by Lauren Rowe
“Yeah, well, it must have slipped your mind because you were busy worrying your entire family was gonna die.” I can still hear the video in the background. “Holy shit. Enter woman number two, stage left. Oh, man, this guy’s unbelievable.” He chuckles. “How are Sarah and the babies, by the way?”
“Pretty good. Sarah’s still not feeling great, but—”
“But she’s about to start feeling a whole lot better. Ka-bam!”
“Shut the fuck up, Henn. You’re talking about my wife.”
“Sorry.” All joviality has instantly evaporated from Henn’s voice. “How are the babies?”
“Good. They should be coming home in about three weeks or so. They just have to get to the point where their lungs are fully developed. Pretty normal with preemies, I guess. They should be fine. I can’t believe how big they’re getting already.”
“Send me a pic.”
“Okay, hang on.” I scroll through my photos, finding a good one.
“Woman number two just wet the bed, too. Oh my God. Damn.”
I find a really cute photo of the girls and email it to Henn. “Just sent a pic.”
“Cool. Okay, got it.” There’s a beat as Henn checks the photo. “Aw, they’re so cute, man. They’ve filled out a ton since I saw them. They look like humans now instead of raisins.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey, Hannah and I are planning to come to Seattle in a couple months when Josh and Kat have baby number two.”
“Did you hear it’s a boy?” I say.
“Yeah. They called me. Kat was freaking out about having a penis inside her at all times, and Josh was like, ‘What’s new about that?’”
We both laugh.
“But, anyway, I wanna see your little girlios then, too, okay? They’ll be beasts by then, I’m sure. Oh, here we go. Step right up, woman number three.”
“You and Hannah can stay at my house when you come, if you don’t want to do a hotel.”
“Cool. Thanks. I’ll tell Hannah to calendar it—right after I make her squirt, of course.” He snickers.
“Of course.” I can’t help but chuckle. This is a supremely ridiculous conversation. “Well, bye, Henn. I gotta go. Thanks again.”
“Yeah, I gotta go, too. I’m in the middle of a super-secret job. You’d get such a kick out of it.”
“Government?”
“Of course. Those guys love me now. They think I’m a fucking genius.”
“Because you are.”
“Why, thank you. Plus, I’ve got some internet porn to watch, and I’m sure you do, too... “
“Of course, not. I’ve got actual work to do. I’m a respected member of society, if you haven’t heard.”
“Yeah, I read that latest article about you guys in whatever magazine. The one about Peru? So rad. You looked like fucking Thor, man.”
“Thanks. Actually, that one came out a while ago.”
“Oh. Well, I only just saw it. I told Josh they made you look way hotter than him and he almost punched me in the teeth.”
“Poor Josh. He’s so used to Kat lying to him about his sexual prowess day in and day out, he’s just not equipped to handle the truth when he hears it.”
“I’ll tell him you said so.”
“Please do.”
We share another chuckle.
“Talk to you later, brother,” I say. Whoa, what the fuck was that? I’ve never called Henn “brother” before—I don’t even address Josh that way—but it just slipped out.
“So...” Henn says. “Does this mean you’re not gonna ask me if I’ve got news about The Club?”
My carefree mood disappears instantly. “Do you?”
“Nope.”
I exhale.
“I’m just shocked you didn’t ask me about it. I think that’s what the psychologists call progress, big guy.” He laughs, but I don’t join him.
“What about Agent Eric? You checked in with him recently?”
“Yeah, I talked to him a couple days ago on an unrelated project—they’ve got me working on several things for them nowadays—because I’m a fucking genius, as I mentioned—”
“What’d he say, Henn?”
“He said all’s quiet—well, at least regarding The Club. Sounds like Eric’s been climbing the ranks and kicking ass at the ol’ FBI, so he’s been plenty busy tracking down lots of evil bad guys. But not from The Club.”
“And Oksana’s totally neutralized? She just sits there every day in her prison cell doing Sudoku?”
