The Jezebel

by Dylan Allen

  His expression darkens. “You’re letting Marcel back into your bed? I hope you’ve got extra strong condoms because there’s no--”

  “It’s not Marcel, someone I met on vacation.” Normally, I’d let him pillory my husband for being a manwhore, but he’s the last person I want to talk about.

  “Wow. Okay.” He lets out a low, long whistle of surprise that raises my hackles.

  I narrow my eyes. “Don’t you judge me. You know I’ve never even considered anything like this.”

  “Woah, you know I would never,” he admonishes me with a glare. “Look, I believe in the institution of marriage. But you and Marcel—what you have isn’t even close to that. I’m just praying this is your first step to finally leaving that son of a bitch.”

  Relief and gratitude swell simultaneously. “I hope so, too. I can’t regret him because of my children, but I don’t want to live like this anymore,” I confess.

  He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Excellent. It hurt like hell to lose you to him and I’ve been waiting for this day for more than ten years.”

  Guilt that lives right below the surface simmers. “Charlie, I—”

  “No, don’t apologize,” he snaps and then softens his rebuke with a tender smile. “I’ve got my girl and we’re happy. And you’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had, Regan. When I got fired from V&E and not even my brother in law would have lunch with me, who invited me to be her plus one at every single event and paid my legal fees when I thought they were going to cost me everything I’d managed to hold on to?”

  Giving Charlie the benefit of my social credit when he was fired was one of the few times, recently, that I’ve felt useful. I roll my eyes and flush at the naked gratitude in his eyes. “What good are friends if they’re not there for you when you actually need them?”

  He grins. “Exactly. I’m just glad you’re ready to make you the most important person in your life. And let me add that your body is one of the great wonders of the world. Everyone wants to fuck you. Even a few straight women I know.”

  I laugh out loud, “Oh shut it, flatterer.” I chide through a fond smile. Charlie’s a better friend than I deserve.

  “I only speak the truth. Call me when you’re back in Houston. We’ll get the kids together, throw some steaks on the grill, and catch up. And since I didn’t get caught, I’ll thank you for a peek at that very fine ass.”

  He winks and then hangs up.

  I turn back to the full-length mirror on the back of my bathroom door and my humor fades as I give myself a critical assessment.

  My mother jokes that we hail from the same gene pool that produced Naomi Campbell. It’s true that genetics have been kind and spared us cellulite and stretch marks, Naomi didn’t test the bounds of that generosity by carrying and giving birth to three children.

  When I told my mother I was pregnant, the first appointment she insisted I make was with a plastic surgeon. Between him, my personal trainer, and my Weight Watchers sponsor, I’ve managed to keep my stomach flat, my tits perky, and my ass firm. I believe Charlie when he says it’s generally appealing.

  But there are places on my body that haven’t been restored to their original glory. I run a hand between my thighs and wrinkle my nose at the soft, plump, looser than it used to be, flesh I encounter.

  My handsome stranger’s not co-ed or anything, but he doesn’t look older than thirty.

  Has he ever seen a vagina that’s given birth? Much less three times?

  I sigh and draw my hand away. Does it matter that my pussy’s not so pretty anymore? He’s going to fuck it, not look at it.

  I wash my hands and startle at the unfamiliar sight of my ringless left hand. Taking it off for the first time in a decade was fraught with a whole host of emotions. Not one of them is shame or regret.

  I pour myself a shot of the exceptional clear tequila and throw it back without any ceremony. I glance at the clock. It’s been more than twenty minutes since I left that bar. What if he’s not coming.

  Like a divine reminder that everything is happening exactly as it should, my pang of doubt is followed by the sweet sound of knuckles rapping on my door

  “Remember, you deserve to feel good,” I tell myself as I reach for my robe. As soon as I slip my arm in, I hesitate. Why am I bothering? I look good and if this turns out to be my once chance at something like this, then I’m going all in.

  I lay it across the back of the chair, stride to the door, and fling it open. And feast my eyes on the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. He’s leaning against the frame- – looking like he just walked out of a magazine called “Men Who Make Women Thirsty: The Dick Trap Edition.”

