The Club: Ethan

by Jenna Elliot

  She sinks to her knees in a fluid move, sliding her palms down my legs as she reaches for the tangle of pants at my feet. I brace myself with a hand on the bar, lifting first one foot then the other, so she can free me. I hang on for dear life because the sight of her on her knees in front of me is about to kill me. Her breasts play peek-a-boo with her hair as she slips off my shoes, maneuvers the pants over my feet.

  Her trim waist flares into a heart-shaped ass that’s just begging me to sink right in, and when she kneels up to find herself staring straight into my crotch, her eyes widen.

  “Oooooh, sir. May I have a taste?”

  My throat constricts around a breath, and I can’t even answer. What the hell is wrong with me tonight? Tonight is about my control over her. My pet. But my pet hasn’t submitted. She may think she has, but she wants to be satisfied and is trying to get me to oblige.

  Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. Tonight, I’m worried. I have never felt this close to losing it. I shake with my own need. My dick jumps as if it’s trying to bridge the distance to her mouth of its own free will.

  Any other pet, and I would grab her by the hair and spank her ass for such boldness.

  But not Mia.

  She wants to please me, can’t know how much she tests me. How can I not respond to those inviting lips and accommodating mouth? What’s left of my control evaporates. Her lips call to my dick. Heat fires in my blood to a persistent beat that grows louder, the tempo faster. Until this moment, I haven’t realized that I can still be driven by sexual desire.

  I’ve never been a slave to my needs. Not ruled by them, such a weakness. I don’t succumb to my sexuality, I rule it.

  My sexual appetite soothes the beast inside me. But right in this moment, Mia seems to connect with that beast, making me battle for my control. The impulse to simply let go, to let her take me into her mouth, shocks me to my core.

  For a long moment, I leave her on her knees awaiting my command as I wait for my thoughts to stop churning. They don’t. I fight myself, a battle I’m losing.

  Shit. It makes no sense to fight what I want so badly. I can go all night, so maybe it makes sense to take the edge off, to help me regain my control. Worth a shot anyway.

  Threading my fingers into her hair, I ease her head forward until her lips are an inch from my dick, and her breath teases my skin. If I wasn’t so off balance, I would issue some instruction. Instead, I growl, “Do it.”

  I expect tentative exploration, light licking, sweet nibbles. But there’s no hesitation in Mia. She sucks me in hard and deep, pulls me into the wet velvet glove of her mouth.

  I swallow back another growl and brace myself against the bar as she starts a fucking piston of motion that makes her bob in front of me like a goddamned wet dream. Her hair swirls crazily around her face. Her tits bobble. Her ass sways with the motion, and all I can do is stare at the sight she makes and hang on.

  Being in her mouth is like being sucked into a maelstrom that twists and spins and swallows me whole. She swirls her tongue around the sensitive lip, then sucks hard. Her hand ventures between my thighs, first tentative, then rolling my balls and pumping me the more she gets turned on.

  Sweet, volatile Mia. Who knew she was so into oral?

  It’s the unexpectedness of her that nearly has me out of my head. Sweet vulnerability stokes all my controlling urges one second, makes me cautious of hurting her feelings the next. But it’s her nonstop need that’s so genuine, as if she’s desperate to feel pleasure that fires up my own goddamned need to fuck in a big, big way.

  She goes from zero to sixty every time I touch her, and even though I don’t want to cum yet, I’m trying to stay afloat in a tidal wave. She suctions my dick with her hot mouth, and I’m drowning in sensation. She draws on my balls, kneading them with an eager grip, and I’m in over my head.

  I cum. And cum. And cum.

  And she keeps on sucking, sucking, sucking until I’m about to fucking drop to the floor. I hang on like a bloody drowning man as my legs vibrate. Vibrate. I think I’m going to go down right on top of her, but she just keeps working my dick, suctioning my shaft, and I’m sizeable by anyone’s yardstick. Her hands milk what her mouth can’t manage. She gobbles up every last drop and fucking beams in triumph.

