by Kat Ransom
I separate my legs, but he clasps my knees and spreads them further himself before easing himself down with his shoulders between my thighs. He runs his tongue along the outside of my pussy and then makes a long swipe of his tongue from my clit to my opening and I cry out for him. I push up to make more contact but he spreads a hand across my belly and holds me down. His mouth covers my pussy and he’s lapping and winding his tongue across every millimeter, through every ridge and valley.
“Oh my god, Lennox…”
“Wider,” he tells me, sucking my clit, and I try to open my legs more but they’re shaking and trembling and I am not in control of myself. “Fucking wider” he grunts and pins my knees to my side and darts his tongue all the way inside me like a dagger.
Writhing and bucking, I clutch his head, running my fingers into his hair and taking hold for dear life.
“Hands above your head or I’ll stop” he lifts an inch and I can feel his warm breath on my core, sending shivers across my abdomen.
I put my hands back up because I will die if he stops. The world will stop spinning and the trapped energy inside me will implode. “Lennox, please.”
“Please what?”
“Please don’t stop!”
“Payback, Mallory.” There’s no humor or teasing in his inflection and I’m praying he isn’t really going to deny me. When I manage to lift my hips high enough to reach his lips he takes mercy and he pulls my clit into his mouth.
A rough finger slides into me and the sensation of his warm skin gliding in and out, curving upward and massaging me, ignites a fever across my skin starting in the soles of my feet and racing upward. He adds a second finger and I’m so close. My thighs are tense and shaking, I can feel them trembling against his shoulders.
“Yes, yes, oh fuck, yes,” I pant.
His fingers stall, dragging so slow I can feel every bit of friction. His tongue flattens against me, deliberately languid and torturous when I was so close. “Goddamnit, Lennox,” I whine and try to buck against him but it’s no use against his shoulders. I can feel his lips smile against my center.
“More?” He asks sarcastically, licking up the moisture seeping out of me with leisure.
“More,” I watch him between my legs and reach a hand for his face. As soon as it leaves the pillow, though, he raises an eyebrow at me and stops his tongue. Oh, this absolute bastard is tormenting me. I don’t know how else to surrender to him but there is nothing I will not do, no amount of stubborn fight in me I’m unwilling to submit to him right here and right now.
“Mmm,” he licks the length of me, “maybe slow and soft for an hour or two would be the appropriate payback.”
I don’t dare challenge him because he’ll do it. He lives for that shit. “Please, you win. You win everything. Fuck me fast and hard, Lennox.”
He growls against me, the vibration of his voice could get me off at this point I’m so desperate. The tip of his tongue circles my clit a few times, never letting me come all the way down. “And what do I win?”
I’m gripping the pillows so hard my knuckles are white and my legs are writhing and wiggling of their own accord. “Anything. Me.”
Whatever you want, please just name it and take me.
“How about this perfect smooth pussy?”
God, he’s so filthy and it makes me want him even more. “Yes, it’s yours.”
I’ve spoken the magic words, Lennox increases the pressure and speed of his tongue and fingers. His tongue is feasting on me, I can’t guess how many fingers are stretching me and working my insides to perfection. I’m past the point of no return, cresting on the impending wave. “Come on my tongue, Mallory.”
I’m clutching the pillows, my eyes clenched shut and watering as the surge peaks, crashes, and sends me deep below the surface, riptides of pleasure overtaking my body and I scream like I have never screamed before. Lennox keeps licking me, lapping up every bead of my wetness until my screams stop.
I am trembling and panting and insatiable. I need him inside me like I need the air I breathe. Lennox rises to his knees between my legs and I reach for his briefs, this time he lets me. I bend forward at the waist and reach inside to pull his cock free. It’s massive and hard and yet so silky and smooth in my hands. The heat coming off is electric.
