts on the woman’s ass and thighs across the room suggest her flogging has been happening for more than just a few moments. I shiver at the thought of being hit with all of those pieces of leather for such a long period of time.
I avert my eyes only to have them land on a man lying down on a thick plush carpet while one woman rides his face and another sucks his cock deep into her mouth, her hand between her own legs. I feel queasy. these are things I know for a fact that I could never do. I could never share myself with two men. Just thinking about it is making me sick. Trying to imagine another woman with Jackson just makes me want to die.
“Take off your robe, babe,” Jackson purrs in my ear, forcing my eyes to look away from the different scenes before me. I shiver as his voice. I’ll do anything for him when his voice goes deep and raw, commanding me to do as he wishes, as he pleases.
I slowly strip my robe off and hand it to the man standing fully clothed at the door. I feel so bare, so vulnerable and so very naked. Jackson stays fully clothed, his hand wrapping around my waist possessively.
“Are you all right?” he asks, his eyes meeting mine. I see nothing but concern etched in his gaze and I let out a ragged breath as I nod.
“If it is too much, you’ll tell me.” His words are a command and my eyes widen at the prospect seeing worse than what I already have, but I nod and tell him yes.
Catching Maggie Page 7