Part 6: Add Cream

I rose from my seat and took the small two steps necessary to put me standing between Jon’s now-splayed knees.  After reaching around me to put his wineglass on the table, he leaned back with elbows tucked at his sides and forearms open in invitation.  “Climb on,” he solicited with the beckoning wiggle of fingers.

It terrified me that I might wake up at any moment to find myself in a tangle of sweaty sheets, horny and alone.  That’s the only reason I could fathom for not immediately climbing him like a squirrel chasing a nut on wheels.  My mind had started working against my hormones in a fight to keep at least one toe in the reality pool, and it had my feet firmly attached to the oriental rug.   

“About this rough thing…”

“No reason to be concerned,” he soothed, lifting his chin to watch me with an intensity that had the backs of my knees sweating.  “It’s just gonna be a very vigorous workout.  No whips or chains.  If it makes you feel better, think of it as unbridled passion.  Isn’t that what they call it in romance novels?”

I wouldn’t know.  My first name might be Valentine, but my middle was not Harlequin and I didn’t have the romantic gene that went along with either.  A well-written biography or John Grisham were more my speed, or even the occasional self-help book.  I probably should’ve read more of those, in fact, since I was still standing there like a mute idiot.

“Changing your mind?”

His voice…

It wasn’t deep, but it was seductive in the way he elongated the vowels and softened the hard consonants.  Gentle, with a wicked edge, it held the promise of every dirty fantasy I’d ever had in my life – of him or anyone else.  Add in the faintly curved mouth made for sin and the simmer that warmed cool blue eyes… 

I was ready to sign him on as my personal trainer and willfully surrender to whatever vigorous workout he had up his sleeve – or in his pants.  I’d even be willing to do it a couple of times, because I’d love to have that morning-after ache linger for at least a couple of days.

No pain, no gain.

“Not changing my mind,” I corrected with a shake of my loose blonde waves.  “Just thinking.  I do that a little too much sometimes.”

“Fucking’s a lot more fun without the thinking.”

Such profound wisdom should be immortalized in some way.  Maybe I’d get that put on a mug. 

“Sounds like a hit song lyric.”

“Could be,” Jon agreed with an easy grin, then waggled his fingers at me again.  “C’mere, Tiny.  Lemme help you stop thinking.”

What girl could resist that invitation?

Hiking my dress so that I could plant a knee outside each of his hips, I settled onto his lap, pleasantly noting the heat and hardness of his thighs on the inside of mine.  As I inclined my head, one commanding hand palmed my skull and urged me forward while the other pushed beneath the dress that was quickly becoming cumbersome.  I barely had time to breathe before the top of my sexiest stockings was scorched by his touch. 

Thank God I did get that breath, though, because it was only a heartbeat later that our mouths collided to suck it back out again.  I tasted the soft grunt that slipped through my lips along with his tongue, and the pressure against my skull disappeared as he chose to abandon it in favor of a two-handed pawing of stocking-clad flesh.  The tip of his tongue tickled the roof of my mouth, enticing me to rock against the hardening rock in his lap while Jon manhandled my scantily covered ass. 

There was no tenderness or sensuality.  This was the brutal possession of a man taking what he wanted and doing what the hell he pleased with it.  I had given him that permission, so rather than finding it boorishly offensive, it turned me on like a mother freaking faucet.  If only for a night, my body belonged to him.

“Jesus,” I breathed against lips that were eating at mine.  He wasn’t a big man by most people’s standards, but his presence was nothing short of all-consuming.  I felt both dwarfed and enshrouded by a manifestation that was larger than pornographic life.  “If we stopped now, it would be the best sex I’ve had in years.”

“We’re not stopping.”

The confident growl kicked off an uncontrollable shiver that had my nipples pushing painfully against their confinement, and one of his fingers skimmed over the seam between my buttocks. 

“Take the dress off,” Jon bade with dangerously hooded eyes and a solid smack against my ass.  It was only enough to deliver a resounding noise and a sting, but the unexpectedness had my clit pumping more blood than my heart. “It’s time to get down and dirty.”

Sweet baby Jesus in a velour tracksuit.

 I let my heels slide free and took the hand that was offered to help steady me as I stood.  Twisting my arms in the pretzel position familiar to women everywhere, I was able to reach the zipper that would open the portal of porn.  Pornal. 

Smirking to myself, I eased it down and until I was able to slide it from my shoulders and let it slip into a an inky puddle at my feet.  I stepped out, bending to pick it up and draping it over a nearby chair.  I preferred to go unwrinkled for my walk of shame.

