by R. R. Banks
I resist the urge to stick my tongue out at him, the enormous jerk. My play annoyance aside, I appreciate that he’s lightened the mood. I want to keep it going. I throw back more of my drink, starting to feel nice and warm. I look back to Jay. He’s looking at me with clear amusement, the corners of his mouth turned up just a tiny bit.
“You used to look at me like that all the time,” I comment, feeling the nostalgia wash over me.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re…” I bite my bottom lip. The liquor is loosening my tongue just a tiny bit, at least when it comes to happy things. “Like you’re amused at my happiness.”
He shrugs. “I am. It’s nice to see you smile, even if you’re unhappy about something you won’t tell me about. And it’s nice reconnecting to someone who knew me before my stupid life blew up. You’re different, obviously, but just enough like you were back then for me to feel like I can talk to you about stuff.”
And then, he smiles in this cute way he did all the time back then, where he looks down at his lap for a brief second before looking back up and over my shoulder out of embarrassment. He only used to do that around me, if he told me something sweet. Everyone else got the hardened goth facade. I freaking melt, like I’m my teenaged self again, wearing a My Chemical Romance T-shirt and jeans that I’ve jazzed up with patches and neon stitching, love-drunk and stupidly happy. Just like that, my soft spot for him is exposed and open for business. Goddamn it. Also, how dare such a huge hulk of a man ever be cute. Honestly, it’s absurd.
“Come on now, Jay. You can’t go around being all…” I wave my hand in between us.
“Shots on the house!” A woman yells before I can finish my sentence. She’s clearly wrecked, but she’s happy about it. Maybe she got a raise. Maybe she’s stolen someone’s credit card for revenge. I don’t particularly care, but I’m way too excited about getting more drunk and forgetting my problems.
A round of cheering erupts, even though no one has gotten their shots yet. The woman slides by our table first, plopping down two shots of clear alcohol and giving Jay a flirtatious look.
“Cheers,” she slurs, only to him. Like I don’t exist. I admire how bold she is, even if I’m slightly offended.
Jay looks at me past the woman’s shot-filled hand. “Cheers.”
Both Jay and the woman down the shot with ease, but I sputter on it elegantly. I still get it all down, though. The woman moves on, trying to flirt with the guys one table over. I go from buzzed to drunk in about thirty seconds.
“Wow, I need some food.” I push back from the table, and hoo-boy. I need some food to soak up this booze. I’m such a lightweight. “And I need to stop drinking here because they make their drinks strong as hell.”
Jay laughs. “You want to head out already? We can pick up some pizza on the way home.”
“Is it shitty pizza? Because I only want shitty pizza,” I beg, and he looks confused. “Like, Domino’s or something, none of that fancy stuff. Needs to be at least forty-five percent grease.”
“You know we’re up in the damn mountains, right? We only have one pizza place, and I’m pretty sure the pizzas just come frozen. They’re pretty good though.” He stands. “I’m sure it’ll suck enough for you.”
“Thanks.”
“Why do you like pizza that sucks?” he asks as we walk outside.
“It’s just a drunk food thing.” I shrug. “Do you not have a favorite drunk food?”
“Steak, cooked by someone else.”
“That’s such a man answer. Also, how often are you drunk with a steak ready to be cooked by someone else?” I ask, taking a huge step over a crack. One of his normal steps clears it perfectly.
“Right now.” He grins at me.
“Oh, come on.”
“What? We never cooked that steak last night,” he protests. An awkward silence passes between us, with the realization that Jay did get something to eat last night. My face goes burning hot, both at the memory and at my stupid joke inside my head.
“I can’t cook you a steak while I’m drunk unless you want me to burn your beautiful home down.” I spot the pizza place.
“Okay, fine. Maybe not tonight.” He holds the door open for me.
My stomach growls the moment the smell of grease and pizza hits me. We order a large pepperoni and a large cheese pizza and head back out to his car. With his size, his two beers and that one shot hardly make a dent. Me, on the hand? I’m feeling great. I’m just drunk enough to be in control of myself and yet still be the best dancer on earth.
