by K. S. Adkins
“My way,” he growls. “Lights off.”
I’m not going to argue with him. He’s here touching me back so, I’ll conquer the lights later.
Kissing me fiercely, almost painfully, I let my hands explore, rub, and pinch softly. He’s so fucking big, tall, and furry that he’s better than a heating blanket. He’s better than anything I’ve ever felt before. He even smells dangerous, which is odd because, logically, danger doesn’t have a scent, but I’m telling you, he does and it’s addicting. Moving from my side I attempt to roll him so he’s on top of me, but he isn’t moving. Grabbing his ass, I try again with no luck.
“Princess,” he growls at me.
“Hmm?” I mumble, not wanting to stop.
“Spread ̓em,” he tells me, then adds a “Please.”
Without question, I open my legs and hope he understands he doesn’t have to ask. I’m his to do with whatever he pleases. I may be a control freak in most things, but in this, I want him to take the lead. I need him to take the lead and control me. As he works his way down, kicking sheets and blankets out of the way, he makes it to the V of my legs, gets situated, and just stares. The only reason I know he’s really turned on is the heavy breathing, but he isn’t moving otherwise. Okay, so this is a first; I’m a little exposed here and not at all sure what to do. He’s out of reach and I have a feeling he prefers me quiet, so I slowly take my hands and ease them toward my pussy and very slowly spread my lips apart for him. He looks like he may hyperventilate. I had hoped by touching myself for him that he would touch himself for me. He ignores his needs to focus on mine, and that’s sweet, but it isn’t enough. I start to sit up, feeling like we need to discuss this when he literally dives in and eats me, hard. No pregame warm up, no little licks or kisses, either. He’s full-on sucking my pussy down his throat like he’s swallowing an oyster. He’s face-first, tongue-deep, and I don’t know if he’s even breathing, but I decided fuck it, if he can hold his breath like Scuba Steve, I’m going to enjoy this, all of it, all of him eating me.
Grabbing my hips, he pulls me down further on the futon, stretching my legs over his forearms. He has complete control of me; even though it’s fast, it’s not sloppy, it’s determined. In fact, it’s never been better in my life. He’s giving me strong, steady licks and pulls, sucking me into his mouth where he swirls his tongue over me, and I can feel his hot breath and stubble.
When he groans, I can’t take it anymore. Fisting the sheets I just feel for once; there is no pain, but pleasure so intense, I jackknife up, screaming in happiness I never knew existed. But I should have known it was possible because it’s with Jonas. He keeps at me, sucking harder, licking faster, and when I fall back again, I’m totally spent. My cuts are screaming at me, but I remind myself they can fuck off, so they do - for now.
When he comes up for air he looks angry, like really fucking angry, but then I look closer and see he needs to get off, too. Taking my mouth with force, I surrender to whatever it is riding him; right now it isn’t me but, I do have plans to change that.
“May I have a turn?”
“Did you really, uh—” he mumbles.
“Did I really come?”
“Yeah,” he whispers.
Taking his hand, I move it back to between my legs where the last of my juices are making an appearance. “You did that,” I whisper. “You did that to me. You’re the first.”
“Fuck,” he whispers, taking my mouth again.
“Jonas,” I whisper into his mouth. “May I please have a turn?”
After a few seconds, I think he’s going to shut me down, but he doesn’t. Instead, he cradles my head in his hands, kisses me so sweetly, then pulls away and nods, giving me the okay. He’s trusting me with his body, I get that. I also get that if I don’t get this right I could do a lot of damage. I can see silhouettes in the dark, but not his full features. I feel like he’s anxious for this to be over with. My first order of business is to do it so well he doesn’t want it to end.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “You’re in charge here, so if I’m doing something you don’t like, all you have to do is say.”
When he nods again, I decided to trust he’ll be honest with me. So making my way down his body now, not only do I want to return the favor, but I want to blow his fucking mind. I’m going to start with blowing his cock.
