by Kahlen Aymes
“Oh, God…” she gasped.
“Please try not to move, my love.”
“I can’t, Jax. It’s impossible,” she breathed as she turned her head to one side.
Her hand wound in my hair and the other reached toward me on the top of the mattress. I took it and laced my fingers through hers. I laid my free hand on the flat of her stomach above her pubic bone and bent my head toward the delicious flesh I craved.
Automatically, her legs fell wider, allowing me better access and she involuntarily moved her hips so she rubbed against my mouth. It was extremely hot and made me harder than steel. I found my own hips moving against the edge of the bed in unison with hers as I suckled her sweetness, until I was moaning against her. Even though I’d told her not to move, it drove me insane. I was starving and she tasted so good. I told myself to go slow, but I was so aroused by what was happening, I wasn’t in complete control. Feeling her silken nub throb on my tongue, hearing her little pants as she got closer to the edge, and the friction of my cock against the bed, I knew I would come right along with her.
I moved lower so I could thrust my tongue into her and then laved up in long strokes. Her trembling and clenching around my tongue drove me over the edge. “Addison…come for me baby,” I groaned against her sensitive flesh as I came hard myself. It had been so long, and I was so hot for her that wave after wave of pleasure overwhelmed me. I shot off in a series of powerful spurts, all the while continuing to lick and suck on her. “Uhnnnn, Ugh…”
“Uh…Uh…Uh…Jax,” she moaned softly and her hand that was still holding mine tightened and her body arched violently as her orgasm overtook her. “Uhhhhhh…” she breathed. “Uhhhhh…”
I turned my head and kissed the inside of her thigh with my open mouth as her body still jerked with the aftershocks of her pleasure.
“You drive me insane. Addison, I love you. I love you more than anything in the whole world, do you hear me? I know I’m not supposed to tell you, but I can’t fucking help myself after that.”
She pulled on our entwined hands, silently asking me to move up toward her. The front of my sweats was soaked with my own cum. I wasn’t embarrassed about it and crawled up over her on my hands and knees, careful not to press the mess into her. Her hands closed around the sides of my face as she looked into my eyes. Her eyes were dark with desire and an expression of languid satisfaction relaxed her features. “You’re so gorgeous. I never want to look at anything else for the rest of my life,” I said softly.
“Jaxon…I can’t believe you’re real. You’re so perfect.” Her mouth reached for mine and I had no desire to deny her. My mouth closed over hers in a series of hungry kisses. Our mouths were perfect mirrors as we alternately sucked on each other’s tongues, tilting our heads so we could delve deeper into each other’s mouths. “I love you, too,” she finally whispered as I placed one last kiss on her mouth. “I do.”
I pulled back and stared into her eyes, brushing her hair back as my heart did somersaults inside my chest. Did she remember?
I rested my forehead against hers and closed my eyes, as we both struggled to get our breathing under control. “I’ve missed you so much. Being near you and not touching you has been living hell.”
“I wish my ribs didn’t hurt anymore. I want to feel you inside me,” she moaned sensuously against my mouth.
“Oh baby…” She would be my undoing. “I do, too. There is nothing I want more.” I moved to lie next to her and propped myself up on one arm to look down on her. Her hands moved to pull my shirt back down over her nakedness. “Are you cold?” I sat up enough to reach for the covers and pull them up over her.
She shook her head. “No, I just wish…” her sparkling eyes held mine captive as I lay back down beside her.
“What do you wish, honey?” I asked, reaching out to bring her hand to my mouth. “Tell me.”
“That I could make you feel good, too.”
“Baby, stop. The way you moved against my mouth was so hot.”
“I couldn’t help it. It felt so good.” I could practically hear the blush in her voice.
I smiled gently, running a finger along the line of her jaw. “It told me that you craved my touch as much as I craved your taste. Oh God…” I breathed. “Addison, I came, okay? You didn’t even have to touch me, and you made me come.” Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “That’s what you do to me. It transcends anything I’ve ever experienced,” I said softly, my voice thick with emotion, and the corners of my lips lifted slightly. “In fact, I need to change and clean up the mess.” I bent to kiss her again. “Will you be okay while I do that?”
