“No, don’t.”
“You can’t make those kind of declarations—”
“I can,” he states adamantly. Fierce determination and pure lust in his tone. He’s not going to understand unless I explain it tohim, and I do not have the emotional bandwidth to rehash my past.
“I don’t want to do this right now. Can’t we just sit on the couch so you can fuck the sadness right out of me?”
He sighs theatrically, like having to fuck me is such an imposition. I dig my fingers into his side and giggle when he squawks and squirms. “I can, but we’re also gonna have this conversation. I want to know why you keep me at a distance.”
I decide to be helpful and point out the obvious. “You live hundreds of miles away?”
“Don’t be cute. You know what I mean.”
“I had phone sex with you. I’ve never done that before,” I admit, knowing that’s not what he means.
“You did, and it was magnificent, but I feel it, Jenna.” He sits on my couch, positioning me to straddle his lap. His large hands cup my cheeks, his eyes pinning me in place. “You hold yourself back, you keep it surface level, and that’s not enough for me.”
“That’s all I can give you.” And even that feels too much with him. He has more power than anyone else I’ve been with. And it’ll devastate me when he inevitably leaves.
“Bullshit!” he spits out. “You are so full of passion, warmth, you have such a big heart, and I want it.”
I dig my fist into his chest over his heart and quoteIndiana Jones, “Kali ma!” I chuckle lightly, but he’s not laughing. “We just met,” I remind him; it’s been literally a week.
“We did, but that doesn’t make what we have together less.” Dammit, I know he’s right. I also know I’m being a hypocrite considering the unsolicited advice I give Lilly and Brandon all the time. And did I not just state a few paragraphs ago that I would stop fighting this beautiful, wonderful, sexy man?
I inhale deeply, and whisper, “Ok. Not tonight. Please? It’s been a hard day.” I stand up from his lap and push my shorts and thong to the floor. Pulling my tank top over my head, I kneel between his legs and stare up at him. Naked.
He nods, his eyes nearly black, his pupils eating up the blue of his irises. Calloused hands mold to my tits, his palms abrading my nipples, causing my back to arch instinctually. “Such pretty pink nipples.” I moan, spreading my legs wider as I lean forward and mouth his growing erection through his dress pants. “Fuck, Jenna.” He grips my hair and holds me to his crotch for a few seconds. “Take my clothes off.”
He stands, his demand echoing in the room, my clit pulsing to the beat. I unbuckle his belt, his pants, and pull the zipper down while he unbuttons his dress shirt. As he toes out of his shoes and pants, I lick a stripe up the underside of his dick, my right hand cupping his heavy sack, tugging lightly. The muscles of his abdomen, all 8 of them, contract, his thighs trembling when I suck him into my mouth. I moan around him, his girth and length should be intimidating but instead it makes my mouth water. The stretch of my lips reminding me of how he stretches my pussy to accommodate him.
“I don’t want to cum in your mouth, baby. I want your cunt.” I nod, but keep bobbing up and down, taking him deeper each time. “Fuck, you feel good. Stop!” His hand on my jaw stops me from sucking him deep again. “On your feet.” I stand on shaky legs, watching him intently as he rolls the condom down his cock. Andres meets my eyes, leaning forward to press soft kisses to my stomach, my hips, and each breast. Reverently, like he’s grateful for the privilege. I’m too raw today, it’s too much. A tear slips over my lashes and of course he notices it. Brushing it away, he teases my body with featherlight caresses, his hands movingdown to wrap around my hips. He lifts me up and helps me into position, his cock nosing around my entrance.
His cock head is barely inside me, already a slight burn as he stretches me. Our eyes lock and I’m not even sure how to explain it, but something changes. It shifts. My life is no longer my own and I feel it down to my marrow. I’m scared, yes, but my heart and my gut are urging me to trust this man. And I do and that’s probably what scares me the most. “Don’t hurt me.” I whisper, afraid to break the moment, but needing to say the words. His features soften, so much affection and want in his gaze it steals my breath.
“Never,” he promises, then pushes down on my hips and lifts his pelvis to slide inside my eager pussy. My clit throbs, my inner walls clutching his shaft, massaging his sensitive head as I welcome him deeper inside me. Our bodies flush together, I rock back and forth slowly, a slight swivel to my hips.
