11
Sasha
If there was a person I could kiss forever, it would be him. Every stroke of his tongue and taste of his lips sends me into oblivion. A place where everything else slips to the wayside and the only important thing is touching, feeling, needing and wanting.
His mouth and hands trail down every part of my body.
Licking. Scraping. Biting. Squeezing.
He’s trying to be everywhere at once, and every nerve ending on my body is tingling underneath the surface of my skin. When he gets to the top of my leggings, I stretch myself out like a cat, pretty much purring in anticipation.
He drags the material down my legs, taking my panties with them. Any chances of me being shy or feeling awkward disappeared the second half my clothes left my body in the doorway.
He sits back on his knees, his eyes landing and stopping on the most intimate part of me. The restraint is written all over his face, but his eyes… they give way to the hungry, vicious boy I once knew.
“If someone asked me what one of the best views in the world was, I’d tell them it was this.” Leaning forward, he grips my knees and pushes my legs further apart. He peppers kisses up my thigh, murmuring to himself as he gets closer to my pussy. My insides tighten as his tongue finally reaches my wet slit.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he groans as his tongue draws delicious patterns around my clit, luring me to the edge with the promise of release. Each swipe is more intense than the one before, the switch between licking and sucking effortlessly teasing me.
“I want you all over my tongue.” I grip his hair and whimper as he brazenly begins to fuck me with his tongue. I feel his thumb press on my clit, rubbing and pinching it. “I want to taste nothing but you.”
The want in his words is matched by his actions, and they both ignite the flame within.
I need to let go. I need to let myself fall.
My body begins to erupt in a sea of tremors as Jay works me over with undeniable skill.
His mouth and tongue run over every inch of me, as my body finally gives in to the orgasm. Unintelligible moans leave my mouth as everything becomes an abundance of too much and not enough.
I clamp my legs shut around his head trying to regulate my quivering limbs and my pulsating centre.
Breathless, I try to steady the overwhelming state of my body, as his head pops up from between my legs.
“Want to taste yourself?” he asks. His hair points every which way, courtesy of my hands, while his devilish smile is painted in my pleasure.
I nod.
His mouth is on mine in no time, and the taste of me on him kickstarts a new round of throbbing in my clit. My hands roam down his chest, stomach and tug at his waistband.
My hand slips into his pants and I grip his hard length. He shudders with an accompanying growl. Our kiss turns hurried, almost frantic.
With no reprieve, his dick feels like it’s about to burst, jolting in my hands at the contact. I roll my thumb over the slippery head of his cock.
He breaks the kiss. “Mouth or pussy?”
The repressed worry from earlier about not getting the chance to do this with him again, encourages my answer. “Both.”
With one hand, he loosens my grip on him, and the other digs into his pocket, pulling out a wallet. Picking out a foil packet from inside, he flicks it on the bed beside me and shucks off his pants.
I’m finally privy to a view women all around the world would die for. My body hums in appreciation as he strokes himself with such rhythmic restraint. Torn between wanting and watching; I leave him waiting a few seconds too long. Unexpectedly he grips my ankles and drags me down the bed. I shriek and giggle in surprise.
“How long are you going to make me wait, woman?”
Sitting up, I replace his hand with mine, shifting the mood. I lick my lips and give him a teasing wink before sweeping over the head of his dick with my hand. Slick with precum, I pump him, up and down, until a pained “fuck” leaves his mouth.
Lowering my head, I lick the underside before swirling my tongue around the head. He gathers my hair together, holding it in a makeshift ponytail so he can watch me, as he sinks himself into my mouth.
My head bobs up and down while my mouth works on licking and sucking. I take him deeper until the ridges of his cock are grazing my tongue, repeatedly. As he guides my head, I take his cues and let him hit the back of my throat. With every thrust, our desire heightens.
Desperate for more, I cup his balls and roll them in my hand, increasing the sensation. I want his release, more than I could ever want for my own.
