For a few seconds, Luce’s warning reverberates around my head; echoing like a basketball in an indoor court. Am I sleepwalking into some bad news? I’m supposed to be teaching Lizzie how to be sexy, how to fuck as good as I do, but here she is sending dirty pics to my phone like it’s the most natural thing in the world for her.
A second message breaks my thoughts.
Still got anything to teach me? it says, just below another photo. She’s lying down on her front this time, the camera’s view going along the curve of her naked back, showing the sweet humps of her lace panty-clad ass, and her delicate ankles crossed girlishly in the air. Her face is still out of the picture, but I can see a few curls of her wavy hair, and the tiny muscles in her neck that make me wanna turn vampire.
Just thought of a few more things, I text back, before Luce’s voice comes back and spoils my vibe.
Lizzie takes a little longer than usual to reply, and when I get the message I see why. She’s sitting this time, sideways in the picture, her knees up under her chin, her breasts inches away from her thighs. Ready when you are, is all it says.
Tonight. My place. I text back.
Her reply is quick. Just a picture of her lips, slick with gloss and pouting as if blowing a kiss. It’s the hottest one yet. I turn the keys, rev the car, and ram it down the road about as fast and as hard as I’d like to ram myself in her.
Chapter 10
Lizzie
Brody was in the elevator again this morning. The guy I’d spent—no, wasted—eight years with. The guy whose every bad habit, every facial tic, and every personality quirk, I had seen a thousand times. The guy who made his dreams my dreams, who made his life my life. The guy who, until a few days ago, was pretty much everything I had.
This time, however, I didn’t back into the corner of the elevator. I didn’t cringe and hunch over when he was talking with his friends. I didn’t awkwardly push through the crowd in a rush to get away from him. This time, I felt completely over it.
If I ever have a friend who needs to get over someone quick, I have Jax’s number.
Maybe it sounds bad, but in a way, I hate Brody. Not so much for selfishly dragging me halfway across the country, not for the many meals I may as well have eaten alone, for all the attention he never gave me, not even for the late nights I spent alone, in a new city, with nobody to call.
No. I hate Brody because he never really fucked me. Sure, he made me feel looked-after, safe, and maybe even sometimes respected – but he never made me feel like a woman.
Which is why, when my mother calls – just after I had slipped on a breast-pushing corset and garters – I don’t know what to tell her.
“There are girls out there who would kill for a man like Brody,” she says, in the same voice she used to tell me about ‘kids starving in Africa’ when I wouldn’t eat my greens.
“Well then you don’t have to worry about him, Mom. He’ll do just fine without me,” I say, while trying to pull on a slim pencil skirt with one hand.
“He has a good job, is moving up in the world. Such lovely teeth, and you can tell he’ll keep his hair well into his forties.”
“I know, Mom. You say that every time you see him.”
“And he’ll never cheat on you,” she says, as I put her on speakerphone so I can compare tops in the mirror. “Or did he cheat on you? Because sometimes men, at his age—”
“No, he didn’t cheat on me,” I say, opting for a loose yellow top with a wide neckline that hangs off the shoulder.
“So you cheated on him? I knew that would happen, Lizzie. You’ve always had wandering eyes. Always looking at other people’s plates.”
“I didn’t cheat on him, Mom. It’s not like that at all,” I say, with the one half of my brain that isn’t thinking about what shirt would be easiest for Jax to tear off my body.
“Then what is it?”
“It was a mutual thing.”
“Nothing like this can be mutual!”
“Well this was,” I say, trying to put some finality in my tone but sounding a little too much like a whiny teenager. “Look, Mom, I know you’re looking out for me. And I know you liked Brody, but I promise you, things are going to be fine. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Where are you going? To see someone else? Already?!”
“I have a date, yes.”
“Oh my. I knew LA would bring out the worst in you. Men won’t buy the cow if the milk is free, you know.”
If only you knew.
“My ride’s here mom, can’t wait. I’ll call you tomorrow. Don’t worry. Bye!”
