Dirty

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I wanted this. The taste of him. The sound of his breath getting faster. The feeling of the muscles in his thighs trembling beneath my fingers as he pushed his hips and put himself down the back of my throat the way I’d put the shot of whiskey he’d bought me the first day we met. I wanted this because in doing this I could think only of this. Of cock, of balls, of thighs, belly, moans, thrusts, of the salty, slippery taste of semen on the back of my tongue as his pleasure mounted.

“Elle.” He murmured my name. “Elle, baby, stop. I’m going to come.”

I didn’t stop. I drew another moan from him as I used my tongue on the tender divot on the underside of his prick. I added my hand at the base, moving it along with my mouth so that he was never left without sensation. I used my other hand to cup his balls and stroke my thumb along them.

He pushed into me so hard it would have choked me had I not been gripping him so tight. I tasted him and his orgasm throbbed against my tongue. He gave a low cry. I took all he had and waited another moment or two until he’d finished, then pulled away from him with a last, gentle suck to end it.

I got to my feet. In my heels I could look directly into his eyes. He blinked, his hand finding my upper arm and holding it as though to keep himself from wobbling.

“Wow,” he said at last. His eyes cleared.

I wiped my lips with my thumb. “Can I get a drink of water?”

“Yeah, sure.” He pointed to the kitchen.

I walked across the living room and knew his gaze followed the sway of my hips. The water from his faucet was cold and quenched my thirst. It felt good on my cheeks, too, and on the back of my neck. When I turned from the sink, he was behind me.

“Thanks for the drink,” I said.

“You’re welcome.” He’d pulled his pants up, though they still slung low enough on his hips for me to see a hint of pubic hair.

“Well.” Mission accomplished. I’d managed to erase the conversation with my mother long enough to make it easier to put from my mind. Not to forget. That was likely impossible. But far enough to at least ignore. “I’ll be going.”

He snagged my arm as I tried to pass. “You’re leaving?”

I looked at his hand on my arm, then at his face. “I thought I would, yes.”

“Why?”

I smiled. “Because I’m done.”

Dan smiled, too, this time with a bit of a harder edge. The way he’d looked the last time I tried to leave. “What if I’m not?”

I gave a pointed glance to the front of his bottoms. “I think you are.”

He smoothed his hand over my hip. “I don’t think you are.”

I tilted my head. “I didn’t come here for that.”

“You didn’t come at all,” he said, inching me closer.

“If I don’t care, why should you?” I let him pull me next to him. His hands massaged my lace-covered ass.

“Elle, did you come over here just to suck me off and leave?”

“Yes.”

He paused in stroking my butt to peer into my eyes. “Really?”

I nodded.

He looked surprised, and I took the opportunity to step away from him and head for my coat.

“Elle, wait.”

I turned, one arm already in the sleeve.

He caught up to me. “I don’t want you to leave. Stay here with me for a while.”

“I’m not exactly dressed to play Parcheesi.” I slipped the coat on the rest of the way and started on the zipper.

“You’re really leaving.”

“I’m really leaving, Dan.”

“No.”

I turned to look at him. “Most guys would love it if a scantily clad woman came over in the middle of the night, gave them a tremendous blow job and left without expecting anything.”

“I’m not most guys.”

“You…you didn’t like it?” I covered up the hesitation in my voice with a quick cough and avoided his eyes. My cheeks burned. Without seduction to shield me, I felt foolish.

He came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder, pulling me back against his chest. “I loved it,” he whispered into my ear. “But I don’t want you to leave just yet.”

I shivered at his breath on my ear. When his lips touched my skin a second later, I bit my lower lip. His touch felt good, and I did want it. I wanted his hands on me.

I’ve never made excuses for liking to fuck. Never allowed what happened in the past to prevent me from accepting the pleasure my body brings me. Much had been stolen from me, but I haven’t allowed that to be taken.

“You don’t want to leave, do you?”

His hands came around my front. His fingers slid on the slick vinyl, and he held my breasts. I couldn’t feel more than the weight of his hands. The material prevented any more delicate stimulation. In another moment, though, he pulled down the zip, and cool air once again caressed my skin, already sweating though I’d only had the coat closed for a short time.

