by Cee Smith
“The painting.” I gave Joel my poker-face as I took my best guess.
“Nope.” He gave a subtle shake of his head, the smug smile spreading wider—stretched so thin that it looked like the creases of his mouth would touch his ears if he kept that up.
“You’re lying.”
“I swear,” he said, holding up his hand like he was a good little Boy Scout. I wasn’t falling for it. That smile wasn’t made from being nice and honest; that smile didn’t come from good little boys. “It’s the movie case on the far right. In there.” He nodded his head to the media console with the glass panes showing a few cases of movies lined up.
“So, you’re not a liar. You’re a cheater. There’s no way you can see that small writing from where you’re sitting. Not with the lights out, you can’t.”
“I have 20/20 vision, the better to see you with, my dear. Now, what’ll it be? You finally taking something off? Or you taking the loser’s route again?”
The sight of me taking my top off shut him up like the sound of a gong ringing out into the silence. I thought he had choked on his tongue for how quiet he got. It was the first time since I’d met him that he had nothing to say—no off-handed remarks or witty one-liners—nothing. The silence was beautiful, and for the first time in a long time, I found a smug smile on my own face.
The game continued on, and at the first opportunity Joel got down to his jeans, while I was down to my bra and no underwear—for which I had to strategically cross my legs for coverage—and a fifth of the bottle taking up residence in my stomach.
I lost again and before I could pick up the bottle, Joel’s hands reached out to grab me, stilling the fingers still twined around the neck of the whiskey.
“I say we raise the stakes. I don’t want you getting piss-drunk, and chances are you’re too modest to completely strip down. Plus, that kind of means I won, right? How about we change the loser’s choice?”
“Wha-what new stakes?” I was sure I slurred a little, but I didn’t have time to sound out the way “stakes” sounded before Joel answered me.
“How about every time one of us wins, they can forfeit stripping and drinking for a kiss from the other player.”
“You’re saying this like…like there’re other people…other people playing. You’re just trying to kiss me. I see you.” My finger swayed, drawing what looked to be lazy figure eights in the air as I pointed to him now sitting only a couple feet from me.
“You’re close. When did you get so close?”
“You didn’t answer me.”
“About the kiss? You just want to taste me.”
“There are a million places on your body that I’d love to lay my lips on. Your mouth is only one of them. Are you scared?”
“Of you? Absolutely.”
I forgot what we were sparring about when he removed my hand from the glass, shifting me closer with a gentle pull of my wrist. With my hand still in his and him drawing closer with every huff of breath escaping my lips, I could feel the raw energy coursing through me with the nearness of him. The anticipation made me feel imprisoned in my own skin, completely beholden to wherever he wanted to lay those lush lips full of promises to tear through my resolve like a flesh-eating bacteria. I pulled my legs in tighter to my body, angling my body toward his. With the shift in position I could smell him better. He still had that masculine scent that seemed to be ingrained in every pore, but he also smelled like my soap, which offered me a type of comfort that I didn’t know I wanted from him. Its familiar and clean scent mixed with the addition of his natural smell made me want to spend the rest of the night cuddled up in bed playing little spoon to his big spoon.
The fingers wrapped around my wrists released, and my hands dropped to the couch like sunken anchors. I fought my knees from unwrapping to give him a full-on view of a panty-less Blaire. His hands moved to my shins, burning a path to my knees where my nerves fizzled like a carbonated soda. His body hovered over my legs, his breath sending blankets of heat billowing across my skin and up my legs to the place that beckoned him to come closer, breathe deeper, blow harder until my core wept for relief. Soft lips brushed the outside of my knee, igniting a fire beneath my skin that continued burning as he kissed his way between my knees. Temptation loomed through my slurred thoughts, and when I was sure that my body would surrender, Joel pulled away. A peek of his tongue escaped his mouth, licking along the lips that held the taste of my skin on the surface.
Did he just wink at me?
He pulled back, sinking back into the couch with a renewed smile. Something about the look made me want to smile, too.
