by Celia Crown
I think he’s teasing me now, he’s testing my self-control and resistance to his goodies with his unnecessary actions. I mean, the strawberries could wait another five minutes after I devour the deliciousness.
A whole week without his sweet treats is horrible, I never want that ever again. My body is going through withdrawal as my eyes stay on the scrumptious pie, it has my name all over it and my teeth ache with restraint. I curl and uncurl my fingers around the edge of the counter and complaining low in my throat, I want him to hear this distress he’s keeping me in.
“Jack!” I whimper, bouncing on the seat with my dress brushing on my naked thighs.
The opening of a drawer catches my attention, the clinking of metal is sharp and light on my ears as my body freezes in anticipation. I know those sounds by heart as he comes to me with a silver fork. The gleaming reflection of the fork from the kitchen lights hits my stomach with a spark of joy as I smile happily to myself knowing that my mouth would be in heaven soon.
My hands impatiently open and close in a grabby fashion, Jackson keeps the utensil away from my needy hands. I whine and pout at him because he is toying with my sanity right now and he has the audacity to smile so handsomely.
“Jack, Jack—” I’m panicking from the lack of sweetness in my mouth, my butt smacks rapidly on the chair and I pay no attention to the lewd noises while his eyes darken.
“Behave, Lolita,” he growls, it strikes the obedience in me that my body reels back its restlessness
My bare toes wiggle on the stool ledge and I lean forward towards him as he pulls up a chair, he falls back on the seat and hooks his hand under mine to drag me closer to him. My body shifts as his masculine scent mix with the sweetened air assaults my nose, the hand with the fork push the plate to me.
My fingers itch to take the fork but he cuts into the delicate texture for me, I mewl at the velvety glide that hit the crust. He holds up a small bite on the fork and puts it to my opened mouth.
My soul ascended.
A faint hint of lime kicks the lemon on a new level of freshness, the sugar cuts off the bitterness as the dollop of icy whipped cream blends everything together. The strawberry is the cherry on top, my body trembles with glassy eyes staring at him.
His face is written with pride as he watches for my reaction.
“Good?” he asks.
This man clearly has no idea what I’m feeling, my whole body is about to separate on a molecular level from how flavorful that one bite is.
I swallow, and the creaminess slips down my throat like rich honey, an obscene thought comes to mind of me sucking his big cock. He was too big for me to take it all the way to the root and I really wanted to, I loved the heaviness in my mouth when I traced the pulsing vein with my tongue.
Then when he came, it was the most erotic thing I’ve experienced.
His cock was even bigger as his creamy cum rolled down my throat, I had urged more by curling my tongue on the underside of his massive shaft.
I lick my lips, maintaining eye contact with Jackson as his fingers grasp my thigh. It’s hot on my skin as goosebumps rise on my arms, he gives me another bite of delightfulness and I don’t hold back my moan of satisfaction.
My body had tipped towards him with my butt on the edge of the chair, I wrap my lips around the fork and swirl the sweetness around my mouth.
“You are a tease, darling.” he hisses between his teeth, jaw flexing with his neck taut.
I give him my most innocent look, “What do you mean?”
Dropping my gaze on the thickened bulge between his legs, I repress a whimper as my panties cling to my pussy.
“I want to kiss you,” he blatantly states, dark eyes sending me thrills.
I ask, “Why don’t you?”
He inhales deeply and rasps, “I want to take this slow, and earn your love back one step at a time.”
“You already have it.” I come closer, supporting my weight on one hand to his muscled thigh.
Jackson smiles softly, “I know. I’m doing this for you because you may have forgiven me, but I can’t forgive myself yet. In the future when we look back, I want us to know that I have gained your trust back and that you can trust me with your heart again.”
Love blossoms in my heart as my breath hitches, my lips wobble in happiness with his determined words. It would be so easy to close the gap between our lips and kiss away this week’s stress, but this gorgeous man wants to work for my love and I see no problem with it.
