by Max Monroe
“Guess what, Thatch?” I asked, smirking down at him. I’d paused for who knew how long, but he seemed perfectly content to rub his hands everywhere within reach to keep occupied.
“What?” He tilted his head to the side as said greedy hands rubbed across the tops of my thighs.
I leaned forward and pressed my mouth to his again, slipping my tongue between his lips and getting a taste of him before sucking on his tongue and spurring an intoxicating groan from his throat.
“I’m going to fuck you,” I told him as I moved my mouth down his jaw to his neck and then, his tattoo-covered chest.
“You are?” he asked, shock and surprise and a whole lot of “what the fuck is happening right now?” evident in his voice.
“Oh, yeah. I’m about to get your boner out and have a fan-fucking-tastic time.” I grinned when I found something shiny and metal for my tongue to play with. My lips caressed his pierced nipple, sucking the metal into my mouth and flicking it with my tongue. My mouth tortured a few “fucks” from his lips until I sat up on my knees.
Holy hell, Thatch’s long body made for some kind of view.
“You owe me an orgasm after waking me up. And I always collect on payment.”
“I—what?” he asked through a half laugh and moan. But I guess a girl grinding herself on you would get that kind of incredulous response.
“You. Owe. Me,” I repeated as I took off my shirt and bra, tossing them to the side of the bed.
He stopped asking questions then, eyes too distracted by my chest. Gripping my breasts with both hands, I rolled my nipples between my fingers and watched him watch me.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He licked his bottom lip as he continued to watch, seemingly unable to look anywhere other than my tits.
“Do you want a taste?”
“I won’t be satisfied with just a taste,” he said, sitting up and taking my mouth in a toe-curling kiss. His tongue danced with mine as he gripped my ass, sliding me against his cock. “I want it all, honey,” he whispered against my lips before leaning down and sucking a nipple into his mouth.
His tongue was devious, I knew that much as it flitted across my nipple with two short flicks and a deliciously long drag. My hips ground against him as I threaded my fingers into his hair, encouraging him to give the other nipple just as much attention. And he did. The man was nothing if not thorough.
But I could only take so much teasing before I started to get frustrated. I gripped his hair, pulling his eyes to mine. “Get naked. Get a condom. I need your cock inside me.”
Thatch didn’t think twice about my demands, flipping me onto my back and removing my yoga pants and panties like a goddamn magician. His briefs were gone, and he was sliding a condom on between one blink and the next.
Before he could take control, I pushed him back down onto the bed, straddling his hips and guiding him inside me.
“Well, fuck,” I moaned the second his dick was buried to the hilt. “God, your cock feels so good,” I said as I started a smooth up-and-down rhythm, my pussy clenching against him every time he was pressed deep. The heat of his chest seeped into the palms of my hands, and it felt like being zapped back to life by defibrillator paddles.
“I’m feeling all kinds of things about your pussy, honey. If you weren’t sitting on my dick, I’d be worshiping this perfect cunt with my tongue.” He grabbed my breasts again, his thumb flicking against my nipples and spurring tremors to roll down my spine.
“By all means,” I said as I moved off of him and straddled his face. He started to disagree with the change in position until I gripped his hair in one hand and spread myself with the other. “Eat it, Thatch. Make me come on your face.”
Surely I was having a stroke.
I mean…were these the symptoms of a stroke? Maybe not for everyone, but certainly for a guy like me, having a stroke would be something like this.
Cassie’s creamy thighs rubbed against my cheeks, forcing my short beard to pull the other way and tug at the nerves.
God. Okay. Jesus, I needed to relax. My heart was beating unbearably fast, and there was no way I could maintain the pace for more than a minute.
But fuck. The smell of her pussy as she literally rode my face was goddamn indescribable. It didn’t smell like anything else I’d ever smelled before—even other pussies—but whatever pheromones it housed must have been specially programmed for me. Like Miracle-Gro for my dick. I couldn’t see it at the moment, because I couldn’t see anything other than this wild woman’s fucking perfect pussy, but it was bigger than it’d ever been. A wager of fifteen grand on that very fact wouldn’t have even made me blink.
