by K. S. Adkins
“It’s like that?” she asks, rolling her neck from side to side, allowing it to crack twice.
“It’s like that.”
“Let’s do this.” Now normally I’d take that as an invitation to try and get in her pants but, if I’m lucky and don’t beat her to bad, that comes later. I’ll even let her be on to —
I didn’t even get to finish my thought before she is on me. By on me, I mean throwing hooks and jabs like Holyfield. I feint and dodge – barely - but she keeps coming so fast, all I can do is play defense. She spins to take me on my right, but I block her throwing my own jab and she ducks easily.
We circle each other. She ain’t smiling, and neither am I. This shit right here is serious; she ain’t playing, and I won’t be played.
“You move fast for a cop.”
“That’s because I’m a detective; got a certificate that says so and everything.”
“Like what you see?” she says, catching me staring at her tits.
“Not like you could hide them, Princess.”
“I’m going to wipe that smirk off your face, cop.”
“You can try, Dolly, but you ain’t gonna succeed.”
“Dolly?”
“Pardon,” I say smiling.
“Parton.”
“What?” I ask her, confused because everyone knows who Dolly Pardon is.
“Stop talking.”
“Make me,” I dare her. When she comes at me, I see her strategy, and I also set out to show her it ain’t gonna work. Grabbing her right arm, my intent is to bring it up in a lock behind her back to teach her a break, but since she obviously knows that already, she doesn’t appreciate my lesson. When she breaks and swings she connects directly with my jaw, causing me to stumble back.
Fuck. That hurt.
Connecting my eyes with hers, I see she’s shocked she hit me. Once I have full use of my mouth again, I’ll tell her it was a clean hit. But that time ain’t now. She’s shaken, and I need to keep her shaken. I advance, she retreats, and when I make a grab for her and expose my back, instantly I’m disappointed when she doesn’t take advantage, especially since we’ve been over this before.
Turning back to let her have it for being a pussy, I’m shocked when she’s right behind me. She grins, connects, and then she’s on top of me, one hand on my throat and the other squeezing my balls. Hard.
“I’m sorry for hitting you,” she says, not easing up on my sac even a little bit.
“S’okay,” I wheeze, then I try to say “Let go,” but it comes out as “Leggo.” She shakes her head no, then starts rubbing my cock instead.
“Did you just spar with a hard on?” she asks, giggling, but I’m praying my balls drop back down by morning.
“Hard not to with your tits bouncing all over,” I groan. “Good thing I don’t tangle with females too often, or I’d get my ass kicked a lot, although might not be a bad thi —”
“Do not finish that sentence,” she growls, leaning in. “The only tits you watch bounce are mine, are we clear?”
“Diamond.”
“Crystal,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“Who the fuck is Crystal?” I ask, but I see she’s getting agitated. “You’re rubbing my cock, Dolly. I don’t know any Crystal, so you’re getting pissy for nothing. It’s your cock, you can rub it, suck it, squeeze it, blow —”
“Jonas.”
“Woman, you’ve got my life in your hands, literally. You really wanna talk now?”
“Jonas,” she says again, and now I’m getting cranky.
“If you’re wanting a conversation on the basement floor just knock me out now, please. My cock can’t take it.”
Crawling off of me, I’m pretty sure I may have pouted. She reaches down and offers me her hand.
“Get up,” she orders me, and without taking her help, I get up like a big boy so I can go pout in a cold shower.
“Going somewhere?”
“Yeah,” I tell her. “To ice my balls.”
“Oh,” she says, looking over her shoulder. “Since you decided on this celibacy thing, I wanted to blow you on that weight bench first, but I can take a rain check.”