It takes a lot of loud music in my car to get my mother’s voice out of my head, but halfway to Jax’s house I’m already starting to feel the familiar prickly feeling that comes before seeing him.
Maybe I’m too sober, but my nerves are jangling like a Christmas sleigh. In just a few short days he’s made me feel like a goddess, a slut, a schoolgirl, and a queen – often all at the same time. Meeting up at the bar was easy – I’m used to bars, and it’s neutral ground – but now I’m heading to his place, and there’s only one way that can end. A shiver runs down my spine when I think about it.
I pull the car up to his house and park, then take a few moments to breathe deeply.
“Come on Lizzie,” I whisper to myself, “don’t chicken out now. You’re too deep into the rabbit hole.”
I look up towards the large doors of Jax’s amazing home, and see him leaning nonchalantly in the doorway, hands in pockets, a knowing smirk on his face. Just seeing him fills me with confidence. A wave of warmth passes through me, taking with it the butterflies in my stomach and the tingling on my skin.
I open the car door, step out of it, slam it shut, and strut towards him with the wildly provocative hip swing I’ve developed in the past forty-eight hours.
“Ok, Jax,” I say under my breath, “let’s see what you’ve got in store for me tonight.”
“You’re late,” Jax says as I reach him.
“So punish me,” I wink, as I slide past him into the hallway.
Even though I’ve already had the full tour of Jax’s house, I still feel like I’ve stepped into a fantasy home that could only exist in someone with the imagination and the taste of… well, Jax. He takes my jacket, then follows me closely. I know he’s checking out my ass, but I don’t care – I feel like my attention is being grabbed from all sides by beautiful furniture and art I could stare at for hours.
Something about being in the presence of so much amazing stuff makes me feel like a little girl again, and I realize I’m going from sexy vixen to innocent schoolgirl so frequently that I’m probably going to develop a personality disorder by the time Jax is through with me.
So long as I keep learning how to fuck, though, it’s all fine by me.
“Make yourself comfortable, I’ll get you something to drink,” he says, when we reach a luxurious ‘L’-shaped couch in a corner of the house with floor-to-ceiling windows that look out onto the pool and the ocean.
I brush my skirt and sit down, still taking in the amazing surroundings. I’m turning my head around so much that I probably look like one of those bad actors from a sixties Star Trek episode on a visit to a new planet.
As I wait for Jax to return, I continue to pep talk myself. Jax may be unpredictable when it comes to sex, but the one thing I know I can count on is that he’ll always be cool, calm, and respectful. I’m proud that I haven’t done anything too embarrassing, or said anything too stupid around him so far, but it’s been a constant struggle. Biting my lip when I want to say something—but I’m not sure how it’ll sound—has proven to be well worth the extra chapstick.
An old soul record winds into life with a scratch, and when Jax comes back I decide to ask, “Is that a record?”
“Yeah,” he says, freezing mid-step, and for just a fraction of a second I see that relentless confidence waver. But then it bounces right back as he flashes me a slow smile. “If you were expecting a band to play, I
guess you got the wrong house.”
I giggle and it comes out in awkward bursts. Ugh, I hate the sound of my voice.
“No, I mean. A vinyl record… as in, an actual record player.”
Jax nods gently as he places a drink my hands, and sits down easily next to me. He’s close. Close enough for me to smell him. He’s been closer, of course, but never when we were just talking.
“That’s really cool,” I blurt lamely.
I sip from my drink – then sip quickly again. Hoping the alcohol will turn me into the sexy bitch I was at the bar. I feel like the Hulk trying to bring out the angry monster, but surrounded by fluffy kittens and balloons – it’s not coming.
I brave a glance at Jax but quickly look away. Damnit, Lizzie. Don’t go crumbling. You’ve sucked his dick, sent him sexy photos, fucked him at a crowded party – why can’t you sit two inches from him and not feel like you’re on a prom date with the school quarterback?
