Exquisitely Yours: A Sin City Tale

by M. Jay Granberry

  “You’re sure?” he asks in a whisper. Slow fluttering blinks and eye shifts are the only indication I have that he’s studying—no, looking—for something. A sign? Answer? Movement? Not sure how long we sit, eyes locked, breathing each other in, but I feel the shift before he says, “Yeah, you’re sure. Much more so than the night by Adam’s pool.”

  “I was sure then. You just weren’t listening.”

  “My bad. You have my undivided attention now. What do you want to do with it?” he dares.

  I lean my forehead against his. Fingers hastily plucking at the buttons on his shirt. The material gives way, parting to expose smooth skin and coffee-colored nipples that tighten under the brush of my fingertips. Daniel hisses and the sound, low and needy, bolsters my confidence. Eagerly, I map his chest and straining deltoids with curious fingers and shallow breaths. The motion pushes the fabric down his arms, leaving him wonderfully bare from the waist up.

  Settling fully over the bulge straining behind his zipper, my hips buck and start to roll of their own accord. An answer to the call of his body.

  Closer. I need to get closer. I spread my legs a little wider and, “Oh my God…” I pant as his erection hits my clit without the buffer of lady flesh.

  “Can you come like this?” he asks, gripping my hips, forcing them faster and faster over his cockhead. The mounting orgasm is a buzz in my bloodstream.

  That would be a yes. Hell yes.

  Between the friction of our bodies and his mouth latching on a nipple through the sheer material of my bra, it’s only a matter of seconds. The arch in my back deepens and my head falls back as I rock harder, faster. Faster.

  Daniel cradles my head in his palm, raising it up. “Jessie…”

  I barely hear him say my name, but scrounge up a broken, “Hmm?”

  “Let me watch you come.” His strained voice tinged with a plea that scrapes across the syllables makes him sound as winded as I feel.

  “What?” I gasp, my hip stuttering over the shock.

  Daniel grinds up, taking over where I left off. “Let me watch you get yourself off.” He punctuates each word with an upward gyration.

  “I…” My eyes jump to his and my teeth sink into my bottom lip to stifle a moan at an uptick of pleasure that goes straight to my clit as he once again grips my hips, encouraging me to move. I fight against the urge to close my eyes and instead whimper, “God, I’m close.”

  “Show me.”

  My hands grip his shoulders for leverage as I find a new urgent rhythm that he meets tit for fucking tat. An orgasm starts in seconds. A subtle flutter that intensifies to crashing waves as the ride gets rougher.

  “Daniel…?” I say his name with reverence. A low whisper filled with nervous hope and a sense of overwhelming wonder.

  “I’m here,” he growls. “Right. Here. Jessie. Let me see it.” His hips buck with shallow, earnest thrusts that I meet with jagged, uncoordinated movements of my own. “Let me see you.”

  And I do. I roll my pussy over his linen-covered shaft until my thighs clench, and my back bows, and an orgasm bursts through my body, tearing a scream from my throat.

  I’m panting, eyes still locked to his, when he flips me onto my back, his lean body caging mine.

  Daniel dips down for a kiss, whispering against my lips, “Fucking beautiful. You’re fucking beautiful when you come.”

  Chapter 19

  Daniel

  I wasn't expecting this—her, I should clarify; I wasn’t expecting her—when I circled back around to the reception site. We’ve been tiptoeing around our attraction since the day we met. If anything, I wanted to get a number this time, maybe her Snap. But as always, with this woman, I’m caught off guard.

  Without the conflict of the last couple days or the scrutiny from the other wedding guests, especially good ol’ Terry—whose eyes coincidentally seemed to shoot laser beams into the side of my head every time Jessie and I were in the vicinity—she seemed less aloof, less apathetic.

  Sitting at the table, surrounded by empty chairs and flickering candles, she looked relaxed. Beautiful in a way that radiated warmth and gave her an air of happiness, but when examined closer, Jessie looked lonely, very much the way I felt, and I’d wanted nothing more than to eradicate those feelings, for us both.

