Authors: Lily Evans
He slants his head, raises up on one arm and reaches between my legs. Everything he rubs and touches grows wetter and heightens my arousal. His fingers slide into my body without any effort. My slit dripping and gooey, swollen and sensitive to everything he’s doing.
I wrap my legs around his waist holding him prisoner.
He tears his mouth from mine as he pulls back; dislodging my legs from around his waist he looks down at me with a glint of humor sparkling in his eyes. “Darlin’ I’ve got to move if I’m gonna fuck you.” His voice husky, deep, and so fucking sexy I’m almost positive I can orgasm without any more help if he just keeps talking.
“Oh, okay.” I say in a dazed voice dropping my legs. He reaches for the condom near my head and opens the wrapper. I reach for his cock at the same time and he growls, “
Darlin’.” But he still has that sexy grin on his face so I squeeze, then slide my hand up and down the velvety length of his erection and rub my thumb over the weeping tip.
“Georgie
.” He grits his teeth.
I look up, my eyes fuzzy, my bottom lip between my teeth and he removes my hand from his cock one finger at a time and sheaths himself in record time. He growls again and I feel it throughout my whole body as he grips his cock in one hand, positions it at my opening and works it in one inch after one splendid inch until he’s balls deep inside of me, his muscles rippling the whole way and I let out a satisfied sigh. I moan. I want to cry it’s so amazing. I feel lightheaded and I feel alive all at the same time.
“I feel ya, baby,” he says to the ceiling, his head thrown back with his eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck yeah, I feel ya.” And then he moves and it’s game on. He grabs the back of my neck and lifts me up a few inches off the bed and kisses me, his tongue driving into my mouth, hard, open-mouthed and wet, wet, wet. And it’s fucking hot, hot, hot.
My hips rotate round and round as he plunges in and out. The movement, the friction and when his length bumps my womb I want to cry out as the pleasure notches to another level. “God you feel good, Jake.” I grip the indention of his back, his muscles surrounding his spine contract as he moves inside me. “You’re so big and hard.” My body flushes with desire and the musky scent of our mingling sexes teases my senses. “Oh God.”
Jake rises up on one knee for better leverage, reaching down he puts his hands beneath my knees and lifts his arms until my thighs are pressing against my breasts. He widens my legs with a little pressure and opens me up fully to his assault. He pounds into me and it feels so good. I feel his fingers slide over my belly and down until he teases my clit as he rams into me. Sure, strong strokes of his cock and sure, strong flicks of his fingers against my turgid clit.
Too much.
Not enough.
More.
All the thoughts swirling around my brain.
I press my head back, my eyes close, my mouth opens, my breathing harsh as he works just like he said he would. No breaks, no complaining, just good honest, hard work and boy does it pay off.
I have to give him this; he’s a very, very, very patient man. Suddenly he slams inside me and my eyes really do cross, my neck arches, and my back comes off the bed.
“Oh. My. Fucking. God!”
He earns his pay with this one. He drives into me over and over, again and again, deeper and deeper, faster and faster until I pant, unable to take even a semblance of a deep breath. My arms circle his waist; my nails score his back as his mouth comes down on mine and he whispers, “Fuck yeah.” I feel his smile, his eyes still watching me. Intense.
“
Oh. My. Fucking. God.”
He moves. “Come with me, Georgie.”
His face is flushed, and his breath comes out in ragged draws. His thumb drags across my clit, sending me into spasms of pleasure.
I close my eyes. “Hmm...,” I mumble the rest of what I was feeling at this time, a jumble in my passion-riddled, desire-filled, hazy mind. And he kisses me hot, hard, and deep, plunging his tongue between my lips in the very same rhythm he thrusts his cock into my slick passage ramming the spot. The one that makes everything feel one hundred percent better.
