Juma

by Madhuri Pavamani

  So I did.

  All of those things.

  And it was so damn divine.

  “Holy shit,” Dutch cursed as my tongue teased his ass and he tried to move his legs together but I wouldn’t let him.

  “Shhhh.” I licked him again, this time softer, just the tip of my tongue circling him. “Relax, baby.” While my hand went back and worked his dick and he did just as I suggested and relaxed his body into whatever my tongue was doing and

  ever

  so

  slowly

  his fingers wove into my hair again and his legs spread further apart and he gently pressed me closer to him because he wanted more of my tongue in him

  he wanted it harder

  he wanted it deeper

  and I wanted to give him all of that nasty delicious sexy.

  But most of all, more than anything I had done to his dick his ass his mind, I wanted him to let go and give himself to me in his rawest most primitive form. I wanted him to break down to that being who functioned on pure instinct and desire, who gave into his need to rut, whose blind lust controlled his every action and reaction.

  I moved away from his ass, unwrapped my fingers from around his dick, and kneeled in front of him, pulling my shirt over my head so I was as bare-chested as he, nearly as scarred as he. I heard him hold his breath and watch me and I smiled.

  “Goddamn, you are stunning.” He leaned close and his heat and musk enveloped me in its seductive haze as his fingers traced the marks left on my still-healing skin. “And I can smell your pussy.”

  “Does it smell like honey and lemons and grass and light?” I asked with a smile in my voice, ticking off the litany of fragrances he once told me made up my essence as he dipped low and circled my nipple with his tongue while his fingers pushed down my panties and spread open my lips to rub my throbbing clit.

  He laughed at my question and the humor reached his eyes and I fell.

  Again.

  Hard.

  For Dutch Mathew and all of his dark sexy.

  Then he brought his fingers, dripping wet with my desire, up to his nose and inhaled, eyes closed, deep and long.

  “It smells like pussy.” He met my stare and smirked and I laughed, then grabbed his hand and sucked all of me off of him and his dick jumped at the sight and his breath got stuck somewhere in his chest and he mumbled something utterly unintelligible and I smiled wickedly.

  “It tastes like pussy, too.”

  One

  two

  three

  beats of fraught silence ticked off between us and then he pounced. He was on me all over me his mouth everywhere our tongues fighting to taste each other and there was never enough of him on me of me on him of us. His dick pressed into my pussy demanding entrance begging to be wrapped in all of my wet hot sex but I think he knew this was my show and so he never slid in deep, just teased me with his big gorgeous swollen tip.

  But this madness between us wasn’t about fucking, at least not him fucking my pussy.

  I escaped his lips, slid down to the floor and slowly leaned away from him, first resting on my hands then my elbows and finally my back, watching him the whole while, our gaze never broken and I knew he knew what I wanted him to do—based on the way he fucked and the way he claimed to fuck other women, I knew he knew exactly what I wanted him to do and I knew he’d done it plenty of other times with plenty of other women.

  I wanted him to do it with me.

  And I didn’t want to ask for it.

  I just wanted him to let go give into his most animalistic self and take it. And I wanted it rough and demanding and like he owned me I owned him we owned each other because everything between us was seamless and as one.

  He kicked off his jeans from around his ankles and hovered over me, pushed my knees apart so my pussy was bared to him, then dipped down and fucked me with his tongue. No teasing of my clit no kisses along my pussy just his tongue deep inside me while his hands held me open and I knew he was there, in that place where nothing mattered but his needs his lust his dick.

  In my mouth.

  I slid away from his mouth that was doing all kinds of things to me and moved under him, between his legs, so he was right there, his beautiful throbbing magnificent dick on my lips, and I licked him and he lost it. I didn’t have to say a word suggest a thing let him know it was okay this was how I wanted it. None of that. He just took me and it was heaven.