  Did I think eradication would look like her blowing her load, so to speak, by a little nipple play and what equates to a dry-hump that was quite possibly the hottest, yet most chaste, sex act of my adult life?

  No—no, I did not.

  Deep breaths, D.

  Take a deep fucking breath, man.

  I try, but instead of oxygen, I inhale Jessie—wet pussy, clean soap, sweet perfume—and I feel the last couple of remnants of gallantry unravel. Replaced by an urgent need to take, and eat, and fuck her into oblivion. Until her nails clawing at my back is the only anchor to this moment and the gushy sound of her pussy is a melodic testament to the fact that for a couple of fleeting hours, in this hotel room on the Mexican Riviera, under the soft light of a full moon, she’s mine.

  With Herculean effort, I crawl off the bed. One glance at the wet spot centered on my aching dick, and I’m pulling my wallet and subsequently three gold-wrapped condoms out of my pocket with shaking hands.

  Tossing them on the bed near her head. I toe off my shoes, unbuckle my belt, and quickly shed my pants and underwear. I fist my length and drop to my knees at the edge of the bed. “Turn on your stomach.” I lean in, trailing lips up the curve of her calf.

  In one graceful movement, Jessica turns over and I waste no time wrapping an arm around her middle, bringing her to all fours.

  Jessie stifles a moan as I lightly smack first one butt cheek and then the other. That moan is everything, utterly raw. An unfiltered plea that feeds my ego and makes me goddamn insatiable. Especially because Jessica Johnson is so self-contained with her perfectly tailored clothes, and tight ponytails, and sky-high heels. The woman has her shit together, except when she doesn’t—like now.

  “I love seeing you like this,” I mutter into her skin. My hand lands another blow against her bountiful ass. This time a little harder. My lips buzz up the backs of her legs, ending with hard sucks on the crease where thigh meets glute.

  “Mmm,” Jessie’s moan turns into a gasp when I grip both globes to spread her open, swiping my tongue through the wet folds. “More,” she says low and needy.

  Oh, I have more. A whole lot more.

  I consume her pussy. Nibbling at the lips. Spearing my tongue in and out of her entrance, sucking her plump clit until her head is thrashing and her legs are shaking.

  “Head down, Jessie.” I slide a hand up between her shoulder blades, pressing down. “Head down, ass up.” Jessie hesitates long enough that I’m about to take back the dirty request. Try something different, a little tamer, when I’m pleasantly surprised.

  Jessie tips forward. Her head and chest sink into the mattress, raising her hips higher and sending her knees wider, exposing…everything.

  “Good girl.” My mouth waters at the sight of bare pussy lips shiny with her wetness and the tight little puckered hole.

  Perfect. Just like I knew she would be, just like the rest of her. I’ve imagined this moment a thousand times. What it would be like to bust her open, eat her out, and the ass man in me wants that hole as much as I want her mouth or her pussy which, help me God, just dripped. D-r-i-p-p-e-d, my dude.

  I can’t help myself. I bury my face in her wet heat and gorge—tongue fierce, hands tracing the curve of her spine, mouth sucking, teeth scraping—until Jessie flexes back, pushing into my mouth. Until her low moans turn into high-pitched wails. Then I trail up and circle the tight little rosebud that’s been all but taunting me.

  Jessie jolts. Moving away from the pressure, not sure if she wants it, but I hold her tight. “Nah-uh. Don’t run. Take it,” I say j
ust before I French kiss that puckered hole, all tongue, and lips, and hyper-focused.

  My fingers find their way to her entrance, plunging inside her slippery sheath, working in tandem with my mouth. Her walls clamp around my digits and the gentle rocking is replaced with face-fucking. A rough ride with Jessie taking what she wants, using me to get hers. It’s some sliced bread level of perfection.

  All that cultured flawlessness stripped and discarded. Overridden by the basest of human instinct in me. Didn’t I tell her? This go round, there’d be no stopping until I had her messy and sweaty and begging me to make her come.

  Two down. One to go.

  Call it male ego, or stupidity, but I ease up. I want to hear it. The begging, I mean.

  “No, no, no, no, no, noooo. Don’t stop. Don’t stop…” she whispers, head shaking back and forth along the sheets. “Don’t stop.”