I crank up the music on his radio. It’s some electro-rap song I’ve heard at work parties over and over again. I kind of hate it when I’m sober, but right now, I love it. Jay’s clearly amused, but he doesn’t say anything. Once we get back to the house, everything is quiet. I put the pizzas on the counter and yank open the freezer.
“Aha!” I spot his vodka. “More drinks?”
“Mm, I think you need to eat a little more before you wreck yourself, Moni.” He takes the vodka and pulls it out of my reach. “If you just want someone as drunk as you around, I’ll gladly take a drink.”
“Fine, fine.” I grab plates for us and put them on the kitchen island. “I’m not that drunk. I have my wits about me.”
“You’re drunk enough to enjoy whatever electronic demon screaming you played in the car.” He goes to get a tumbler for his drink. “So I’d say I have a little catching up to do.”
I roll my eyes and give myself two slices of pizza. “You want cheese or pepperoni?”
He looks around inside the fridge. “You sure you’re not sober enough for this steak? You seem pretty good if you stop now, questionable music taste aside.”
“Nope. I can hardly cook when I’m completely on my A-game and right now I’m on my B-game, maybe. You should have asked me to cook it last night when I felt all guilty about using up your time,” I say without thinking.
“Mmhm.”
“Not that I’m not grateful or anything!” I continue. “For the, um, snacks and all that —”
“Listen,” Jay cuts me off, immediately capturing all of my attention. He pours some vodka into the tumbler and mixes it with a touch of ginger beer. “Are we going to talk about the fact that I ate you out yesterday or are we going to keep dancing around it like the subject is on fire? Are you just going to call it ‘snacks and all that’ forever?”
I stand there, my mouth gaping like a fish, unsure of what to say. I watch him knock back his drink of choice — a half-assed Moscow mule — like it’s water, his eyes not leaving mine. There’s a challenge in them, and I don’t know if I can take it on, or if I even should. While my brain is thinking about it, I feel myself being pulled toward him. Or maybe he’s getting closer to me. I can’t tell. I can tell that the air around us is completely different now.
“We can talk about it,” I finally respond. My mouth feels dry all of a sudden. “What’s up? What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I’d like to do it again.” He puts down his glass. I’m acutely aware that my breathing has picked up, and that he’s so huge that he could break me. But I know he won’t. I feel right on the edge of danger and safety, and it’s disorienting. “How do you feel about that?”
“Yes,” I murmur.
He slides a little closer to me, resting his hand on mine on the counter. “I want to do more than that.”
“I know.” I look up at him. He’s looking down at me with such intense desire that it pushes me over the edge. I loop my hand around the back of his neck and pull him down to kiss me.
He feels just as good as I remember, his lips warm and perfectly soft. But unlike before, he picks me up right away like I’m made of air and plops me down on the counter, taking my mouth with passion. He engulfs me entirely, his big, long arm around my waist and threaded into my hair so I’m as close to him as possible. We’re chest to chest, and with my legs spread apart, my hot core is pressed against him.
Our kiss
es grow feverish and sloppy, all passion and no sweetness. His hands practically go around my entire waist with ease, and the thought makes me feel so damn feminine that I can hardly stand it.
I feel strangely powerful in a way I’ve never felt before, and more alive. I need to touch him to take in his whole body and his T-shirt is in the way.
“Off,” I demand, tugging on the hem of his T-shirt.
He does as I say, pulling his shirt over his head in one smooth movement and tossing it to the side. I think it lands in the sink, but he doesn’t care. This is the first time I’m seeing his tattoos up close, and they’re beautiful. A huge blue whale is painted along his side, nestled between crashing waves. He’s got his eyes on my shirt now, too.
“How can you make jeans and a T-shirt look so fucking sexy?” he whispers, running his hands between my waist and my hips. “If I wasn’t so excited to see you naked, I’d just pull your pants down and fuck you like that.”
I moan, sliding my hands over his muscular chest. The idea of him bending me over and taking me, with my jeans around my knees so I can’t get away, makes me want to hop off the counter and yank my pants down myself.
