Sloth: A Standalone Forbidden Romance

by Ella James

  My head spins like a moon around a planet.

  I take another breath, and find the air is cold. Kellan moved away—while I wasn’t noticing. I cough.

  “Cleo...” I hear him smiling, even though my eyes are closed. His hand rests on my lower back.

  I blink a few times. Cough some more. I see him smiling down at me, as if I’m viewing him inside a dream. This is dream Kellan. His face looks kinder. More relaxed. Silly perfect Kellan. “Cleo. Are you with me?”

  “Maybe.” I squeak. It turns into a giggle. “I like this...”

  “Do you?” He’s out in front of me now, smiling his lazy Kellan smile.

  I nod, and the room shifts slightly, with its weird heat lamps and forest of green illegal plants. I’m grinning anyway. I laugh, because this shit is funny. “I forgot how much I like it,” I say, leaning forward. “I want to do this every day!”

  Kellan, who is sitting cross-legged in front of me, leans toward me, too. We’re having a moment. His eyes are seeing me. So much seeing me. They’re such blue eyes. They’re really watching me. I watch his lips. They’re such good lips. I want him to kiss me.

  I realize I’m too tired to be sitting up. I want to lie down. I stroke the towels spread out under me. They feel soft. I try to stretch out on my side and end up flopping onto my stomach. Ungraceful, Cleo! Not winning! My ribs dig into the cement. I roll onto my back. There are fans in the ceiling, too? Between the lamps! I never noticed this. Lights and fans. It’s cold here on the floor.

  I need to find a new position.

  Kellan must have ESP, because here he is. He lifts me up, he lays me against him, he lowers my head into his lap. He’s sitting cross-legged. My cheek is on his hard, hard thigh. His arm goes around me, just below my breasts, and his other hand sifts through my hair. I feel like high school on that field trip to the Atlanta Zoo with Alan McIntire. But this is better. Mmm, it’s really better.

  His fingers play along my hairline. I moan maybe. I’m not sure. It’s hard to pay attention.

  His fingers trail along my side. They go under my shirt! Oh my God, the goose bumps.

  “Ohhh yes. Mmmm.”

  His hand spans my ribcage. It’s a big hand. Strong but... really good at being soft. He traces my ribs with his fingertips.

  I feel warm and tired and great.

  His mouth is on mine. I didn’t even see it coming. It’s hot and soft and tastes like smoke. I pant against his lips.

  “Cleo.” He pushes the word into my mouth, then pulls away and nips my neck.

  I grab his hair. He moans. I drag his mouth back up to mine. Our lips and tongues and teeth. I don’t know how. I kiss him hard, as if there’s someone else controlling me.

  He’s stroking my breasts, but that’s not what I want. I push him away and roll over on my stomach. I push myself up on my arms. I’m smiling at him. He’s looking serious. Angsty. I kind of want to giggle.

  Instead, I lean over his lap... and he uncrosses his legs. His face is rapt. His eyes are pools of darkest blue.

  I reach for his dick and find it through his slacks. I grab and squeeze.

  NINETEEN

  Cleo

  “Christ...”

  I rub up and down it. He moans. Then he grabs me by the arms and pulls me onto his lap, so I’m straddling him. He presses down on my hand, keeping it over his bulge while his lips trail up my jaw. His mouth tickles. It’s warm and wet. I shiver, but I can’t get too distracted.

  I go for his fly, but my fingers are so dumb right now. I can’t make it work. I stroke his big dick through his pants. I want his dick. I shift my weight, so I can touch him with both hands, and I notice the soft bulge just below the base of his shaft. His balls. Oh, yes. I like the balls.

  Under my spread legs, he stretches his out. I reach between my legs and push his thighs wider. Hard thighs. Mmmm. I reach down below his dick and—there. His balls are big and full. I cup my hand around them. Must be careful... I try to trace him from the soft bulge of his balls up his thick shaft, around his smooth, round head. I want to touch him—all of him.

  He hisses. “That feels good.”

  He grabs a handful of my hair. He finds my mouth again, and together we stretch out on the floor. His hand works between my legs. I frame his dick with my fingers.

  “Your pants...”

