by J. C. Allen
“It’s not what you think, baby. Let me explain.”
Her grip tightened on the door until she stood aside and let it open. I walked in, following her until she stopped at her kitchen. She seemed to be making herself a drink and finished it rather quickly.
As soon as she finished, she stared at me, waiting for me to speak.
“I used to know Stacy…”
“You used to have sex?”
There was not only no reason to lie, there was every reason to tell the truth. Isabelle wasn’t a weak girl who imagined I was a virgin; she had to know the truth. I nodded.
“Yeah. I haven’t seen her in two years. She was only coming by to tell me she was getting fucking married.”
Isabelle sat on her kitchen counter and swung her legs, her bare feet crossed and painted yellow to match her nails. She spent several moments staring at the ground, as if trying to find the right words for me. I just hoped they were words I could appreciate as well.
“She looked friendly.”
I knew this was a test. But it wasn’t the annoying kind of test—it was a legitimate one to see how I would describe her.
“Yeah, she acts like that. But it was nothing. I’m not interested in that shit anymore. I’m interested in you, for a real relationship, not just some girl for just some sex.”
She still didn’t seem convinced, but at least she wasn’t as blindingly angry as she had been earlier. I had to push the truth a bit.
“You know I planned how I would introduce you to everyone tonight? I was going to show you to Zeke first, because he’s goofy as shit and would make you comfortable, before you met the rest of my brothers, and the rest of the club.”
“I met Zeke. I got a drink at the bar.”
Silence filled the air. I had no idea if she had said that as a prelude to something serious or as a start to her forgiveness. Both seemed equally plausible, and both seemed equally likely. I did my best to maintain my stoicism.
“You look alike.”
It wasn’t said with a grin, but it was said with a bit of a lighthearted tone. It was about the best thing I could have heard from her.
“He’s the better looking one, or so I have heard.”
Admittedly, it wasn’t a great joke, but it was a joke all the same.
“No, I don’t think so,” she said with a laugh.
You’re all good. You’re in the clear.
I went over to her and ran my hand up her thighs. She relaxed, breathing out through her parted lips. She opened her legs so I could step between them, sliding her down so her heat can touch my cock, growing by the second. I was getting more and more in the mood, and judging by the look in Isabelle’s face, she was too.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Isabelle.”
I raised my hands to cup her face and brought her lips to me.
“I know.” she murmured. “It’s OK.”
I couldn’t wait any longer. We were good. Nothing more on that topic needed to be said.
My lips pressed onto hers in a fury, and she returned the aggression. I felt all of me seeping into her, everything that I thought I lost pouring out into her. I gripped her ass and drove her over my cock, rubbing against the fabric until she moaned. She gripped my shoulders over my shirt, then rose up and threaded her fingers in my hair until she scratched my scalp. I groaned, sensations running down my back and to my cock.
I slid my tongue over hers, tasting the juice and alcohol of her drink and the taste of her mouth. Her breasts mashed against my chest, and I swore I felt her nipples hardening against me. I wanted to feel her against my chest again and feel her clit pulse and her nipples harden.
She had an amazing body, but more than that, she was so easily responsive to me that it turned me on more than anything in the world. I knew she was as wet as can be right now, but I waited until I just couldn’t take it just to prolong the chase for her. It was so damn difficult for me, but there was something to be said for both of us to push the moment of sexual contact as far out as possible to better the pleasure.
“Jaxson… God, I fucking missed you.”
She exhaled against my lips. I brought my lips down her neck and bit her. I wanted to eat this girl out and taste her body as much as possible.
“I missed you too. So fucking much.”
I shoved my hands under her shirt, almost ripping the fabric, and was pleased to find her bare underneath. Her breasts were warm under my fingers, and her swells were so low I dipped my fingers under and slid over her soft, perfect skin. My cock trembled, begging for contact from her.
“You are fucking perfect, Isabelle. You know that?”
I looked back to her eyes. She blinked in shock. I held her gaze as I gripped both her breasts, and her eyes widened as I watched her pupils dilate. Show her that the stuff with Stacy was just bullshit. Show her that she is yours.
“I think about you, all the time. I don’t go to sleep without stroking myself, thinking of you.”
And then she, once again, said the absolute perfect words.
“I touch myself too.”
“Fuck, baby,” I said, biting my lip, thinking of her touching her perfect pussy, thinking of me. “You imagine it’s me?”
“Yes… I do.”
Her head started to roll to the back, but I pulled her forward. I wanted her to see the intensity and fire in my eyes.
“I’m going to fuck you on this counter. You ready?”
She gasps, her eyes boring into mine.
“Yes. Take me, Jaxson.”
Isabelle was so slick against my fingers, I had to fight not to lose my grip on her. But that was never going to happen—just the mere worry of having lost her when she saw Stacy was enough motivation to ensure that I would never, ever, let her go. She was mine, and whether the grip was literal or metaphorical, I wasn’t going to lose it.
I never would have thought I needed her the way I do now, nor that I would ever need anyone that way, but here we were.