  I’m fucking speechless for a full minute. Finally, I get out a few words. “You like to suck dick.” A real brainiac observation.

  Christ almighty, she blushes. Like saying it out loud is somehow more real than the way she just polished my dick.

  “Well, no,” she stammers. “I don’t know what came over me. Was I too rough?”

  What the hell do I even say to that? I grab her up against me, the only answer I have to give, until the last of the shudders fade. I bury my face in her neck, savor the feel of soft skin against my cheek, inhale the clean smell of her hair.

  “No, not too rough.” I finally manage. “Good. The perfect appetizer.”

  “Ace did say my paint is edible.” She tips her head and hides behind a lock of hair.

  Is she offering herself to me or trying to take control again? I can’t decide. She has no idea what she’s fucking doing to me. No idea, either, that I’m just getting warmed up. She may have just sucked me dry, but I’ll be ready to go again in no time.

  Smoothing the lock from her face, I stare into her eyes. “You’ve had your fun. Now it’s my turn.”

  I take control along with her hand and lead her to the edge of the pool. “Sit and dip your feet into the water.”

  After she eases down, I position her hands so she’s leaning back and resting her weight on her palms. “Now scoot your butt toward the pool and spread your thighs.”

  With one liquid motion, she does as I command.

  “Wider. Good, girl. Don’t move.”

  I jump into the pool. The water’s deep and warm, and provides the perfect distraction to my roiling thoughts. I walk over and look at her. She smiles shyly, and I know she expects me to touch her. A ripple trembles through her in anticipation. I let her wait.

  She’s mine, spread out so nicely for me to explore at will. Her thighs are firm, muscled and taut. My paint job accentuates her pink pussy that gleams in the glowing light.

  “I’m looking at a goddess,” I say conversationally. “There’s a radiance to your skin from the play of candlelight. A pearlescence. So precious.”

  Confusion darkens her eyes. “I don’t know what to say to that. You’re an artist. You see differently.”

  “You’re right there. I have the credentials to say . . .” I grin. “You aren’t just hot. You’re fucking beautiful.”

  Her gaze locks on mine and an arc of electric tension simmers between us. She likes when I compliment her. I can see it in the way she arches back, displaying herself, enticing me.

  The urge to touch her kicks up a notch. And, as her eyes flash a challenge at me, she licks the corner of her lips. The sight of her pink tongue makes me impatient.

  But I won’t give in. Not this time.

  “Stop trying to rush me. I do what I please. Whatever I please. And right now, it pleases me for you to wait.”

  She sighs, bites her lip, rolls her eyes.

  “Rolling your eyes isn’t respectful. You remember what I said about respect in the club?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. If you disrespect me, there’s a consequence.”

  Her brow furrows, but she doesn’t say anything. I pick up my drink from the edge of the pool and wait. I fight fire with fire because we’re talking control at its most basic here. She can discipline herself. Or she can sit there and wait.

  “I enjoy looking at your pussy, Mia. It’s pretty and pink. And I like knowing you think I’m worth waiting for. You do think that, don’t you?”

  She only nods. No rolling her eyes. Smart girl.

  “You gave me pleasure with your mouth. Think of this as a different way for you to give me pleasure.”

  She tosses her hair. Pouts her lip. I
let her wait some more. “Imagine what I’m going to do to you.”

  “That’s all I can think about.”

  Is she thinking about punishments, too? I have to find that fine line between making her comfortable and keeping her off balance. She must trust me.

  “From this angle, I can see the crease in your ass. All the way to your pucker hole. I’m going to lick off the paint there.”

  She sucks in a breath, keeps her mouth shut. I can see her pussy dampen and glisten. Excellent.

  “You’ll like my tongue sliding all the way back there.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replies in a voice raspy and wary. She’s not convinced.

  Setting the drink aside, I swim to her. “Ah, Mia. You have so many delectable places for me to feast.” I graze my finger along the inside of her thigh. Her muscles tremble at my light touch. “Should I start here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Or here?” I trail my finger over her bare mons.