The pace is brutal. He pushes me farther, while I suck it all back. Relentlessly he fucks my mouth and I gladly take it.
Our eyes lock; speaking, ordering, pleading. He bites his bottom lip and throws his head back. The veins in his neck protrude and pulse as I watch him unravel with pride.
The first spray of salty liquid hits my tongue and we both groan. He lowers his gaze to mine, watching me hungrily take his release.
Roughly, he pulls my head off him with my hair and tugs my neck back.
“All of it,” he commands.
I do as he asks, swallowing ‘til there's nothing left but an aftertaste. I get lost in his control, while his gunmetal blue eyes lose themselves in me. No thinking. No wondering. No waiting.
Wordlessly, he pulls me up by my arms and crashes his mouth to mine.
It's too much. Foreign emotions are running ratchet and he hasn't even been inside me. As if he can feel the nervousness begin it’s run through my veins, he pulls away and leans his forehead on mine.
“It's tomorrow's problem.”
My heart hurts at his understanding. Out of everyone in the world, and how long I've known the people that matter most, it takes this almost stranger less than twenty-four hours to figure me out.
“Tomorrow,” I whisper.
“Good,” he offers with finality. “Get yourself to the top of the bed, we’re just getting to the good part.”
Grateful for both his unspoken and spoken attentiveness, I do as he says.
Cheekily, I crawl up the bed, giving him a perfect view of my ass. So caught up in teasing him, I don't feel him behind me ’til it's too late. An open-palmed smack lands on my left cheek, and my head spins to find him dangerously close.
“Excuse me,” I say in mock horror.
“Got a problem, Pretty Girl?”
His knowing smirk is dazzling. When the world isn't on his shoulders, and his eyes aren't marred by the residue of his shitty childhood, Jay Evans is fucking beautiful.
“Not at all,” I counter. I attempt to twist away from him, but he grips my hips and pulls me down on his lap. His cock is sheathed and hard, standing at attention between us.
“You’re playing with fire, Sasha,” he murmurs into my neck.
The warning hits right where he wants it to, and I clench my legs together to dull the craving. I lay myself on the bed and turn to look up at him.
“Burn me.”
It's the final straw, the moments that have us on the edge of the cliff and ready to jump. He's kissing me like it’s nobody’s business, making it impossible to breathe anything else in but him.
We’re skin to skin in no time, rubbing up on one another with reckless abandon. The newness of being naked in front of one another, worn off, and a strange comfort takes its place.
Like a six string guitar, he flawlessly plays every single part of me. He devours my mouth, squeezes and caresses my breasts, all the while his cock glides up and down my slit.
He’s got me primed and ready, begging for him to be inside me.
“Jay, please,” I plead. “I need you inside me.”
He lines himself up with my centre, just as I widen my legs for him. I whimper as I feel him push inside me, slowly.
He stills and drops his head to my shoulder. “Fucking hell, you feel amazing.”
I’m deliciously full, as his pace begins to quicken. I hook
my legs around him, digging the heels of my feet into his arse urging him to go deeper.
Like this, he is the exact same boy I gave all my firsts too. He takes, and he gives. He takes, and then he gives, and then he takes just that little bit more.
The craziest part is I always wanted to.
When I was with him, I always wanted more. To see more, feel more, do more.
His recklessness encouraged my own, brought a side of me that I never knew I had. A side that I had pretty much forgotten, until now.
Like two addicts searching for their next fix, there’s no such thing as slow and gentle. Instead we’re slick with sweat, fucking every single emotion in and out of one another.
An exhilarating sting makes its way through my pussy, as he mercilessly pounds into me. My body jolts with every thrust, almost expecting him to break me apart. Wanting him to.
“Harder,” I beg.
Forcing his mouth off my skin, he brings his head up at my request. Complying without even a second thought, his hips hammer into me, as the eyes of an unhinged man hold my gaze.