  “Beg me,” I say, panting against her skin. My fingers twist in and out. “Beg me and I’ll give it to you.”

  “Daniel, plea—”

  I don’t wait for the second syllable. My mouth barely connects with her clit and she comes, in magnificent fashion.

  “Yeeeesss. Fuck. Dan-iel. Yes,” she screams.

  I slip my fingers from her body and stand, dragging lips up her spine as I grab a condom and clumsily rip the package. I quickly eye the rubber disk. Thank fuck. I didn’t tear it in my haste. I roll it over my length, and without further preamble I sink balls-deep inside her.

  “Goddamn, this pussy is tight.” And pulsing with leftover come shocks that massage my shaft in the most glorious way. I don’t even try to move. I just rest and revel in the feel of her. At least until she rocks back. Fucking herself up and down my length.

  It’s a reflex to grab her waist and drive forward.

  Jessie absorbs the thrust, hands reaching out to fist the sheets as she pushes back. “Oh, you liked that, huh?”

  “I do,” she moans. “I so do.”

  I slide my hand up her back, wrap it around her ponytail, and pull her head back to force a deeper arch. The position takes me to her depths. So much so that when I withdraw, her pussy grips me, barring my exit.

  Was that a Kegel?

  Did she just Kegel me?

  That’s what’s up. I snap my hips forward, applying pressure to the hair around my fist, forcing her to rock back with strength. My thrusts start easy but build with each stroke until I’m pounding into her. The sound of my balls smacking against wet flesh its own kind of carnal symphony.

  Our pace is frantic, building sweat on our skin. I slip when I try to ground myself with a hand on her sweaty hip, making my chest collide with her back, but I can work with this.

  Held up by one arm, I release her ponytail, slipping my hand between her legs to finger her clit and I go fucking ham. Plowing her pussy. Sucking the skin on the back of her neck.

  “Shit, I’m close. D,” she says through clenched teeth, her voice an unrefined mewl. And I’m apparently cultivating nicknames and curse words. Not saying that I mind either. Almost everyone calls me D, and I for one believe if I’m not inspiring expletives when I’m deep inside a woman, I’m probably doing it wrong. “Do it harder.”

  “Harder?” I ask. A thrust moving her an inch up the bed.

  “Yes,” she moans. A single word challenge that propels me to ride her fast and loose like I stole this ass. “Just like that, Daniel. Fuck me just…”

  Oh damn. Jessie throws it back with enough force that her ass jiggles when it hits my pelvis, making our skin slap with a satisfying smack. “Just. Like. That.” She moans between breaths, lifting her head just enough to gaze at me over her shoulder.

  The way she looks at me, the stare heated and daring, combined with the push and pull of our bodies, hurls me one step closer to completion.

  I’m not the only one. Jessie reaches back, nails digging into my thigh where she grips me. My thrusts go shallow, but I’m seated deep, so deep.

  No way can I last another minute, or thirty seconds, even.

  I sit back on my haunches, pulling Jessica with me. Her naked back plastered to my chest. Her thighs straddling my thighs. Her ass nestled to my crotch, hips still rolling, greedily taking my dick. I finger our connection, gathering wetness on my fingertips. And then I lean back further, pumping furiously as I strum her clit.

  Jessie blows like a geyser. Head thrown back. Pussy constricting around my girth in a vise grip. I sink teeth into my bottom lip, groaning around the lingering taste of clean woman and dirty sex as my balls draw up, cum barreling down my shaft, jetting out of my body to pool in the thin rubber barrier between her body and mine.

  But I don’t stop. Not until she’s limp and sagging with the weight of her climax. Then and only then do I pull out.

  Jessie immediately slumps forward. Head settling into the mattress, eyes already closed, breaths starting to slow with the pull of sex-induced sleep. I don’t have the energy to make it to the bathroom to flush the condom. I pull it off. Tie a knot at the end, dropping it somewhere off the edge of the bed.

  Admittedly not my finest moment, but she damn near killed me. Hell, who’s to say that I’m not dead. For all I know, this might be heaven. It feels like it could be.