  He unbuttons them, and I pull away from his kiss so I can find my brain enough to tug them down.

  His hips. Oh shit.

  His dick. Fuck yes.

  This is a cock—not a dick. His cock is standing up, tenting his black boxer-briefs. He tugs his pants the rest of the way down, then pulls the elastic of his boxer-briefs out of the way. His cock springs up—a porno of my own.

  “You are perfect.” I laugh, curling my hand around his head. “Especially this.”

  “Likewise,” he breathes. He’s sucking on my nipple through my shirt and bra. I’m lying atop him—but I don’t want to be. I want to be between his legs. I crawl down him, settling on my knees between his muscular thighs, and when he reaches for my shoulder, I evade.

  I curl one hand around his shaft, caressing his velvety skin. I run my fingers under his heavy sac, then cup it in my palm and tug a little.

  “Fuck,” he breathes.

  I tickle my fingertips over the tightening skin.

  He grunts.

  “They’re getting tighter.” I’ve never really played with this part of a guy before—but I always perv on well-hung guys when I’m watching Tumblr porn. I knead him a little more, lightly stroking my other palm over his plump head.

  “Ah—Cleo. Fuck...”

  I gather my courage and lean down to lick his sac. My tongue laps gently. I can feel it tighten. “You’re so sensitive,” I breathe against him, then tease him with the tip of my tongue.

  “Fuck.” His heavy thighs twitch. His hand comes down on my head. “Suck me, Cleo. Now.”

  And wouldn’t that be easy? So predictable. I wrap my hand around his shaft and stroke, glancing at his stricken face, then pull one of his balls into my mouth.

  He barks.

  Oh, yes. So hot! I suck him a little deeper, caressing with my tongue and cheeks. His groan hits me light a lightning bolt between my legs.

  I think I could take the other one, too.

  I open wider and use my fingertips to guide the fullness of his sac into my mouth. I use my lips and cheeks to tuck him in, exploring him with the tip of my tongue as I keep the gentle pressure of my cheeks around him.

  I glance up to find his lips parted, his eyes rolled back. He’s stroking his shaft, his big hand moving in a frenzy. I close my hand over his, then push his hand away as I maintain the steady rhythm. His fingers bite into my shoulders. I trail my tongue between the twin globes of his testicles, and he lets out a wicked groan.

  More of that...

  I want to see what I can do to him. I tighten my grip on his cock and pump faster. All the while I’m sucking gently on his swollen balls. I feel his thighs flex.

  He moans again, like he’s in pain.

  I curve my hand around his slick head... ease his sac out of my mouth. His hands fist on my shoulders as I give his sac another warm, slow lick then flick my tongue over his taint.

  He lifts his ass up off the floor.

  “Cleo... Fuck. Your mouth is... God... please. Fuck....” His legs fall open, then clamp hard around my shoulders. “Cleo,” he begs.

  I lick his sac once more, just to feel him jump, and whirl my tongue back up his shaft. I curl the tip of it around his head, then draw away, just far enough away so he can feel the warmth of my breath on his erection.

  “Oh, Kellan.” I giggle wickedly. “You’re wet.”

  There’s a little pearl of pre-cum on the tip of him.

  I love being a tease, so rather than suck his head into my mouth, I lean down and kiss his thighs. I kiss the smooth, pale skin as he thrusts his cock against my cheek. I suck on his thigh, my chin brushing his balls.

  “You... l
ittle fucking whore,” he snarls. But he’s gasping between the words.

  I grin and lift my head so I can see his face. He’s completely wasted. Gone. His lids lift open, and his eyes look liquid. “Cleo—what...is this?” The words wobble. He twists my hair around his hand and shoves his cock at my mouth.

  He’s so hard now, his length is pressed against his abs. I pull it down and stroke it, fast and steady.

  “Suck me. Jesus fucking Christ. Now... Cleo.” He cups my head, fingers digging hard into my scalp. I just can’t stop. After all his bossiness, I love that I can do this. I smile to myself and drop down to tease his balls again, but his thighs clamp around my ears. He thrusts his hips and pushes my face down, pressing his swollen head against my lips.

  I open for him, sucking him in deep... then deeper, until I feel like I will choke. His palms cup the back of my head, pressing me in place, as I drool and work to rearrange my mouth and throat around him.

