Ironside

by Alexis Abbott

  When I’ve had my fill of teasing her sensitive bud between my teeth, I tear myself away from her while still holding onto her, reaching for my phone on the nightstand and pulling up my music. I’m not planning to keep quiet, and if she wants to get excited about riding, she might as well get used to our music.

  She blushes and laughs at the harsh rock that plays, and I grin before parting her legs with a hungry smile and grabbing her hips. I gruffly pull her pussy toward me like a meal I’m about to sink my teeth into, and when I let my tongue out, it tastes just as satisfying.

  She’s so wet for me already, and she has a lot to offer. I taste her honey over and over, moving my tongue side to side over her clit and swirling it in small circles with every new gasp I tease out of her. I feel lost in her, bare thighs grinding against my face while I lick her pussy clean. As my tongue dives into her, I feel her skin brushing against my stubble and giving her goosebumps.

  We can’t get enough of each other’s bodies. It’s intoxicating to me, and we’re barely even able to talk. It doesn’t take long for me to feel the need to be inside her, but I take my time with her, diving my tongue into her and dragging it out slowly between relentless rounds of tormenting the clit. Even my sharp teeth scrape against the tortured nub, and her scent is heady in the air as she finally plunges her hands through my hair and holds on.

  She tries to cry out, but her voice cracks into a squeak as honey floods my face. I take in every drop, squeezing her in a soothing, approving reward as my mouth guides her through the orgasm. I want to spoil her while she’s in my grasp, and if that means losing myself between her legs all night, I’ll gladly do it.

  She trusts me, and I’m going to deliver...and pray I’m not making a mistake by dragging her into all this.

  Justine

  I am in heaven.

  My whole body tingles and sparks with the electricity flowing through me like a bolt of bright white lightning. Ironside is between my thighs, drinking me up, nudging me to new heights of incredible pleasure. I have never felt like this before, not even in those forbidden fantasies my mind cooks up for me when I dream sometimes. I used to wake up sweaty and wracked with guilt, slick between my legs and confused as to how it happened. I guess all those years of repression and denial had to find an outlet somehow, and if I couldn’t pursue my own pleasure in my waking hours, then at night my desires would creep back into bed with me. Those nights were always followed by a morning of deep shame and self-reflection. I used to think people could read it on my face, like there was a scarlet letter burned into my forehead to broadcast to the whole damn world what a slut I was.

  Now, though, I am just finally starting to unfurl myself, and it has everything to do with Ironside. When he touches me, those long-repressed little fires flicker back to life. My body becomes a map of bonfires, all burning in adoration and awe of this mysterious man. I don’t understand it, but somehow he manages to know exactly what I need, anticipating my every whim before it even occurs to me. He can not only read my mind, it seems like he can predict it. I am fully convinced that there’s some kind of sorcery dispensed through his touch, his fingertips and his masterful tongue. Every little caress sends me careening into space, my body so overwhelmed and overstimulated that it makes my eyes water. He’s devouring me once again, nibbling and suckling my clit as I spasm all over with delight. His tongue washes its way down my trembling flower, exploring every petal like it’s something brand new and utterly divine to the taste. He laps me up with vigor, driven by a possessive need to claim me and make me his own. It feels so damn good that I don’t intend to tell him yet that he’s already won me over. He’s already got me wrapped up around his finger like a pretty little ribbon.

  “You taste so damn good, little girl,” he purrs, taking a moment to glance up at me.

  His handsome face is perfectly framed by my hips and thighs, a flawless fleshy portrait that stirs my heart. His lips are shiny with the slick of my honey, his square jaw and chin brushed pink by friction. I reach down to tangled my fingertips in his tousled hair, moaning as I guide him back down to my cunny. He dives down eagerly, flicking his tongue around my tingling clit. The tension is so powerful it almost burns. He’s found the mystical root of my pleasure and he lays it bare, stroking without hesitation and soaking up my juices as I helplessly come over and over, gushing all over his face. He laughs softly and I can tell he’s proud of himself. But when he looks up at me with those dark eyes hooded and full of fire, I can tell that he’s proud of me, too. He knows how hard it’s been for me to loosen up and give myself over to him, to fully lose myself in the crashing waves of climax. For once, I am not allowing my self-conscious worries to rise up and quash my pleasure. This time, I am giving up and giving in. I’m learning that I don’t have to feel guilty about wanting what I want. I don’t have to beat myself up for getting it.

