I shift my weight to my left arm and reach under her thigh with my right, yanking her down. This is no time for thinking. The tip of my dick is at her clit. I roll my hips in circles just like I watched Julian do. Her back arches instinctually, but she willfully pulls it back down. Even though she seems resistant, she isn’t actually trying to get away from me, so I’m taking that as consent.
Her eyes open and meet mine for a second, fierce, defiant, and utterly filled with hungry lust. I push into her just a little bit. When she looks away, biting her bottom lip again, I know that we’re engaged in a contest of wills. But we are both so spun up, she’s just wasting time with these little rebellions.
She cranes her head back, twisting at the hips, but my hand around her thigh holds her pussy in place. I pull back a touch and let my dick drop so it’s now putting pressure on her entrance rather than just her happy nub. She’s slick with her own arousal. It would be so easy to slide right into her. But I resist. I should get an award for self-control; I really am impressive.
I keep going, pushing forward just the tiniest bit and then pulling back just enough to keep her stimulated, make her want it. I want to fuck her so bad, but I want her to be the one that makes it happen. I want the satisfaction of knowing she couldn’t resist my cock.
I bend my head down and, even though it’s a bit of an awkward angle, I capture her pert, aroused nipple between my lips and suck hard on it. She gasps, all shocked and throaty. In response, a fresh jolt of adrenaline shoots through me straight into my dick. I redirect the energy to my mouth and suck harder.
I want to bruise her nipple. I want to mark it. I want to leave her with something she’ll see for weeks. I want her to not be able to forget.
Her hips buck up as I suck, but not enough to force me inside of her. She arches her back again, pressing her stomach into my chest, melding the ridges between our bones and muscles together like puzzle pieces. All my instincts tell me to fuck the mind games and just fuck her sweet little pussy instead. God damn it.
I can’t even press into her now to tease her, I can’t handle it. I suck on her nipple like it’s a life line because focusing on it is my only tool of resistance. Her hands land on my shoulders. Her fingers slide up them, spreading, then easing around to the back of my neck. They lace through my hair.
“Fuck!” I gasp as she yanks my head up by a fistful of hair. My lips twist into a snarl but her pelvis rotates against mine, luring my body into automatic response. Her thighs slide up against my hips. Now I’m the one thrusting before I can think to stop myself.
Her eyes bore directly into mine, and her lips quirk up in the satisfaction of victory, but right now I don’t care if I lost the battle of wills because with that one thrust my dick is finally inside her. She is hot and wet and, even though Julian has already worked her up, still tight enough to make my cock feel squeezed.
“Aahhh fuck,” I groan. She lets go of my hair, and her arms wrap around my shoulders, pulling us closer together, pulling me deeper into her. I want to pull out and plunge back into her hard—and she’s so aroused I probably could—but I also want to regain control of the situation.
Braced on my knees, I swivel my hips around, rimming the entrance of her pussy with the base of my cock. I remember how crazy it made her when I did it with my tongue. Sure enough, with only a few rotations I feel her fingers curl and claw at the shirt on my back. I swear I can feel her vag pulsing, squeezing my cock. I push in deeper and clench my teeth to keep myself from moaning.
She feels so good. It’s been months since I’ve had sex with a woman, but I don’t think that’s the only reason I’m so spun right now.
Her hips rock against mine. I slide my hand up her thigh and grab as much of her pert ass-cheek as I can, pulling her closer and closer. Her muscles clench around my cock, and I let my head fall onto the nape of her neck so she can’t see the look on my face as I concentrate on not coming.
The best way to make a woman come is not to plunge into her, but to grind into her. I thrust up and around, up and around, up and around. I have to focus on setting this rhythm because she’s so hot and tight, and the way she rocks back up into me is so tantalizing that if I don’t, I’m going to come before she does.
Her legs squeeze tighter around me, I can feel the heaving of her chest growing quicker as her breaths grow shorter. I drive my cock harder into her, pulling out a little more and a little more with each thrust. Her pants turn into guttural squeaks. I pull my head up from her neck and look at her face.