We never look away. We don’t increase our pace. We don’t race to the finish line. We move as one, sensually, erotically. The most humbling and life-affirming moment of my entire life. His heartbeat beneath my hand. His breaths puffing against my nipples as I ride him, taking my time, reveling in the feel of him exactly where I want him, where he belongs.
It builds; the pleasure, the intensity, the overwhelming emotion that threatens to drown me. How quickly a life can end, how hard the world tries to take away any happiness, snuff out the light in someone’s soul. Why am I fighting something, someone that makes me feel complete in a way I never knew I wasn’t? Why am I aiding the world in holding me down?
I grind down harder, rolling my hips as he thrusts up. He buries his face in my chest, and I hold the back of his head to keep him at my breast. Desperation brings our bodies closer. Weslide against each other, a sheen of sweat covering us both as our bodies climb higher and higher until his groan of ecstasy catapults me over the crest and I freefall into blissful oblivion.
Andres 7.
Her skin is so soft. Smooth. Supple. What other “S” words can I come up with to describe it? Lying naked against me in her bed, clean from a quick shower, and sated…I’ve never felt this kind of peace before. My mind is quiet, my heartbeat steady, my soul settled. I watched her as she held still, my cock poised at her hungry hole, something shifted behind her eyes. Acceptance? Affection? Something more?
I don’t know. What I do know is that she has imprinted herself on my heart. Her soul spoke to mine, as sappy as that shit sounds, I know it to be true. You never know what true love is until it hits you in the dick. Or rides it like a rodeo champion.
“I was with him for 7 years,” she begins, her voice detached like she’s reciting facts learned in a textbook. But I hear it, the pain laced through her voice, the way her body tenses against mine, like she’s preparing for a battle. “We started dating freshman year of high school. We were cliché, football player and cheerleader. I didn’t care. I loved him. He was…my first everything. Even my first heartbreak.”
“What happened?” I grit out, wanting to hear her history, to know anything about her. I crave information, insights, anecdotes about her like my lungs crave oxygen. However, this is going to hurt her to relive. And I hate him for it. This unknown motherfucker who dared to cause Jenna any amount of pain.
“We went to college together. He was good. Really good. And we always talked about what life would be like when he was drafted. We’d lie in bed and discuss our future. He told me before the season even ended that I wouldn’t be able to attend the draft with him. His parents were going, obviously, and he was only allotted two additional tickets. It sucked, but I understood. I always understood. I watched it live…watched him sitting with his parents…and cozying up to a beautiful young woman I’d never seen before. When his name was called, I started to jump up, excitement bubbling in my veins until it was pouring out of me. Then I saw him lean over and kiss her. On the mouth. His parents congratulated him and the three of them huddled together as he walked up to the stage. I watched the man and woman I considered my parents embrace another woman like they’d known her for years. That’s how I found out I’d been replaced.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter harshly, dragging her closer to me, trying to wrap my body around her and protect her. It eats me up when I realize I can’t. This isn’t a fresh wound; this is her barring her scars to me.
“7 years. Sleepless nights, traveling for games, protein shakes, special diets, waking up with him at ungodly hours for workouts. All for nothing. Cast aside for someone else. Someone tall and pretty on his arm. He met her on a guys’ trip he and his friends took before the combine. I heard from the girlfriend of a teammate that she had reached out to him in the fall on social media. And they’d been talking for months before meeting. He was cheating on me for months, distancing himself before that. I thought he was stressed about the NFL, and he probably was, but he was over me. Over us.” Her breath hitches, her cold detachment slipping. “I was informed that I am not the type of woman an NFL player belongs with, I’m not suitable to be ontheir arm. I’m too independent and outspoken. The coaches and their wives, other players and their significant others don’t want to sit at dinner and listen to me spout random facts or discuss ancient aqueducts. He considered everyone else’s opinion more important than mine…more important than his own. I wasn’t enough. I know in my head and to the marrow of my bones that it was the best thing to happen to me. I would have been fucking miserable, and so disappointed in the man he was becoming. But my heart…it fucking hurt. Crushed me.”