Her small hand came up to my jaw and she slid her fingers across it. She didn’t speak, but only nodded.
“Okay. I’ll be right back.” I moved out of the bed and went into the bathroom to strip off the soiled sweatpants and use a warm washcloth to clean myself up. I went back into the bedroom, and then to the dresser to find a new pair of sweats. After I put them on, I stopped as my hand hovered on the top drawer where her bracelet and her engagement ring were hiding in the back. I opened it and pulled the bracelet out, rubbing my thumb over the sparkling diamonds and our two entwined initials.
I had to get it back on her wrist after the lovemaking we’d just shared. I wanted her to know she was mine and, frankly, I wanted my possession of her out in the open. Moore would get the message, one way or the other. If Addison wearing the bracelet didn’t work, then I’d take great pleasure in beating his arrogant face in. I turned back to the bed and she was lying on her side, her hands were holding the comforter up near her chest and her eyes were closed, her breathing deep and even. Fast asleep.
I knelt down and carefully replaced the bracelet on her left wrist. Back where it belonged. Satisfaction welled, followed by intense love and possessiveness. I bent to kiss her forehead and brush her hair back. It had fallen from the knot at the top of her head during our love play on the bed.
Addison, you are so beautiful. And you are mine. I closed my eyes and breathed her in. I love you.
At the end of document, my hand had managed to find its way under my pants again, and my dick was like steel. I groaned and decided to stop fighting my natural urge. I wanted my students to make their readers feel, and fuck it… I was feeling it. It was all in her piece; lust, love, romance all equally represented, and I could literally see the scene play out in my head and I was living it.
I stood up from the chair abruptly, not bothering to do up my pants or put my dick and balls back inside my underwear, instead, peeling off my already unbuttoned linen shirt and throwing it aside on my way to the bathroom. My cock was already long and thick, engorged and standing at full attention in anticipation of what I was about to do. I tried to avoid pleasuring myself as a matter of pride. There were always willing women around, but I was so worked up, the tension threatened to become painful. If there was one thing I wasn’t, it was self-deprecating or self-punishing. I’d known I’d have to beat off before I’d reached the bottom of the first page.
I turned on the water, impatiently adjusting it before kicking off my shoes and shedding the rest of my clothes in a heap. Inside the shower I briefly wet my body before grabbing the soap and lathering up my chest, and lower, making sure my hand would slide easily up and down my length.
The shower was luxurious, designed with side and top heads, and multiple settings that could be high pressure or like a gentle rain, though I was oblivious to anything except my aching cock and the vivid erotic images that my student had conjured in my mind. Then my mind switched to the student herself. I’d only seen her from a distance the day of the first class, when she’d been the only one bold enough to answer. That already said a lot about her, and I was intrigued, and I was turned the fuck on. Stupidly, I wanted to know more even though I knew I was playing with fire.
Steam began to fill the glass-enclosed shower stall and the large bathroom; fogging over the walls and the long mirror above the vanity. I
put one hand on the wall, bowed my head under the spray and with my eyes closed let my mind wander, to revisit what I’d read and built a fantasy around it as my hand closed around my cock and I let sensations overtake me. I was so turned on from before, that I made short work of it. I felt like I would literarily explode as my orgasm got closer and my breathing got heavier. I pictured myself back in the scene I’d read, going down on the beautiful brunette with what I imagined would be passion-filled eyes, deep and glittering in the darkness when she sighed out my name as her clit pulsed under my tongue as she came. It was my undoing.
“Uggggggg, Fuck!” I groaned as my body tensed and I came hard, shooting my wad so hard it blasted onto the ceramic tile wall.
I stood where I was, breathing hard, letting the wall take my weight as the tremors rocked my entire body; my hand still around my dick milking the last waves of sensation from it.