He stands and pushes down his boxer briefs and I rip open the box of condoms he threw onto the bed earlier. I tear one open with my teeth so eager to feel him deep inside me. Standing at the foot of the bed, Lennox takes his cock in his right hand and starts working it up and down, watching me watch him. Beads of precum glisten on the tip begging for me to taste him, swirl my tongue around the head and take him deep into my throat.
I push myself up on the bed to crawl to him but he shakes his head at me. More wetness seeps from me as he starts tugging on that gorgeous shaft, his bicep and forearm contracting with every pull. Lying back, never looking away from him, I travel my hand down my abdomen and slip two fingers between my lips. Sucking in a deep breath, his eyes dart between mine and my fingers swirling around my clit. Spreading my lips and lifting my hips, I offer him every inch of me.
In an instant he’s on top of me hovering his weight on his elbows, prisoning me between his two huge biceps next to my head. I wiggle to reach between us and slide the condom over him and he pushes his rigid length over my core again, running it back and forth over my slick clit. I’m so sensitive my body jerks up to meet him and I grip his back.
He takes my mouth, his tongue strong and probing, the taste of my desire coating him. He’s grinding his thick erection against me and I could come again from this exquisite friction but I need him, I need all of him. He lines up the head of his cock at my entrance and I can feel the pressure, the hint of what’s to come as he holds steady there, taunting me, hips still. My hands wrap around his biceps beside my head and he stares down at me with complete control.
“What do you want?” He grumbles low.
“You, I want you.”
“More.”
“Lennox, I want you inside me. Please, I want to feel your hard cock inside me.” I beg and clutch him, nails digging into his rock hard biceps.
“More.” He commands, his timbre stern and rough.
“I need you. I need all of you. I want to belong to you. I want you to own me, every part of me.” I don’t know where these words are unleashed from, what part of my subconscious this man has unlocked. I have fought my whole life against being constrained, but this is so different.
He thrusts into me in one swift drive. “FUCK,” he roars so loud I can feel the treble of his voice in my bones, “so fucking… tight.”
He raises his face to look me in the eyes, still until I can adjust to the size of him stretching my walls. I’m so full but I need him to move, I need more. Lifting my ass up, I try to get every last inch of him deep inside me. He groans and pulls out to spread my moisture over his full length, then drives back into me, hard.
Arching my back and gripping his firm ass, I pull him into me at each thrust, encouraging him to give me everything he has. Curling my free hand around his shoulder, I raise my head to bite his neck, nip his shoulder. I turn my head and bite the rippling bicep next to my head. The taste of his sweating skin is salty against my tongue, and his smell surrounds me, rugged and masculine.
He moans every time my teeth mark him, his pleasure pushing me closer and closer to coming again. He’s relentlessly driving into me and my legs start to shake again, my torso tensing in anticipation. He grabs one of my legs behind my knee and pins it to my shoulder, holding it there as he presses deeper into me. The ridge of his cock’s head is dragging in and out of me and I can feel every slick movement. I’m so close.
“Look at me,” he orders.
I strain my neck to stop thrashing my head back and forth and hold his stare, emerald green seas, depth and passion, fire and embers so hot they glow unnatural colors. It’s too much, seeing the blaze inside him and feeling him so deep inside me pressi
ng into my womb.
“Come for me, Mal.”
“Lennox” I pant and clench down on him, tightening up.
“Give it,” he drives into me, “up.”
My pussy starts to spasm and pull him in deeper, “Lennox, oh god.”
“Give it the fuck up to me,” he demands and with one more ruthless thrust, I’m coming all over him, digging my nails into his back and screaming, crying, shrieking words of pleasure, words of nonsense, words of ecstasy.
He loses control and drives into me like a man possessed until I feel his whole body go rigid above me, every muscle locking up, and his warmth pulses inside of me before he finally collapses on top of me.
I have never been so thoroughly fucked.
Once our breathing settles, he rolls off and drags me into his side, my head on his chest and one leg wrapped over his thigh. I guess cuddling is ok, at least post-orgasm cuddling, the best kind.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he sighs.
“Aye, fuckin’ hell,” I tease back, in my best Scottish accent.
