With a single push I throw her down, head-first into the pillow, and brace myself behind her. In a well-practiced move I slide a condom out of the bedside drawer and have it over my cock in seconds. I heave her hips up, putting her ass in the air and making her squeal. The head of my cock against the lips of her pussy.
“Fuck yes,” she moans.
It’s tight, but so wet that I slide inside like she was made to fit me.
Her pussy squeezes and pulls as she feels my length reaching inside of her, scratching that itch, pushing further until it’s pressing up against the sweet spot.
She moans again, low and loud, and as she whips her head around to look at me her face contorts into one of unrestrained lust. I smack her ass once again, and press my other hand against the back of her head, pressing her face back into the pillow, as I fuck her harder.
“Mmmm,” Lizzie groans, and it’s all I can do to stay in control of myself.
She moans louder, her body throbbing, her ass rolling up against my hips. I lean over, bringing my muscles in contact with her back, pushing my dick deeply inside of her. Her pussy starts pulsating in waves against my cock as she starts to come. I bring my lips close to her ear, and whisper in breathy, husky tones, “Perfect. This is perfect.”
I slam into her harder, feeling the hot wet pulse of her orgasm tightening around my shaft, and as she screams my name there’s no way I can hold back any longer.
I let myself go, releasing my lust for this girl, pent-up for days, out of my balls. It rushes out of me like it’s crashing through a brick wall.
I throw my head back, savoring the moment, then look back down at Lizzie. At the curves of her waist, at the relaxing muscles of her shoulders, and roll onto my back beside her, trailing my fingers along the flushed handprints on her ass.
She’s still breathing hard, her eyes pressed up against the pillow, her ass still jutting out.
I love this moment. It’s like climbing a mountain, having your breath blown away, and then just letting it all sink in. It’s like hitting a hundred in your car, and then just laying off the accelerator a little, feeling the zen of the speed. Nothing can ruin those kinds of moments, except…
“Was it good?” she says.
I hate that question. Partly because it’s a really stupid one – the sweat on my face and the curve in my lips should be all the answer she needs – and partly because it’s the kind of minefield question women love to ask.
Luckily, I’ve made my mistakes, and I give the only answer I ever give anymore.
“It was some of the best I ever had.”
I couldn’t even tell you what the best I ever had is, but Lizzie was damn good. She smiles, and snuggles into the pillow, but she’s got that cat-like smartness in her eyes again, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned tonight, it’s that this chick is a lot more trouble than she looks.
“It was okay,” she says before rolling over, away from me. “You weren’t so bad.”
Chapter 5
Jax
Light from the rising sun filters through the glass wall, onto my face, and wakes me up. I open my eyes, and it takes only a few seconds before the smell of pool water and sex reminds me of the night before. I stretch out in the bed and roll over to the side.
The sound of the shower emerges from my bathroom, and I rub some life into my eyes while I think of how to handle this. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s the morning after. I’ve seen it all. From the ‘so when are you gonna call me’s to the ‘I have a friend I’d like you to meet’s. Phone numbers written in lipstick on the bathroom mirror, full breakfasts being cooked in the kitchen, and even one girl who disappeared leaving nothing but a thousand dollars on the bedside table.
I pull on a pair of sweatpants and start preparing for what Lizzie’s gonna throw at me; realizing that I still don’t have a good handle on her. I’m expecting anything— from her acting like we’re now an item¸ to a slap in the face.
What I’m not expecting is for her to come out of the shower, dressed and ready to leave, and casually say, “Thanks for the good time,” without a hint of bitterness or regret – but that’s exactly what she does.
I follow her to the door.
“It was my pleasure,” I say, opening the door for her.
She steps outside, then turns to me, like she forgot something.
Here it comes. The old bait-and-switch.
“You know, I had fun. I feel like… like I learned a lot.”
“Oh yeah?” I reply, and damn if she doesn’t sound and look sexy to me all over again. I must have slept ten hours, but right now I’m about ready to go another round, even though I know it’s a bad idea.