  He shifted his hips and pushed himself between my lips and began fucking my face. It wasn’t pretty or gentle or sexy, not at all. It was desperate and wild and messy. It was harsh and brutal and animal. But it was also magic the way Dutch trusted me enough to let go and expose such an unrestrained and uncontrolled side of himself. Everything about the moment, for as long as it lasted, mattered and when he tensed and all of him tightened as he teetered on the edge of his orgasm, my pussy swelled and I knew I was going to come, too, it was that fucking sexy.

  “Juma,” he repeated as he thrust into my mouth again and again and I swear my name on his lips had never sounded so fuckable. “God Juma, I’m going to come. Oh god, Jesus fuck.”

  Everything shattered around me and became nonsensical and incoherent as my orgasm began in my pussy and flooded my body with wave after wave of constriction and release constriction and release as his dick jerked off in my mouth, filling me with his warm slightly sweet cum and I thought I’d been fucked before but I had never been fucked like this, not by this man, not with such reckless abandon, and all of it felt like this most unbelievable mind-boggling intense togetherness of souls I wanted to cry but I also just wanted to wrap myself around him and never let go.

  “Thank you, Dutch,” I whispered after we settled and relaxed back into ourselves, capable once again of rational thought and speech. I kissed him as he pulled me close and he smiled and together we breathed easy.

  He met my banshee a long time ago

  now I knew his wildling.

  My name was Juma Landry.

  I had six lives left

  and all of them were going to be spent

  loving Dutch Mathew.

  32: DUTCH

  “I have to go, Dutch,” Juma whispered and kissed me, then slipped from my arms and stood, hands on her hips, gazing down at me with a lazy smile curving her very fuckable mouth. I blinked hard and ran my hands through my hair and tried to focus on her words instead of the memory of my dick in her mouth and my cum on her lips but fuck, everything about her messed with my goddamned head.

  She nudged me with her foot and smirked and I knew she was about to hit me with some wicked shit.

  “I see you thinking about fucking my face like that, sexy man.”

  And I was right.

  Wicked. Shit. But she was only getting started.

  “I hope you know we have to kill your sister and your father and probably your mother,” Juma said matter-of-factly as she poked around the room, probably looking for something to throw over her otherworldly curves, “if we’re going to destroy The Black Copse.”

  I glanced up and caught her eye and smirked. Our post-fuck chatter was goddamned twisted and bizarre and I loved it.

  “For real, Dutch, I’m not being funny. Your sister and her crew of killers are no joke,” Juma insisted while she looked under the couch, found her panties, stood and slipped them on. “I know you like to think light of her, but whatever Veda has been doing all these years behind everyone’s back, it’s paid off because that girl with her brand of crazy is rather frightening. Trust me, I know.”

  And with those words, that reminder, I wanted Veda dead and I wanted it to be at my hand, specifically both of my hands wrapped around her skinny neck, fingers pressing hard until her larynx collapsed and she suffocated.

  “Dutch?” Juma bent low and touched my cheek. “Stop fantasizing about the twenty ways you’re going to murder your sister and engage me in some chatter.”

  I leaned forward on the couch, blinked hard, and refocused on Juma, her
beautiful face and that sexy as fuck voice of hers.

  “I’m here,” I replied as I stood and stretched my arms high, then brought them back down around her and pulled her into me, the two of us fitting just so.

  “I know you are, sexy man. I need you to be here”—Juma smiled and tapped my skull—“and thinking on what lies ahead and how we’re going to handle that shit.”

  She was right, I knew this.

  Fucking Veda.

  “We’re going to do just what you said,” I replied, and watched her raise a brow in my direction.

  “And you’re fine with that?” Juma asked as she wrapped her arms around my waist and studied me hard, kind of like she could get inside my head and snoop around if she really wanted.

  I touched her hair and traced her cheekbone. God, she was stunning.