Making her explode was like my first bust; it was that strong of a feeling. She didn’t bullshit me; she truly got off from my mouth. I was content to kiss her forever until she asked to return the favor. Now I’m fucking terrified. She’s touching me all over; it feels like sparks on my skin and I’ve never had that before, so that’s all Macy. The lights are off, thank fuck, and I after giving her the green light, I have to calm myself so she can go down and all the while I’m fighting a panic attack. I remind myself, without lights, she can’t see my panic, and that makes it okay for now. It’s not too often panic takes me over, but from time to time it does, and as embarrassing as it is, her seeing it would be worse.
She grazes her fingers over my cock and it feels so good, it fucking hurts. I’m okay as long as I don’t look. I’m a grown man. I can do this with her, she wants to do this for me, and I’m a lucky motherfucker, I remind myself. Leaning back, I focus on my breathing while she kisses my stomach with her perfect mouth and touches my cock with her perfect hands. After moving her body between my legs she sits back looking me over like I did her. I’d give fucking anything to know what she’s thinking. But true to form, unlike me, she says what’s on her mind.
“Even in darkness you look and feel amazing, Jonas,” she says while running her hands up and over my thighs “May I suck you?”
In my life I ain’t ever been asked such a question, ever. I should say yes, please, swallow it, but I can’t say shit.
“I wonder if I were to blow on it, if you would like how that feels?” she asks leaning lower. Closing my eyes, I pray I can do this, and that’s when I felt the warm heat of her mouth on the head of my cock. Holy shit.
“Squeeze my hand if you like this,” she says, blowing again. Finding her hand, I squeeze it. “Your cock wants me, Jonas.” Blowing again, I squeeze harder. I could come from this. How fucking embarrassing is that?
“I’ve wanted this, you for months,” she whispers, with her mouth just over the head. “You’re it for me too, you know.” Right when those words hit she swallows me fucking whole. Squeezing her hand isn’t an option anymore because she’s using both of them to work me over, and I’m using my own to fist the mattress. My body is making noises I didn’t think it was capable of, my cock is thrusting of its own will into her mouth, begging for her to suck harder, but I’m too afraid to say it. Actions are my thing, not words, so I release the mattress and sit up just enough to anchor my hands into her hair. That does something for her because she sucks harder, deeper, but slows down, and fuck me if I don’t feel every pull and release. Picking up pace again, my back starts to burn with my release right behind it. She lets me go with a loud pop then does the most amazing fucking thing ever. Spreading my legs, she licks from taint to tip several times. When she takes her hand and squeezes the base while rolling my balls around in her mouth, I scream so goddamn loud, come so goddamn hard, that my back seizes up and my throat goes dry.
The whole thing could have lasted minutes. Given my record, that’s probably the case, but these were the best minutes I’ve ever had. She gives me time to mellow, then leans back down over my cock. She can’t possibly think I can go again, can she? No, instead she runs her tongue all over my stomach and I realize she licked up my fucking come right off me, like it was dessert. A dessert she liked. Women actually do that?
“You taste amazing,” she says, crawling up my body, but I’m still speechless and fighting aftershocks “Wanna taste?” she asks, licking her lips. Her mouth is inches from mine, and I do want to find out, so I open my mouth to receive hers and my own release. Turns out I liked that, too.
We’re kissing, we’re
exploring, and we’re quiet.
Until I ruin it. Running my hands over her shoulders I feel bumps on her shoulder. Running my hands down her back to check her bandages, I feel them bleeding, so without thinking I turn the light on. That’s when I catch her staring lovingly at my still-swollen, leaking cock, and it’s also when I notice her neck and shoulder are covered in bite marks that did not come from me.
“Look at me,” I growl at her, and when she looks up and my eyes adjust further, I see they aren’t just bite marks. He broke her fucking skin.
“Oh, I’m totally looking at you,” she says. Moving her off of me and wrapping myself in a blanket, I feel the need to kill someone.
“Enough!” I yell. “This was a fucking mistake.”
“What?” she says, finding her own blanket. “How did I do that wrong?”