The game continued and when he lost his next turn, I couldn’t decide whether it was intentional or if he genuinely lost, especially with the last piece of clothing being his jeans. Before the button of his pants even popped open I knew what to expect when his pants fell to the floor—he made it known his penchant for going commando. I watched with apprehensive yet curious eyes as he stood. Unblinking eyes watched me like I was a patron at a peep show, except I didn’t know which of us he was undressing with that look. Maybe it said more about me that I wanted to see him stripped bare, than it said about him that he felt comfortable completely naked. Not that he had flaws like us mere mortals. I couldn’t imagine him taking off his pants and becoming less than god-like. I imagined the opposite to happen as I watched his fingers unfasten the button and the raspy snick of his zipper being undone. His hands shifted on either side of his hips, pulling the fabric that fought his thighs on the way down to the floor.
His cock sprang free, and I can’t remember which happened first—the gasp that escaped my lungs or the hand that covered the gaping hole of my mouth, wide enough for him to fill with his impressive length, large enough to put someone’s eye out. At first glance, I looked away, intimidated by his size and also a bit in awe that I’d already mounted the steel-like rod that jutted out toward me. With reservation, my eyes found his, watching him watch my reaction. Joel still stood with his briefs lying at his feet. Proud of my determination, my eyes didn’t so much as steal a look at the one thing that eluded me since waking up to find a stranger in my house.
“You’re, you have…is that a piercing?”
“Would you like a closer look?”
I shot him a look that I hoped conveyed “not interested,” but after more shots than a fistful of fingers, I wasn’t so sure that was the message he received.
He shifted his body and the metal became more obvious in the darkness. I could see the shadow of a stud on the underside of his crown, not to be outdone by the stud pushing through the tip of his shaft like a crown. I didn’t know whether to cringe from the pain I knew that must have inflicted, or to wonder what it felt like to have that sliding against my walls. When did I become so horny? It seemed I couldn’t sit in the same room as him without my skin crawling with need for him to touch me. I just wanted relief. My skin was clammy and muscles knotted while everything inside me wound tight with desire.
Joel sat back on the couch with arms spread wide and legs open enough for me to gaze, undeterred, at him. It appeared he had no sense of modesty, and after the drinks I’d had, my decorum seemed to be swimming in the drunken pool right along with me. I won my next two turns—an occurrence that seemed like less than happenstance. There were only two options available to him—taking a shot or a kiss. His eyes lingered on me, and I nodded my head toward the bottle only to receive a smile.
“I’ll take a kiss.”
I shook my head trying to dislodge the rules that went along with his proposal, but I couldn’t quite remember, though it didn’t seem like it should have worked that way.
“That’s not the way it works. I don’t think? You shouldn’t be able to decide if I want to kiss you.”
“It didn’t hurt to try though, did it?”
“Take your drink.”
A couple losses later, Joel officially banned me from taking any more shots.
“You have to lose the bra
sometime. Let’s have it.”
With Joel being so uninhibited, I felt a current of defiance run through me like a live-wire coursing from his end of the couch over to where I sat. How long would he be able to resist me while I sit merely two feet away with nothing between us but uncoordinated hands and legs and twisted limbs?
“I think this means I won,” I said as my fingers met in the middle of my back to unsnap my bra. The lace of my bra scratched against my bare arms, reminding me of every naked inch available to not only Joel’s eyes but his touch, his tongue. My eyes followed the fabric’s descent to the ground, unaware of Joel’s movements leading him so close that my arm brushed his when I moved to refold my hands over my breasts.