  There’s too much character in his face for him to be described as classically handsome. His mouth is too broad, his lips full, the top slightly more so than the bottom. His beard is close cropped but fuller than a five o’clock shadow. The smirk tugging up the left side of that sinful mouth widens.

  “Are you gonna come in?” I ask him after the third time he opens and then closes his mouth without saying anything.

  He nods but doesn’t say anything. But if the bulge in his pants were a word, that word would be “yes.”

  We stand there like that, like a couple that just ended a dance with a dip.

  I grab the front of his shirt and give him a firm tug. He kicks the door closed and loses his footing, and we both teeter momentarily. He recovers his footing and wraps one strong arm around my waist and cradles the back of my head with the other.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  I nod. But I could be falling through space and wouldn’t care.

  I’m riveted by eyes that call to mind the brown sugar, butter, and cream pralines I gorge myself on at Christmas—golden brown and endlessly tempting.

  I’m enthralled by the heat of his palm on my bare back, the slide of his strong fingers as they curl around my ribcage and the tips of them brushing the sensitive underside of my breast.

  “I’m so clumsy,” I say with a breathy giggle and coquettish voice that I know for certain has never passed my lips before.

  “No, you’re so unbelievably beautiful.” His eyes darken accentuating the flecks of gold around his pupils. He pulls me up to standing straight, and cups one of my bare ass cheeks, squeezes and pulls so that the cool air of the hotel room touches the hottest part of my body.

  He growls, his eyes narrowing to slits when I whimper at the swirl of his thumb over my clit.

  A thousand pinpricks of pleasure ignite when his exquisitely clever fingers stroke and probe my pussy for the first time. I rock against his hand, seeking, and desperate.

  His touch goes from reverent to ravenous – prying, prodding, plunging.

  “Did you ask me here to fuck you?” His voice is urgent, rough as gravel, and sends a ravishing shiver through me.

  I shake my head and pant through a grin when he grits his teeth in frustration. “I invited you here so that I could fuck you.”

  His chuckle is wicked with satisfaction and it makes my toes curl. “What are you waiting for, then?”

  “I want to do something,” I whisper as my eyes follow the trail of my hand over the contour of his broad shoulders, fascinated by the velvet smooth skin and its perfect concert with the muscle, sinew and bone it's wrapped around. I explore his trim, muscle girded waist and lean hips with wonder and avarice.

  I’ve never touched a body so finely formed. For the first time in my adult life, I understand why women make fools of themselves over men. I say a quick prayer of thanks that my tryst is going to be with someone who could have been ripped from the pages of my fantasies and who I never have to see again. This must be that good karma I’ve been hearing about my whole life. Like the grateful sinner that I am, I drop to my knees on the soft cream-colored carpet.

  My unpracticed fingers fumble with the buttons of his jeans but get them unfastened just as I see his hands twitch impatiently at his sides. The zipper parts to reveal more smooth skin stretch
ed taught over exquisite muscle and a network of veins along with a dusting of golden hair that’s like a roadmap leading me to pleasure.

  I’m treated to the mouthwatering sight of the crown of his penis pushing past the elastic waistband of his briefs. The rest of his thick, rigid length strains against the black fabric.

  “May I put my mouth on you?” I ask and gaze up at him through my lashes. He’s panting and when he speaks his teeth are clenched.

  “Anything…you can have anything you want.”

  The knowledge that I made a man like this breathless with need, takes my breath away. I lean forward and circle my tongue over the hot, smooth skin …Dear Lord, he tastes so good

  He throws his head back, exposing the strong column of his throat and the defined line of his jaw. His plump lower lip is caught between his perfectly straight, white teeth. Every single inch of him is wildly attractive.

  It’s only when my hand comes into contact with the unbelievably soft skin of his rock-hard erection, that I manage to pull my eyes away from his achingly handsome face.