“I… uh…” She’s biting her lip again. I smile, watching her pretty face go through all kinds of thoughts before she gets up the courage to say what she’s about to. “I have a proposition for you.”
“A proposition?” I ask.
Lizzie looks mischievous. “Yeah.”
“Ok,” I say, running a finger along my stubbled jawline. “What’s your ‘proposition’?”
She laughs a little to herself.
Crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes, she looks me up and down, nodding as she assesses the goods. “I want you to teach me how to fuck.”
That does it. I don’t know if it’s the fact that I haven’t had a coffee, the weird tension of these morning-afters, or the strangeness of those words coming from such an amazingly cute face. But I am, for once in my life, utterly speechless.
“You… want…”
“I want to know everything that a man could want in bed, yes. I want to know how to drive him wild. I want to know how to do everything in the bedroom. Wild, crazy, sexy, everything. I—”
“Doesn’t have to be a bedroom,” I interrupt.
“See! That! I wanna know, that!” she says, pointing at me. “I would never think of that. I need to be able to think like that. So I know how to make it amazing. Like last night.”
I shuffle on my feet again, trying to hide the start of a raging hard-on she’s giving me. It’s gotta be pretty obvious in these loose sweatpants. This girl definitely doesn’t need lessons in being unbelievably hot. I try to think of cold things, like snow and polar bears and freezing showers. But it’s no use.
“And you want me to teach you?”
“Yes,” she says eagerly, giving me a look like she’s in the middle of an interview.
I look out over the front of the house, the Ferrari still sitting in the driveway, the day just starting to get bright. A cab starts rolling up my driveway.
“Well, I gotta say, that’s pretty… crazy. You’re a gorgeous girl. You don’t—”
“Perfect,” she interrupts, putting a hand on my bare chest, “I wanna be able to do it all. Perfect. So that when I meet the right guy, I’ll be able to give him everything he needs and get what I want in return.”
I nod. I don’t know why, but I’m nodding. I understand her.
“What’s the worst that can happen? I can see it in your eyes now, you want me. Well… isn’t this what you like? No-strings sex, whenever you want.” She leans close, licking her lips, talking in a low breathy whisper, “You can do whatever you want to me.” She puts her lips close to my ear, and even more breathily says, “Make me the perfect lover.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m not sure—”
She pulls back, fire in her eyes. “You gonna turn that down? Didn’t you tell me that you never back down from a challenge? Well, here it is. I know you’re the right guy for this. You don’t give a shit and you’re not gonna get attached.”
I rub my face. If I wasn’t so horny I’d be sure I’m still sleeping. “You’re right, I’m not. But you will. I mean, do you really think you can do that? No feelings. No connection. No emotional attachments whatsoever.”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course I can do that. I just did.”
I sense her preparing more arguments, so I stop he
r with one word. “No.”
But instead of getting upset, Lizzie crosses her arms again. “Give me a week, then.” She fixes me with a steely gaze. “Seven days. Every position. No strings attached.”
My mouth goes dry as a million filthy images flash through my mind. I rub my jaw and look out over the LA skyline. A city full of girls, but probably none of them as surprising as this one.
Lizzie huffs out a breath, gesturing at the cab idling in the driveway behind her. “Look, my ride’s waiting. So? Will you?”
“Honestly, I would love to. Really. But the thing is, you can’t teach that kinda thing. You’re either born with it, or you’re not. And you? You’re not born with it. Sorry.”
Her face drops into a puppy dog expression that makes me want to tuck her under the chin.
“Really?” she says, in a voice so full of hurt that I almost feel bad.
I laugh. “No. Not really. That’s your first lesson. Don’t doubt. Never doubt. The second you doubt yourself, is the second you hold back. There’s no room for doubt, in sex, just like life.”
She breaks into a smile that I can’t seem to escape, however much I want to.