“Harder?” he taunts more than asks. His expression is unreadable, but the fierce pulse between us says enough. It's just as much for him, as it is for me.
I squeal when he pulls out of me and turns me over, effectively interrupting the connection. Gripping my hips, he guides me on all fours and thrusts into me from behind.
It's perfection. It provides the sensual, physical thrill while giving me a reprieve from our intensity.
“Touch yourself.” His voice is hoarse, but his demand is unwavering. I press two fingers to my clit as he runs me ragged.
“I need you to come,” he barks as our skin slaps against each other unforgivingly.
I answer with a mewl as his cock thickens and slips in and out of my wet walls. I rub myself frantically as he hits the magic spot from within.
“Jay,” I cry out “I'm there. Shit. I can't… I can't.”
It becomes impossible for me to be coherent, my breath caught in my throat, my body turning to jelly.
I hear a loud fuck, as my body violently trembles and his throbbing cock unloads inside me.
We both drop to the mattress, him on top of me; both of us breathing heavily. I turn to face him, and his storm has calmed. Whatever was there minutes ago, haunting him, coaxing him, is no longer there.
I want to ask him about it, see if he's okay, but my mouth doesn't work. I'm spent.
Slipping out of me, I feel the bed dip as he cleans himself up. Heat radiates off his body, as he returns and cradles me to his chest. My eyes struggle to stay open, the lids closing and refusing to open in between blinks. My breathing evens, the scent of us floating around me, creating an unfamiliar sense of contentment.
His lips skim the outer edge of my ear before he whispers what I’m sure is thank you, but I fall asleep just before I can ask him what for.
I wake up wrapped up in Jay, and blankets covering us both. My muscles are achy as I stretch against him.
“What time is it?” he asks, sleepily.
Noticing it's still dark outside, and we're still naked, I pull his arms back around me. “It's still early,” I whisper.
“It's not tomorrow yet.” On a technicality it is tomorrow, but I know what he's implying. Even asleep, he's trying to intercept a chance for me to get into my own head.
I turn in his arms and kiss his relaxed lips. “It's not tomorrow yet.”
The sun peeks through my blinds, warming up my bedroom; alerting me that it is definitely morning. I roll over as I stretch only to find the other side of my bed empty.
I immediately feel nauseous, but tell myself to breathe through it. I try to convince myself that he could be in the bathroom, or the kitchen, but old habits die hard and self loathing creeps in. How could I let him do this to me again?
In my home, and my bed.
Frustrated, I pull the pillow he slept on to me and wrap myself around it. It smells like him, and I want to wallow in it before I accept that I just got played again.
As I bring it closer to me and hug it like you would a body, I notice a crumpled piece of paper carefully placed on the bed. Where Jay would be.
I reach for it and notice it’s an extremely faded receipt. I turn it around and find the back free of faded print, but in its place is a serious attempt at neat and small writing.
Pretty Girl,
Sorry, I had to leave. I wanted to be home before Lily woke up.
I will talk to you soon.
Guilt washes through me for assuming he’d pulled a fast one. I’m torn between quashing my old insecurities, which I’ve been working so hard to do, and reacting to the only behaviours I know from him.
I empathise with the man in the note. I can't fault him for wanting to put his daughter first. It’s what I would expect. I choose not to respond to him, the distance probably better as I process last night.
Checking my phone, I notice I’ve still got a bit of time before I have anywhere to be. I fire off a quick text to Dakota, before jumping back into the book I was reading before last night happened.
Forty-five minutes later the book is over, and my hopeless romantic heart is full.
I throw the sheets off, and laugh to myself as I look at my naked body. I can't remember the last time I slept naked, let alone had orgasms that I didn't regret later. It’s foreign, but it’s welcomed. I feel almost giddy. Young. Hopeful.