  “More,” he orders. “Take... it all.” The words are rasped. I flick my gaze to him and find his eyebrows clenched, his jaw tight...

  Yes.

  I shut my eyes and take a long and careful breath. As I ease his plump head deeper down my throat, he tugs my hair. His hips tremble. “Cleo... Christ, that mouth...”

  I bob my head, applying pressure with my cheeks as I move up and down his cock.

  “Such a fucking slut,” he moans. “My little tease. You love this don’t you? Teasing me...”

  I swallow gently and he thrusts, making me choke. He tugs my hair so hard I almost bite.

  “That throat...so goddamned soft. You’re such a...ahh.” His head tilts back, and I can see his chest rise as he pants.

  Stroking his balls, I take him deeper, until my eyes are streaming tears. I’ve given blow jobs before, but never one like this. He’s buried so deep in my throat, every breath is a struggle for me. My jaw aches, even as I pulse and leak between my legs.

  My tongue struggles to curl around his girth.

  He moans, clutching my head.

  I pull almost all the way off him, grab a quick breath, and slam him all back down my throat. I repeat a few times, till his legs are shaking badly and his breaths are ragged, fast and hard.

  I swallow once more, taking him deep as my lips massage his shaft. “Fuck me, fuck...” I feel his balls draw up in my palm. I stroke the tender skin and swallow once more, hard, around his cock. I’m rewarded by a hard thrust of his hips. “Oh God... Oh—fuck Cleo!”

  He tries to pull away. I clamp my mouth around him, suck him hard, and grab onto his hips. He breathes a harsh curse, then he’s blowing in my mouth.

  The marijuana does some magic on the moment—slows it down for me. I’m aware of my fingers clawing his hip as I swallow. I open my eyes while he’s still pulsing down my throat.

  He’s leaned back on his elbows. His face is tilted to the ceiling; his eyes are shut; his mouth open.

  He looks nothing like the Kellan I know. This one looks exultant. Free.

  My prideful thoughts must echo through the ether, because a moment later, he grabs me by my hair and jerks his dick out of my mouth.

  I sit up and wipe my chin. I’m so wet right now, I can feel it dripping down my legs. My cunt feels full and swollen, heavy. Empty. I can’t even draw a full breath.

  He blinks, looking shell-shocked. Maybe because I’m about to ask him to help me come, the harsh look on his face feels like a slap.

  I know something is wrong when he fumbles to his feet and turns his back without meeting my eyes. He starts to pull his clothes on, moving quickly but clumsily, like someone trying to flee a one-night stand.

  How embarrassing. Insulting. Rude.

  I shift a little, so the fabric of my ripped leggings isn’t pressing against my swollen, clit. It’s still throbbing. I lick my lips. My mouth still tastes like him. Is that the problem? That I swallowed? I thought guys liked that. It hits me that I’ve done it for him twice now.

  I put my hand over my chest and watch his back and shoulders ripple as he pulls his pants on. I take a few deep breaths and try my best to forget about my throbbing pussy.

  Fuck his moods. I gave him a blow job because I wanted to. I was in control.

  Why did I want to? Why did I enjoy it so much? Because... I feel this weird regard for him. An inexplicable... not fondness exactly. More like interest. I’m so damn interested in this guy. So attracted to him. So when I saw the chance, I guess I wanted to make him come undone. Not even want—I needed it. I don’t know why he stokes such strange feelings in me, but I’m not going regret it now.

  I remind myself that just before this, he was the one initiating things in the stock room. What was so wrong with me doing the same?

  Doubts whirl through my head. I shut them down as I sit on my heels. I gave a fabulous blow job—no question about it. The way he jerked and writhed... the way his cockhead leaked a river... All those dirty words... the mindless moans. There is no denying it. He wanted what I gave him.

  I want to hold out judgment, give him a few more minutes to collect himself and start acting normal again, but as he puts his shoes back on, I feel fury. Spurned fury, born of the embarrassment I just can’t shake.

  Did I read that wrong?

  Is he sending mixed signals?

  I thought half the point of this ridiculous acquaintanceship was messing around. Is Kellan some kind of blowjob hater?