I kissed her just to make that fact known to both of us. I tightened my lips around her supple plush pillows of skin and darted my tongue against hers. I paused only to rip her jeans down her body and expose her, the scent of her arousal filling the air and wrapping me in a cocoon I would never try to escape.
“Jaxson…”
Her cheeks have flushed pink, trailing down to her neck. An overwhelming need to taste her came over me. I dropped to my knees and spread her legs apart, grabbing onto her deliciously soft and full thighs. I loved her body; it was fucking perfect, and all I wanted was to be pressed up against it forever.
“Oh god…”
She moaned under her breath as my lips brushed her center. Her clit throbbed under my tongue, and I started to eat her pussy, taking my time as I lapped up her juices. Let’s just say that I was in no rush to hurry this moment, not when there had been a time when I had thought I’d lost it.
Just when I thought she was at her max, she gushed even more beneath me. I held her tighter, feeling her fall over the edge as her gasps grew closer together, louder until they filled the room. I loved how loud she was, how real she was, and how hard she came for me. She clutched my hair so tight, her nails dug into my scalp.
And you know how much I cared about the pain? Not one bit—the only thing I cared about was that she was mine and mine alone.
I kissed back up her body, rising to meet her lips so she can taste herself on me. I dropped my pants as she tugged my shirt off, and I looked right into her widened eyes.
“Hold on, baby.”
You’re about to feel me even more than you did at the start of the week.
Feeling all of her clenching me was an absolute gift. I felt like I would come undone at first contact, as she was so tight and hot. Goddamnit, I just lost my fucking mind given the way she moaned against me, clutching me close.
Her nails raked down my front torso, over the midline of my abs and every section of my chest. I got shivers as I sunk inside of her, and for just a few secon
ds, I remained there. I wanted to feel her, to feel myself falling into her—the time for fucking her was seconds away, but there was no need to hurry to it.
I pulled my hand back to cup her face. My thumbs grazed the edges of her lips as her hot breath fanned across it. She trembled, a sight that was always such a huge turn-on for me.
It feels like her heart beat was inside her pussy, as I could feel every hit of it, over and over. I couldn’t help but in that moment admire the perfection that was her body; it was a work of art. I knew that it was becoming almost repetitive, but perfection demanded that I continue to admire it as I did.
“Fuck me Isabelle, you’re so damned beautiful.”
She smiled softly but still looked like she was in disbelief. I think both of us are to some extent.
I pushed into her farther. She gasped as I moved in to kiss her. Her taste was so sweet and so succulent, it almost drove me to the edge again. I rocked my hips to meet her deeper, and her legs parted for me even more. The kiss was slow, a stark contrast to the feeling beneath our necks.
She passed her arms up my body again, her warm palms covering the muscles of my arms and neck before reaching my face. She held me so tenderly I never even thought it was possible. Her lips were soft and tender, cautious even.
But now, it was time to get to it. She moved so that her hips meet mine, and I pounded into her faster, hitting her deeper and harder each time. She moaned against me, muffled by my lips. Her tongue swiped over mine.
She moaned until she just outright shrieked, unable to carry her breath long enough. I tugged at her shirt, accidentally ripping it and exposing her breasts in one swift movement. They were smooth, heavy, and outright delicious. Her nipples were like hardened pebbles. My thrusts shook her breasts up and down, bobbing just how I like to see them.
She leaned back onto the counter, after she couldn’t take it anymore, and rested on her elbows. Her body was covered in a delicious sheen of sweat. It was like I had just painted a masterpiece—except my work was not even close to being done, not until she came so I could follow her.
Her breath kicked up when I reached out and grabbed her left breast, pinching and rolling her nipple between my fingers. The sound of me thrusting hit the room and was permanently etched in my brain, mixed with her moans and the way she cried out for me. The way she said my name like a breath she has to hold onto… like something she needed to survive… I want to say her name the same way. It’s just perfect. So goddamn perfect.
My balls tightened up inside, and my cock hardened to its limit as I felt my release coming. I realized she hadn’t come yet, and I was probably going too fast for her to—at the very least, at this pace, I was going to release before she did. I slowed just enough to make sure I didn’t fire my load off too soon and rubbed against her clit with my thumb. Her moans turned from ones of surprise to pleasure, drawing out as I felt her fall closer and closer until she finally came, her hips violently shaking against my cock and thumb.
As she slowly came down from her orgasm, I returned to my original pace and pounded faster than ever, determined to get the same sweet release that she had gotten herself. I came into her harder than I did before, pulsing longer than I was used to. My knees got weak.
I had often felt that the moments immediately after an orgasm were the ones in which my truest thoughts came through. I could lie to myself about how I felt about someone in the moments before sex or even during it, but the orgasm drew down any pretenses I may have had before; there wasn’t going to be any getting around if I disliked someone. In the immediate aftermath of Stacy, as great as the sex was, I had felt nothing but an empty hollowness.
But with Isabelle? It was the exact opposite. She was perfect. She was almost certainly the one.
I drew her up to meet me as I kissed her. My hands appreciated every curve of her body as I kissed her and emptied the last of myself inside her. Her moan was one of pleasant exasperation now—I was quite sure that at this point, both of us just wanted a damn nap for how intense that sex was.