“Well, obviously, those pesky Ukrainian separatists are still working hard to get back onto their mommy’s Russian tit—just check the headlines—and, from what we can tell, Oksana’s still quite the pimpstress extraordinaire, even from prison—once a pimpstress always a pimpstress, I guess—but, yeah, there’s no hint of anyone paying us any mind whatsoever. We’re still sitting pretty like Honey Boo Boo.”
“How many shots of espresso have you had today, Henn?”
“Like, eight.”
“Yeah. I can tell. You gotta lay off that stuff, Henn. Seriously.”
He audibly shrugs over the phone line.
“You’ll tell me if something comes up, right?”
“Indubitably.”
“And you’re still gonna monitor things really carefully?”
“Of course. You guys are family. I don’t take any chances with my family.”
“Thanks, Henn.”
“Sure thang, big guy.”
“Okay. Talk to you soon.”
“Talk to later. Oh, hey, Jonas?”
“What?”
“Happy squirt-questing.”
I laugh despite myself. “You, too, Henn.”
“And Jonas?”
“What?”
“You can never go wrong with diamonds.”
The minute we hang up, I immediately cue up the squirting video again and re-watch the entire thing. When it’s over, I rise up from the kitchen table, taking great care not to whack my gigantic woody against the underside of the table as I stand, and beeline straight for my shower, unbuttoning my jeans as I go.
Chapter 29
Jonas
Four Weeks Without Sex
(Other Than Wacking Off, Of Course, Obviously)
aka Oh My Fucking God, This Is Fucking Torture
Sarah moans softly next to me in the bed.
My eyes spring open. A hard rain is battering the house. It’s the dark of night.
“Sarah?”
I don’t understand that particular moan she just made. Is she in pain?
“Sarah?” I say again, reaching for her. My eyes haven’t adjusted to the darkened room. “Baby?”
Her hand skims my bare chest and then grazes the front of my boxers, right over my cock. “Jonas,” she whispers softly. “Yes.”
Oh, thank you, God. I know that tone in my baby’s voice. That’s pure arousal right there—which means that moan she made a minute ago was the sound of my baby having a sex dream. Hallelujah. These past weeks since Sarah gave birth, her sex drive has been as dead as a doornail (and understandably so). Does this mean her body is beginning to spring back to life again?
I pull myself close to her in the warm bed, pushing my rising erection into her, kissing her lips hungrily. “Jonas,” she mumbles, pressing herself into me and returning my kiss.
I push her onto her back, pull up her nightgown, and begin pulling down her big ol’ granny panties with the big ol’ pad in the crotch. I know I’m not allowed to make love to her with my cock or fingers yet, per doctor’s orders, but the good doctor herself said my tongue is fair game. And that’s exactly what I’m gonna give her.
Sarah’s body stiffens. “No, Jonas. I’m still bleeding.”
“Ssh,” I soothe, pulling her undies down past her hips. Oh, God, my cock is already throbbing for her. “Relax, baby.”
“No, listen. Wait. I’m bleeding a lot.” She puts her hands on mine, momentarily halting the downward progress of her underwea
r.
Wordlessly, I get out of bed and head toward the bathroom, navigating my way slowly in the moonlit room.
“What are you doing?”
I don’t reply. There’s nothing to talk about. She doesn’t get a fucking vote. I’m gonna make her come. Right now. Come hell or high water. Or blood.
Surprisingly, given all the pussy I’ve eaten in my lifetime, this is about to be my first ever bloody box lunch. With women before Sarah, bloody sex hasn’t come up that much, to be honest, and if so, I’ve always avoided going downtown during it, probably thanks to my long and tortured history with blood. And with Sarah, even though I’ve always been more than willing, she’s always refused me, saying it’s “too gross.” And I’ve never once pushed back. Why would I? We’ve always still had intercourse during her period; plus, Sarah’s never one to shy away from a damned fine blowjob, especially when she’s trying to deflect me from doing something. So it hasn’t been hard for me to refrain from eating rare meat during Sarah’s time of the month. But this time, all bets are off. I’m chowing down, no matter what. I’m earning my red wings right fucking now.