Jax leans forward to look me in the eyes, and I look back – though I hide myself behind a really long sip of my drink.
“You nervous, Lizzie?”
I snort, in what I hoped would sound like a sarcastic retort, but instead sounds like I’m hocking up a loogie.
“Why would I be nervous? After…”
“After I’ve eaten your pussy?”
I do choke on my drink then, covering my mouth and coughing until I get my breath back. Jax laughs gently as he takes my drink from my hand and puts it on the table.
“Rule number whatever, never shy away from dirty talk. I thought you had that one down. Maybe we should work on it some more? You’re clearly very nervous.”
“I’m not nervous. I’m just—”
“You are.”
“Why would I be? We’ve had drinks before. We’ve done… things before.” Even to my ears, this denial sounds feeble.
“Every situation is different,” he says, shrugging. “Guess you’re a little on edge tonight.”
I snort again, gentler this time, but it still sounds dumb.
“I am not. I know why I’m here.”
He cocks an eyebrow and the rakishly sexy expression on his face hits me like a shot of adrenaline to my veins. “Really?” he asks, teasing. “You know what’s going to happen?”
“Well, yeah.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes,” I say, shooting him a confused look. He’s making me think I shouldn’t be so sure.
“Did you know I got you a gift?” Jax says, reaching beside the couch and pulling out a box in black wrapping paper and an elaborate pink ribbon.
He hands it to me, and I stare at it with a stupidly big grin on my face. I know it’s silly, but who doesn’t like gifts?
“Ok,” I say, nodding, “maybe I wasn’t expecting a gift.”
“Open it.”
Slowly, I put it on the coffee table in front of me, untie the bow, and lift the top of the box off. I don’t know what I was expecting. I really don’t.
But what I wasn’t expecting, however, was a long, sleek, expensive-looking…
“A vibrator?” I exclaim, more to myself than to Jax.
“Charged and ready to go,” he says, a little of that dark authority seeping into his voice.
I try to say something, but when I look at Jax, all I can do is screw up my face in sheer confusion. His cock is already perfect, and exactly what I wanted tonight – so what do I need this for?
As if reading my thoughts, Jax slides over to the bottom of the ‘L’ in the couch, so that he’s looking across the coffee table at me. He puts his arms over the back of the seat, and crosses his legs.
“It’s easy to be sexy in a bar,” he says slowly, lowering his voice so I’ll listen to his words intently, “it’s easy to be sexy when you’re around someone who’s attracted to you. But you’ve got to be sexy on your own. You’ve got to be able to turn yourself on. If you want to fuck somebody else really well, then you’ve got to know how to fuck yourself.”
I pick up the vibrator, and flick the switch my thumb falls on. It spurs into action, a low thrum, quivering in my hand. I quickly turn it off.
“Well, thanks,” I say, moving to set it back into the box.
“Don’t put it away,” Jax says, with a tone that compels me not to let go of it.
“What do you want me to do?” I say, more as a plea than a real question.
Jax cocks his head to the side, and says “I want you to take off your clothes, and use it. Right here. In front of me.”
I giggle, but it’s broken up by gasps of terrified disbelief. I’ve touched myself before – Brody’s business trips were long sometimes – and sure, I’ve used a vibrator a couple of times. But this, this is on another level.
“And you’re going to just sit there and watch?” I say, as if there will be a different answer.
“Take off your clothes,” Jax says, bursting right through my pretense.
I look at the vibrator in my hand. I’m breathing heavily.
“I need another drink, or two, or seven, at least.”
Jax shakes his head. He’s not letting me off that easy.
I swallow again, put the vibrator on the couch next to me, and stand up. Jax’s eyes are fixed on me as I take off my clothes in front of him. He studies every gesture like a detail on one of his paintings.
With every layer that comes off, I feel more and more under the control of that penetrating gaze. He looks at my body like I’m the last female on earth, and I feel his imagination fly with every movement, every gesture.
