“Yes,” she breathes and grabs a fistful of my long hair. “Your fingers now. Fuck me with your fingers, too.”
I do, in fact, die when I insert two fingers, and she gasps when I locate her sweet spot. Knowing I bring her this kind of bliss makes her pleased expression even more beautiful.
Please tell me I’m doing a good job.
Renée—Professor Wilde—rides me, smothers me, the evidence of her arousal coating my face. “Don’t stop,” she commands. “I’m almost there.”
I want to sayI wouldn’t dream of it, but the last thing I’ll do is remove my mouth from her. I reply with strong suction to her clit as I thrust my hand in and out, the sound of wet slapping flesh more captivating than the music playing in the background.
Every muscle in her body constricts. “I’m coming! Keep going but stroke yourself.”
In five pumps flat, I’m coming too, shooting my load somewhere on the floor or the base of the couch, I don’t know. Mind blank, I’m blissfully lapping up her cum as our bodies sag.
The descent of our mutual climax is short-lived when there’s a familiar knock at the door. “Time’s up,” the bouncer says from the other side. “You have ten seconds.”
Renée is up in a flash, stumbling over my kneeling form and pulling her dress down. “Thank you,” she huffs. “This never happened.”
She’s almost at the door when the words fall out of my mouth without permission. “Was I good?”
As her hand rests on the doorknob, she turns back anda genuine smile lights up her flushed, freckled face. “You were a very good boy.” She shuts the door behind her, and I’m left feeling proud, a little confused, and kneeling in a puddle of my own cum.
It’s nearly closing time, and Renée is nowhere to be found when I get back into the club. Neither is Angie, Robyn, nor her whole bachelorette party. I guess we’ll have a lot to talk about at family dinner tomorrow.
Back in the dressing room, I collect all my tips for the night, but I don’t bother counting them. I can’t hear the surrounding conversations, and I barely register my drive home or walking my giant dogs down the janky sidewalk. All I can think about is Professor Wilde coming undone for me, her calling me a good boy, and the insatiable urge to do it again.
That’s all I think about when I take my shower and jerk off to the same dream. Itmusthave been a dream.
When two wet noses nudge me, my eyes peel open, the early afternoon sun warring with the blackout curtains. “Morning, boys,” I grumble. I sit up in bed and plant my feet on the hardwood floor and rub my eyes.
I share a rowhouse in North Philly with three roommates, but my one-hundred-eighty-pound Great Pyrenees dogs prefer to sleep in my room in the bunk beds I made them. It’s a tight fit, but I don’t mind. They’re a lot of work though, especially in the city.
Dry food clinks around in the bottom of their metal dishes, and they dive in. I give them a good scrubby pat behind their fluffy white ears. “Good boys.”
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to hear that phrase again in the same context.
How hard would it be to find Renée Wilde?
1. Give It To Me by Timbaland, Justin Timberlake, Nelly Furtado
Chapter 3
A Fortunate Family Dinner
Jonah
Only fifty-five minutes late, I enter my childhood house with dogs in tow and Renée on my mind. I can’t shake it. Never in a million years did I think something like last night would happen between us. I always wished and fantasized about her, though I never thought it would become a reality. And after failing her class, I was sure I’d never see her again. I was certain I dreamt the whole interaction last night at work, but before my post-work shower, I caught the scent she left on my fingers—an intoxicating reminder of just how real it was.
This never happened.She clarified that what we did would not be repeated. I guess that’s fair. It’s usually how things go for me. Women want Good Time Jonah, and I’m not saying that as a stripper. They don’t keep me around for long because I’m easy and fun—I’m not serious boyfriend material. I’m their stepping stone before they find the right person, or I’m their rebound, and I’m fine with that. I’m almost twenty-five; I’m too young to settle down anyway.
Striding through the front door, I’m lost in thoughts of Renée’s freckles when I’m suddenly assaulted by my family whooping and hollering. My brother-in-law Rafael pushes play on a speaker, and “Pony” by Ginuwine fills the house. Then everyone’s up and pulling singles from their pocketsto fling them at me.
I groan but can’t fight the smile. “Yeah, yeah...”
“Give us a show!” my baby sister Ivy yells.
“Wait,” I chuckle, pointing to my toddler twin niece and nephew. “I’m not allowed to swear in front of them, but I can strip?”
“No one’s stripping,” Isaiah grumbles, and he gets up from the table with three empty plates. Before he walks past me, he leans in close enough I can feel his thick beard against my ear. “You ever do that again, and I’ll dig the grave myself.”