I grab a couple towels from the bathroom cabinet and head back into the bedroom, stopping at my computer on the way to press play on “Sky Full of Stars” by Coldplay. Ever since I played this song for Sarah in the hospital, I’ve been dying to make it the soundtrack to an earth-shattering orgasm for her. Oh man, my cock is tingling and twitching at the mere thought of her howling with pleasure with this song swirling around us.
I crawl back into the bed, singing along to the song, and slide two thick towels underneath her hips.
“Jonas,” she whispers, obviously unsure.
“Ssh,” I say. “Don’t speak.”
She exhales, clearly ambivalent—but she doesn’t speak, as instructed.
I kiss her deeply, running my fingertip across her collarbone. “Just relax.” My fingers slide over her erect nipples. There’s a small patch of wetness in the fabric of her nightgown, over her left nipple. The sensation makes my cock twitch again.
I pull her to a sitting position, remove her nightgown, and assess her naked torso in the moonlight.
Holy fuck, she’s a work of art. Mother Earth. Demeter. I lay her onto her back and lay soft kisses on her C-section scar. “Besitos for your booboo,” I say.
She exhales again, clearly trying to force herself to relax.
I kiss the faded scar on her ribcage, the only visible reminder of what those bastards at The Club did to Sarah in that bathroom at U Dub.
“Besitos for your booboo,” I say again.
She shudders.
I work my way up from her ribcage to her bountiful, dripping breasts—and holy fuck, it’s like her skin is covered in a thin layer of sweet cream. It’s all I can do not to take her nipple into my mouth and give it a good strong suck. But I don’t. All in good time. I pull at her panties again, this time forcefully.
She arches her back into me. “Jonas,” she begins—and it’s not clear if that’s meant to halt or encourage me.
“Shh,” I say. “Relax. This is turning me on.”
With her undies off, I spread her smooth thighs and the unmistakable scent of Sarah, the scent I’ve literally dreamed about, floods me. But this time, for the first time ever, that delectable aroma is tinged with something brand new—the one fragrance I’ve been hardwired to recoil from since as long as I can remember.
And yet. I don’t recoil. Not at all. I feel nothing but hard and turned on and ready to chow down. I reach gently between her legs and touch her tip. It’s erect—hard and slippery against my fingertip. And wet. Soaking wet.
Sarah moans softly at my touch. “Jonas.”
Normally, I’d probably kiss her mouth for a bit while massaging her magical G-spot deep inside her. But, obviously, I can’t touch her G-spot right now. Doctor’s orders. No penetration, not even fingers, the doctor said. All righty then. Fuck it. I lean in and lap at her pussy with the full expanse of my tongue, and she lets out a loud groan.
The wetness against my tongue is thick and slick, a different texture than usual. And the taste is something new, too—salty and sweet, with a vague hint of metallic. It’s actually pleasant to the taste—primal.
She arches her back into me and that’s it. I’m gone. Totally in the zone.
“A” is for Sarah’s glorious ass. A... A... A.
“A” is for the awe-inspiring ass that belongs to me. Propiedad de Jonas Faraday, her ass cheek proclaims. Damn straight.
A... A... A.
Fuck you, Will, you motherfucking asswipe—or should I call you “2Real,” you little bitch? Sarah belongs to me, her cocky-bastard-asshole-motherfucker.
A... A ... A, my tongue tells Sarah. I’m an asshole. And she loves it.
I grab my cock and pump on it as I continue to lick. Oh yeah, this is good.
B... B... B.
“B” is for my baby.
“Jonas,” Sarah breathes. She’s already writhing.
C is for my baby’s cunt. My favorite meal of the day—any time, cooked any way. Well, shit. Apparently, I like my cunt prepared rare. Because this is fucking delicious.
Sarah spreads her thighs wider and groans.
The lyrics of the Coldplay song are spurring me on. Oh yeah. C... C... C. “C” is for Coldplay.
D... D... D. “You’re the man of my dreams,” she’s told me a thousand times. That’s right, baby. Fuck yeah, I am.
E... E... E. Because you’re my everything, Sarah.
Sarah makes The Sound, my favorite sound in the world. I grab her hips and ferociously pull her into me. She widens her legs yet again and screams loudly, gripping my hair feverishly.