Her eyes are closed. Her lower lip is sucked between her teeth, and she’s biting it hard enough that I wouldn’t be surprised to see blood. Her eyebrows are twisted down and up, her face pulled back into an expression that could mean either pain or pleasure. That is exactly the look I want to see.
I slide in and out of her. The squeeze of her stretched pussy against the base of my cock begs me to fuck her harder. I resist, but the more I pull out the harder she thrusts up into me.
“Aahhh,” she moans. Her arms wrap around my shoulders so tight that next time she thrusts she practically lifts herself off the floor. I slam my dick into her, and her hips buck up to catch me. Her legs around me squeeze tight, not letting me pull out much. She bucks again and again, more spastic each time.
She’s going to come. There’s no way she won’t come. I push her back down though, and despite the resistance of her legs, I manage to pull out a few inches so that I can push back into her, deeper. All of my instincts tell me to pull out again, but she’s so close and I want to see the look on her face when I make her come.
So I stay buried inside of her, rotating my pelvis as fast as I possibly can, thrusting and thrusting until she’s flat against the ground.
“Fuck,” she pants, “fuck, fuck, fuck, please…”
I groan, but it quickly turns into a growl—an actual growl. I dip my face back into her neck and bite.
“Aaaahhh!” she gasps as my teeth latch onto her clavicle. Every little noise she makes somehow turns me on even more. Damn.
She bucks up, up, up, practically vibrating. I thrust and grind and push, deeper and deeper and deeper. It’s so fucking hard not to come.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she groans. “Yes, yes, please, please…”
I let go of her clavicle and move my lips up. With my teeth on her earlobe I whisper, “Please what?”
I don’t have to look at her face to know that familiar little twist of defiance is surely on her lips. I stop thrusting and slow my grinding. Her body immediately reacts, her hips jump up, her hands land on my ass pulling me in. She must be really fucking close. I give her one teasing little thrust, and then slow down even more.
“Fuck—” she groans in frustration. I am grinning from ear to ear, my teeth still on her earlobe.
“Please what?” I repeat.
“Please—” she pants, thrusting again, her hands squeezing my ass cheeks, pulling at the skin.
I pull away and plunge back in, but then go still again. “God! Fuck!” she snarls. Her head swings up and her eyes open, flashing defiantly at me.
“Say it,” I whisper, grinding in with one long slow rotation. Not only has this little pause helped me not come prematurely, but making her beg for it has somehow got my cock even harder. I want to plow into her so fucking bad—but not till she says it.
Defiant silence. One more slow rotation. “Say it,” I whisper again.
“Please,” she repeats, her hands not letting up on my ass.
“Please what?” I growl.
“Please make me come,” she finally sighs in defeat. Not exactly what I was thinking, but it turns out I like it even better. I thrust and grind and grind and grind, bringing her back to the breaking point. Her thighs squeeze my hips tighter. Her pants grow shorter and louder. “Yes, yes, yes, yes,” she whispers in abandon.
Her hips buck and buck, she’s fucking me as hard as I am fucking her. The pressure of her vag, squeezing, clenching, working up to orgasm, takes o
ver my senses. I can feel the pressure building in my balls, I can feel the—
“FUCK!” she practically screams. Her clenching fingers turn into scratching nails, running down my back. I put all of my strength into the deepest thrust I can manage. Then one more. Her body becomes putty melting in my hands, but for the rhythmic clenching of her pussy around me. She came, and now her body is trying to suck up all my come.
Happy to oblige, I plunge into her one more time. My balls constrict hard. I bury my face in her hair, my eyes squeeze shut, my teeth clench, a deep groan of ultimate satisfaction rumbles out of me and I feel a burst of intense pleasure, of release, of relief, of exhaustion as my seed pours into her.
“Fuck,” I whisper. As I collapse, I push even deeper into her, although I wouldn’t have thought it possible. Her pussy keeps milking my cock. I want to fall asleep on top of her, her arms and legs wrapped around me, my cock inside her; I want to have the nameless smell of her hair gradually take over my senses. “Fuck,” I repeat.
