by Kade, Teagan
The gag itself is the size of a golf ball. I place it in my mouth and attach it at the back of my head.
For once, the mighty Dex Franklin doesn’t know what to do, simply standing there and taking it in with his almighty erection.
I maintain eye contact and lie back. I lift my legs to draw away my panties, giving him a nice, long hard look at the bare pad of my pussy.
I leave the heels but reach under myself to undo my bra, tossing it to the side of the bed and getting up onto my knees, my back straight and ass out.
It’s hard not to smile around the gag. I bet he’s never thought about me this way. He’s probably thinking of the usual Lexi, the run-around-town, utilitarian secretary whose got a big ol’ country crush on him.
Buckle up, cowboy. Your mind’s about to be blown.
I am wet, but it’s more than the sexual anticipation. It’s the sudden shift in power that’s doing it.
I can almost hear his thoughts as he approaches the bed.
Have I ever checked out her ass? Surely.
How could I miss this, all this time?
This perfection has been right under my nose while I’ve been busy stuffing my dick into whatever moves.
I moan when his hands fall on my ass, gripping and squeezing to test this is, in fact, reality.
He slaps my thigh, the shock of it enough to send me jumping forward, but I soon conform back to composure.
To be honest, I expected he’d slide right in and call it a day, but he’s taking his time.
I remain in position as he climbs onto the bed. Soon I feel the coarse hair of his beard against my shoulder, the hot whisper of his lips against the delicate cornucopia of my ear. “You should know, I like to fuck hard, rough, and dirty. Is that going to be a problem?”
I slowly swivel my head from side to side.
He spanks me on the right ass cheek, harder. The resounding thwack is music to my ears, the pain more friend than foe.
“One last chance to leave. Nod if you want to.”
I remain composed.
“Good.”
He moves away, taking hold of my ankles and flipping me over onto my back. My hands splay out on the duvet, my legs spread wide and the plump lips of my sex on full display.
The lighting is low in the room—my natural habitat. There’s a reason I stick to the shadows. There’s comfort in them, but I can still make out Dex’s head as it moves between my legs, his hands hot against my thighs.
His tip of his tongue comes out, flicking once at my clit before drawing back. Instantly, my thighs tense.
I was not expecting this, Dex to consider my pleasure before his own.
A second passes and his lips press fully against my clit, drawing the sensitive petal of it inwards before releasing it, his tongue moving to work its way into the slick heat of my sex.
I moan in garbled syllables around the gag, my fingers pressing into the sheets as he works below. He’s clearly enjoying himself feasting on my sex. He uses the full range of textures his tongue and lips have to offer, sucking and pulling, lathing and licking until I’m a hot mess of mixed emotion.
I try to close my legs but he’s too strong, a finger slipping easily into the wet channel of my sex. He bends it upwards, lets the tip linger on the sensitive roof of my pussy while his tongue works at my clit above.
I grunt in frustration, my nostrils flaring. If he keeps this up I’m going to come, but he knows exactly when to back off to keep me teetering on the edge, applying himself and then withdrawing, slowly scaling me up until I’m certain I cannot take a second more.
His head moves away. I lift my head see him lick his lips, the hunger in his acquiescent eyes. He lifts me upwards into a kneeling position and undoes the ball gag, letting it drop away into my lap.
I’m keen to show off skills of my own.
My eyes zero in on his package bent stiff and high from his body. I lean forward and work my tongue along the underside of his cock, flicking at his glans and looking upwards to be sure he’s paying attention.
He groans low and deep when my lips close around him. I concentrate on the head at first, my tongue in constant, playful motion. He reaches down and gathers my hair in his hands, using it to lever himself deeper into my mouth. I take his length willingly, surprised at how much this simple act is getting me off.
I relax and let him run into my throat, a party trick I learnt with a banana and an old copy of Cosmo when I was seventeen. Given the approving rumble from above, I’d say it’s still on point.