“Fuck!” I scream, punching the door. “It isn’t you!” She stands, then approaches me, and I feel like such a fucking joke. Who ruins a fucking blow job? Only I could.
“Are you ready yet?” she asks, with tears in her eyes. “Because I’m ready, Jonas. What just went wrong? I was following your cues, I thought you liked it, I only wanted you to —”
Pulling her to me, I kiss her, careful her the injuries to her body.
“Turn the light off,” I whisper.
She does, then walks back over to me taking my hand and sitting us both side by side on my futon. That’s where I tell her everything. I tell her what my own father did to me, beating me, screaming at me, and how my mother let it happen. Why I talk shit, because I have no self-esteem. My fucking temper, and how I can’t ever get a handle on it, how I have panic attacks I can’t control. How women had treated me in the past and why aggressiveness freaks me the fuck out. How most days I can’t tell if having a cock is a blessing or a curse, because I can’t decide how I feel about even fucking having one. I tell her all that shit back then made me the mess I am now, and I don’t know how to move forward.
In telling her this, I wanted her to know it isn’t her, it’s me, and that it’s the truth. I say and do shit that isn’t right, I know, but I also can’t stop it. I may not have gone through what she has, but that I had shit parents too, no guidance, and was treated like absolute shit by the opposite sex because I can’t talk right. I explain, best as I can, that, until her, I’d never known what jealously felt like, and now that I do, I can’t help it when it takes over. At the end of my rant I tell her that outside of her, Venessa, and Rogan, everyone in my life has always beat me down, making me feel like I was useless, and for the first time in my life, I want someone to see me, flaws and all.
All this is said with my head in her lap. I rage at the walls and she brings me back repeatedly. That’s where I eventually fell asleep in her arms, begging her not to leave me. Promising her I could do better, that I’d do anything to make her happy and wondering if she’d still be there when I wake up.
Waking up, I take precious time to glance at the man wrapped around me, using me as a pillow. Leave him? Is he crazy? Clearly, he doesn’t know enough of my history to comprehend how his history could in any way make me love him less.
Love.
Fuck me, but there it is. I do love him. How could I not? He’s the most confused, infuriating, caring, beautiful, real man I’ve ever met. He’s the one I’m betting on, the one that could destroy me but won’t, because he’s waiting for me to destroy him first, but sticks around anyway. Allowing the peace to settle around me, I snuggle in closer to him.
This is a spare room with no window treatments, so the morning light shows his every angle: his stubble, the scar on his chin, his firm chest, tight stomach, and his magnificent cock. My mouth is watering for that cock, my pussy is weeping for that cock, my inner goddess wants to claim that cock.
“Enjoying the show?” he grates out.
Looking up, I smile. “Mhmm,” I say.
“You’re still here,” he says softly.
“I am,” I confirm. “Can we talk now, or do you need coffee first?”
“We can talk,” he says, looking uncomfortable.
“Actually, I want to talk, but I need you to listen and not flip out,” I say, looking in his eyes.
“Before you start,” he says, looking me over, “how’s your back?”
“Just stiff,” I say, downplaying it some.
Reaching for my shoulder, he runs his fingers over the bite marks, softly. Grabbing his hands, I place them in my lap and maneuver myself to where our knees touch.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” I start. “My history isn’t so dissimilar from yours. My parents were junkies, my dad liked to hit, and my mom forgot I existed. I’ve been on my own since I was a kid; the Cross’ loved me as best they could, but I was always a junkie’s kid. I loved two things: Venessa and learning. I graduated early not just because I was smart, but because I wanted out from under my parents. Let’s fast forward. Outside of Briggs, I never dated much, so I didn’t pick up on things like I probably should have. The first time he hit me … I froze.”
I wait for him to yell at me for being stupid, but he doesn’t. Instead, he kisses my forehead, saying, “Most people do, Princess. He was supposed to protect you.”