Not to mention, how the fuck had we gotten here? How in the hell was I having sex with Cassie Phillips right now? My head was obviously too round and thick to wrap around the unexpected concept.
When she ground down harder on my mouth and whimpered, I recognized the need to forget all the details and just concentrate on what I knew. And I knew how to eat a fucking pussy.
The secret was simple.
It was never, ever the same.
It could be the same woman, the same day, the same fucking session, but a woman’s pussy is a special kind of woman. She’s picky but fucking generous, and she gets off on all kinds of wicked shit, but her biggest turn-on is variety and a good sense of mood.
I did my best to listen for Cassie’s cues, her moans and whimpers and the speed of her breath. Did she need it faster or slower, and was the pressure just right? The answer was never consistent, and I fucking loved it. Every time I earned a reward through the curl of her toes or a squeeze of her knees, it made me work harder.
I licked and sucked, and she writhed her slick heat against my face. Her skin flushed the color of her nipples from her toes to her nose, and my dick jumped in response.
“God, yes. Lick it, Thatch,” she commanded, and I hummed into her soft, bare skin. Never in my life had I had a woman order me around and take control like this, but I didn’t mind—far from it.
When she came, it would be because I had gotten her there, and that was all the incentive I’d ever need. This wild woman was a fucking goddess, and anytime she wanted her pussy licked, I’d do it—no questions asked.
Come on, honey. Come on my face.
Just when I was ready, she robbed me of it, jumping from my face with a moan and scooting quickly back down my body and onto my dick.
“Fuck me,” I breathed.
“No, baby,” she corrected with a shake of her head. “Not this time. This time, I’m fucking me.”
And by God, she did, up and down, she fucked herself on my dick, never even giving me an opportunity to show any of my moves. I was an instrument, and she didn’t mind doing all the goddamn work. It wasn’t an impossibility, but I had to admit it was rare I encountered a woman with this much sexual work ethic.
I reached for her tits as they swung in front of me, and I smiled internally when no hands slapped mine away. They were heavy and heaving, and when I rubbed the tips with my thumbs, she licked her lips and fell over the edge.
Her head shot back, her eyes closed, and the taut muscles in her thighs squeezed harder at my hips.
When she fell forward onto my chest with long, even breaths, I let my hands settle on her hips and rubbed gently to give her a minute to get her strength and energy back. She’d been tired when we came in here, and now she’d done enough work for both of us.
“You okay, honey?” I asked, touching my lips to the side of her face and breathing in the scent of her skin. God, she smelled delicious. Like oranges and us. I licked at the curve of her shoulder.
She didn’t move or speak.
“Cassie?” I questioned.
Soft snores tickled my inner ear, and I knew in an instant.
She’d just fucked herself to sleep. She’d fucked herself to sleep.
Jesus.
My overexcited dick wasn’t getting his happy ending tonight. No, this fucker was doomed by the cliffhanger, and I was the
messenger who had to break the news.
Sorry, buddy. No full eight-second ride this time.
Up and off my dick, I moved Sleeping Beauty as gently as possible. But when I shook her arm to get her attention without any kind of response, I knew I shouldn’t have bothered.
“Goddammit,” I grumbled, picking myself up off the bed and walking bowlegged into the bathroom. I may not have been happy, but my cock was spitting mad. Yanking off the condom, I found just a tiny bit of precome at the tip but absolutely no relief.
Don’t be mad at me, asshole, I told my dick. This is not my fault…I don’t think.
The whole thing was confusing. I didn’t understand how it’d happened or why it’d stopped before it was over. None of it made one fucking lick of sense.
The taps to the shower squealed slightly as I turned them and stepped into the not yet warm spray.