I swallow him right down to the balls, my blood-red lips ringed around the root of his cock. His grip tightens in my hair and he begins to swing his hips against me. I moan, my throat muscles contracting against his shaft and not a single gag or convulsion, smooth and practiced all the way, my throat velvet.
The intensity of this whole situation has me spinning. I’ve thought and dreamt about this moment for so long it’s almost unbelievable it’s here.
I whimper around his cock, my puppy dog eyes lifting upwards, pleading for more. I’m starting to think perhaps Dex is more versed in the subtle nuances of submission than I gave him credit for.
I grip his thigh with one hand and run the other between his legs, past his balls and perineum, and between his ass cheeks, letting the pad of my finger settle on his taint.
He flinches slightly but doesn’t protest, even when I start to apply pressure, the tip sinking slowly past the tight ring of muscle.
Immediately he tightens, his breathing erratic and hips jolting forward to fill my face. His balls lift and I’m certain he’s going to come. I’m ready, but he backs off and draws away.
I study his eyes and realize what he wants, lying back and spreading my legs in submission.
I hold up a condom. “Looking for this?”
He seems mystified. “Where did you get it from?”
I wag a finger at him, tearing the packet with my teeth. “Uh, uh, uh, now. That’s a secret.”
I rock forward with the condom in my mouth and sheath him quickly, my lips smacking when they draw away from the pretty tip of his cock.
I lie back and take hold of my breasts, at the taut, flushed towers of sensation my nipples have become.
He climbs over me, covering my mouth with his own.
I’ve been craving the taste of his lips for so long it’s almost as if I’m coming home, finally able to indulge in this crazy obsession.
“God, I want you,” he pants, looking down at me.
I push back against his mouth, my tongue soft and lush, his rough and possessive. He cradles my head, kissing me deeper, pausing to run over my lower lip.
In one slick movement he drives into the silky wetness of my cleft, the two of us moaning in unison.
I’m so wet, so ready that by the second and third thrust I’ve practically taken his entire length, the deep fulfilment it provides threatening to unravel me too soon.
I wrap my legs around his waist, my heels clicking together under the rhythm of his battering ram of his body.
He breaks away to the crook of my neck, his beating breath a warm stranger against my shoulder, a testament to his desperation. His pelvis grinds against my clit. There’s a deep, traitorous blush in my cheeks, a heat that’s running from my core to the furthest extremities of my body.
Our breathing is hard and labored, together with my tapping heels and the wet connection of our bodies, the sole sounds in the room.
He thrusts harder and faster, lifting me off the bed to go deeper.
I reach up and tug at his hair, urging him on with the filthiest words I can find.
Faster and faster he goes until I can’t hold back the oncoming tempest any longer.
In one final, painfully exquisite moment I come, a tortured sound escaping my mouth that’s far from human.
He drives forward and stops completely, tensing tight before he too joins the chorus and unloads inside me.
Satisfied, he collapses to my side struggling
to breathe.
“Well,” he says finally, “that was some first date.”
*
It’s pre-dawn when I wake tangled up in Dex’s sheets.
He’s asleep beside me, one hand over the side of my hip, the corrugated grid of his abs rising and falling in slumber.
There’s still a welcome, warm throbbing between my legs that’s all kinds of right. I can’t remember a sexual encounter that intense, well, ever. The way he gripped me, made sure my pleasure was attended to equally… It’s not what I expected, and neither was being asked to stay the night. I’ve watched him long enough to know that isn’t his usual modus operandi. Usually ‘guests’ are out his door a minute after the deed is done.
So why are you so special?
It’s a good question and one I wouldn’t mind exploring, but for now I have a job to do.
I’m well aware of the betrayal I’m performing here. The guilt settles in my stomach and, for now, I have to let it.
I carefully lift his hand away and slip out of bed, crouching beside it and double-checking he’s asleep.