A weird rushing of air leaves my lips as he rams in and out, in and out and I fall. Not a soft, floaty fall like laying on a cloud, but a free fall, frantic and crazy like when your chute doesn’t open after jumping out of a plane and then a thick grunt follows as Jake soon follows on a roar and collapses on top of me before rolling to his side taking me with him.
“Oh
. My. Fucking. God!”
I say between shallow pants.
He bends his head and kisses me telling me more than I thought possible in such a short amount of time.
“I think this should be an annual occurrence like
Bonnaroo.
Fuck Fest.”
He pushes back, shaking his head. “You’re a nut.”
“Always have been.”
His face comes closer, his hand wraps around my neck. “Vroom! Vroom!”
“Score!” I hold up my hands.
“You don’t yell
Score
in racing.”
I barely stop myself from rolling my eyes. “Black and white checked flag,” I say dryly. That just sounds plain stupid. “You can’t yell that!”
He laughs, turning to his side and propping himself up on his elbow his hand splayed wide over my belly from hip bone to hip bone. “Next time I’ll bring a chilled bottle of champagne to pour over your head when you come.” He plants a soft kiss on my lips. “Will that suffice?”
“Yeah.” I snuggle into his side, the hair on his chest tickling my cheek.
“So tell me about this fuck fest?” And he asks it in a way that means I don’t get a say.
I groan turning my head into his shoulder so he can’t see my cheeks go up in flames.
“Georgie?” he asks again his voice full of humor and patience so I know he’ll lay there all night waiting for me to spill.
“It’s not funny.” My voice muffled against his body.
“I’m not laughing, I’m listening,” he assures which I find sweet and a little annoying.
“Well it all started one night after we all had one too many…scratch that, three or four too many tequila shots…” I proceeded to tell the story, full of words like, fantasies, more tequila, lack of sex, even more tequila and you know the rest.
I
don’t know if I wore this little black dress because I needed an extra boost of confidence or what. It isn’t as if I’ve ever succumbed to a dress code. Rocker chic no matter what it is, is what I do. But it’s my turn to step up; I need everything I have going for me. On stage I fuckin’ rock. No one would ever think to tell me I lack confidence, but get me alone with fantasy man, and I get tongue-tied. Shy. Loser, with a capital ‘L’ plastered on my forehead.
Here on the stage in the smoky bar with my boys, my voice all husky and edgy, I go into a cover for KD Lang’s ‘Constant Craving’ ‘cause that’s what I’m fe
eling tonight. Immense, soul-deep craving.
He watches.
I know.
I can feel him.
Always do.
Even though the lights are bright in my eyes I know he watches. Gripping the
mic with two hands, my hips swaying, my long blonde hair brushes against my skin giving teasing glimpses of my backless dress. The tight little number I’m wearing drapes so low down my back it exposes the rounded beginnings of my cheeks, the hem is about an inch below my ass. Needless to say, I’m gonna try to not bend over too much tonight. The thin little straps go around my neck, the bodice draping over my small breasts. Unlike my best friends Ashley and Georgia, I wasn’t blessed with ginormous tits but a handful seems to satisfy most guys anyway.
It’s a shame about the tits I suppose but I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I’ve got a nice tight little ass and this dress is hot! It’s serving not only to accentuate one of my best assets but exposing more than enough skin to get any man’s other head thinking.
Hot. Hot. Hot.
I love this dress. Feeling sexy is exactly what I need tonight if I’m
gonna finally get up the nerve to corner him and let him know what’s been flowing through my mind for a long time. Flowing into a pop beat by Pink ‘U+Ur Hand’. My eyes draw to him. I can’t see him, but I know where he’s approximately hanging out. And like I said, I can feel his presence when he’s around.
Looking up through the sea of people I have to school my reaction because
he’s five feet in front of me mixed in with the raucous, gyrating crowd watching the show. His face is hard, looking somewhat hungry, and the look sends a shiver through me.
Damn.
I thought my dress was hot but it’s nothing compared to the sexual vibe he’s giving off. He’s twice my size and all man. In some way he’s pushing all my buttons and some that I didn’t even know I had. He could and I would let him eat me for breakfast if he’d only ask.