My fist was a horrendously poor substitute for the grip of Cassie’s pussy, but it would have to do. I worked myself while picturing the motion of her tits and the weight of each one in my palms. She’d looked me in the eye on more than one occasion, even studied my face with a closeness that made it damn near impossible to forget who she fucked.
And she wasn’t the only one. After tonight, I’d be able to picture every part of her body for the rest of my life.
A mediocre climax brought practically the opposite of relief, but I took it for what it was, did a half-assed job of drying off, and climbed into the bed next to my new favorite woman.
She was deep in sleep, but that didn’t stop me from watching the way her chest rose and fell with each breath or noticing the absence of intensity her face normally carried.
She was beautiful in the way all women were, but she was also different. All this individuality that she never apologized for. It consumed her, and if I was honest, it was starting to consume me.
The bleating reminder of work blared from the alarm on my phone the next morning. I reached to shut it off, but instead of finding it in its normal place on my nightstand, it was across the room in the pocket of my pants, long forgotten thanks to the naked woman in my bed.
Tossing the covers off, I crossed the room in a hurry and shut it off, looking back over my shoulder to the bed, but Cassie never even stirred.
She was obviously a sound sleeper.
Venturing into the bathroom again, I took a quick shower since I’d just had one last night, and I dressed for work quickly enough. Out into the main room, I walked with my suit jacket in hand and laid it over the back of the couch before setting a pot of coffee to brew.
I was used to going without sleep. Having a stake in so many companies and putting extra time into the tattoo shop whenever I could, I spent a lot of extra hours awake. But this was different. Because I was sleepy and sexually frustrated, and I may have been proficient in the first, but I wasn’t a frequent victim of the last. Getting off often was the tension release I needed to keep me moving, and I knew all that frustration, combined with the memory of Cassie’s body, was going to make this workday one of the longest in my history.
As the time to leave approached, I went back into the bedroom and rounded the bed to Cassie’s side. I settled a hip into the crook of hers and wiped a clump of untamed hair from her face.
“Cassie,” I whispered, shaking her hip. “Wake up, honey.”
She didn’t move until I shook harder, and when she did, it wasn’t nice and easy.
A right hook came for my head that I just barely dodged, and then up and out of the bed she jumped until her wild eyes found mine.
“You don’t do anything easy, huh?” I asked with a laugh.
Her eyes pinched together as she looked around, but it must have all come back to her quick enough. She strolled to my dresser, yanked out a T-shirt, and pulled it over her head without a word.
“Is there coffee?” she asked, pointing out the door in the direction of the kitchen.
“Yeah,” I answered and followed her as she walked down the hall. “Sorry to wake you up, but I have to leave for work.”
“No worries,” she said with a wave as she poured the fresh brew into her cup.
I smiled and started to open my mouth, but as soon as she was finished pouring, she turned on her foot and headed back toward my room.
I followed again, expecting to find her gathering her clothes, but she climbed into the bed and pulled the down comforter and her cup up to her nose.
“I, uh…” I started. “I have to leave for work.”
“I know,” she confirmed with a nod. “Have a good day.”
What the…?
“Oh—okay. I’ll, uh, see you later?” I said with the lilt of a question.
“Yeah, sure thing,” she agreed, gulping down a slurp of coffee and reaching to the nightstand for my remote.
“Do you get the Bravo network?”
“I…” I shook my head. “What?”
“I missed the latest episode of Vanderpump Rules, and Georgie’s got me hooked on that shit.”
“Yeah,” I agreed without being able to understand why. “I’m pretty sure I get all the channels there are to get.”
“Fucking excellent.”
I tried my hardest to understand what was happening again. “So…I’m leaving for work now. You’re gonna hang out for a little while?”
“Yep,” she said with a smile and wave. “You have any food? I’m dying for some breakfast.”
I tried my hardest to wrap my brain around what she was asking. I knew mornings were rough for her, so maybe she just needed a little extra time.