  “That’ll work, too.”

  I bite back a smile. “What about here?” I feather her lips with a fingertip, parting the folds to make her tremble again.

  “Just start somewhere,” she whispers, her tone breathy and impatient.

  “How about here?” Pressing my finger back, I ease through her moisture until I reach her ass.

  She comes up off the side of the pool.

  “Hold still.”

  I touch her there again. She visibly braces herself, flinches but doesn’t jump. “Better, but not good enough.”

  “Ah. Trying. Sir.” She grinds out the words.

  “What’s your color?” I demand.

  Her eyebrows narrow. She considers whether or not she likes what I’m doing. I like her thinking about me. A lot.

  “Green. I’m still green.”

  It’s time. I reach for a jar of oil, make a show of unscrewing the lid and sinking my fingers inside the slick oil. I can feel her mounting tension as I set the jar aside and slide my hand between her legs again.

  She jumps.

  “Shhhh . . .” I coo, thumbing her clit a few times to stoke her flames.

  Then, when I see her visibly start to relax, sinking into the sensation, I slide the tip of one finger straight into her pussy. At the same time, I insert the tip of another finger into her asshole.

  She bucks this time, but the sensation has her, too. I can see it in the way her nipples harden, feel it in the way her pussy spasms around my finger, so eager.

  “Hold still, baby doll. Tell me your color again.”

  “Yellow?”

  Of course she’s still wary. I don’t advance. I don’t retreat. I keep my hands right where they are, giving her time to adjust, to decide what she likes, to remember how much she wants me.

  Then I go in for the kill.

  Sealing my mouth over her clit, I tease her sweet spot with my tongue. And she wants me all right. She wants me bad.

  14

  Mia

  “WHAT’S YOUR COLOR?” Ethan asks again, his voice low and deep and sinfully sexy. His asking reassures me.

  “Green,” I say with no hesitation. Nothing has ever felt this way. Sensation swells up from so deep inside me, from dark, dangerous places. He shoots me into a turbulent landscape with his bold touches. My body is electric, my blood zings. And he’s reducing me to a lightning storm of conflicting impulses.

  I’m so on overload. All the waiting, and now his invasion into my most private places combined with his tongue right there on my clit and his fingers in my pussy and ass. I give myself up to him. To his demands. To the passion that will come.

  I’ll do whatever he wants, so long as he doesn’t stop. But I’m ready to jump out of my skin. I want to squirm. I want to thrust my hips. I want more. And I want more now.

  “Don’t move,” he warns me.

  I scream. I can’t help it, my need barely restrained.

  I’m thrumming a hundred miles an hour, and he just steps on the accelerator then puts on the brakes, over and over and over. It’s making no sense. Not even to me.

  I can’t think with his tongue licking and sucking and his fingers moving in and out of places that make my breath kink. I dig my fingernails into my palms. And my chest, glistening with sweat, rises and falls to the tune of his fingers. He’s an expert at ratcheting up the tension. A master at playing my body. I’m arching, consumed by the licks of fire consuming me. My nipples are so hard they hurt.

  My body gathers, tensing for release. I pant now, every muscle ready to shatter.

  How can I possibly control this?

  “Please.” From somewhere in the turmoil of sensation, I remember I need his permission, and I try not to beg, try to keep my desperation from him. “Please, sir?”

  I know he hears me. He doesn’t answer. But his tongue is licking, and the waiting is killing me. He’s killing me. Wearing me down. Upping the stakes.

  He knows exactly the pressure and speed and angles I like—better than I know myself. My head falls back. My back arches and despite my best efforts to remain quiet, I’m groaning. I have to keep lifting my hips to ease the pressure or else I’m gone. Is that his game—sabotage?

  “Oh, oh. Please.” Am I begging? I can’t be begging.

  More silence. I’m so frustrated, so ready to burst. I’m trying to hold back an explosion, and the longer I wait, the more he piles on the dynamite.