Confident, I creep quietly from the room and close the door behind myself. It’s chilly in the hallway and I’m naked, gooseflesh fanning out over my skin.
There’s no office per se, but I do find what I’m looking for on the counter beside the kitchen. The coming light is just enough to read what I pick up—mail, papers, bills. I shuffle through them quickly not knowing how much time I have before he wakes, especially if he comes to and I’m missing from the bed.
Bingo.
I put the other papers aside and hold up the letter I’ve been looking for, the one from Dex’s mother. I switch on my cellphone light to double-check, skimming the first few lines before placing it down and starting to snap photos of it, making sure I get every page.
There’s a sound from the hallway, a door creaking open.
Damn it.
I quickly shuffle the papers together, adding the letter to the bottom.
“Lexi?”
He’s in the hallway.
I quickly step into the kitchen, spotting my cell near the pile of letters and papers. I barely manage to grab it before Dex emerges from the hallway scratching his head.
I stand as if I’m reaching up to the cupboards with my cell-slash-flashlight in hand. “I was just, ah, getting a glass of water. I’ll get going soon.”
It’s a little rushed and panicked, but it holds.
He smiles, buying it and coming forward, his heavy cock swinging from side to side. “What’s the rush?”
He takes the cell from my hand and places it onto the counter, reaching behind me to grip my ass and lift me up onto the space beside the sink.
I wrap my hands around his neck and lean in to kiss him, any thoughts of my deception gone as his cock slowly slides inside me.
CHAPTER TWELVE
DEX
I take a moment to admire Lexi’s prone form beside me. The kitchen, back to the bedroom… Soon we’ll fuck our way around the entire house.
I’ve sexed her back to sleep. She’s holding her pillow sideways, gripping it for dear life, lips parted ever so slightly and their soft demeanor in such contrast to the dirty things they were doing last night.
Last night—sex with Lexi far exceeded my expectations, and they were pretty damn high when she showed up with a ball gag and see-through panties. Dean always used to say it’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for, but there’s an attraction to Lexi that runs a lot deeper than simple fucking. If last night was a taste of what’s to come, sign me up for the whole damn thing.
It’s strange to be thinking beyond one night, but even now, watching the way a strand of hair is blown out and in by her breathing, I desperately want more. I want to know what she likes for breakfast, where she grew up, if she prefers Butterfingers or Snickers. I want to know every intimate detail of her life and her body, to map it out and make it mine.
I don’t want to wake her, so I get up and start making breakfast. Waffles, strawberries and cream. You can’t go wrong with a classic like that. I figure it will appeal to her country sensibilities, though the Lexi last night was far more city-slicker than hillbilly.
I slice the strawberries first and whip up the cream by hand because cream in a can simply isn’t going to do. I put on a pot of coffee while I work the stovetop, briefly catching a glimpse of my reflection in the window. I’m smiling.
Damn, brother, I warn myself, you’re as whipped as the cream in front of you.
That may be true, but so fucking what? I finally make a connection and I’m supposed to abandon her like every other girl who’s walked through that door? Not this time.
I flinch as two hands snake around my torso. “What do we have here?” comes Lexi’s soft voice. Her naked body presses at me from behind, her nipples pinned up against my back.
I do my best to tone down the smile. “I thought I’d play out the cliché.”
Her hands come together and drop towards my crotch. “You didn’t leave a note by my pillow.”
I flip the waffle over conscious of the way my cock’s coming to attention.
She reaches down and takes hold of it, pulling and stroking it. “Mmm, looks like someone’s happy to see me. I thought you’d be spent after last night… and this morning.”
I scoop up a fingerful of whipped cream, spinning around to face her and placing a dot of it on her nose. The pink tip of her tongue flicks up to swipe it away, continuing to run across her lower lip, her eyes feline and glassy. “Got any more?”
I take the bowl and paint the side of her neck, using my tongue to lick it away.