Sixteen
Headline: Formula 1 Star Wins Hearts at Charity Gala, Donates Quarter Million to NYC Children’s Hospital
Blog: Paddock Playboy Captures New Co-Pilot
Insta: Gibbes and the Girl in Givenchy
PastriesWithPasties: him in a tuxedo, omg, be still my beating heart
46BlackFlags: who’s the chick?
BuddyTheElf: I’d do her
CrateNBurro: His new PR person? She’s at press with him at races.
DigbyDevotee: She’s no Kate Allendale.
GrooveIsInTheHeart: Oh please, at least this one isn’t a twig!
RumbleStrip1985: I’ve stared at this photo for an hour, jaw still not closed.
Lennox
“It’s actually not as bad as I was expecting,” Mallory says in disbelief, 30,000 feet over the Atlantic. She’s been face first in her laptop since the moment the crew turned on the wifi. She wasn’t scheduled to fly home with me, she was going to stay in New York for one more night, but she said she’d rather join me on the jet than fly economy.
Fine by me. Mine.
She found her phone I’d hidden yesterday and recoiled in horror when it lit up like a Christmas tree, pings and bings screaming from it. I assume most of it was from her parents given the colorful four-letter words she mumbled back as she scrolled and swiped.
It wasn’t hard to distract her, though.
We stayed in the room all day until checking out this evening. I ordered room service, she let me steal one of her pancakes, and I fucked her six ways from Sunday all over the Presidential Suite. She was convinced the glass would shatter when I took her up against the window overlooking Central Park. Given the octave of her screaming my name, I think it was a real possibility.
I shouldn’t feel a sense of pride watching her squirm on the white leather couch on the plane as she finds a comfortable way to sit, but I’m full of male ego this evening. The rest of my season is looking up. If I have to put up with the Celeritas bullshit, at least my nights will be satisfying.
“Your parents give it up?” I ask from my recliner seat across from her.
“Oh no, definitely not. But the news, the blogs, everything on social is surprisingly… good?” She keeps twirling her fingers and clicking on the trackpad on a hunt for the disaster she’s expecting.
I guess that’s a relief, for her. I’m used to handling the hateful comments and trolls. Most days, it rolls off my back. I don’t want her dragged under with me, though. Trying to keep Mum, Pop, and Bram out of it is enough work.
“I guess you’ve done your job, then.”
“I think you’re right. Despite your best attempts, Mr. Gibbes, the tide is turning on your bad boy image. People really liked all the photos of you signing their fan mail. UG Petroleum is happy with you and we have a new potential sponsor to wine and dine in China.”
“I’d rather dine on you.” We’ve got five hours or so left before we land in London, refuel, pick up Matty and Jack, then head to China. Five hours that could be put to much better use than lining the Celeritas coffers with more money.
“Bluewater Tech, a new computer processor company, I believe,” she ignores me.
The sliding wood door to the flight crew cabin opens and the attendant asks if we’ll be needing anything.
“Just privacy, please,” I smile at her.
“Of course, I’ll dim the cabin lights for the evening, sir,” and she sets out to show Mallory where the minibar and snacks are before pulling out pillows and blankets for the evening and disappears into the forward cabin. Moments later the lights drop and there’s only a glow from safety lights and Mallory’s laptop.
She takes a deep breath, puts her closed laptop on the worktable in front of my recliner, and squints at me, “Ok, let’s get it over with.”
Get it over with? That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement for my sexual prowess. “There were no complaints earlier,” I scoff at her. “I recall a whole lot of begging, in fact.”
Her eyes press shut but she has nothing to be embarrassed about. It was hot as hell. Having this strong, stubborn fighter come apart for me, give herself over to me, I feel like I’m on the top step of the podium again. And it’s been a long time since I’ve been there.
“No, I meant we need to discuss logistics. Let’s get that over with.”
“Ugh,” I groan and lean my head back into my recliner. Hot or not, she still harbors a bit of an inner harpy dying to be let out and talk about feelings.