  “Please, Ethan. I can’t . . .”

  “You can.” He pulls away his mouth only to issue the impossible order, then goes right back to eating me up.

  I thrash my head from side to side, eyes squeezed tightly shut. The pleasure so intense it borders on pain. No, not the pleasure, the waiting.

  I bite my lips. Squeeze my fingers into fists. But these are only temporary distractions. Instead of helping me hold on, he lights the fuse, thrusts his fingers deeper into my ass, my cunny. He sucks harder. My breasts swell, so heavy, every inch of me is swept away on this wave.

  I can’t wait anymore. I have no more control.

  No. No. No. I can’t remember what the consequences were. I only know I don’t want to live with them. But I’m frantic, gasping, clinging to my last shred of willpower.

  But my body isn’t listening. I’m lost to the sensations, pouring, sluicing, gushing through me. “Oh . . . no . . .”

  “Cum,” he orders.

  A groan erupts from someplace deep, starts the detonation arcing through my body. I explode into his mouth, that scream torn from my lips with the intensity that goes on and on, bursts of fuchsia and crimson lights flashing behind my eyelids.

  I don’t faint. This time, I succumb to every insane ripple. I’m knocked flat with the pounding waves of erupting pleasure, stunned by the welling of emotion that wrings me from the inside out. And still, he doesn’t stop.

  As I ease back to reality, I realize he’s still touching me—ever so gently. He’s nibbling the paint between my thighs. I’m so sensitive now, but his touch is featherlight. I can only lie here and try to process what has happened. My world has shifted. But there’s relief, too. I no longer have to struggle to give him what he wants. Which is simply to take whatever he gives, accept whenever he wants, comply with his every demand.

  And enjoy. This man understands pleasure. He knows how to make me think the way he wants. He wants everything I am.

  That thought helps me regroup. My breath eases. The tingling tension subsides to a manageable hum. The howling maniac who begged for release finally calms, and I almost recognize myself again.

  I need to normalize this experience. Go over it in my head, make sense of what’s happening with this man. But Ethan doesn’t want afterplay. He doesn’t want talk. He isn’t through yet, I realize. He’s trying to kick-start the pleasure all over again.

  He doesn’t seem to have had enough. Of me.

  “You have another one in there,” he says.

  “That’s not possible.” My body has been waiting a lifetime for that orgasm. There’s no way there’s an
ything left right now.

  He ignores me, convinced he knows better than I do. He just keeps stoking me, coaxing me, and to my shock, I feel life signs again.

  OMG! Ethan is a master at provoking arousal. I’m a game he likes to play, a game he intends to win.

  Except I don’t know what winning means to him. I can’t think clearly. His touch makes rationality dissolve until I only want to feel. His clever hands. His fierce tongue. My body gives in, begs him on. But my thoughts still race.

  This isn’t normal. Not the pleasure. Not the frustration. Can I live with his demands? Do I really want this?

  I need to think. If he will just kiss me and hug me and do normal things, I can figure this out.

  But Ethan isn’t into normal.

  He’s into my pussy. And my ass.

  The tension inside gathers, coalescences. It’s as if one storm has rolled through me, but the next is already moving in.

  Can I possibly deny him?

  I can’t seem to focus on anything but the nip and touch of his lips that make me feel precious, alive, and wanted. I’ve never felt so aroused, so sexy. So exotic.

  It’s not just the decadence of the evening, the indulgence of forbidden pleasures. It’s the way he reveres my flesh. The way he reads me as if he knows my every wish. The way he brings me to life. The way he makes me hold back.

  The way he controls me.

  My arms ache. I need to move. But all I can think about is the way he feels. The way his mouth, his fingers play in my wetness. Oh . . . God. He’s right about me. The first explosion burned bright, but this time, this is more. So much more.

  I can’t breathe. All the breath in my body seems to have expelled. I’m made up of blood that surges between my legs until I’m pulsing, churning.

  I want . . . I need . . . I crave.

  I’m consumed by his hands and mouth. I should hold back.