God, I wish
.
A slow, easy smile crosses
over his face as if he knows what is going through my mind. With his arms crossed over his chest, the muscles in his biceps stretch the material of his tight black T-shirt to the point of ripping.
God, he’s so
fuckin’ hot.
Finishing the song and as any bad ass
chica would do, I run off the stage without even a bye or wave. Not my usual style, but very effective.
After running to my dressing room and wiping the sweat off with one of my hand towels,
I quickly make my way sneakily back to the bar and plop down on the vinyl topped stool that my two best friends have saved for me.
Crossing my legs, so my short black dress rises even higher up my thighs, I make sure the cocktail straw from my drink rests seductively between my lips. I stare. I stare at him from over my Amaretto sour. Why not?
I do a sweep of the room and come back to him. He’s obviously staring at me. The intensity of his stare is unnerving me for some reason. It’s as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. Jump his bones kinda thoughts. Why all of the sudden the attention? He has never given me a heated look like that before tonight, at least one I have ever caught. Maybe I truly am clueless.
I’ll have to analyze that later.
I’ve no idea why I feel so desperately attracted to him. I can’t seem to find a logical explanation for the animal attraction. It has to be just one of those purely primal urges one is not supposed to understand, I guess. It’s not as if I’ve not had romantic relationships before. I’ve had some very good romantic relationships. I’ve also had some very bad romantic relationships. I’ve had some super-hot romantic relationships, and I’ve also had some romantic relationships that fizzled after a couple of dates.
Somthin
g about him though.
Somthin
g that revs my engine to full throttle.
He’s just perfect. Always nice, always smiles except when he needs to frown. Always confident. Always in charge, of course by looking at him you would know right away that he’s a take charge
kinda guy. To top it all off, I’ve never heard anyone whisper a bad word about the guy. Granted, it’s not as if I walk around with a notebook and pencil like a reporter interviewing people, but I do listen, especially to idle gossip because that’s where you can hear the most honest answers to questions.
So to summarize everything, when I was drunk on tequila with my girlfriends one night, I wrote down a fantasy that has been stewing in the back of my mind for some time. It was to get with Foster Mason. AKA Mr. Perfect Bouncer Guy and now they aren’t
gonna let me forget it.
“He’s fucking hot,” Georgia whispers in my right ear before she takes a long pull on her long neck beer, her eyes flashing hot.
“You weren’t kidding,” Ashley whispers in the other. “He’s like a perfect specimen of manhood, except for my boyfriend, Gage, of course.”
The funny thing is, is I hear her sigh. “Ooh, I’m
gonna tell Gage.” I smile. “I know,” I agree. One hundred percent agree.
“That’s what I meant, of course,” Georgia rushes to clarify. “Except for my boyfriend, Jake.”
“Of course,” I smirk, not removing my eyes from him throughout our bantering back and forth. “Is it hot in here?” I squirm on the stool fanning myself. The way he’s looking at me is making me feel warm and itchy and a little moist in some areas.
“Not really,” Ashley tosses out, clearly enjoying my discomfort.
“I’ve had a crush on him forever.” I sigh, sucking a large sip from my straw relishing the sweet and sour taste sliding over my tongue and down my throat. He really is hot. I set my elbow on the bar and lean my chin into my palm. Bad boy, Harley man hot. He’s big. Tall and bulky. Covered with thick well defined muscles like a body builder, which I guess is par for the course when you’re a bouncer. Tanned, tattooed, a super masculine looking, sexy as hell haircut shaved close to his skull. He reminds me of the guy that played the boss vampire in the movie
Blade Trinity
, only bigger with more muscles and way hotter. I’m not even for sure how that’s even possible but it is. And another major plus is that he’s super tall. Being five foot nine I’m no shorty so he being somewhere around six foot four is extra hot in my book.