Being showered in his love is one of my favorite pass times, he makes me feel like melted chocolate with his passion and the sweet words that he whispers to me eases any doubt in my heart that he’s not in this relationship one hundred percent.
Jackson does things all the way, he plans and executes in a way that I wouldn’t see it coming. It’s just like how within two days of our meeting, he had stolen my heart and locked it behind a snarling beast right next to his own feelings.
“Since we’re taking this slow,” he breathes on my lips with a charming smile, “Let’s start at the beginning?”
That suggestion puts me in a dilemma; our love and time together should not recede back to stranger closeness; however, I can see where he’s going with this. He doesn’t want secrets with this new chance of beginning, or is it a new middle waiting to change its course on how to proceed into our bright future?
Jackson places his hand on the crook of my neck, pulling me to his lips as he bent down to my ear.
I shudder at his baritone when he whispers his name to me.
My eyes widen at the new information, Jackson and I have this unspoken thing between us that our names are secrets that would come out one day, but we wanted to keep the sentimental value of it.
Jackson’s eyes curve with tenderness, I stammer, and he puts a finger to my lips to silence me. He changes the position and cups my chin with his thumb kneading my lower lip, he takes them back and my lips trail after his touch.
He swipes his wicked tongue on his thumb and I see a small smudge of whipped cream before it slitters back into his mouth.
Speechless, I squirm in my chair and scratch his thigh once with my hand as they curl into a small fist. I hold all my control in that tiny fist so I don’t rocket launch myself into his very sensually muscled arms and inhale his sexy scent through the shirt that has me worrying about the buttons holding them together.
We sit in this quiet kitchen; his words are melodic and low as he tells me about his life in great details. I listen closely, committing his story in my memories as we have a laugh on some of his experiences with his old friend James.
“We were troublemakers, we have gotten in more trouble than we can count.” he chuckles.
I grin daringly, “You look like a troublemaker.”
He put pressure on my chin as he compels me to look him in the eyes, “I’ve mellowed over the years.”
I hum with a cheeky grin, “You are getting old.”
Jackson growls at my words, slipping his hand to my neck to press on my pulse.
I mewl in response to his forceful treatment.
“Little Lolita, I can show you that age hasn’t caught up with me just yet,” Jackson sneers lightheartedly.
I grunt breathlessly, my hands find purchase on his chest as his shirt slides in my fingers when I hold onto them.
It’s only fair that I tell him my side of the story. I don’t have much experience in the world to tell a life story as rich as Jackson’s, but he listens with his undivided attention.
I start off with the uneventful childhood, building up my school years with me mentioning briefly about the ostracization of groups as I didn’t fit in with the popular cheerleaders and football players, the awkward chest club nerds, or the group of unnoticeable normal students.
I decided not to pursue further education in college when I got the job with Kelly as my boss, I find that more strict school rules hinder my brain to flush out creativities.
“Also, I was n
ever the type to do good in class.” I shrug indifferently.
He sounds surprised, “Really? I see you as a very studious type.”
I laugh at his assumption, “No, I got yelled at a lot for doodling in class.”
“So, you’re a naughty little one.” Jackson clicks his tongue in faux disappointment, “You had me fooled with your good girl act.”
I gasp and pout, indignantly glaring at him. “I am a good girl.”
“You are,” he readily agrees, “My good girl.”
I blush, further deepening my pout as I inwardly sigh. I did walk into that one, more of bulldozing into the ditch than a graceful swan dive.
Silence arises as we smile and grin at each other, I like these talks because there are no specific topics that we want to discuss; wherever the talk takes us, we continue and adapt to the new conversation like a flow of a calm river.
I yank his shirt slightly, he leans down to me as I don’t have the physicality to actually haul him in.
This man is a gigantic beast.
Softly, I press my lips to his. Stars burst from behind my eyes as he kisses back with equal gentleness.
I tell him my name through a faint murmur.