“God, Jaxson, you are an animal.”
Truer words have never been spoken, Isabelle.
“I know.”
I kissed her again, my lips swiping over hers in a much more relaxed state as I slipped out of her. I knew we had probably made a mess of the counter, but there was nothing I can do about that now.
Or, I should say, there was nothing I was willing to do. I just wanted to fucking admire the lady before me, not the mess we had made.
Unfortunately, the reality was that I didn’t have time to admire any of it, because club duties called. It was going to be a terrible look—it made me look like I’d only run her down for some ass and then hightail it back—but with a five-figure debt over our head and other club business, I had no choice.
“I hate to do this, and know that I have no choice in doing it, but…”
I glanced at the clock on the microwave in her kitchen.
“You have to go?” she said.
I nodded, not wanting to let her go. I didn’t even move to get dressed. Just because I knew I had to do it didn’t mean I was in a hurry to do it.
“I’m sorry. I just got some stuff to deal with at the club, I have to go back.”
To my surprise, she didn’t get angry. She actually looked almost regretful, like she was to blame.
“I’m sorry I ruined the night for you.”
Are you crazy?!? Stacy was the one who almost ruined it. Although, with the way this turned out…
“No, don’t apologize for how you felt. I understand.”
Isabelle, of all people, had nothing to apologize for.
“You don’t think I’m your crazy girlfriend?” she said. “Um, I mean… not that I’m assuming we are together, I just—”
I covered her mouth and grinned. She had just said what I had meant to express myself—and there was no chance I was changing my mind on that.
“Isabelle, of course you’re my girl.”
To prove that I was serious, I kissed her to make it true. When I pulled back, she smiled at me, a mental shot that I wanted to save forever.
“Hey, maybe I’ll come back, okay? Just depends how long they keep me.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t stay up for me, though. You do whatever you need to do, Isabelle.”
I take one last good look at her before I run to the bathroom. On the way out, she met me by the door half-dressed. I kissed her once more before I left.
Yet somehow, it just couldn’t compare to staying with her.
I went back to the club for almost three hours, only to find that all of the members and officers had either consumed too much alcohol or were paranoid talking club business under the influence was a terrible idea. Fortunately, we all came to the same, divided conclusion—resume the meeting the next morning. Thus, I ended the meeting and decided we should meet when we had clear heads void of alcohol.
It didn’t take me long to pass out when I got home, so exhausted from the craziness of the day that I just wanted to sleep. The first thing I did when I woke up, though, was to roll over to check my phone. It wasn’t exactly good news.
I had two missed calls from Simon. That didn’t portend to a promising day.
I figured I should have a clear head before I checked my phone for messages from Isabelle, so I left it on the side of the bed and sat up to stretch. I scratched my chest and looked down to see where Isabelle had left marks on my skin.
I had to admit, at a time of club turmoil, at a time when many of us were uncertain if the club would even be around at the turn of the new year… Isabelle was starting to become my rock. We were very new, and we had admittedly moved very fast, but, hey, when you knew, you knew. And with her, I more than knew—it was like a divine certainty that I was supposed to be with her. How else could you explain how quickly yet naturally things moved?
Maybe we were both fucking crazy, but if that was the case, crazy with crazy was a good match.
&
nbsp; I slowly woke up and made breakfast for myself. The coffee, eggs, and bacon did enough to wake me up enough that I called Simon.
“I’m at a site.”
Well, that’s a real promising start.
“What did you call me for at seven in the morning? Twice, no less. The damn building had better have burned down.”
Simon sighed on the other end of the line. Someday, I figured, we might be good. But someday was not today.
“I talked to my guy in city hall, it doesn’t look good.”
I heard someone call his name in the background. He wasn’t kidding—and he wasn’t kidding now about it not looking good. God fucking damnit.
“I gotta go, I’m coming by the club later.”
And with that, he ended the call.
Hopefully, he hadn’t also just warned that the club was ending too. Because right now, with the way things were going, I didn’t have much faith that it would last much longer. Maybe that was a shitty thing to say as president, and I certainly wouldn’t say it out loud, but given our prognosis…
I set my phone down and shagged my dishes. I had dozens to do, but after that phone call, I just didn’t feel like doing them. So, rather than be productive, I more or less melted to the couch and just turned on old television.
And then I got the absolutely brilliant idea to, you know, call the person who actually had helped me to this point. I called her, hoping that her normal schedule would ensure that she, unlike me, didn’t need a long wakeup call.
“Hey,” she whispered.
I knew she was sleepy and trying to sound like she wasn’t. It made me appreciate her even more that she was willing to answer the phone call when she’d likely been passed out.
“Hey baby, you asleep? I didn’t mean to wake you.” Even though I totally did.
“No, that’s okay. I’ve decided I need to wake up earlier these days.”
Yeah, OK, I thought with a smirk.
“You’re ridiculous… what do you have planned for today?”
“Um, Riley and I are going out. Shopping or something.”
It sounded more or less like a stock answer, the kind of thing meant to say she wasn’t really busy but didn’t want to sound like she wasn’t.