His fingers skidded along my damp skin, and this time when he cupped my breasts, the sheer lace tugged and pulled my nipples erect. I leaned back against him while he nuzzled my neck. His chest was broad, his skin warm against mine in the places we touched. His hands moved over me without haste. He slid his fingers along the lace of my panties, and my hips pushed forward into his touch.

“You smell so good.”

I sighed and turned my head. He kissed the side of my neck as his fingers circled against me. His other hand slid inside my bra and rolled my nipple. I shivered at the dual sensation, and he must have felt it because his teeth came down on the curve of my shoulder and he bit me gently, making me moan.

“I love that sound,” he whispered, kissing the mark he’d left. “You’ve got the sexiest voice. You make everything you say sound like it tastes good coming out of your mouth.”

I blinked and turned my head to look at him. “What?”

He smiled. “Just seeing if you were listening.”

I didn’t have a reply. Most compliments take me aback. I know my strengths. I figure other people do, too. Anything else is flattery or insincerity.

He looked at me, his hand not ceasing in its slow seduction. “You don’t like that, either?”

I put my hand over his to stop the motion, but though I wanted to pull out of his arms I stayed still. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?” He passed his thumb over my breast. “That?”

“No. Say things like that. You don’t have to.”

He looked thoughtful and turned me a little so we weren’t craning our necks. “I want to.”

I shook my head a little. “Why? I’m already here. You’re already going to get what you want.”

He frowned and let go of me. He crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Is that the only reason you think I’d say something like that?”

We stared at each other, both of us frowning. I straightened up and adjusted my bra strap, which had fallen over my shoulder. My cheeks heated as he looked me over, and this time it wasn’t from lust. His gaze finally rested on mine.

“Elle,” Dan said. “If you don’t like me saying that sort of thing, then I guess I won’t. But telling you to suck my cock’s okay?”

I smiled a little. “Yes.”

“Just like fucking you in the bathroom was okay but not asking you on a date.”

“Yes.”

He ran his hand through his hair, spiking it higher until I itched to smooth it. He took a deep breath and looked back at me. “And you can come over here anytime you please dressed like something out of my ninth grade wet dreams and get me off without letting me return the favor.”

“Yes.” I smiled a little wider and put my hands on my hips. “Though I haven’t left yet.”

He studied my face for a minute longer. “Come here.”

I did, obedient, acquiescent, my heart skip-tripping again. He put his hand on the base of my skull, fingers tight in the back of my hair. He tugged my head back, then took a finger and traced the line of my throat, ending in the hollow of my collarbone.

“You like it when I tell you what to do.”

I murmured in assent. The fingertip trailed lower, over the swells of my breasts and down. He touched my navel briefly, then slid his hand back between my legs. My arousal had faded with our conversation, but now it began to return.

“Why?”

“Because I think all the time,” I whispered. “And sometimes it’s nice to not think anymore. Sometimes it’s nice to just…do.”

“Or be told what to do.”

“Yes.”

His fingers slid back and forth over my panties, between my legs and up to stroke my clitoris. His other hand kept me still as he looked into my face with such intensity I wanted to look away.

“Has it really been three years since you fucked anyone?”

Stung, I pulled away from the hand in my hair and stepped back. “Yes. Why would I lie about that?”

“Why does anyone lie about anything?” He made no move to come toward me.

“Yes. It was three years.”

“Come here.”

I almost didn’t. But then I did. It took two steps. He grabbed me a little harder this time, and I winced though he hadn’t really hurt me. He pulled me close to his body and put his hand between my legs again.

“Are you going to tell me what you like, or am I going to have to guess?” He asked, stroking me. “Do you like to be tied up? Spanked? You want nipple clamps and hot wax?”

“Hot wax?” I tried to pull away again, but he held me fast. His gentle stroke, stroke, stroke between my legs never erred. Heat bloomed beneath his fingers and spread.

Dan smiled, eyes ablaze. “No hot wax?”