Letting out a deep breath, I stepped back and cleaned off the wall, then turned and grabbed the shampoo. I had a dinner appointment with my literary agent, Gloria, and I’d be late if I didn’t get going. Normally, I dreaded these meetings, but tonight I was anxious to talk about my new student’s potential.
From the state her words brought me to I wasn’t sure there was a goddamned thing I could teach Addison Tomms; her words got my dick hard faster than anything I’d ever read. I read the scene once in my university office behind closed doors, then brought it home, anxious as hell to read it again. There wasn’t even penetration in the scene, but it left me in a world of hurt, and I’d had to sink to self-gratification to relieve the pressure. Gloria and I were supposed to talk about my next book and her plans to put it in front of new publishers, and I hoped we would, but I doubted I’d be able to resist bringing up my new student’s piece.
I let my mind wander as I dressed; choosing dark jeans, a light blue V-neck T-shirt and loafers. Addison Tomms’ bravery and her responses in that first class stuck with me and I’d asked for the first assignment to be handed in so me and my TA, Luke Anderson, could mark them up with traditional editor’s notations.
Obviously, most of assignments were digitally submitted, but they might come upon an old-school editor and so I wanted them to get familiar with traditional proofreaders’ marks.
Personally, I was thankful for digital files. It made things so much faster. My first publisher required me to have the manuscript printed out so he could take it to his weekend home at the Hamptons where his wife banned all things electronic that would distract their kids from family time. At the time, I was annoyed as fuck having to print out and mail four hundred plus pages, but I did understand it and it gave me a better understanding of the editing process and thus a better appreciation for it. I wanted my students to value their editors and nothing did that better than a bunch of red marks butchering up an article or manuscript when the writer thinks their work is nirvana. I did, and I got my ass handed to me, but it taught me to be a better writer. Plus, on this one assignment, I was able to look my students in the eye when it was returned fully graded.
I put a little gel in my hair but didn’t bother to shave, though I was satisfied with the reflection in the mirror, the fine layer of scruff on my jaw was of no concern. I grabbed my wallet and keys from the kitchen counter, then stopped at the hall closet to take out a casual jacket and then left my upscale apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.
Gloria chose a little indoor-outdoor Mexican place at the northern end of West Village. I didn’t understand why she always picked these out-of-the-way places. I’d prefer a simple burger at Shorty’s or the Asian bowls at Kobeyaki. I was a Midwestern boy at heart, and though I’d acclimated well to New York life after I’d had my first bestseller and moved to the city for ease of doing national interviews and be closer to my agency and publishers, sometimes, I just wanted to let my hair down.
I hailed a cab and in twenty minutes we pulled up in front of my destination; El Vez. It was a trendy bar and restaurant and there were people dressed to the nines, in business suits and casual attire. Gloria was already standing just inside the door with her phone plastered to her ear. She was always dressed in black, and I guess it did well at offsetting her platinum blonde hair. It was fine and straight, falling to just below her shoulders. I observed her for a minute before she saw me. Thin with small breasts, she was waif-like; the only thing to belie that were her strong muscular calves and toned arms. There was a chill in the light breeze, but her pencil dress was sleeveless.
Her skin was pale and the bright red lipstick she always wore was a stark contrast but matched her long nails. She was talking furiously to some poor bastard on the other end of the line when she caught my eye, lifting a hand to motion me closer.
“Yeah, yeah, okay. Just have the manuscript to me by Friday or you can kiss any chance with Grand Central goodbye.” She listened for a second giving me an apologetic smile as I moved closer. “I gotta go, just remember what I said.” She ended the call and put the phone back in her huge Fendi bag. “Sorry, Jax,” Gloria said. “I made reservations, but if you’d like we can sit in the bar or outside?”
I knew what happened when my agent had too much to drink, but she might be cold outside as the sun set behind the big Manhattan skyline, and I wasn’t in the mood to sit in the middle of the restaurant. “The bar,” I said.
“Okay, just let me tell the hostess,” she said, turning away to speak to the young woman behind the hostess stand.