Chapter Six
“Is that what you think? Cause from where I’m sitting, I’d say I’ve won this round.” The look in his eyes speared me to the back of the couch, where I was at his mercy. I watched him beyond half-mast eyes, the way his muscles belied the tension simmering beneath the cool facade he’d mastered. The hitch in his shoulders told of his intentions long before the first touch of his hands on my ankles. Those green eyes watched me in turn, looking or expecting a reaction, I wasn’t sure, but whatever he saw there encouraged him to continue. His hands moved over me like silk sheets between freshly shaved legs. I could feel every imperfection of his palm, the callouses that confirmed his passion for fitness, the smooth skin interrupted by a raised line that was most likely a scar. My mind obsessed over every detail, pocketing away every feeling like a dog burying a bone for a rainy day. He tugged on my ankles, unfastening my knees and leaving me completely open to his perusal. My legs were thrown across his lap, the coarse hair of his legs tickling me as he slid me across his thighs until my butt was flush with his hip. His hands skipped up to my thigh, giving a reassuring squeeze before trailing up the side of my waist.
“Do you want to hear a secret?”
He leaned in close, his eyes glittering mischievously while his hands burned hot like an incinerator. His mouth was so close, I could absorb his words on my tongue, but far enough away that I couldn’t taste them.
“Uh huh,” I mumbled. My mind was trying to focus on the words coming from his mouth and not the need that he’d pulled to the surface of my skin like a rush of blood trying to find the nearest exit.
“My dick’s been hard for the last two days, aching to be sheathed by this tight, hot pussy that feels like heaven when I’m inside it. I think I literally saw a white light when I came with you wrapped around me.”
“I’m sure that had more to do with the alcohol you consumed.”
“Did you think I was drunk? Baby, it takes a hell of a lot more than one drink to put me under, and even blitzed out of my mind, I would remember this.”
His fingers brushed the outside of my opening—close enough to feel the heat from his hands, but not enough to sate the trembling of my core.
Taking himself in one hand, he stroked the length of his erection with every word, “Tell me you don’t want to take this for a ride and I’ll close up shop and keep him locked up for however long we’re stuck together, but tell me now, otherwise I’m taking you to the room and fucking you so hard you’ll think you’re a contortionist.” He took long, hard pulls of his shaft, his dick jumping and pulsing with every stroke. I watched in utter fascination of the barbell that hypnotized me every time his fist closed over the tip.
His other hand held firm against my neck, keeping me in place as his lips closed around mine. He licked the seam of my mouth, begging me to part my lips to receive his tongue that licked so soft and gentle, yet anything but tentative. It felt like his tongue knew the map of my mouth, taking the perfect route to have me parting against his lips in no time. I forgot all about the question he asked and let his mouth lead my body. He thrust his hips into his enclosed fist, and I found my hands seeking him out, tracing the contours of his body—every muscled mountain and low valley, from one muscle to the next.
Our tongues tangled, and I became emboldened either from the alcohol or contact high. I gripped his thigh, pulling him closer and trailed lower with my other hand. In some ways it was like the first time all over again, except my body seemed to remember his even though my mind was just as insecure and unsure as if I’d just met him. Where I was insecure, Joel was assured in every touch, every caress of those soft lips brushing mine. The hand that he’d used to stroke himself folded around my hand, returning us to his turgid member.
He took over, guiding me to stroke his erection in tandem.
“You’re making a mess of the couch, you know. This juicy pussy is begging to be filled. Feel how hard I am for you. I would hate to disappoint this cunt of yours.” His thumb parted my lips, and he hooked the tip of his finger inside me like I was cattle to be lassoed.
“All you have to do is give me one word, Blaire. One word, and I’m all yours. What’s it going to be, Blaire?”
There was an edgy need coating his words. His finger continued strumming me like he was playing solo at the symphony and then he hit that one spot that made me feel like I could sing soprano with the amount of euphoria that overwhelmed me. I could barely breathe for fear that any more movement would set me off. Joel did that to me—made me feel alive, on edge, and filled with a need I never knew existed. It was like he was claiming my body as his, and I had no more say in how I responded than I had control over the weather.
The answer was the easiest decision I’d made in a long time. I set aside all thoughts of what this was supposed to be and how little we knew of each other and found myself as lost in desire as that first night I saw him at the bar with his fist wrapped around the glass as if he could crush it to dust with a twitch of his wrist.