She continues stroking my cock, one hand reaching down to cup and play with my balls. She closes her eyes, her head back. “You’re a very naughty boy, you know.”
I apply a streak of cream to her right nipple, running my tongue in languid figure eights around the tawny tip of it. “Says Sasha Grey.”
She moans before replying. “Ah, but unlike a pornstar, I don’t fake it.”
I scoop out a whole handful of cream and kneel, lifting her ankle up and placing her foot on my shoulder so the hungry mouth of her sex is exposed. “I know.”
I place a generous serving of cream over her pubis, attacking it with my entire face until she’s bucking down against me, her fingers digging into my scalp. I use my fingers to open her wide and dip my tongue in, tasting the sweet arousal at her center. I brush my tongue against her clit and she basically has a seizure against me, the pulsing pull of her climax drawing my tongue inwards.
She mews in satisfaction as I pull away.
“All clean,” I tell her, standing.
Her skin’s flushed, the morning light turning her hair a striking shade of burnt orange. She takes the bowl of cream and removes a handful of her own, applying it to my cock. She kneels before me like a lost kitten, eyes wide and pleading. “May I?”
“By all means.”
I pull her hair into a tight ponytail as she takes my cock into her mouth, her tongue working around my glans, her lips pursed tight. I close my eyes and enter a world of golden light and sensation, everything blocked out but the warm, silky feel of her mouth.
She strokes me with one hand, the other cupping my balls like they’re a Faberge egg.
She strokes faster, taking the cues from my breathing and body in what’s surely the greatest blowjob I’ve ever had, and that’s saying a hell of a lot coming off last night.
Before I know it I’m using her hair to lever her against me, thrusting against her face and running deep into her throat. She doesn’t gag or protest. She takes all nine inches like they are nothing, moaning all the while. It’s enough to drive me to an early orgasm.
I tighten and grunt, warning her I’m about to come, to pull away, but her hands wrap around my buttocks and hold me in position, her lips running right to the root of my cock as it explodes in her mouth.
“Holy… shit,” I breathe out, bucking against her.
She doesn’t spill a single drop, that mischievous tongue whipping out one last time to take away the sole pearly dot of arousal that remains. I release her hair, pins and needles running up and down my legs, my head light and airy. She smacks her lips. “Delicious. What’s next?”
I have to lean against the kitchen counter for support. “How do you feel about waffles?”
*
I manage to find an old rafting shirt for Lexi. Even looking like a lumberjack she’s still impossibly sexy. She sits with her legs crossed on a chair at the breakfast table finishing her waffles.
I sit opposite her in boxers, watching. “You’re hungry.”
She nods at my plate. “Says the guy who basically inhaled his breakfast. Next time I’ll bring you a straw.”
I lean an elbow on the table. “I suppose after all that physical activity…”
Lexi swallows, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of my shirt. I like that, that she’s not a princess, that she feels at home here.
“I won’t have to work out for weeks,” she says.
“You work out?”
“Mmm,” she shrugs, “at home. Kettlebells mostly, a bit of trail running—nothing like what do you down on the river. That looks like a workout.”
“When you’ve got a raft of six people and you’re the only one actually paddling, it is, trust me.”
She straightens up. “I must say, I’m surprised you made a move on me.”
Curious. “So am I. I didn’t plan it, so to speak.”
“And yet here we are.” She smiles.
Once again I’m debating how much to open myself here. I don’t do this, the whole ‘morning after’ bullshit. I decide to throw caution to the wind. “I don’t like change and, if we’re being honest, I didn’t trust you for a very long time even though I realize now I was just being paranoid. I guess I’ve always been careful about the people I surround myself with.”
“Why didn’t you trust me?” She appears genuinely interested.
I reach down to my chest. “Gut instinct? How does that sound?”
“Like a bunch o’ woodsy mountain man voodoo.”
I laugh. “Guess you got the voodoo part right, because I have no fucking idea where my head is at these days.”