I drop my water bottle and just stare at her, then at my bench, at her, then back at the bench again. Blow me? Hell yes that beats curls, dead lifting, and a cold shower any damn day. Even better is if she’s blowing me on my weight bench. Thank fuck I have a weight bench; best investment I’ve ever made, and I’ve only got four payments left, too. When she walks over to it, peels the beater off followed by her sports bra and tosses both on the floor, I’m sunk. But it gets better. She kicks her shoes off, peels each sock off, shimmies her pants down slow, then straddles the bench, but leaves her thong on. I can’t feel my tongue, pretty sure it’s numb. She’s a vision in front of me, and with the mirror behind her, she’s the best wet dream a guy could ask for. When she leans forward on her elbows, calls me over by crooking her finger, it takes me several attempts to move. But thank fuck my feet start working and I finally do, because, I am about to watch her blow me in the mirror, and that’s a fucktastic first.
He’s speechless.
That’s a first. Any other time I’d find this funny, but not now. He looks frozen, but then seems to snap out of it. He also seems to be mesmerized by the mirror. So much so that he’s just staring and not picking up on my cues. Scooting even further forward, I fight back a chuckle. He’s so fucking gorgeous and excited right now that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
I’m hungry. I want him in my mouth, crammed down the back of my throat, completely at my mercy, and I want him to want it as much as I do.
“Fuck, Princess,” he groans, causing me to blink.
“I said that out loud, didn’t I?”
“Every word.”
“Oops,” I giggle, which makes him groan again. “Drop the joggers, Jonas.”
“Yes ma’am,” he says, dropping his pants then shuffling forward. “Get ready for me.”
“I am, so come fill my mouth,” I order him, but when he just stands there, I start to lose my courage a bit. “Jonas?”
“On your knees,” he growls. “Ass in the air, Princess.”
“Yes, sir.” I obey, positioning myself on the bench with my ass up high.
Wasting no time with a warm up, I grab his cock, fluff it up several times, then guide it into my open mouth. Latching on, I work him deep with the juice in my mouth. He gets in there good, too. Grabbing my hair, thrusting, grinding, and finding his rhythm. Glancing up, I see he’s still focused on the mirror, so since he is so deep in thought I decide to take this blow job to the next level, and if all goes well, it will blow up in my face. (See what I did there?)
Working him fast and tight, he’s groaning, growling, and when I let go with a pop he almost falls over. Straddling the bench I pull him closer, facing the mirror in front of me.
“Princess?”
“I’m going to give you the most amazing anatomy lesson ever, Jonas,” I whisper, jerking him off from behind. When his head falls forward I move in even closer. “Will you promise to listen?”
“Yeah,” he groans, wanting to switch places, but my position behind him won’t allow it.
Moving around to face him, I sit on the bench while his chest is flush with my face. Taking him in my left hand I start stroking him, and just like that he’s right back with me.
“Jonas,” I start. “Look at me.” When he does, I smile, but he groans. “You’re going to finish in my mouth, down my throat just like I said but,” I say leveling him with my stare, “you’re going to do this while I’m milking your prostate.”
“Repeat that.”
“You’re going to come with my mouth on your cock and my finger up your ass.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Jonas,” I say. “It’s a medically proven fact this can be highly pleasurable. Can we just try?”
“How do you try to put your finger in someone’s ass, Princess? It’s either up there,
or it isn’t. Let’s be real here, you have long fucking digits, and I don’t know if — ah fuck.”
Shutting him up, I take him to the back of my throat. Sucking as deep as I ever have, cupping his balls, grabbing his ass and pulling him flush with my face, I suck and swallow until my jaw aches with it.
“Harder,” he growls. “Fuck! It’s too good.”
Breaking away again, I look up at his menacing face and make him a promise. “It could be even better if, you trust me.”
Closing his eyes, he nods. Pulling him back to me, I start sucking and swallowing again. Working him up so he won’t think about it, and then he starts giving orders. “Explain it to me,” he asks. “While you do it, talk to me.”
That’s fair, I say to myself. I mean really, it’s not like I’ve ever done this. I just heard about it. Giving my jaw a break, I work him with one hand and guide to kneel on all fours, and then my lesson begins in earnest.
“A males prostate has a G-spot,” I begin. “Not too dissimilar from women, just a different location. The benefit of having longer fingers like I do is that,” I say, leaning in to whisper in his ear while jerking him harder, “I can reach it.”