  The back of his biceps ripple as he gets the last boot on his foot. He straightens up, and my stomach curls into a little ball as he turns around to face me. I can tell he’s trying to keep neutral, but his features are taut. Troubled.

  I can’t stand it, so I look down at the floor. I spot the remainder of the bud I plucked and scoop it up. It’s a little nugget: no longer than my pinkie.

  I drag my thumb over it, then find the nerve to hold it out to Kellan. He blinks down at it. He looks pissed off. No—he doesn’t. His mouth twists, and I think that he looks desperately unhappy.

  I curl my hand around the bud. He watches me without a word, without a breath.

  I try to read his face, and when I can’t, I feel the weight of everything I don’t know about him. My heart is pounding as I whisper, “Why do you do this, Kellan?”

  “Why do you?”

  “I asked you first.”

  “I have a lot of reasons.” He blinks. His handsome face is now on lockdown.

  “Name one.”

  He shrugs, the motion quick and angry. “It should be legal. As medicine, for recreation. I give it to people who need it.”

  “You mean like people with ailments? Chemo patients and...whoever else?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have a lot of people like that on your list? People who use it as medicine?”

  He shifts his eyes away from me, then back. He locks his jaw, then holds my gaze for a long moment. “I sell so I can give it to the med patients for free.”

  “So you’re like Robin Hood.” I look at his stark face, trying to find the kindness that I know is there. “How many of those patients do you have?”

  “A lot.” He sighs and rubs his brow, as if he has a headache.

  I nod slowly, wishing I knew him well enough to ask what’s wrong right now and get an honest answer.

  His brows lift. “You disapprove?”

  “No—I’m...surprised. Impressed, I guess.” I stroke a fingertip over the nugget in my hand. “I used to want to be a nurse, but I was afraid hospitals would remind me too much of my dad and sister.”

  I watch his shoulders lift with one deep breath. He lets it out—and then his hands curl into fists.

  “Let’s get out of here, Cleo.”

  His voice is bitter.

  I have no idea why.

  TWENTY

  Kellan

  This is not going as planned.

  It’s not Cleo’s fault. It’s mine.

  I’m not doing this right. Maybe I can’t.

  I can.

  I just h
ave to focus. Like now. I’m driving. She’s beside me. I don’t need to talk to her. I haven’t since we left Pecan, and why should I? The only way Cleo is different than the last girl hanging from my ropes is that there are more rules—for me. She’s not one of my submissives, but I think I could work her into that role. As a stand-in, anyway.

  I would love to break her down and make her mine. I would love to see her tanned skin marked. I’m hard just picturing her round ass in the air, her blushing cheeks against my sheets. The way her shoulder blades would draw together when I pull her arms behind her back and bind them at the wrists.

  I want my cock to live inside her throat. Inside her cunt. Inside her ass. I bet she would feel good from behind. She’s not a virgin but I’m guessing no one’s been inside her ass. These Southern girls don’t always go for that. Something about the Bible and sodomy, I think. Fucking literal interpretation if you ask me, but who would?

  Cleo shifts in her seat. Can she feel my dirty thoughts? I almost hope she can.

  But there’s the rub. I need to refrain from lusting after her until it’s time to get my rope out. I need to think of her as Cleo, possible business partner, until the need for her body becomes too great. I won’t let myself think of her sweet pussy until we’re walking up the stairs. Every other moment, it’s just business.

  I don’t need her to be funny. I don’t need her to be kind. I don’t even need her to learn the logistics of stock and delivery—not really. When I go, I’ll shut down the import part of my little supply chain, as well as the smaller grow house on LaMont. The Pecan house is all she and Manning will need to continue turning enough profit to supply my VIP clients—the ones with medical needs—and pay themselves enough to make it worth their while. I know it won’t go on forever. I’ve got a plan for checking in on things, for discerning when Manning is ready to stop without asking him directly.

  My hope for Cleo is that she can be the face of my enterprise for the VIPs and help Manning when he needs her—while padding her pocket book, of course. I’ll put Matt in charge of all the dealers. I’ve already started laying groundwork for that, although I haven’t told him. I won’t until it’s almost time for me to leave.