Deciding on breakfast before I shower, I throw two pieces of bread in the toaster and make butter and honey on toast. Just as I’m about to inhale the second slice, my doorbell rings. Assuming it’s some kind of door-to-door salesperson, I don’t bother answering. But when the annoying sound returns, I drop my food, curiosity winning out.
Cinching my short satin robe around myself, I open the door. Half hiding behind it, I lean my head a little farther and find a jittery looking Jay.
Feeling less inclined to keep myself hidden now I know who it is, I step out and look at him pointedly.
“Are you okay?”
The day seems to have brought about a different man. A little more shy, a little less sombre. He’s in washed-out jeans and a plain white t-shirt that hugs his arms perfectly.
“I dropped Lily off at school and noticed you weren’t there.” I realise he never waited for my answer, as he concentrates on his hands in his pockets before looking back up at me. “It’s tomorrow, and I wanted to make sure you were okay?”
His concern stuns me into silence. I wasn’t expecting it, which makes it sweeter than I want to admit. The old me would lie to his face, and then obsess over every other detail later. I’m not doing that anymore. Especially not with him.
“I have an appointment this morning. So, I usually go to work after it.” He nods in understanding. “Do you want to come in?”
Much to my disappointment, he shakes his head no. “I don't want to keep you,” he clarifies. “And if I come inside, I’m going to most definitely keep you.”
I try to hide the blush that creeps up my face, but it’s useless. The mischievous glint in his eyes, and the way his knuckle kisses my cheek tells me he likes it.
He lowers his voice. “I know you probably don’t need me invading your space, like an overbearing motherfucker, but I wanted to check on you.”
I’m down with the invasion of space.
The silence lingers a little too long as he waits for me to say something. Anything.
Fuck.
“I’m sorry. I’m trying to play it cool, but I really have no idea how to do that.”
He chuckles softly. “I don’t need cool, I just want to know if you want to do it again sometime?”
“Yes,” I blurt out. “I mean, I only have Wednesday nights without Dakota and obviously you have Lily full-time and…” My stomach feels like lead, as I remember Max in this whole equation. “Please don’t tell me. Last night, did we?” The words are all twisted and tangled. I stop to inhale and focus before continuing. “Tell me you did
n’t cheat on Max.”
He tucks his hands around my neck and tilts my face up to his. “There’s no denying I’m a shitty human being, but for the record, I’ve never cheated on a woman in my life.”
My relief is short lived, when I realise there’s still no explanation as who Max is. Reading my mind, he immediately lays my fears to rest. “She’s Leroy's.”
“Oh.” I think back to how upset she was the other day, and the puzzle pieces all begin to fit together.
“So, next Wednesday night?”
My body buzzes in excitement at the thought of a repeat. “Ye—”
Seeing no point in waiting for the rest of the word, he seals his mouth over mine, devouring my next breath. Slow and sensual, his tongue strokes mine, each taste an enticing promise of what’s to come.
“I better get going,” he murmurs against my lips.
In a daze, I watch him walk away, as if he didn’t just change things. As if he didn’t just pop out of the last book I read, and became the guy they write books about.
“Jay,” I shout before he hops into his car.
He tips his chin up at me.
“Thank you for checking on me.”
He winks. “Anytime, Pretty Girl.”
12
Jay
Leaving her asleep, naked and sprawled across the grey sheets of her bed was the only option I had. I couldn’t wake her to say bye because I wouldn’t want to leave, and I didn’t want Lily to wake up at home without me.
Every morning she calls for me from her bed, arms flailing around as she waits for me to reach her room and pick her up. We animatedly run back to my room and play peek-a-boo for twenty minutes while she giggles ‘til she might explode, and I secretly agonise over how close the day is where she won't care for our theatrics anymore.
This morning was the first time I ever felt torn on where my attention should and shouldn’t be. It’s a no brainer that Lily will always come first, she fills up every aspect of my life, yet when I woke up next to Sasha something inside shuffled.
Rectify (A Redemption Novel Book 3) Page 12