When he groans and relaxes I wet my finger and make small circles, hoping to keep him relaxed. When he first feels me there he tenses, but then I gave his cock a good yank and he forgets what he is tense about. Rubbing the area further his head drops to meet his chest. He likes it.
“Then what?”
“Using only one finger,” I explain, “once I locate that specific bundle of nerves, it’s said to make your orgasm stronger.” Licking my finger again and moving into position I whisper again, “Much, much stronger.”
“Do it,” he begs me, with his back arched and knees shaking. He wants to come; he’s fighting it, and it’s fucking hot to watch.
Sliding my index finger in slowly, I need him with me, so I take my time. In case of any discomfort, I continue working his cock while I work my finger in deeper.
“How does it feel?”
“Fucking full,” he answers me back.
“Tell me when I’ve found it, Jonas,” I whisper. “And then I’ll let you come.”
“Get back over here where I can see you, now.”
“But I’ll have to start over,” I advise him.
“Don’t give a shit,” he growls. “Want to see you.”
So that’s what I do. Straddling the bench I reach for him, then he stands putting his cock mouth-level, then spreads his legs.
“Finish me.”
“With pleasure.”
Literally shoving his cock into my mouth he starts fucking it like it’s the first and last time he’ll ever come. Wondering what’s wrong I look up and see him watching in the mirror. Ah. So he’s enjoying it, then. Wetting my middle finger, I insert it easily and waste no time taking it as far as it can go. He needs to come, badly.
“Harder,” he orders, bucking into my mouth. So I suck harder, then finger-fuck him harder, too.
“Christ,” he growls, wrapping his fists in my hair. “More, dammit. It’s to your left, you’re right there just … gimme more.”
Thrusting my finger up higher and to my left, I feel him tighten. Ha! Found it! Holy shit, it really works! My jaw is cracking and my wrist is burning, and I don’t even care. He is gearing up for an epic release, and I did it. Me. I could do this for hours if that’s what he needed.
“Princess,” he groans. “I need to — I’m going to — ain’t gonna —”
That’s when it happens. When he tightens up I give one long pull with my mouth and lodge my middle finger deep, crook it, and send him so far over the edge his screams would be heard all the way to Canada.
I’ve never been a swallower. Normally I’d fake the swallow and politely spit it elsewhere, but not here, not with him. I take it all, take it down the back of my throat and make it a part of me. Removing my finger slowly, allowing him to glide from my mouth, he falls to the bench, pulling me to him.
“My ass is yours,” he says, burying his face into my neck. “You own it.”
Smiling to myself, I play with his hair and give him a few minutes to calm himself down. He mumbles and I can’t make it out.
“What’s that?” I ask him.
“I never knew.”
“Neither did I,” I tell him truthfully. “But it was beautiful, right?”
“It’s a close second.”
“To what?” I ask him, confused.
“To you,” he says, wrapping his arms around me. “Nothing is more beautiful than you.”
That’s when I melt. I’ve never felt that sensation, the one where your entire body just … kind of sighs in happiness. We stay on the bench for a bit. Cooling off, cleaning up, and putting the mats back we crack a few jokes, and it’s nice seeing him happy, it’s even better being one of the reasons for it. When we make our way back up, I smile again, knowing because I was with him being in the basement didn’t bother me, and he being with me, trusted me to put my finger up his ass. Thank god I got it right, was my last thought before we fell to the couch putting Ben and the rest of the day behind us.
Now that I can somewhat think again after having my mind and my O-ring blown, I decide I really hated Ben, the little fucker. From the first time I saw him I knew he had eyes for her, but today I felt certain he got the message. She’s spoken for. On the way home she asked me if I had a problem with her keeping her plans with him for the banquet, and to be honest, I do. Even knowing where her heart lies, I don’t want her fucking going let alone going with him, but I didn’t tell her that. Instead, we eat pizza, drank a two-liter of Faygo red pop, and started watching cartoons. Relaxing for hours we both take turns nodding off, but neither one of us moves off that couch or out of the other’s reach.