  I can feel good during and after. I can skip the shame and just embrace pleasure. I can’t believe I ever wasted my time and energy on feeling bad about feeling good. I suppose that’s the danger of living life entirely within the narrow lines of a sheltered existence. I never colored outside the lines. I never experimented beyond what I thought might still be forgivable on the scale of sins. I was so afraid of being stuck there, of letting my desires hang so heavily on my shoulders that they anchor me to damnation. Now, I don’t care about damnation. As far as I’m concerned, there is no heaven without Ironside in it. He’s the sign that all is well. He is the earthbound angel who has come here to teach me to feel at home in my body. It has always felt like someone else’s property, like I’m just renting this form rather than owning it myself. My father must have really messed me up, I guess. I let him and his evil intentions possess and push me away from knowing my own heart. He’s kept me at a distance, detached from my body. I guess that made it easier for him to sell it. But I own myself now. Or maybe Ironside does. Either way, I’m in safer hands than I ever was before.

  It’s kind of funny-- on the outside, my home growing up must have looked like the most perfect environment. Respectable, church-going parents. A sterile, tidy home. A healthy amount of responsibility and damn near constant supervision. But in reality, it was a den of vipers. I was always being watched, and yet also ignored. I had a lot to answer to but no right to ask my own questions. At least, that’s the way I was taught. To repress my questions. To clamp down on my desires. My daddy may have raised a good girl, but there’s always been a naughty girl underneath that facade, just waiting for the opportunity to burst free of her cage, almost spring-loaded and ready to go at the drop of a hat. It’s crazy that it’s taken extraordinary circumstances to get me here, but now that I know how good it feels, I don’t plan to let it go anytime soon. I will drink as much pleasure from this unpredictable life as I can, and I know for a fact Ironside will help me do that.

  He flicks his tongue over my clit again and I arch my back, tilting my head and letting my eyelids flutter shut. A wave of pleasure rolls up through my body and my hands grasp at the sheets. I curl my legs over his broad, powerful shoulders and work my hips, rubbing myself against his smooth, slick tongue. I can’t hold back the moan that falls from my lips as he draws a tight circular motion around my clit and downward. His tongue plunges in and out of my pussy, playing with the sensitive band of nerves around my pulsing slit. I can’t help but clutch at his hair, grasping for purchase as he devours me greedily. I don’t know what it is about this man, but he seems completely unfazed by how many times I have already gushed all over his face. He doesn’t care that I’m nearly oblivious with pleasure and overstimulation. He gives me so much intense attention that I’m almost shying away from it, but I know that’s pointless. Ironside wants me to feel good, and he’s going to keep me here as long as he can.

  I can’t believe how quickly I have adjusted to suit him. Growing up, I always expected to marry an innocent man, a man who is on the same page as me sexually. I used to think that was the right way, that my equally sheltered h
usband and I would have to figure out how our bodies ticked together, slowly. But Ironside needs no reeducation. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and that only makes it easier for me to relax. I know I am not only completely safe when he’s here, but I know my pleasure in good hands. He’s a master with his tongue and his hands feel like magic on my body. He’s an expert in pleasure, and I am more than happy to be his willing pupil in the ways of sex and love. A part of me still wonders if I should fear him. He lives a wild, rollicking life, the kind of living that would have seemed too cinematic to be real in my mind growing up. Ironside is like a movie character who stepped out of the screen and into my world. I am continually amazed to be sharing the same space with him. We are a strange combination of traits, I know. And yet we fit like two locking pieces of machinery. Stronger together. An unstoppable force.

  As I shudder and clench through yet another orgasm-- I’ve lost count at this point-- I look down at the mysterious man between my thighs and I pool together the strength to ask for something I never would have given breath to before Ironside opened up my eyes.