  “One thousand percent,” I said, and kissed her. “In fact, I hope their deaths are at my hands. But my perverse fantasies are not the issue, the issue is The Black Copse. And you’re right, they must be destroyed because right now, they’re the greatest threat to any of us. The longer they linger, the stronger they become, and my fear is they become so strong that killing Khan and Veda does nothing to them as a force. They can outlast their creators and continue on their own. We can’t let that happen—a preemptive strike is our best bet and exactly what Avery was pleading with me to do the other day.

  “But I was so focused on you and getting to Atlanta,” I continued, recalling his words and feeling like such an ass, “that I pretty much told him to fuck off about the whole Veda nonsense. He was right, though. He’s always right. She and Khan and The Black Copse need to be taken down and buried so deep underground no one ever thinks to resurrect them again. Their philosophy and agenda must be cleansed from the annals of Gate history, which means everyone needs to be killed, not just Veda and Khan.”

  Juma smiled but remained quiet.

  “What?”

  “You just lost yourself in theorizing and murder plots and it was kind of sexy,” she replied, her voice a low growl that shot straight to my dick. And she must have felt my body’s reaction to her, because she looked down and smirked. “Oh no, sexy man. We are not fucking again.” She laughed and licked me and knew every move on her part was killing me and she didn’t give a fuck, she enjoyed it. Pushing away from me, she turned on her heel to walk away and the sway of her ass and the small of her waist and . . .

  “Dutch?” She glanced back and winked. “I need some clothes that don’t expose my nipples to the world, thank you.”

  I heard her, I swear I did, but I must have heard something else as well because I followed her but I sure as fuck didn’t help her find any clothes. I meant to, because we both had shit to handle, but she was damn near naked and she was Juma and it couldn’t be avoided.

  I came up behind her and I know she thought I was going to point her in the direction of the closet, I could see it on her face when she turned around, but she quickly realized we had two very different agendas. I didn’t wait to hear any of her protests or reasons for needing to be elsewhere, I simply acted. Lifting her onto the dresser, I spread her legs and stepped into the space I created for myself. Running my hands up and down her thighs, I had her panties off and stroked her pussy with my thumb, light and barely there just like she liked as I kissed her, long and slow and goddamned deep as fuck. I wanted to explore every part of her mouth, relearn it, and reclaim it for myself.

  She tensed and tried to close her legs and resist so I pulled away because as much as I wanted her, I didn’t want her like that.

  One

  two

  beats passed between us.

  “Don’t stop,” she gasped as she spread her legs wider and licked her lips and my dick jumped. We both looked down and watched as her pussy dripped on the dresser and my dick leaked and holy fuck, why was everything about us so goddamned heated all the time. “Please,” she whispered and it sounded like pure sex, “kiss me.”

  “I thought you needed to be somewhere.” I dragged my finger along her lower lip and licked her. “I was going to find you something to wear.”

  “Fuck you, Dutch,” she hissed, eyes closed, lips parted, curved ever so slightly in a tease. So goddamned beautiful.

  I bent low and kissed her

  once

  twice

  three times

  up and down her beautiful swollen soaking pussy, and listened as she moaned and sighed my name—Dutch—as she ran her fingers through my hair, and begged—please don’t stop—even though she knew she never needed to beg, I would give her anything she wanted. I spread her wider and dipped my tongue inside her because I needed to taste her and then I sucked her clit real soft and kissed it while she lifted her hips toward my lips to feel more of me on her, as she pressed me to her and her legs shook and she was right there. Her clit was hard and every touch of my tongue sent a spasm through her body and it was fucking beautiful.

  “I’m gonna come, Dutch, oh god, don’t stop,” she cried and tensed and I licked her with the flat of my tongue and she shattered around me in a frenzy of moans and shaking as I held her open and swallowed every drop of her orgasm, then without pause slid balls deep into her pussy.

  “Oh baby,” she leaned against the wall and begged for something she couldn’t put into words and all of it was fucking amazing.

  She was hot and wet and so tight around my dick and I wanted to fuck her hard and fast but first

  I

  wanted

  to

  revel

  in

  the

  magic

  of

  her

  cunt.