I leave the new corset until last. Slowly loosening the ties until it’s loose enough for me to pull apart and reveal nipples that are already hard. A chest that’s heaving with the shortness of my nervous, expectant breath.
When the corset hits the floor, I stand there, feeling both incredibly awkward, and incredibly lost. If Jax’s eyes were just a little less powerful, a little less determined, a little less intense, I would shrug and drag all my clothes back on again. But he barely moves, just motions to the couch, so I sit down, and lean back against the cushions. One leg up, one leg on the floor, my pussy towards Jax.
“You know what to do,” he coaxes. “Let’s see how you like your little present.”
I take the vibrator in my hand, try to control my breathing, and turn it on. It feels good, but everything in my body is screaming for the door. I feel like I’m taking an exam – and if there’s one thing that’s not arousing, it’s exams.
“I can’t,” I mutter, pleading with the powerful figure at the other end of the couch.
“You can, and you will, and you’ll like it,” Jax says, and ironically, the firm confidence in his voice makes me feel a spark where the vibrator is failing to. “Close your eyes. Tune in to your body. Feel every sensation.”
I do as he says, letting the sound of his voice flow through me. I bring the vibrator to my clit and put two fingers of my other hand against the wet lips of my pussy.
“You think too much, Lizzie,” he continues. “Let your body do the thinking.”
Maybe it’s Jax, or maybe it’s the delicious pulse of the vibrator, but I feel myself relaxing into my arousal. Images and memories from the past few days flash and merge through my mind, each one hotter than the last. The feeling of Jax’s hair as he presses his mouth against my slit. His body hard against mine as he pushes me up against the wall. The gentle brush of his skin underwater as he catches me in his embrace. I move the vibrator down low and back up again, stroking soft and then harder as heat races through me, deeper and deeper.
I start moaning without even realizing it, and my eyes flutter open but I don’t stop the stroking, the rolling of my hips against the toy.
“I need…” My voice trails off. I need to fuck, but I know Jax isn’t going to do it—that he’s only here to watch. It’s driving me crazy that he’s so close and I can’t touch him.
“You know what you need to do,” he growls.
And I do. I close my ey
es again and guide the vibrator into my pussy, gasping uncontrollably as the vibrations thrum against the slick tightness of my pussy, sending warm waves outwards into every nerve ending.
I hold myself there, on the brink of orgasm, for as long as I can. Panting, moaning, whispering his name. Riding the sweet-tasting high like a tightrope walker. Then I open my eyes, and Jax is there, over me. It takes every muscle in my body to stop myself from coming. I pull the vibrator out, and he kneels between my legs. His eyes on mine, he puts his lips to my softness, and the sensation is one no vibrator in the world can match. His expert tongue works my clit like he’s tying me in knots with it, and he grabs the vibrator from my hand and presses it deep inside me. He pumps it back and forth as I push myself against his mouth.
“More,” I say, in between gasps, “more, more, more.”
My head slams into the couch, and my hands grasp for something to hold. I catch Jax’s head with one hand, and clasp the couch cushion so hard I nearly tear the stuffing out. That’s when it happens.
The orgasm rips through me, seeming to come from outside and in, pushing out of my very soul. I moan loud enough for the neighbors to hear, but it doesn’t stop Jax, who works every last drop of pleasure from my body until I feel completely wrung out, but totally at peace.
I don’t know if I fall asleep, or just lose all sense of time. All I do know is that when I open my drowsy eyes, Jax is standing above me, adjusting his cuffs, and smiling gently.
“I had no idea you could come so loud. Another drink?” he says, with all the satisfaction of a job well done.
Chapter 11
Jax
When I get to the beach, Brando’s already hitting waves with all the determination of a man trying to win a competition. When I make my way closer to the shore, surfboard under my arm, I can see why. It’s not a trophy he’s trying to win over, but a couple of big breasted blondes in thongs you can barely see between their ample asses.
I stand beside them and watch as Marco crashes out after an over-ambitious run.
Insatiable Page 8