“Fuck.” She echoes me in a tone that tells me she feels the same way. Her hips swivel just a little bit. Her body still wants even more. Who would have thought know-it-all prissy little Mia Winters would have such a libido?
I squeeze my ass cheeks together in response, perfectly happy to let her grind her way into another orgasm. But instead of the upward thrust I’m expecting, her legs go loose around me, and she actually pulls away.
I get back up onto my elbows. Our eyes catch. For a second I see vulnerability and fear and traces of the satiated well-fucked animal her higher-order logics are already suppressing. Then she looks away. Seeing all of this suddenly makes my higher-order logics turn on too.
I pull out of her and get onto my knees. The truth is, right now I’ve got a lot of chemicals in my brain telling me I’m much more fond of her than I actually am. This is causing conflict, and I don’t know how to process that conflict. I don’t know what to say. Part of me is already taking into account that I want to fuck her again, so I probably shouldn’t say anything that will make that harder than it’s already going to be. Another part of me is already arguing with that horny part. Again, albeit it very differently this time. Fuck.
She shimmies out from under me. Out of the corner of my eye I see Julian move. I hadn’t forgotten he was there, but I also hadn’t been giving any thought to what he might be doing. Judging by the way he’s got one hand moving away from my phone, and the other bringing it back down to the chair I left it on, I’d say—
“Did you just video that too?” Mia asks, her tone impossible to interpret.
“Yeah,” Julian answers with a cheeky grin, “only for my own viewing pleasure though.”
She lets out a groan filled with a very different kind of fatigue and a very different kind of frustration. She stands up, and I do the same. We both collect our clothes in silence. I try to think of something clever to say, but most of my brain is just insisting on taking a catnap, and, if not that, then sticking my dick back into her and banging her until I come again—and then, of course, taking a nap.
However, she’s got her jeans back on before I’ve even found my underwear. As I pull them around my hips I realize they’re Julian’s, but I don’t particularly care; we can switch back later. Mia throws her sweater on without either her bra or T-shirt. She grabs those, stuffs them into her open backpack, and is zipping up her parka in less than a minute.
It occurs to me that I could grab her shoes to keep her from running off, which is obviously what she’s about to do. But my brain still isn’t working, and some terrible feeling is now pumping through my veins. I don’t know what it is but it makes me feel like curling up in a dark cocoon of blankets.
Then she’s out the door without a word to either of us. My eyes find Julian’s. He’s got an amused little smirk on his face. Lucky him—being so unaffected. I wish I knew why I was—actually, no, I don’t. I just wish I wasn’t affected at all. Maybe if I ignore it, it will go away.
In a room that feels empty, we get dressed. I can feel Julian’s eyes on me, but he knows me well enough not to comment on my silence. As I button up my peacoat he magically says the only word I want to hear:
“Dinner?”
“The French Kitchen,” I reply, adjusting my scarf.
He opens the door, we walk through, and that is that.
—
On Wednesday I have absolutely no reason to see Mia Winters, and I don’t. On Thursday I don’t even look at her during either of the two lectures we have together, but I swear I can smell her cunt from all the way across the room. On Friday I knock on her door with the clever plan to ask if I can borrow notes for a class I missed. Her roommate answers and tells me that Mia is out. I get away as quickly as possible, dumbstruck by my own stupidity. That feeling fades and on Saturday I wander by a lame coffee shop I once saw her in.
I’m there for forty minutes—reading Frankfurt for Normative Ethics, of course—before Mia shows up. She is with her roommate, whose name is something that starts with an L. Before they see me, I quickly negotiate with a bum at the table next to me for the giant newspaper he’s reading. I give him fifty bucks for it, and then I actually spend thirty minutes hiding behind it so I can eavesdrop on Mia and her friend.
I don’t detect the slightest hint that either of our escapades has been discussed with her friend. I know that technically complete secrecy is exactly what I demanded…but it’s still insulting that she could actually manage to not talk about it.