But he’s still hellbent on getting me naked, which isn’t a bad alternative. He breaks my stare as he pulls my T-shirt over my head, then unhooks my bra in two swift movements. Once my shirt and bra are off, he just gazes at me. Well, my breasts specifically, his hands still on my waist. He cups one and gives it a little squeeze, smiling.
“Did you know your breasts were the first ones I’d ever touched or seen in real life?” he asks, still seemingly mesmerized. “Damn, I jacked off to that moment so much.”
“Sometimes I’d…” I flush, feeling dampness pool between my thighs. It’s totally normal for guys to talk about masturbating, but for some reason, despite being half naked in front of him, I balk.
“Tell me, Simone,” he says. How does he manage to speak in a way that makes me want to do anything he wants? The deep rumble of his voice when he says my name might as well be an electric shock to my system.
“I kept a lot of our make out sessions in my lady spank bank for a long time, like in college,” I admit, sucking in a breath as he pinches my nipple. I forget what else I wanted to say. I think I stopped thinking about them in college. Or maybe a few years after that…
“That’s so fucking hot.” He kisses me again, hard, one hand fondling my nipples to hardened peaks. “Wait, come on. I need more space.”
He picks me up again and starts walking down the hall, his chin on my shoulder. He kicks open the door to his bedroom. It’s my first time seeing it, and it’s surprisingly more grown up than I thought it would be. His bed is minimalist, with a tidily made up dark gray bed spread. He has one side table that matches the bed frame, and an armchair with an ottoman.
I can’t take in more details before he tosses me on the bed. Before I know it, his huge body is over mine, like a blanket. I throw my leg over his hip and grind up against him, making him suck in a breath. He returns the favor, our hips winding against each other.
He moves his attention from my lips to the side of my neck, all the way down to my breasts. Jay’s mouth is just as skilled on my nipples as it was in between my legs, sucking and nipping until I’m wriggling underneath him, trying to get some kind of friction against the hard bulge pressing against my legs. It’s a waste of energy, because I’m not going anywhere under his weight. I’m entirely at his mercy, even though my arms and legs are able to move.
Finally, he sits up to give me space to actually get my hands to where I want them, but he’s standing, finally pulling my jeans off. I look way up at him, biting my lower lip.
“These fucking panties.” He tosses my jeans on his armchair. Or at least he tries to, but his aim is off from staring at me like he’s just found gold. “Goddamn.”
I open my legs and run my hands up my inner thighs and over my hip bones. Surely, he can see where I’ve soaked through the fabric. I’ve never been so glad for my over-the-top lingerie collection before. The more he expresses his appreciation for my fashion choices, the more my credit card weeps from its place in my wallet — I want to buy so many different pieces that he’ll always be surprised at what I’ve got on when he takes off my clothes.
He grabs me by both ankles with one of his huge hands and lifts my butt off the bed. He slaps my ass with a loud crack, making me squeal in surprise. It stings a little, but it’s a good sting that tingles all the way to my clit and back. He tosses my legs to the side so I flip over onto my stomach, and it’s only the size of the bed that keeps me from rolling off the edge. For a guy so big, he can move fast. He joins me on the bed again and pulls me over his lap. He’s hard as steel through his jeans.
“Are you going to spank me some more?” I grin. I’ve never been spanked before now and the thought is pretty thrilling.
“Maybe. I just want to look at your pretty little ass.” He gives one cheek a firm squeeze, followed by a rub. He drags my panties toward my crack. “You want me to?”
“I think so. I’ve never really been properly spanked.” Or done anything remotely kinky. I’ve never really been interested until this moment. Maybe it’s the booze — just enough to make me carefree. He lets out a frustrated groan.
“You’re going to fucking kill me by the end of this.”
He pauses for a second, exposing my skin by gathering the fabric of my underwear in one fist, before his huge hand comes down on my butt. The pain startles me, and he doesn’t slow down — he gets each cheek four times before my brain is so overwhelmed with feeling that I can’t even manage to count in my head.
“Is this okay?” he murmurs.
I gather my breath and nod. “Mhm.”