  “I want to taste you,” I tell him, with more clarity and confidence than I’m used to hearing in my own voice. Ironside looks up at me, seeming impressed.

  “Look at you making demands,” he growls. “You want to taste me, little girl? You know what you’re asking for?”

  I nod, my heart thumping like crazy.

  “Yes. Please,” I murmur softly.

  “Ask and you shall receive,” he replies.

  I watch with reverence as he moves up and slips off the bed for a moment to take off his pants and shirt. I feel the breath catch in my throat as I watch him, my eyes drinking in his rippling muscles and hard, raw strength. I can feel him nearly glowing with need. I’m impatient to give him the release he so badly craves. My eyes are locked into him as he moves up to the edge of the bed, one hand slowly stroking his massive cock. My mouth waters to feel him stretching my cheeks and pushing down my throat. I need this just as desperately as he does. He snaps his fingers, wordlessly calling me over to him. I come over to him on my hands and knees, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted.

  He looms over me tall and imposing as I slowly bend to give the swollen head of his shaft an exploratory flick of my tongue. I’m immediately aroused by the taste of salty precome beaded at the tip. I moan involuntarily and wrap a small hand around his thick length, starting to lightly stroke up and down while I lean in to pull the engorged head into my warm, wet mouth. God, it feels good. The weight of his cock pressing into my mouth and back toward my throat. He twitches slightly in my mouth and I can feel a guttural groan of pleasure roll through body, nearly vibrating on my tongue. I suck in my cheeks and swallow, increasing the pressure around his shaft as I start bobbing up and down. His cock twinges in my mouth and it’s all I can do to keep from moaning. Making him feel good makes me feel good. I love knowing that a girl like me has the capacity to satisfy a man like Ironside. His thickness stretches my cheeks and makes my face ache in the most delightful way. I’m in pure heaven right now, eagerly sucking him off and swallowing down every bitter drop. I can feel him starting to lose his control as a result of my hard work and I want it desperately. I long to taste his climax, to feel him shudder and release down my throat. I feel confident that if I just keep going like this I’ll get him there. But to my dismay, he gently pushes back on my shoulders to stop me before he totally loses it. His cock slides out of my mouth with a slick, resounding pop and I pout up at him, awaiting his next move. He regards me with a predatory smugness that gives me shivers and turns me on at the same time.

  “Lie back for me, sweetheart, and spread those legs,” he purrs.

  I do as I’m told. No hesitation. I flop back on the sheets and scoot up to rest my head on a pillow, watching with held breath as Ironside slinks up to me. Every cell in my body is ringing and thrumming with anticipation. I know what is to come, and I am more than ready to meet it. His cock twitches and bounces in the free air as he moves to straddle me. He grabs my legs and wraps them around his waist, lining up the head of his massive cock to my clit and giving it a slow, teasing circular rub. I tremble and bite my lip, rolling my hips to meet him.

  “You’re playing with me,” I murmur.

  “Yes, I am. I want you good and desperate, little girl,” he growls. “I want you to beg.”

  Oh yes. Gladly.

  “Please, Ironside, please fuck me,” I whimper. I’m surprised to hear such a dirty word come from my own voice, and judging by the look on his face, Ironside wasn’t expecting that either. But he looks down at me almost proudly.

  “Good girl. That is exactly what I like to hear,” he grunts.

  I tremble while he lines up his cock against my slick cunny, spreading the petals of my flower to get ready access. I can hardly remember to breathe. I know what’s to come and I am anxious for it. Ironside teases me with his cock a little more, and then promptly slides inside of me in one smooth, fluid movement. I cry out, clenching my legs around him as the thick head of his shaft knocks against my g-spot deep inside. White-hot pleasure smacks me across the face like a brick, my cunny aching and twitching around his thickness. He begins to slowly work his way out and then spears back into me hard, hitting and stimulating every trembling nerve and muscle on the way. He rears back and slams into me, my slick juices keeping us both perfectly lubricated. I can tell our extended foreplay session has ramped up his desires, because Ironside starts fucking me with abandon. He needs this just as badly as I do, and that realization turns me on like nothing else ever has before.