When they leave with their apple ciders—who goes to a coffee shop and gets apple cider?—I go order myself a coffee to go. What is wrong with me? I ask myself while I wait. There are plenty of other women besides Mia Winters. Probably plenty who would be down for a three-way, and I’m sure most of them are not prissy know-it-all good-girl types with an unnatural ability to get under my skin. So why the hell did I just spend a Saturday following Mia Winters around?
My name is called and I retrieve my coffee, feeling rather sour. I’m certainly not going to waste any more time stalking her. It’s very unbecoming. In fact, it’s downright inappropriate for a Masters to be doing anything other than taking what he wants. Ah, I sarcastically retort, hello, Father. Lovely to hear from you today.
I step out of the coffee shop and have only gone one foot around the corner when I ram into some imbecile just standing there. My coffee splashes backward, sloshing down my white cashmere scarf and spattering my face.
“What is wrong with—” I begin. Then I actually look at who I’m about to yell at. As our eyes meet I think, Of course.
Mia catches her balance against the wall, straightens herself up and plants her hands on her bossy hips. “Why are you following me around?” she demands, glaring at me.
“I was here first,” I point out.
“I come here almost every day, I have seen you in here maybe once. This is not a coincidence. So what do you want?”
Her hair is in a disheveled ponytail, her coat is too tight across the pert boobs my mind so easily recalls sucking on. A jolt of adrenaline or testosterone or both shots through me. It wants me to pick her up by the thighs and shove her into the wall beside us. That primal instinct is regrettably blocked by the reason and customs of the modern world though, so instead the energy meant to fuel it transforms into aggression.
“Fine,” I growl, surprising myself, “I can’t stop thinking about fucking you. I don’t want to want to fuck you. You’re not my type. I don’t want entanglements and I don’t want to keep thinking about you, but I am. I want to fuck you again and again and again until I don’t want to anymore and I don’t want to hear your prissy spew about how you’re not that kind of girl—I know you’re not. The entire fucking Philosophy Department and everyone in Berkeley knows you’re not that kind of girl. But you are, despite your reticence, somehow, a really fucking good lay and I’m pretty sure you feel the same way about me and”—I drop my voice to a whispered hiss— “Julian. So save us all some time and just sa
y yes.”
She blinks incredulously at me and takes a deep breath that pushes her boobs up even more. “Say yes to what?” she asks, and I realize she actually doesn’t know what I’m asking.
“To fucking us again,” I exhale, absolutely shocked anyone could be so daft.
She blinks at me several times. I have no idea what the look on her face means and I don’t like not knowing what looks mean. Then, finally, her plump little lips move, and the word that comes out is, “No.”
“What?” I blurt, utterly shocked. “What do you mean, no? You want to fuck us. You know you do.”
“No,” she repeats. “I might have physically enjoyed it, but that doesn’t mean that I want to, to…I don’t even know what you call something like this. But no.”
“I don’t believe you,” I insist, absolutely infuriated with her. I actually told her the truth, I confessed to wanting her again, I showed her weakness, and she’s just—she’s just saying no?
I place my foot between her legs and twist toward the wall, so she has no choice but to step back against it if she wants to avoid touching me. She does exactly that, but now she’s between me and the wall and I am perfectly fine taking advantage of it. I take another step toward her, pinning my right arm on the wall, inches from her face.
Her eyes widen in alarm, but her mouth remains set in a stubborn line. I want to devour it. I want to claim it as mine to devour whenever I want. I want to unbutton my pants and fuck her up against this wall. I lean toward her—
“Hey! Mia—” Her head whips around and mine is quick to follow. I rein in the snarling urge to lash out at her friend for interrupting us.
The friend stands, staring, carrying a pharmacy bag that she didn’t have when they left the coffee shop. Her eyes fix on the space between us, obviously judging the distance to be too narrow. I can practically hear the questions and accusations jumping around in her brain.
Blackmail (Skeleton Key Book 1) Page 6