  I collapse into the soft mattress and curve my long body around her smaller one. A hand making its way to palm her breasts.

  Jessie puts her hands over mine, threading our fingers, lifting a palm to her lips. She places a sweet kiss at the center before lowering it back into place.

  The room is quiet except for the sounds of her slowing breaths, which act like a metronome, lulling me to sleep.

  Guess I’m fucked now. After all that, what we just did, how the earth fucking shattered and my mind detonated, she’d have to be smoking crack to think I’d walk away after one time. What we just had was some next-level shit. It was some romance-book, Cinemax-soft-porn, perfection-level hotness.

  Nope. Not walking away. Consequences be damned.

  Now, if I can just convince Jessie.

  Part 3

  Ish just got real

  Chapter 20

  Jessica

  Dominique: Where you at?

  Jessica: Behind that preposition.

  Dominique: Look at you… Spouting grammar like a champ. If I gave a shit, I’d be thoroughly reprimanded. But since I don’t, and I won’t ever, close the books and get your ass over here! I’m already on drink number two, babe.

  I smile at my phone and tuck it into the outer pocket of my Minku bag. Dominique and I met during a rush party our sophomore year. Neither of us pledged that first house. They wanted me for my family name and ties. And they wanted Dominique because everyone wanted Dom. She was popular and gorgeous, and she walked around campus unfazed with an air of celebrity. Everyone knew she was going to be someone, and they wanted to steal a little of that shine for themselves. The only selling point for Omicron Chi was a campus house and kick-ass parties—their words, not mine.

  Unbeknown to each other, we both chose to go with Delta Sigma Pi, a sorority that had roots in the black community and a history of social service initiatives. During the spring semester we became line sisters. After pledging and finally crossing we became besties.

  Dom is the wild to my calm, and the crazy to my structure. She’s everything that I’m not, or at least everything that I wasn’t before Daniel Xu stepped into the picture.

  This time around I was the reckless one.

  Me.

  Jessica Johnson. The girl so afraid of her mother that she waited until college to lose her virginity. The same girl that has subsequently only slept with two other men. One of whom might only count as half because he had a short stroke and was unfortunately premature in most things: kisses, touches, and ejaculation.

  The fact that I had a one-night stand is a monumental moment.

  Good s
ex. I shake my own damn head at that. Sex with Daniel was way better than good. It was multiple-orgasm, lose-my-voice, had-to-hold-on-to-the-edge-of-the-bed-while-gathering-strength-in-my-legs-to-make-it-to-the-bathroom-the-next-morning awesomeness that I didn’t know existed in real life.

  I mean, I’ve heard about it in the chattering of high school girls, and I might have even seen it a time or two in college. Dominique always had these amazing ho tales about toes curling and sex exhaustion, and well-sized penises that curve to the right and hit all the walls.

  Personally, I’d never experienced anything close to toe-curling, wall-stroking sex until the night of my brother’s wedding, and I can’t get the man or the act out of my head. Aren’t one-night stands supposed to dissolve in the morning without leaving a mark? Both parties walk away and forget the whole thing ever happened? At most, the parties involved might tuck away memories for future spank sessions?

  It’s not so bad during the day but at night when I’m in my bed and it’s dark and quiet, I swear I can conjure his touch, taste his kisses. Recall with startling clarity every movement of his body. Daniel was…precise. Every stroke and bite done with the explicit purpose of pleasing me.

  And he did please me. All night long he pleased me.

  Daniel isn’t a gropey college boy with a lizard tongue and clumsy hands. Far from it. He knew exactly how to move his body and, crazy enough, how to work mine. I’ve never had a man make me come that many times in that many ways…ever.

  No doubt why my brain refuses to reject the idea that it was one time. One mind-bending, life-altering time that I can never revisit.

  Dan isn’t really the good guy.

  He’s the good-time guy and, as advertised, we had a good time.

  I mean seriously, the man has probably moved beyond notches on his bedpost to check marks on his calendar to keep track of his body count. When I first met him, he’d just left a bathroom escapade with another woman. Daniel might have been the most spectacular sex of my life, but I’m under no delusion that I hold the same value to him.