“Yeah, I think there are some eggs in there. Maybe some bacon.”
“Ooh, bacon,” she hummed. “Have any lettuce and tomato?”
I thought about it. “Yeah.”
“Fantastic. I love BLTs for lunch.”
“Lunch?”
She nodded and shushed me. The playback of her show was starting, and she snuggled even deeper into my covers.
“So. Bye?” I said with uncertainty.
She smiled impatiently. “See ya. Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
I turned and left my room, walked down the hall, grabbed my jacket, wallet, and keys, and stepped out the door.
Only when it shut behind me did I let all of my manic, unorganized thoughts channel themselves into one burning question. “What the ever-loving fuck is going on?”
My focus today had been almost nonexistent. The night. The morning. All of it together had my brain sprinting all out around one fucked-up loop. I’d barely been able to do any work, and if I remembered the highlights from any of my meetings, it’d be a miracle.
Normally, I worked efficiently from one task to the next. Today, I couldn’t even find the surface of my desk.
Paralyzed by the unknown, I’d fired off an experimental text to Cassie in an attempt to push her until she broke. All it had done was perplex me more. She’d been overzealously responsive—to the tune of nearly a dozen texts—and so comfortable with her banter that I would have sworn we chatted all the time.
I grabbed my phone and stared down at the text conversation in question.
Me: Can you run the dishwasher?
Cassie: I can’t right now. I’m trying to figure out your DVR. I don’t want to miss this Lifetime movie that’s on at 2.
Me: What are you doing at 2? And you realize it takes all of two seconds and a press of a button to run the dishwasher, right? I know you can multitask, honey. I’ve seen you play with your tits while riding my cock.
Cassie: But that was for an orgasm. Your dishes aren’t that much fun. Anyway, I’m very
“Kline Brooks is on the phone for you,” my assistant, Madeline, buzzed in.
I shook off the confused stupor, moved the rogue folder that had slightly muffled her voice, and answered the phone.
“Kline.”
“Hey, T,” he greeted casually. I bounced my knee, and the sole of my dress shoe tapped erratically on the tile underneath my desk. “I
need to talk to you about—”
“You don’t need to talk to me about shit,” I broke in, knowing I wouldn’t be able to sit through a hot minute of him going on about mergers and acquisitions and technical internet mumbo jumbo. “But I sure as fuck need to talk to you.”
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
Too amped up, I did the exact opposite of burying the lede. I shot that shit straight into the stratosphere before a launch countdown even commenced. “I fucked Cassie last night.”
“What?” he asked on a shout.
“Well, I guess,” I corrected, “she actually fucked me. I don’t even know how it happened or what happened or, shit, any of it, really. I’m confused as fuck.”
Shock would never keep Kline stumbling for long. As expected, he composed himself quickly and started asking questions. “How are you confused? Weren’t you there? Aren’t you the reason it happened?”
“No!” I snapped, just as flabbergasted as he was. “That’s the thing. I mean, I was there, but I didn’t need to be. I didn’t start anything. It just sort of happened, and then it was happening, and fuck me, it was really fucking good. But I still wasn’t in control of anything.”
“Maybe that’s why it was good,” he joked.
I scrunched up my face in mock laughter. “Not the fucking time, dude.”
“No. Oh, no,” he denied. “It’s exactly the right time. This is what you would do to me, and I can’t tell you how good it feels to be the one doing it to you.”
“Fuck you.” Both middle fingers saluted him rapid fire like rounds from a gun. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see it. It made me feel better.
Kline just laughed.
“Ah, shit,” I grumbled when I realized my only other option was to hang up the phone. A sounding board had never been more necessary in my day-to-day life, and I didn’t have anyone else to talk to right now, so I was just going to have to take his shit and like it.
“Fine. Make your jokes.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I will.”
My eyes narrowed at his glee, but I dove right into the basics anyway. “She fell asleep on my dick.”