She nodded, using the computer station in front of her to mark Gloria off of the list, and indicated that we should just go in and seat ourselves in the bar area.
Gloria ordered red wine and I asked for a Corona with lime before the waiter handed us the menus.
“So?” Gloria’s gray eyes lit up and she rubbed her hands together in front of her. “Have you come up with a premise for the new book? Simon & Schuster wants to see something from you before Christmas.”
I shook my head wryly, leaning back in the booth. I was getting sick of deadlines and pressure. “Well, I want a break.”
Concern flashed over my agent’s face. “What? We talked about this already. They want three books next year, Jaxon.”
She was serious when she used my given name. “Yes, but I’m feeling burned out. I haven’t been able to take a vacation that wasn’t book research in almost three years. I’m tired. The storylines they want are tired. Plenty of other authors are writing sex-laced crime drama.”
She studied me for a moment before she responded. “Well… what about writing more erotic romance? To be honest, that’s what the publisher wants, anyway. Ladies’ buy the shit out of romance novels written be men. As you know from your last two books.”
I sighed as the waiter appeared with our drinks. I picked the tiny lime wedge from the mouth of my bottle and quickly squeezed it and then shoved it inside and took a long pull.
“My head’s not really in it right now.”
“Jax.” Her voice took on that authoritative nag I’d come to abhor. “You know it takes a year to get on the schedule. What are you thinking?”
I blew off her protest, casually setting my beer back down and picking up the menu. “I’m sure they have some other writer anxious to fill the slot. Tell them I want to take a year off.”
Her pretty face took on a scowl. “I’ve been working my ass off on this for months!”
I almost laughed; instead I grinned and set the menu aside. “Bullshit. It’s been easy ever since I hit New York Times. If they don’t want me after this, then you’ll get another publisher. Easy peasy.” I looked at her blandly. “Or, I could consider self-publishing.”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Gloria huffed. “That’s ridiculous, Jax! You’re my biggest client!”
“Such language from a lady,” I goaded. I knew the money she raked in due to me and my books, and she hadn’t had to work very much for it over the past five years.
“Don’t be a dick,” she spat.
I opened my mouth to an
swer, but the waiter appeared again.
He wrote down one Smoked Bacon Guacamole for Gloria and an order of Carne Asada Tacos for me. I was used to her eating like a bird and zero carbs. I remembered how unattractive she was out of clothes… so skinny her bones stuck out, and she was worse now than when we were screwing shortly after I’d signed with her agency. That was before I really knew her. I was flattered, living on the high of finally getting published, but the truth was she was about as deep as a puddle. We had nothing to talk about other than the next deadline and how she thought I should exploit my looks to sell more books. I quickly got bored and tired of her. The sex wasn’t even that good.
I made an abbreviated eye roll when it was her turn to choose from the menu and I received a dirty look as she handed the menu over to the waiter and ordered myself. I watched my diet, but I worked out hard, so I did allow myself occasional carbs.
“As I said,” she continued, reaching for the large wine glass only a third filled with deep red wine. “You’re my biggest client. I’ll have to sign two or three others to make up the deficit in my income.” Her demeanor changed and she reached out to capture the hand I had resting on the table. Her eyes pleaded with me. “Be reasonable.”
I felt my mouth tighten angrily. She always used this helpless tact when I pushed back on something she wanted. “No, you be reasonable,” I insisted. “If you don’t agree to this, I’ll simply find another agent.” My tone held a hit of disgust. I was tired as hell of cow-towing to Gloria and the publishers. If it weren’t for the legal bullshit I didn’t want to deal with, I might consider self-publishing. I knew that the wave of self-publishing made her more desperate than she’d been when we first became affiliated. Traditional publishers were suffering and so were literary agencies. “I said I haven’t had a break in several years. I’m feeling burned out.”
I could see her small chest visibly rise and fall as she digested what I’d just put out there. “Are you planning on giving up teaching at Columbia, then?” she almost hissed.