  I lean in and pull the tip between my lips and suck softly. He releases a shuddering breath and mutters something I can’t make out. His hand curves around my head, his finger tangling in my hair, coaxing me forward.

  I take my first taste of him, with just the tip of my tongue pressed into the small slit at the top of his dark head.

  I slide my lips down and pull him in, as far as I can relaxing my throat when my gag reflex threatens. I can’t take him all, but I wrap my fingers around his base. He hisses and his fingers spear into my hair and curl into a fist. He covers my hand with his and thrusts into my mouth, making my eyes and pussy water.

  “Fuck yes, that is the shit,” he growls. His hand tightens its grip on my hair when I cup his balls.

  “I love that. So damn much,” he croons, his hips pump faster and his salty precum beads on my tongue. I suck his dark, throbbing crown and his body jerks.

  “It’s too good, too much,” he groans. Then, suddenly the tugging pressure of his hand is gone from my hair and when my cry of complaint loosens the tight sucking hold I have on him, he slips out of my mouth.

  “I wasn’t done,” I pout and reach for him again.

  “I don’t want the first time I come with you to be in your mouth.” He steps out my reach and gives me a grin so wicked that my toes curl.

  He pulls out a condom out of his pocket and sheaths himself within a matter of seconds. “Get off that floor and let me get in that pussy.” He growls and leans down, cups my elbows and hauls me up to standing.

  His hands are back at my ass, cupping this time when he lifts me. I use the same resistance that stymied him last time, but he doesn’t let me down.

  “Woman. Wrap your legs around my waist,” he growls.

  “I’m too heavy,” I protest.

  “Not for me, Goddess.” He slaps my ass and I yelp and wrap my legs around his waist, and he grins is pure satisfaction as he walks us over to the bed. He sits and scoots us back until he’s against the headboard.

  He leans toward me, his mouth aimed at mine. I close my eyes, and my lips tingle in anticipation.

  Instead, he presses that sinning mouth to my neck. Any disappointment I feel at not kissing him disappears when the moment his unbelievably soft lips part and he feasts on the sensitive, heated skin of my throat I clutch his head, holding him there while pleasure courses through me.

  “I’m really ready to fuck you, but I’ve been dreaming about tasting your pussy after you left the delicious smell of it all over my shorts.”

  I can’t help my bark of surprised laughter. My stomach flips at the easy, sexy smile he gives me in return.

  “I guess it should be a balm to my wounded pride that I at least made you laugh…it’s like the horizon—the edge of something… your laugh sounds the way a sunrise looks. I could probably listen to it all day.”

  “My god, you’re a total Casanova. Are you a professional seducer of women?”

  It’s his turn to laugh, but it’s a devilish laugh if I’ve ever heard one. “Nah, I’m an amateur. I do it for the love of it. But it’s nice to know that I’m good enough to be mistaken for a pro.”

  He grins like the wolf who thinks no one can see him behind his sheep’s clothing. But nothing, not even that charmingly roguish smile, can hide the overtly male confidence that comes from knowing that you’re good at pleasing women.

  I like that, very much.

  “You look like an angel…but you’re such a bad boy.”

  “There’s certainly nothing “boyish” about my bad. And in the heaven I’m about to take you to, angels aren’t allowed.”

  I groan in exaggerated pain. “That was terrible. But at least now I know you’re not perfect.”

  His eyes narrow in good natured challenge. “I’m about to make you take those words back.”

  “How---woah,” I yelp when he spans my waist with both hands and lifts me up over his head while he slides down until he’s lying flat.

  He sets me down so that my knees straddle his head. His face is inches from the one place I was sure he wouldn’t look.

  Instinct and insecurity have me drawing my thighs closed.

  “Don’t move, Goddess.” He grabs my thighs to hold me in place.

  I close my eyes when his fingers spread me open.

  “Fuck, your pussy is spectacular.” His words come out in a rumbling groan and I glance down. His ravenous gaze devours me. He wraps his big hands around my thighs in vice like grip and pulls them apart, spreading my knees until my pussy hovers right over his parted, plump lips.