“Yes.”
“Yes?” He phrased it like a question, but there was no hesitancy in the way his fingers pulsed between my quivering thighs—opening of their own volition to the onslaught that awaited.
“You have no idea how many ways I’ll break this little body, but I promise to put you back together again.” His words were spoken against the crook of my neck between labored breaths that clung to the last of his restraint.
The heat from his body fell over mine like a mist of embers, blanketing me with a thin layer of perspiration that roared to a fire with every pluck of his fingers between my legs. I sunk my heels into the couch and lifted my hips to rock in time with his flicking wrist. I’d never seen something so erotic as watching his hand peeling pleasure from my body with a simple twist of his fingers and quirk of his hand.
“Mmmm.”
I writhed against him, not caring what I looked like, only focusing on the look of immense desire surging in his eyes like a storm of rising tide ready to obliterate everything he dared look upon. With those eyes focused on me, I knew he meant every word he said about breaking me apart. I felt it as he gripped my clit between his fingers, rubbing until the breath seized in my throat.
“I’ll give you the first one free. The rest you’ll have to work for,” he said with a wink. Not a second passed that I had an opportunity to think about what he meant before he widened my legs with the turn of his fist and spread me open and sunk two fingers in as far as they would go. Like the parting of the red sea, I felt something turning inside me. A torturous ripple that seemed to pull at me with a force I couldn’t reach, couldn’t place or touch with my own fingers. It danced between a hollow ache and a heightened awakening that left my mind numb.
“When I pull my hand away, I want to be able to taste how ripe this pussy is for me. Come all over my fingers, Blaire.”
His fingers climbed higher like they were scaling the wall to reach the highest point that would have my body tumbling in a free fall. I scrambled for purchase against the couch, the lush cushions feeling like quicksand at my back as I sank further into his hold. Those lips that whispered filthy words and tasted of hedonistic decadence moved from my neck, sending shockwaves across my jaw and stunning my lips into submission. Swirling through my mouth with t
he same cadence as his shifting fingers, Joel’s tongue was a flurry of momentum that I couldn’t get enough of. He licked my lips and batted my tongue, and just when I thought my body couldn’t take any more, it tightened further under the weight of my impending orgasm.
“Joel.” I barked out his name in fear as if I were teetering on the edge of some great precipice with a hand looking for reassurance. His mouth smiled against mine, a toothy cat-that-ate-the-canary grin that was starting to become his signature look.
He lodged his fingers firmly inside me, withdrew an inch, then slammed back into me. I should have felt the changing tide in the way every muscle in Joel’s body stiffened with the most meticulous attention. The sensation was just what I needed to send me soaring.
“I’m coming!” I screamed, alarmed at my own orgasm that burst from me. My whole body shook as if a current of electricity sparked inside my veins, and I continued convulsing to the tempo of Joel’s seeking hands. He slowed down his pace to sporadic touches against my clit that felt like he was branding me with a cattle prod for how sensitive I was.
If the couch was messy before, it was a Slip’n Slide by the time I lifted my hips from the pool of moisture gathering between my cheeks and dribbling down my ass.
“My messy girl.” Joel looked down at the darkened spot I made, smiling before turning to me with a look of ardor—like a Boy Scout receiving his “Make a Girl Come” badge. A wave of elation washed over me, and I felt the first hiccup of laughter bubble in my chest, looking to break free. When more surfaced, I gave in to the overwhelming need to giggle. Joel let out a light chuckle, too, seemingly swept away in the moment. I wasn’t even sure what I was laughing at, and I had absolutely no idea what he was laughing at, but I just went along with it. Maybe it was the culmination of months of being practically celibate only to break my spell to a man as devastatingly hot as Joel, or maybe there was something about getting finger-banged on the couch, with the lights off and a couple drinks between us that made me feel like a teenager whose parents were out of town. I was never that girl, but Joel did have a way of bringing out the reckless side of me—one I didn’t know too well, but didn’t mind having a little sit down with.