I grip my cock and pump myself forcefully, continuing to lick her furiously as I do.
She’s never been this wet before, or tasted this sweet. I can feel her wetness oozing out of her, lining my lips, chin, and cheeks. I feel like a lion devouring my prey. And it’s turning me the fuck on.
F... F... F.
I want to fuck your brains out, Sarah Faraday. Oh God, how I want to fuck you, Mrs. Faraday. All fucking night long. Fuck yeah, I do.
G... G... G.
You’re the goddess and the muse Sarah Cruz.
Oh, wow. My baby loves her some “G” tonight. That’s a new favorite letter.
I continue pumping my shaft, licking her voraciously.
G... G ... G.
You’re the stars in my galaxy. Oh yes, baby, come on. G... G ... G. You’re gorgeous, baby. Glorious.
I give my baby some g...g... g, too, just for good measure. Because the goddess and the muse deserves nothing less.
Sarah gasps for air and stiffens—and two seconds later, before I can even think about giving her some “H,” her clit, and everything connected to it, seizes violently under my tongue.
I groan and pump my shaft harder as her body warps against me, slurping her up and burrowing my tongue even deeper inside her, as far as it will go. My nose, chin, and lips are buried in her, drenched in her. I burrow my face deeper and deeper into her, devouring her, and lick her as deeply as my tongue will go, even as she orgasms all around me.
I’m being baptized in her blood.
I’m reborn.
H... H... H.
Because I’m a hungry boy tonight. With a gigantic hard-on.
I keep on licking, right through her seizure, something I never do. Usually, I’d be fucking her right now—plunging into her warm wetness with a loud groan—but tonight that’s not an option. So I might as well keep on going.
I twirl my tongue around and around and around, over and over, grunting and groaning into her, pulling her body forcefully into my face, my hand working savagely on myself as I do.
I... I... I.
I love you, baby. Oh, how, how I love every inch of you.
J... J... J.
“J” is for—
“Jonas!” she screams, convulsing violently with her second climax. “Jonas, oh my God.
Yes.” I slip my fingers between her ass cheeks just in time to feel her anus contracting with her orgasm—and my cock lurches at the sensation.
I crawl up to her mouth and kiss her fervently, and she receives me hungrily, running her hands through my hair and bucking underneath me.
Under any other circumstance, I’d fuck her brains out right now, of course, I would, and so deep and hard we’d come together for her third time. But that’s not an option right now. So I might as well keep going.
I reach down and touch her clit, kissing her mouth furiously as I do, and my cock jolts when I feel how hard and slippery and enlarged it is. I twirl it around and around with my fingertip as my lips migrate from her mouth to her neck and collarbone and finally find their way to her engorged breast, where the scent of breast milk sends me into a frenzy. I twirl her hard nipple around with my tongue for a brief moment, but I can’t resist another second. Without warning, I take her nipple into my mouth and suck on her like I’m trying to detach her nipple from her breast—swirling her hard clit around with my fingertip as I suck. When warm, sweet liquid gushes into my mouth, I practically convulse, and Sarah groans so loudly, in any other context, I’d think she was in horrible pain.
Sarah begins screaming at the top of her lungs and bucking wildly, and her pussy suddenly begins rippling under my fingertips.
“Holy fuck,” she says through gritted teeth. “Oh my God.”
That’s three orgasms in a row by my count. But there’s no rest for the wicked.
I take her other nipple into my mouth and give that one a good, strong suck, too, and she gasps loudly as warm milk floods my mouth again.
Oh, Jesus. I’m so turned on, I’m delirious.
Blood on the sheets.
Fuck yeah, blood on the sheets. And on my lips, nose, chin, and tongue.
I feel a near-desperate urge to plunge myself into her and fuck her so hard and deep she cries. But since that’s not possible, I crawl back down between her legs and plunge my tongue into her pussy again, penetrating her as deep as my tongue will go, eating her alive, sucking her, devouring her, lapping up the thick, sweet liquid covering every inch of her—and jerking myself off voraciously as I do it.
She shudders into my mouth, yet again, howling as she does, and finally twitches powerfully one last time with a long, low wail.