Now she’s studying and totally focused. She’s writing notes, chewing her pencil top, and totally caught up in what she’s doing and no lie, I could pass the day just like this, watching her. I’ve been trying to be a stand-up guy and do the getting-to-know her thing, but what I really need is a trip back to paradise, so tonight when the cartoons and studying are over, I’m going to get me another taste of heaven. Until then, I can replay what she did to me in the basement, because holy fucking shit, I didn’t know my ass had that kind of power.
Enjoying the quiet and the cartoons while she works, it isn’t until Rogan calls that my perfect day goes to shit. Picking up the phone I answer like I always do, except it isn’t him; it’s Venessa. She tells me to just listen, so that’s what I do, and before she finishes, I really wish I hadn’t. I hang up on her before she can finish destroying me.
I take what I hear, study the photos she sent, then I look over and really watch her work, my eyes cataloging everything. All the things I missed because I’m too fucking whipped to pay attention to the things I don’t want to see. Now I’m pissed for being duped, and even more pissed because I don’t know how to handle it and instead of reasoning that shit out first, I react.
“Macy,” I growl at her, but she tunes me out. “Macy,” I growl again, just louder. “Macy!” I yell, which gets her attention, and she sets down her pencil and walks over to me. She sits next to me, preparing to kiss me, but I push her back by her shoulders. She looks up at me confused and hurt, but tough shit, this is not the bullshit we need right now.
Palming my phone I bring up the message Venessa just sent to me. Scrolling to the top I enlarge the photo and hand it to Macy.
“Look familiar?” I say to her, but she doesn’t respond she just keeps staring. “Scroll down,” I prompt her, and when nothing is said, I take it further. “Still not jogging your memory? Here, try this one,” I offer.
“Why are you showing me this?” she asks, acting innocent.
“You’re good, Macy, I’ll give you that,” I bark at her. “You really want to play dumb right now?”
“Excuse me?”
“You should know what playing dumb means; you have that shit down to a science. The
pictures, Macy. Tell me what you see when you’re looking at these fucking pictures.”
“How should I know?” she asks, still playing innocent while thumbing through. “Okay, wait, I recognize this guy, but he looked different last time I saw him.”
“He would look different, Macy,” I snap at her, taking the phone back. “Last time you saw him, he was alive.”
“And he isn’t now?”
“Knock it the fuck off!” I scream at her. “This guy’s name is Marcus Mason, he’s dead now, and autopsy confirms what killed him was a severe reaction to an unknown substance. Imagine my surprise when this Mason guy and four others are all found dead with your sauce in their system. Really imagine my surprise when Venessa tells me you chased these guys down and injected them with that shit behind my fucking back. Now pay attention,” I yell, getting in her face and leaning over her. “Imagine how I feel when Venessa tells me you went after these guys alone for fucking research.”
“I don’t understand what five dead guys have to do with me,” she says back. “I didn’t kill them.”
“Yeah, you fucking did,” I grate. “And guess what? No one, not the Cap, Venessa, Rogan, or I can do a damn thing to save you, either. You were sneaking out of your house for this shit? Every goddamn night I sat out there making sure you were safe, and you’d fucking play me like this? Fuck you, Macy.” Walking away from her isn’t hard at all; it is fucking unbearable. “Oh and Venessa is done covering for your ass, too. No way Rogan will allow her near your shit. Nice teamwork, Kowalski.”
Venessa was right and she was wrong. Macy is nothing like Venessa. Venessa plays that shit straight. Macy, though? She’s worse than Venessa. Macy makes you think she’s sweet and shit. She ain’t sweet, she’s a goddamn liar. She hasn’t lost a minute of sleep over Briggs, and now I know why. To lose sleep, you’d need a fucking conscience.
Being done with all this bullshit, I grab my keys to roll out. I can’t even be in the same house with her right now. Opening the door, I don’t know what the fuck makes me do it, but I do.
“Don’t do this,” she begs me, “Jonas, Wait! Don’t leave, I can explain!”