“I didn’t have time for a tummy tuck,” I apologized with a smile when turning back to him.  “Sorry.”

“As long as your tits are real and your pussy’s wet, everything else is secondary.”

If agenda item number two hadn’t been true before, it was now. 

“We’re good, then,” I declared quietly.

Jon nodded once and continued to study my newly exposed parts as though trying to decide what to do with me.  Blue eyes fixated on my lacy bra and then drifted to the skimpy panties before dropping to the garters holding the stockings in place. 

He did it for so long that I started to become a bit self-conscious and prompted, “Problem?”

“Yeah,” came his sheepish laugh.  “It’s been so long since I’ve seen a woman in nothing but lingerie that I’m not quite sure where to start.”

What had been a joke for me yesterday was just confirmed as the truth – I was his rebound girl.  Not knowing what in the hell a rebound girl was actually supposed to do other than screw his brains out, I went with that. 

“I can take it off and let you see the Slot B that your Tab A goes into, if that helps.”

I would’ve given half my retirement account if I could take his smile at that moment and summon it at will.  Wolfish and backed by the full sparkle power of his baby blues, it was enough to incinerate any lingerie in the vicinity. 

He stood, flicking a wrist at his waist and repeating the process until his fly was open and jeans hit the floor.  As he repeated the process with his shirt and tossed it over my dress, I was left looking at one mighty fine looking Tab A that bore no resemblance to any second grader ever.  Jon was all man as he shuffled a hand up and down the length that wasn’t quite hard enough to suit him. 

“How ‘bout you come suck it instead?  Let me fuck your mouth before taking anything else off.”

Never a huge fan of this particular male fantasy, I nonetheless stepped up to take the hot, hard appendage from him and drop to my knees.   I licked the moisture from the tip and then used the head like a skin-flavored ChapStik over my lips.  Soft skin against soft skin as it skated over first my top lip and then my bottom before greedy hands fisted into my hair. 

“I like it a little rough, remember.”

With no further guidance, I took him deep in a single stroke and sucked until my cheeks hollowed.  The tug of hair at my scalp came with a soft groan to tell me that would work for him. 

Up and down I bobbed, his touch acting as guidance but never forcing me as each stroke had him bumping my soft palate.  Taking his balls into one hand while scratching nails of the other down his thigh, I kneaded them much the way he’d kneaded my backside.  For tonight, they were mine and I’d do as I pleased with them, including squeezing a little too hard for comfort. 

“Fuck!” he hissed, but didn’t complain as I manipulated his junk to suit me, sucking and licking until my lips were chapped and my tongue as dry as sandpaper.   Surprisingly gentle hands slipped under my arms and lifted me to my feet, so that he could provide mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and take another heavy-handed grope of my ass. 

With his mouth still very much attached to mine, the man I’d spent most of my life lusting after maneuvered me to the end of the sofa before breaking the kiss to spin me by the hips. 

“Put your elbows on the arm of the couch and hold on.”

The rustle of a condom wrapper and sharp pull of my panties to one side were the only warnings I had before the dominant invasion of my body.  “Uumpfff!”

“Ready to get sore, baby?” he laughed with another steely drive of flesh into flesh, taking advantage of the position to repetitively manipulate my butt cheeks like a human stress relief toy.   I would no doubt find fingertip-sized bruises there tomorrow, I thought as he slammed me again and proceeded to separate the halves of my ass for a better view of his conquest. 

“That all you got?” I got out before grunting with the force of his next plunge. 

“Oh, funny Valentine.  I’m gonna enjoy you.” 

Unbelievably enough, he hadn’t been driving with full force before.  Now I truly did feel him bumping a spot deep, deep inside as his balls bounced against the clit that was peeking out for attention.  His smack of my rump sounded like the crack of a rifle and damn if I didn’t almost go off like a cannon as a result.

Arrogant, endowed and capable became my new favorite type while he plundered me as proficiently as a pirate took his wench.  Or maybe I should think more along the line of Teddy Roosevelt and the Rough Riders.  Nah.  Too much history, not enough carnality. 

There was another invasive dive into my core, and it only took a couple more of those before I found out that he liked vocal responses to his actions.  A sexy moan would follow each of my whimpers, shouts and yelps.  It turned out I liked those sexy moans as much as Jon appreciated my variety of noises, because the more he did it, the hotter I got.