  “You’re so fucking tight for me, baby,” he coos. “So perfect.”

  “It feels so good,” I murmur breathlessly.

  He pounds my pussy harder and faster, his hips pistoning back and forth as we both climb higher and higher together. We are both losing control, letting the waves of pleasure carry us without a single coherent thought. Everything is a bright flash of intense, overwhelming pleasure. Everything is tight and contracting and clenched for the great plunge. I can feel his body seizing up and going stiff just like mine. My muscles ache from tensing up so many times, but I know I’m going to feel incredible afterward. The soreness will be just another physical memento of this glorious time spent in the throes of bliss together.

  “Give it to me,” I whisper between gritted teeth. “Fill me up, Ironside. Please.”

  “You ready to take it, sweetheart? You sure?” he groans, teetering on the edge.

  I nod vigorously, an act which makes my pleasure-addled mind feel dizzy. But it’s all I can manage right now, so overwhelmed with the intensity of sensation as I hurtle toward another massive orgasm. Ironside pulls back and slams into me three more times, striking my g-spot without fail, until he grabs my hips with both hands, his fingertips digging in as he seizes up and comes inside me. I shudder through another climax of my own as I feel him emptying himself into my dripping cunny. He holds me in place and pumps me full of his come, both of us sighing and moaning one another’s names in desperation. I stare up at him with awe. This man is dangerous. He could hurt me so easily. And yet, I am so irrevocably drawn to him. A part of me wishes I could have been arrange-married to him instead. Maybe then I would not have wanted to run away. Something tells me this is fate, that I would have found Ironside no matter which path I decided to take. He is my endgame. He is my destination, and as long as I am with him, I will be home.

  He gently kisses me on the forehead before helping me up. Lovingly, he scoops me up into his arms and carries me damsel-style to the bathroom. I feel so safe and secure in his arms as he turns on the shower and the bathroom starts filling up with warm steam. We slip into the shower together, slowly rinsing off under the hot spray. I marvel at his glistening body, the bulging muscles, hard lines, and tattoos. His body is like a work of art, every inch of which I want to study and memorize. We wash each other’s bodies, showing personal attention and caring for one another with warmth and softness. We stay
quiet at first, but then he asks me a question out of the blue.

  “What did you say the name of your hometown is?” he asks.

  “Meadowville,” I inform him. “Why? You’re not actually thinking about going there to… to hurt my dad or anything, right?”

  “Justine, I wasn’t just blowing steam when I said I want to get you justice,” he says rather cryptically. There’s a serious look on his face.

  “What do you mean?” I press him.

  “I mean that we’ll have some time to kill while Tank gets back to Diesel and settles into his position as a mole, and every minute we’re waiting here, you’re just a sitting duck,” he says.

  “Well, going back to Utah doesn’t exactly sound like the safest option, either,” I point out to him, my stomach twisting up into knots of anxiety.

  Ironside smiles. “They won’t be expecting us there,” he says. “But don’t worry, I don’t plan on getting caught. We aren’t going to do anything crazy.”

  “What are we going to do?” I question warily.

  “We are going to go to your family home, and we will break in,” he explains casually.

  “What?” I splutter. “Why?”

  His eyes are flashing when he gives me the easy, short answer.

  “Evidence,” he replies.

  Ironside

  When I need to be up at a certain time, my body doesn’t even need an alarm anymore to flip the on and off switches. About five minutes before my alarm is supposed to go off, my eyes open in the pitch blackness of the bedroom, and I’m wide awake.

  It’s a road trip day, and I can’t deny it: the feeling of getting up before dawn to roll out of town on a long ride is one of the best there is. It’s eight hours from here to Justine’s home town near the Utah-Wyoming border, and there isn’t much between here and there besides open road and plains...and Casper, where we’ll have to keep a low profile. It’s not always easy to know who your friend are, when your enemies are making moves.