“Here’s my number,” she says, pulling out card and handing it to me. “I look forward to working with you.” She almost winks.
Then she skips down the steps and gets into the cab. I watch it drive away, go back inside, and look down at the crisp card she handed me. As I walk through the entrance, my eyes roll back and forth over the name: Elizabeth Tipton.
My hand hovers over the wastebasket. Nothing but trouble. That girl’s nothing but trouble. It’s so obvious it should be written in big letters over the bottom of the card itself.
But damn, if I don’t like the idea.
Chapter 6
Lizzie
You ever wake up in the morning and just feel fantastic?
Yeah, neither do I.
I’m not a morning person. For me, getting up usually feels like being dragged limb from limb by the four horsemen of the apocalypse: Work, lack of coffee, , and my boyfriend taking up so much of the queen size bed that every second I stay I’m in danger of falling off.
Except today. Today I wake up feeling sensational.
I wake up before my alarm does, giving me plenty of time before work. And my body’s tingling with energy already, so I don’t even feel my usual addict’s desperation for coffee.
And my boyfriend? Well, we broke up. As I slide out from the middle of the bed, rather than tumbling off the edge, I feel like it may be the smartest thing I’ve done in a while.
I still need to pee, but some things just aren’t meant to change.
Entering my bathroom is always a tricky process in the morning, mostly because I don’t want to look at myself. Not before the sleep’s been rubbed out of my eyes, my hair has stopped looking like someone stuck it in a cotton candy machine, and a hot shower has taken the stiffness out of my muscles enough that I don’t move like a bad robot.
Today, though, I feel like I’ve woken up in somebody else’s body. Somebody fitter, happier, and a lot less self-conscious. I walk into my bathroom and face my reflection without fear.
My hair’s messy, sure, but it’s boutique salon messy. The kind of hair you can tousle and have it still fall in a nice shape. Either my good mood is making me unable to see the usual imperfections, or I really have woken up in a fairy tale. I check myself out with all the pervy lecherousness of an old guy at a dive bar.
I twirl, checking out my ass.
“Damn girl, you’ve got good legs,” I say to myself.
Even my breasts look bigger, perkier; or maybe it’s just the way I’m standing. I don’t know what’s getting into me, but I bend forward and arch my back like I’m on a photo shoot. Cupping my tits, pouting at myself in the mirror. It may be the most arrogant thing I’ve ever done, but I swear to God, I bite my lip at how good I look.
None of this is normal to me. I mean, I’m not ugly by any stretch - then again, neither are most girls in LA. My body is usually something that I fight with in the gym or at yoga class. It’s an enemy that tempts me evilly whenever I pass a fast food place or a bakery, only to punish me later with random zit breakouts and blotches. It’s like a fickle mafia boss that demands expensive clothes and creams or else it’ll embarrass me in public.
Now, it’s like some switch was turned on, and everything just feels right.
I run my fingertips slowly down from my throat, between my breasts, all the way to my navel, and the gentle touch reminds me of who flicked that switch.
Jax Wilder. The devastatingly beautiful man with the sharp suit and sharper lines. The alpha who walks with a swagger that could only come from a body as sculpted as his. The mouth of a wise-ass in the body of a caveman.
It comes back to me in flashes. The rough and dominant way he takes control; inside and out of the bedroom. The secure confidence of a man who always says the right thing. The sweet release of letting him take control…
And then I remember our arrangement. My proposition.
I pee, and get in the shower. Even the hot water and soap suds rolling down the curves of my body feel better than usual, reminding me of the way Jax explored me so expertly; hungrily, sensually.
And I basically gave him carte blanche to fuck me whenever, wherever, and however he wants. For the next week, at least.
I should regret that. I should be hearing my mother’s voice espousing the benefits of a stable, boring man. I should be wondering what my friends and colleagues will think if they heard about – let alone saw – the kind of things Jax will have me doing. I should be calling in sick so that I can buy some Ben & Jerry’s and spend the day crying about breaking up with my high school boyfriend.