“I want this Lennox, but it can’t interfere with my job.”
“Ok.” I appreciate that she came right out with what she wants instead of making me chase her and guess what’s in her head. I want this to continue, too. Problem solved.
“I mean it, this job is important to me. No one can know.”
“Why?” I scowl. Who the hell cares? I haven’t talked to Jack or Matty but I’m sure they both already know. They aren’t idiots and I’m not lying to them.
“It’ll be career suicide if anyone finds out I’m sleeping with my clients, Lennox! I want to open my own firm and I need this job. I need the contacts, the experience on my resume. I already have one strike against me.” She’s talking a mile a minute and I can hear it in her voice how important this is to her. After meeting her abominable parents, I get it.
“What strike? The two ghouls who raised you?”
“No, the last athlete I worked with,” she grimaces and my jaw ticks. I don’t want to hear about her sleeping with some other dude, some Brazilian soccer player or Australian rugby pro. I need to stop thinking about it.
“The guy you got rid of?”
“No. I told you I’ve never done this before,” she waves between us. I’m more relieved than I have a right to be.
She pauses a minute, fidgeting with the hem of my tee-shirt she’s wearing. She does that a lot when she’s nervous. The hotel concierge was able to deliver jeans and other necessities for her earlier, but she kept my shirt on. Said it was ‘comfy,’ as if I’ve never had chicks steal my shirts before and don’t know what that’s about. She still has my team jacket from Bahrain, too, now that I think about it.
“So, there was this NBA player,” she starts, staring down at the cream carpet of the jet.
“Jesus, do I want to hear this?” I groan.
She tells me the story about this guy, some clown who racked up a DUI and was fighting on the court. Super talented but throwing it all away. She got called in when he was picked up on drug charges. Worked with him for about six months but it kept getting worse.
“We were on our way to an event but he said we had to make a stop first,” she continues. “Turns out, the stop was a white supremacy rally.”
“What.”
“Oh, but it gets worse. Unbeknownst to me, he bought a bunch of coke while we were there. We were filmed leaving this awful, racist rally and then we got pulled over by the cops. He was driving like a crazy person and
blew a stop sign.”
Now I’m not just shocked, but pissed. This piece of shit was high on cocaine and driving with Mallory in the car?
“The police found the drugs in the car and, in the press, he claimed they were mine, that I had dragged him to the white supremacy group, that it was all my idea.”
“Were you arrested?”
“Charges were never pressed against me, it was obvious to the police I had nothing to do with the drugs,” she shakes her head.
“What happened with this prick?”
“Oh, he got released from his contract immediately. Last I heard he blew through all his money and was living with friends,” she shrugs. “And I was fired.”
“But you had nothing to do with it.”
“Image is everything, Lennox. I didn’t do my job. No one wanted to work with me after that.”
“That’s bullshit,” I seethe. “That’s why you came to London,” it dawns on me and she nods her head.
I sink into my recliner and run my hands over my eyes. This complicates things, something that was not supposed to be complicated. I don’t want to screw her life up more by being my normal dickish self around the track if it can ruin her life like this. But I also need to do what I need to do.
“Sooooo,” she continues and I spin my chair back in her direction. “That’s why you can’t scare me off. You’re a marshmallow, comparatively.”
“A marshmallow…”
“Mmm-hmm, burnt and crusty on the outside but soft and squishy inside,” she pinches her fingers together at me like she’s kneading dough.
“I’ll show you soft and squishy,” I threaten her and move to the couch with her. Pulling her onto me to straddle my lap, I run my hands up the back of her shirt, my shirt, against her bare skin.
“You look good in my shirt,” I bite her bottom lip and pull it into my mouth.
“You look good out of your shirt, seems we make a good team,” she giggles.
Miles pass, huge distances pass beneath us over the ocean while we make out like teenagers. Gripping her ass and dragging her against my dick, which knows no moderation, she winces. “Sore?” I ask against her neck.