I clutch his comforter, whimpering and pushing my ass up. He rears his hand back up and brings it down again, just as fast as before. It hurts just enough for me to really feel alive, but not so much that I want him to stop. Every time his hand comes down, I feel myself growing wetter, my clit swelling. I start grinding against his cock, half to ease my complete desperation for him to get me off and half in revenge.
He grunts and pins my hips down with one arm. His other hand finally goes between my thighs, wet with arousal, and I spread them eagerly for him. He plunges two fingers inside of my pussy and I nearly shriek. His fingers are huge and stretch me more than I was anticipating. But God, it feels so good.
“You’re fucking tight,” he gasps. His voice is raspy, like it’s hard for him to talk, and it makes me clench around his fingers. “I can’t imagine how tight you’ll be around my cock.”
His fingers work in and out of my pussy, and he lets me move just enough to grind my clit against his hardness. I manage to say, “I think I’m gonna —” before I come on his hand so hard that tears come to my eyes.
Jay doesn’t let up. He keeps fingering me, his thumb spreading a little wetness over my tight back hole. He doesn’t penetrate me, but the light pressure is enough to send me over again and make a new surge of arousal spill from me. Jay groans with pleasure and sucks in a breath.
“I can’t take it anymore. I’m going to take you, Simone. Not just fuck you — take you.” He picks me up and puts me face down. “If it gets too much, just say so. I’ll slow down.”
I nod, because if he doesn’t put his cock inside me, I’m sure I’ll die. He unbuckles his belt and in one motion, drops his jeans and his boxers. His cock is even bigger than I remember it being, so thick that his fingers pale in comparison. He straddles my thighs so I can’t get on my hands and knees, which I think is what I usually expect in this position. He leans over my head and grabs a pillow, then puts it under my hips. It lifts me up ever so slightly, cocking my pussy up ever so slightly. I wiggle my hips in anticipation, which makes him position my legs straight out, pressing as if to say, ‘stay still.’
I feel the head of his thick cock at my entrance, running up and down my slit once before he pushes in. Both of us moan, the room going quiet when he’s
all the way in. He’s breathing like he’s trying to control himself.
Then I understand what he meant by ‘taking’ me, because he pulls out and slams back into me so hard that I gasp. Seeing his cock didn’t do its size justice, because its girth is stretching me to my limit. At least in this position he can’t get too deep, or I’d feel like I’m being split in two. But God, now that I’ve had a cock this size, I’m not sure if I can ever put up with anything less.
He bends over me on his forearms, his broad, warm chest to my back, and keeps nailing me hard and fast. His power scoots me up farther and farther on the bed until he grabs a fist full of my hair to hold me still. He turns my head, so it’s no longer buried in his other pillows, and my moaning fills the room. I never sound like this during sex, or even make that much noise. But it’s like every thrust removes more and more of my restraint. He’s rutting into me like an animal and it opens up a whole side of me I’ve never seen before.
“Fuck, your pussy’s even better than I imagined it would be,” he growls in my ear. He bites down on my shoulder just enough for it to hurt. “Do you know how many times I had to jack off after I made you come with my mouth?”
If he wants an answer, he’s shit out of luck. I only gasp in response, when his cock hits me in just the right spot. I’ve never come from just penetration before, but I think I’m going to. His weight is putting just enough pressure on my clit without me having to grind against him. Every single nerve ending in my body is on fire, screaming for more and more of him.
“I’m coming,” I manage to say in between gasps of air.
“Do it,” he orders.
I want to say more, but my dam bursts and I’m gone. My orgasm makes me wail, the sound of my voice echoing off the walls of the room. I’m shaking from head to toe, breathing so hard and fast that I’m getting lightheaded.
“Yes, Simone, yes,” he grins, pleased. “You come beautifully.”
He pulls out and gently turns me over, moving between my legs. He hitches my legs around his hips and pushes into me again, a little gentler this time. He’s put his hands on either side of my head so he can look down at me as he fucks me. His hair frames his face, which looks just as blissed out as I feel, even though he hasn’t come yet.