But all I can think about is Jax sliding up behind me in his amazing pool and pressing his rock-hard body up against mine. Fucking me face down in the pillow, my ass in the air, until he’d completely worn me out. I never came that hard in my life.
I get out of the shower and dress. Slipping on heels that usually take me a whole morning to muster up the courage to wear, and a skirt I would usually only wear to a club. Today I want to look good. I want eyes on me.
Is this what sluts feel like? If it is, then sign me up. Hand me my regulation come-fuck-me boots and emergency condoms now, because this is some really good shit.
After putting on my make-up, and checking myself out one more time, I grab my purse and make my way to my car. I’ve been holding off looking at my phone, waiting for just the right moment to see if Jax texted or called – as he said he would – but he hasn’t. Instead, there’s just a message from Brody asking if I was alright. I text him back that I’m fine. I don’t have much to say to him.
Until last night, Brody was the only guy I’d ever been with. We dated in high school and stayed together all throughout college, even though we went to different schools. But now that we’re in the real world, the last few years have been difficult. He hasn’t been able to give me what I need. He was good-looking, sure, but never sexy. He worked hard, but was never really ambitious. When I brought up the future, he’d shrug it off or change the subject. He loved me, of course, but he never really fucked me.
We had sex, and it was nice. But ‘nice’ doesn’t give you a rush of blood to the head when you remember it. You don’t get wet with anticipation for ‘nice.’ You don’t wake up the next morning feeling like a goddess after a night of ‘nice.’
For that, you need a guy like Jax.
Brody was the kind of guy my girlfriends would sigh over and say, ‘I’d like someone like him’ about. The guy who’s great for your friends. The kind of guy whose idea of dirty talk was ‘Oh, this is new,’ or ‘Are you sure?’ The kind of guy who turns down sex because he’s ‘got work tomorrow.’ The kind of guy too polite to pull my hair. The kind of guy who eats pussy because he wants to do you a favor, and not because he likes it.
What was a girl to do? When my friends were out partying and fucking
while the nights – and their bodies – were still young, I was having business-casual sex with a guy who would leave me hanging the moment his cellphone rang or one of his work cronies wanted to grab a drink on a Friday night.
Then, out of nowhere, Jax comes along. Jax: The guy who’s always hard. Jax: The guy who can work my body and make me scream like an electric guitar. Jax: The guy who agreed to teach me how to fuck, so that when I really do meet the guy I want to spend the rest of my life with, I’ll know how get him, keep him, and make the most of him. Of us.
I know I shouldn’t, but I check my phone constantly as I drive to work. Along with the buzz I’m still feeling from the night before, I’m bursting with anticipation of what’s about to happen. This is our first day of ‘lessons,’ and my imagination is running wild with the things Jax will have me doing tonight.
As I get out of my car and walk to work I’m thinking about his glorious dick, and about how much I wanna suck it, stroke it, take it inside me and control it like a joystick to heaven. There’s a smirk on my face like I know something everyone else doesn’t, and I don’t care. Today, I’m not the kind of person who’s going to hide.
You ever see those cartoons where when something wonderful happens they show it by having birds and animals fly around, or inanimate objects come alive and sing? That’s kind of how I feel, except instead of cute and fluffy things I’m seeing sex everywhere. I can feel guys undressing me with their eyes, sense them turning their heads for a second look as I walk past. I walk with my head up, long strides, letting my skirt dance teasingly up and down my thighs. They say the best things in life are free, and right now, I certainly feel free.
I step into the elevator and lock eyes with a cute young guy standing there. No more staring at the ground shyly for this girl. It takes a second, but he realizes I’m out of his league and looks away. I smile with satisfaction, push the button for my floor, and wait.
Nothing could kill my buzz right now. Nothing except Brody showing up and acting like an asshole. Which, of course, is precisely what happens.
Insatiable Page 4