So hot, in fact, that I was on the brink of my first (yes, I was anticipating multiples tonight) orgasm when he withdrew from my clutching channel to again spin me by the hips and plunk my butt on the arm of the sofa.  Once I was balanced and relatively certain not to fall, he pushed me backward so that my shoulders rested on the seat cushions.  One ankle went into each of his hands to part me wide in the instant before he owned me again. 

“Oh, Jesus.”  The strangled cry was pulled from somewhere deep within me – a hidden pocket of ecstasy that hadn’t been accessed in years.  He felt so good burrowing inside me that I couldn’t withhold the plaintive whine for each scrape over with my long-neglected g-spot. 

The tremors were starting somewhere below my belly button.  They were slow at first, but as he continually ricocheted off my cervix they built.  Quiet intensity prepared to explode with a sonic boom.  I was poised, sweating, panting and eager to experience it, when…

“What the hell?” I cried with disappointment, unhappy at being left hanging a second time so that he could drop my feet to the floor and tug on my arms until I stood with him. 

“Too soon,” he explained briefly before hauling me against his chest for a kiss that was almost potent enough to finish the job.  Fiendish hands were all over me as he consumed me with nips, licks and fervor while subtly guiding me back to the front of the sofa.  Ending the kiss, he spun me so that I faced away and then sat in the center of the couch. 

A nudge of his foot against my instep coaxed my feet apart and firm hands draped my hips to compel me to step backward toward him.  Under his wordless guidance, I found myself once again impaled on his cock with my legs spread wide, feet planted on the outsides of his. 

“Oh, Godddd…”  In my heightened state of awareness, the heat of him blanketing my back while he filled me so completely was almost more than I could stand.  He was bumping all the hyperaware spots inside me.

“Ride me.”

The command was quiet and authoritative against my shoulder, and the body that seemed to know it was under his jurisdiction did as he bade.  Up and down I went, finding that there was a certain angle of penetration that was a little more effective than the others, leaving me to whine as I exploited that fact to my advantage. 

“Feel good?” he rumbled, one arm banding around my waist with the other firmly beneath my breasts.  Jon brutally tweaked a nipple through the bra’s fabric before pushing the cup aside to fondle it as determinedly as he did my backside.  In my haze of delirium I thought he must be checking to see if it was real, or giving me a complimentary mammogram.

Not caring in the least, I subconsciously enjoyed the hardness holding me close, and the sharp tug he was performing on that nipple, but my true focus is on the exquisite point of friction that I’ve found.  I’m like Columbus setting sail for the New World with a single-minded determination, but the voyage has been far too long and my destination is visible on the horizon. 

“I’m going to come,” I panted, more to speak it into being than as a note of information.  “Sweet Jesus, I’m going to come.”

I believed it.  I did, but my beliefs weren’t tantric enough to spur the orgasm I so desperately craved.  That distant speck on the horizon wasn’t getting any closer, and I was becoming pretty irritable.

“Goddammit, dooo something!”  That begging, pleading voice was mine and I didn’t care that it sounded like I wanted a lollipop.  What I sought would be much sweeter. 

The hand settled at my waist slithered back toward my belly button and went south to push under the scrap of panties that were all but twisted sideways.  Something else I also didn’t care about, because when he skimmed a finger inside folds that were painfully swollen and aching for relief, the boat starting moving forward again.

“That’s good,” I approved breathily, dropping my full weight on his lap over and over. 

“Gimme some cream, Coffee Girl.”  The command was raspy and hot against the curve of my neck in the instant before he bit me.  Hard.

“Ohhhhhunnnnnjjjjhhhh!!!”

I traded the Nina, Pinta and Santa Marie for a speed boat with that single bite, bucking shamelessly on the horizon of his cock while he kept fingering me until the cream pitcher was empty.  Crumpling like a ragdoll against him, I shut my eyes and enjoyed the lightheadedness that was better than an espresso caffeine buzz.  My greatest wish in that moment was to know what I had done to deserve this. 

Whatever it was, I wanted to repeat it daily. 

“Feel better?”

The nod I gave him was as slow and sluggish as the hand sliding out of my panties.  Words were not a part of my post-orgasmic skillset.

“Good.”  Easing me off the appendage that was still as stiff as a titanium rod, Jon held tight to my waist as he stood behind me.  Seeing as my legs were nothing more than rubber, I appreciated it.  “Now let’s go to bed so we can really get started.”

We hadn’t even freaking started??

With my muscles already feeling used and abused, it was becoming quite plain that he wasn’t kidding about that aching deep inside tomorrow morning.  And if this wasn’t even the beginning…  Well, it would take me a month to recover – and I planned to savor every minute of it.