Feeling his smile on my lips, I smile back as he deepens the kiss with a purr sounding in his chest like a thunderous rumble from our closeness.
He whispers my name.
Epilogue
Lolita
Three Months Later.
I can work with distractions.
Noise-canceling headphones with certain playlists rolling into my ears; edgy designs require more upbeat music, mainstream sketches have their own playlist, and classy drawings have soothing music as their companion.
Outside constructions of loud drilling and bashing of concrete flooring, beeping construction trucks driving back and forth, and thumping equipment. Those don’t bother me, I’ve learned to tune them out.
Notifications from my phone, the short dings of social media disturbances and long vibrations of phone calls are all things I can ignore when I’m in the zone.
Anything short of Jackson will never pull me out of my focus.
He can breathe from another room and I’ll think about him for thirty minutes, forgetting the doodling in my sketchbook to favor of swooning over him.
Ever since moving in with him, my distraction level has gone higher than ever.
He walks around the house in loose pants that hang dangerously low on his sculpted hips, wide chest open for the world to see, and the knowing smirk on his deviously attractive face tells me that he’s doing this on purpose.
The nerve of that man to wear glasses too.
He’s messing with my livelihood here.
Being an eighteen-year-old adult, I responsibly turned down his offer to support me and my imaginative brain.
I want to work, I can support myself, and I sure as hell can be an adult.
Mari and I had worked on a collaboration on her photoshoot, I was supposed to do henna tattoos all over her body as the theme of the photo required it, but we ended up drawing on each other for an hour.
I really thought the ever-so-scary James Novak would stare at me to death, but he only said that if we were having fun then it is alright to waste time.
I have never heard of a more absurd reasoning because everyone’s business motto has always been ‘time is money’.
After our collaboration, the public loved the concept behind Marionette’s body art. That was expected as she was the most gossiped topic all-year around.
Jackson said I was the other half of the reason why the final product became an international beloved art. I was extremely proud of myself and thus, a new business partnership began.
That side of the business has emails bombarding me with meetings and sponsorships, Jackson would handle them even though those distractions are easily forgotten.
What I can’t ignore is the wicked fingers thrumming my swollen clit.
The heat in our bedroom is unbearable.
Jackson’s shirt sticks to my skin, my nipples are exposed to the humid air as my panties are off one knee, barely hanging on my other with the center darken with a shade of deep violet.
I have colorful panties; I like them, and Jackson doesn’t complain when he buries his face in my pussy.
My back is flush against his naked chest, his folded legs have an opening for my butt to sit on the bed as I shake in his arms.
“A break from reality, darling?” a deep voice rumbles in my ear, a rough finger stroking my juices onto the sensitive nub.
I grip the pencil in my hand and quivers, “You’re being mean.”
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks back, lowering the intensity behind his strength as I moan throatily.
I whimper, my toes digging into the sheets. “No.”
He trails one finger down to my pulsing hole, dipping between my wet slits to circle my tight opening lightly. I impatiently buck my hips up, he lets one finger slide in and a wet squelch can be heard.
My cheeks color with redness as he sinks another finger in, I’m too wet to resist the stretch of his thick fingers.
“Focus, Lolita,” he chides with unmoving fingers.
I whine his name, but he has excellent control when it comes to foreplay.
“If you don’t finish this sketch, I won’t let you cum.” he cruelly curls his fingers, brushing on that one spot that makes my tummy tremble.
He tweaks a pebbled nipple, rolling it firmly with his teeth marking my delicate neck.
“Please,” I sob, a scrape of my sodden clit gets me closer to the edge.
“Darling,” he warns, he emphasizes his order by withdrawing his fingers from my twitching pussy.
A flustered whine rings out, my hips buck frantically to his palm as he cups me through the wet heat.
My shaky hands hold the pencil and sketchbook, the grating sound of lead moving across the unfinished design gets his fingers inside me again.