  “You don’t have to….” My words dissolve into a guttural exhalation when his hot, slick mouth opens over me.

  I let out a cry of pleasure when the stiffened point of his tongue finds my clit and flicks it. I close my eyes against the exquisite surge of moisture and delicious coil of tension in my core as his lips suck and tug and his tongue strokes and fucks. He’s so sweet and so filthy, all at once.

  His mouth was made for this kind of worship, nothing I’ve experienced in my entire life has ever felt this good.

  When he pulls my clit into his mouth and sucks, my entire body buckles. I fall forward, held upright only by the headboard and tight grip of his strong hands

  A titillating pressure builds inside me and my other senses seem to wrap themselves around it so that all I’m capable of is feeling. I come on a wave of blistering ecstasy that draws a cry from me that’s been building for years. It’s a lush, layered cacophony of celebration, surrender, and serenade.

  The sex god between my thigh gazes up at me with heavy lidded adoration. My thundering heart stutters on the flash of Déjà vu that’s gone as quickly as it came.

  I trace his brows with a trembling hand and his eyes flutter closed and the furrow between his dark slashing brows relaxes under the pads of my fingers… as if my touch is relief.

  He pulls my throbbing, stiff clitoris back between his lips and sucks it. I shriek at the sharp spike of pleasure. He’s relentless, his tongue and mouth insatiable.

  I lose count after my third orgasm. My sweat drenched, trembling body has been rendered boneless after being battered by the waves after wave of pleasure.

  “Please, it’s too much, I can’t,” I pant, my voice hoarse from the screams his talented mouth coaxed from me.

  He presses a kiss to my inner thighs and pulls me down so that I’m resting on his chest. Without the headboard to support me, my boneless body lists forward. He sits up and takes my weight and our foreheads rest against each other.

  His eyes are closed. His lips are slightly parted, slick, and as red as the center of a ripe cherry. I want to know what his mouth feels like and what I taste like on his lips.

  “Is kissing allowed?” I ask, my pride taking a backseat to my hunger for him.

  His eyes pop open, and the gold and brown in them glitters as a wide, wolfish grin spreads across his face.

  “It’
s fucking mandatory,” he growls, and then enforces his edict. His lips are softer than I could imagine, mine seem to sink into them. I groan, and he slips his tongue into my mouth. The rough scrape of it, tinged with the taste of me, makes me crazy. He moves us until his erection is pressed hot and heavy against my inner thigh. His kiss is exploring and consuming all at once. I rock my hips and his dick glides through the desire-soaked lip of my sex. I cup his face in my hands and hold him still while I feast on his sweet mouth.

  I lift my hips so that the broad blunt crown of his dick, breaches my body. His groan rumbles in his chest, but he doesn’t break our kiss.

  He wraps one arm around my shoulders and then he drives into me with the ease of a hot knife slicing into butter- filling me, deeper in me than anything I’ve ever felt.

  The friction of our bodies coming together sparkles, shimmers, and burns. It is nothing short of sublime. He breaks our kiss and presses his face into my neck.

  “You feel better than I could have ever imagined.” His breaths are harsh and hot against my skin, he drags his open mouth over my shoulder and bites

  I arch my back, let my hair spill over the arms that hold me in place while he fucks me hard and fast. I’m on top, but he’s driving and setting a punishing, desperate pace that is everything I needed this to be.

  That coiling heat inside of me expands and starts to burst. He loosens his hold on me and dips his head to my chest. His mouth closes over my nipple, and sucks.

  There is a tempest building inside of me and this man is in command of it. When it breaks, it’s only the arms he’s wrapped around my waist that keep me from flying away.

  When the mist of lust starts to clear, I realize he’s moved us. He’s sitting pressed on the headboard with my body draped over his. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my back. His lips pepper kisses on my shoulders.

  “Oh my God, I think I nearly died,” I pant.

  He brushes a lock of hair out of the way and presses his lips to my ear. “I’m not done with you.”

  The dark promise is in his rasp that makes my everything curl.