“I know that now,” I explain. “The first two hospital visits were for patching up, really. It was the third and the fourth that were rough. At that point, he was blown out all the time, and I was the outlet for his anger. It was the fourth visit Venessa found out about; the scars you saw when I attacked you were from that fourth beating. When his fists weren’t enough, I guess he thought a knife was better.”
“Why didn’t you kill him then, Princess?”
“I promised myself that I would, that if he came at me again, I’d end it. I kicked him out, but he wouldn’t leave, and he caught me off guard and he bested me. I didn’t want Venessa to know; he said if I ever told her, he’d kill her. I believed him. Killing him was my right, Jonas, and I don’t regret it. I need you to know I would do it again because —”
“Princess,” he whispers. “This wasn’t your fault.”
“I know,” I whisper back. “So you need to know what happened to you wasn’t your fault, either. They should have protected you, too. We fought back when we could, but we fought back, Jonas. I want to fight for us. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. You’re a big package, and don’t get cocky; I’m just saying we both have shit to work on, and there’s no shame in any of it.”
“Prince —” he starts, but I stop him.
“I love you,” I whisper, looking up at him. “You’re my future, I know it in here.” I place his hand on my heart. “We have things to work through, but I love you Jonas, all of you, especially the damaged places. I want you to let me fight for you, too.”
He pulls me fully into his lap, fists my hair, and takes my mouth. Wrapping my legs around him, I pull back because I have more to say. “Look at me now.” He does. “You’re always protecting me, but I get to protect you, too. I want you to know I don’t just love you, Detective. I admire you, too.” That being said, I put my head on his chest, smiling because his heart is beating rapidly, and that’s because of me.
“Princess,” he struggles to say. “I loved you the first time you tazed me.” I can’t help it. I giggle. “Laugh it up; I almost pissed myself, you know.”
“Really?” I asked, laughing louder.
“Mostly, though, it killed me to watch you walk away with another guy.”
“Jonas, I don’t —”
“Shh,” he whispers. “I know that now. Then, though … I wanted you even then.”
“Thank you for waiting for me.”
“I’ve waited my whole life for you, Princess.”
Sitting there in his lap, sun light filling the room, I realize, for once, I am in the right place at the right time, and finally with the right person.
Feeling light for the first time in a long time, we both kept talking until there were no more words. She told me e
verything, I did the same, and I’ll be damned, she still loves me. In life, my biggest struggle was always my temper. Through her, though, I’m beginning to think it’s just a matter of getting a hold of my emotions. When I’m happy, I’m so fucking happy, but when I’m pissed …
While she helped Ben through a problem he was stuck on over the phone, I took a shower, and for the first time in my life, I kept my eyes open when I washed my cock. Used my hands, a cloth, and didn’t get sick before, during, or after. She cleansed me, or maybe I finally let most of it go, but however it happened, I’m grateful for it. I’m not foolish enough to think my issues have up and left, but it is a start. Now that I can somewhat bear to look at it, I realized I want it buried deep inside of her where it belongs. I want us to take that next step where we give each other what we need without limits, without me freaking out that I’ll suck at it and with her knowing she’s safe.
Lost in thought about how to make making the next step a reality, I don’t hear her sneak up on me until she has her arms around me. Fuck, she smells good. Good and clean. Honest and beautiful.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks, with her head on my back.
“You,” I answer honestly.
“Yeah? What about me?” she asks, running her hands up and down my stomach.
Turning her to face me I wrap my arms around her, pulling her tight and tell her the god’s honest: “Thinking about how I go about making love to you.” If she’s surprised she doesn’t show it, but in true Macy form she gives it to me straight.
“Here I am,” she whispers. “Tell me.”
“I’d rather show you. I’m not too good with words, Princess.”
“When?” she asks, breathless and excited. “Now?”
“Not now,” I tell her. “But soon. What’s on the agenda?”
“About that,” she says, smiling. “A few months ago, I bought tickets to a show at the Filmore, total metal. Venessa was supposed to go, but being she’s still healing, she can’t. I was wondering how you felt about mosh pits and maybe a crowd surf or two?”