Each thrust steals a part of what is left of my focus, Jackson is ruthless to me when he stops every time my hand rests. It’s a constant torment and I rack my hazy mind for the rest of the details so he can put his cock in me.
I want to be stretched so tight that I’ll feel him deep in my belly with his cock pounding and flooding my hungry cunt with his fertile cum.
“You’re doing so good, darling.” Jackson fucks my pussy roughly, soaking his hand with my juices as the heel of his palm rubs my sodden clit.
I sob with glossy eyes as I throw some final details onto the sketch. I don’t care if it’s not my best work, it’s hardly the time to be detail-oriented. I’m too taken with Jackson’s newly tattooed hand ruining the bedsheets with my pussy juice.
Once his skin had healed on both hands, the first thing he does is breech my cunt with those strong fingers as a reminder that he will always be the one in control because those days where his hand was healing, I was being a brat without my desserts.
I look down, seeing his inked hand playing with my little pussy brings a new sensation in me. Between the dark contrast of his tanned skin and obsidian black ink, I’m defiling my own work and I will forever remember my fluids clinging onto his fingers viscously.
“I think you’re missing some details, don’t you think?” he hums, leisurely twirling my inner walls.
“N-no!” I cry, shuddering in pleasure “Please!”
“Please what?” Jackson purrs huskily.
I shyly murmur “Please fuck me with your big cock.”
He snatches the sketchbook and pencil out of my trembling hands and flings them on the floor. Jackson rips his shirt off of my body in one smooth motion as I whimper at his rough treatment. One hand continues to flick my clit, the other goes behind my back to free his cock from the confines of his sweatpants. Then, his arms lift me off the bed and with one drop, my pussy swallows his massive shaft greedily.
I moan embarrassingly loud, and my entire body shakes in exhilaration. My walls pulse and
squeeze the swollen girth while I swirl my hips to feel him in every angle even though he has my silky walls and tiny slits spread just a touch shy of painful.
His hands splay his fingers on the flare of my waist, crushing my tender muscles in his strength and I know there will be new bruises on my body from his possessiveness.
“You are mine, little Lolita.” his monstrous cock pistons between my plush folds, hands wrenching my thighs apart for the air to nip at my neglected clit.
With just the strength of his hips, I’m forced to bounce on his lap as he has no regards to my broken moans. I don’t have enough time to breathe when he’s furiously bucking his hips to my ass, my breasts sway in tandem with his ruthless pummeling.
My body begins to tingle, signaling my impending orgasm as he pushes his cock deeper into me. It’s like he’s trying to tear me in half, I don’t understand how my tiny pussy can take his thick shaft every time.
“Jack—” I squeal, digging my nails into his arm as my cunt spasms with juices dripping down his balls lewdly.
My orgasm takes me by surprise, I wasn’t ready for it as Jackson hisses sharply when my pussy seizes in tightness.
He’s hammering my battered cunt, seeking friction and his release. He carelessly drops one of my thighs to thrum my engorged clit. I scream at the sensitivity from his calloused fingers messily touching my nub and grazing my taut slits.
“I love you,” he growls, putting more pressure onto my clit and I burst again.
This second orgasm comes much quicker and it turns my body into a boneless heaving mess in his arms.
“Since you like cream so much, I will give you much more than you can handle.”
His cock thickens and my eyes clench shut at the scorching hotness of his fertile cum splashing in my throbbing walls.
Without missing a beat, Jackson tips my body forward onto the bed with his cock still hard as steel in me. My leg hangs on his shoulder, he locks my other leg on the bed as my slits get stretched even wider. He holds my shaking leg to his chest, rutting into me mercilessly.
His thrusts are aggressive, snapping his hips in rough plunges. He feels bigger this way and deeper than I remember him ever reaching, my upper body twist into the bed while my lower half is being controlled by Jackson’s grip as my hips laid sideways—legs opening obscenely wide with exquisite purrs coming from my mouth.