  “Fuck me hard,” she begged, and I smiled because I loved the fact she was wild and dirty and unapologetic, but we had plenty of time for all of that. Right now, right here

  I

  wanted

  to

  ease

  in

  and

  out

  of

  her

  inch

  by

  inch

  so

  goddamned

  slow

  we

  both

  would

  lose

  it.

  “No, sexy.” I leaned down and kissed her. “Right now, I’m taking my time with you,” and I slid out of her until my dick barely touched her pussy before I slid back in, nice and slow and so deep I could feel myself bump against her.

  “Ah,” she jerked and sighed as I slipped out again. “You are so cruel, Mr. Mathew, so cruel.”

  “Cruel to be kind,” I replied as we both watched me slide out of her and then slip back in

  out

  in

  out

  in

  so

  fucking

  slow

  until I started feeling

  the pressure and the need build up again in my balls

  and my dick felt like it couldn’t get deep enough in her, and her tits,

  her goddamned gorgeous tits with those huge dark hard nipples, they moved to

  the rhythm of our fucking and her mouth as she sighed and told me fuck me hard, baby and I was going to come again everywhere inside her because she felt so warm and tight and perfect wrapped around my dick like that and her legs pumped against my ass as fast as I pounded into her and we moved as one and good fucking god, this woman’s body and mind and everything was too much, I wanted to own every piece of her I wanted to love her and I wanted to need her and I wanted to crave her and

  I wanted

  I wanted

  I wanted.

  “Fuuuuuuuck.” I rammed into her so deep and hard she banged against the wall and shook as her pussy shuddered up and down my dick and she worked me over with her special brand of otherworldly magic. “Fuck, Juma, fuck!”

  And it was all I could do to put together anything coherent but I don’t think she even noticed or cared as she repeated in my ear, under her brea
th, “Oh god, Dutch, oh god, Dutch.”

  We remained wrapped around each other for a while, the quiet of the Atlanta morning settling into the room as slashes of sunlight snuck under the curtains and between the slats of the window shades, dappling everything in the bright yellow of a Southern dawn as if to say to the world, yo! it’s time to get the fuck out of bed.

  I slipped from the warmth of her pussy and looked down at her, post-fuck and goddamned gorgeous. And I knew she could feel me watching her and I didn’t care one bit.

  “Clothes, Mr. Mathew,” she spoke into the silence, eyes closed, arms wrapped around my neck, laughter in her voice. “Can you now, please, give me some damn clothes?”

  “Ahhh, yes.” I kissed her and traced my finger around her breast. “You wanted something that didn’t ‘expose your nipples to the world,’ if I remember correctly.”

  She leaned into my touch as her nipple hardened and she sighed.

  “That is correct,” she half-gasped, “smart ass.”

  “God”—I bent low and sucked on her other nipple until it, too, was rock hard—“but they’re almost too fucking beautiful to cover up.”

  Juma laughed and pushed me away from her chest, then held me at bay with her legs, determined to escape my tongue and hands.

  “Dutch,” she kind of pleaded, and I backed off to go in search of whatever it was her heart desired.

  “Okay, okay.” I held up my hands as I exited the room. “But you can’t get mad that I want to be inside you twenty-four seven.”

  She came up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist, pressing her tits into my back, as I opened the hidden closet full of women’s clothes.

  “Whoa.” She sucked in a breath. “Someone is going to crazy lengths to hide a lover,” she said as she stepped around me and began admiring the collection of everything from couture to sweats.

  “A lover?” I raised a brow in her direction as I pulled on my jeans and T-shirt and watched her from the doorway. “Try a love of women’s clothing.”

  Juma’s eyes went wide with surprise as she continued admiring the items, hanger by hanger, sometimes stopping to take something off and hold it against her body, other times simply running her eyes over a piece.

  “I had no idea The Gate was so open-minded and embracing of all kinds of individuality,” she commented as she continued making her way around the closet.