Jonathan's POV:
She stared up at me with my dick at her cheek, smiling. I propped
my hand under my head to watch her. She licked me then
slid the entire length down her throat. It felt endless. She took my breath
away.
“Where did you learn to do that?” I
asked.
“Los Angeles High School of Performing
Arts,” she said. “They taught me how to open my throat to sing. Then Kevin
Wainwright taught me how to put his dick down it.”
She was perfectly within her rights to
mention another man in passing. We were in the middle of exactly nothing. Our
encounter would be forgotten in a week. Yet, I didn’t care for it. Not at all.
“I’d like to thank LA
Unified and Kevin Whatever for this moment.” I said.
A little laugh escaped her lips. “I like you, Jonathan.”
Lots of women had told me lots of things over the years, but
rarely had they made something so simple sound so sincere.
“Feeling’s mutual Monica.” I did like her. She was fun and smart,
two traits that rarely kept company with beauty.
I had her again. I licked her. I fucked her slowly, then quickly,
then slowly again. She was easy to read, with her shuddering cunt and
articulate speech melting into throaty gasps. I pulled her away, until she
begged me for release. I complied, watching her lose herself in pleasure.
***
I woke to the sound of the water pipes
humming. Even new plumbing didn’t keep a whoosh from being heard in the bedroom
whenever a faucet was turned. I didn’t mind knowing what was going on in
another corner of the house.
I found her at the sink, back to me, hair slung over one shoulder
so I could see her neck and the little red mark where I’d bitten her. I’d
wanted to make more, to stamp my feet in new snow, and feel her buckle under my
teeth.
I wouldn’t normally play with pain the first time, but I had to hurt
this one. I had to break the velvet texture of her pleasure, like running
across the smooth sand of the beach just to put your footprints on it, or
getting the first knife mark into the jar of peanut butter, breaking the
flawless swirl with a slash.
And when I’d bitten her, she groaned and pushed herself toward
me, a beautiful, smart, funny, masochist.
“How about another go?” I asked, my lips exploring the
curve of her neck. I slid the dress off her shoulders, feeling her skin under
it.
“Your phone rang,” she said.
“It’s always ringing.”
She threw her head back and her chest out, a kitten under
my touch. I’d have her on the counter, maybe. Or I’d throw her on the floor.
Condoms were upstairs. Fuck. I’d have to drag her up there by the hair, or
carry her like a gentleman. Whichever made her squirm more.
The phone buzzed.
Jessica.
“I think I need to take this,” I said, zipping her back up
while she went upstairs for her shoes. I popped the phone from the charger and
went outside.
“Jon.” Her voice, so collected and in control.
“Is this about the Eclipse show?”
“I need to know if you’re coming.”
I sat on the patio couch, rubbing my eyes. I was tired
again. Drained. “You have a career now. You don’t need me at every event.”
“You’re a major collector. If you don’t go, it’ll look like you
only supported me because we were married.”
“No, it’ll look like I had other plans.”
“I need you to go.”
“I don’t need to look at you with Erik.” I was getting pissed
thinking about it. “Do you enjoy that it upsets me? Does it get you off?”
“You know it doesn’t.”
“I’m not going. The end. Get your kicks elsewhere.”
I hung up.
That was a first. I’d never told her to fuck off before. I’d have
to do it again some time. I leaned back in my chair staring out at the pool,
the surface still in the late summer heat.
My phone buzzed, and I looked over at the text.
—I’ll tell Erik to stay
home—
I realized I didn’t want her to acquiesce. Erik pissed me off,
but her friends whispering that I liked to fuck like a violent offender were
worse.
Which reminded me of the night before.
The singer. One more go.
Yes!
I went inside.
“Monica?” I cursed the size of the house. I heard the rumble of a
car starting out front. By the time I got out to the porch, she’d pulled into
the street.
We’d have another go when I got back. I was sure of it.
Links:
Reading Order of Songs of Submission:
Resist: Expected Release August 2013
Giveaway:
Giveaway:
haven't read but love the cover
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