“Shut the fuck up and get on it,” you growl.
Trembling, I reassess the situation on the call, realizing that it will likely take a few minutes for the group to get back around to any issues I’m working on. I slowly kneel before you, my tongue darting out to lick the head of your cock. The combined taste of our coupling zips along my tongue as I wrap my lips around you, licking and sucking. I feel your body tense, then relax as you groan. I love that I can make your body shake as you fill my mouth, my lips slowly sliding back up, then down again.
You shift in the chair, white knuckling the armrests as I slowly suck you, throwing myself diligently into the task at hand. I begin sucking harder, moving faster against you, enjoying the way your breath catches, your moans and growls.
“Where do you want it?” you ask, your voice quavering.
I answer by taking you deep into my throat and humming. It’s your favorite answer, really. I pull away, then quickly slide you in again until you’re at the back of my throat, your hands gripping the sides of my head, trembling as you growl. You spill into me in a hot rush and I quickly work to swallow every drop as you buck into my mouth, spent.
I frown as I hear somebody calling my name again through the headset, then a response from somebody else that I must have dropped off the call. Crap!
I snap my fingers and pull my mouth off you, taking a quick swallow of soda before hitting unmute.
“Sorry. Was on mute again.”
I join the call again briefly, typing in necessary notes for another issue before I’m able to hit the mute button again. I look back over at you with a sheepish expression. You’re shaking your head, laughing softly.
“Smooth. Hell, I should hire you,” you rumble, still recovering. “What’s your going rate?”
I smile back at you, laughing. “You can’t afford me.”
Still grinning, you raise an eyebrow and murmur, “I’m beginning to see why.”
My smile grows broader as I move to straddle you and murmur, “Good thing you get my more primal talents for free, huh?”
“Mmm — Lucky me,” you rumble, kissing me.
Fair Play by Jayme Whitfield
“His name was Elvis”, she said, arching her back like a cat as she straddled the cold plastic chair, her head resting on her folded arms, eyes closed, hair falling in a tangled mass of curls.
“Elvis?”
She could feel his eyes on her, on her breasts, exactly where she’d wanted them. She rolled her shoulders and stole a furtive glance at him, watching as he licked his lips. Nervous tension seeped off him in waves. It gave her a thrill, knowing she was the cause of it. She’d never felt more alive. She drank in the tiny details of the moment, every intake of breath, every twitch of his fingers against the taut denim covering his thigh. She was intentionally making him sweat and it felt good. Her own desire was fueled by his, by the power of knowing she could have this affect on man so much older, so much more experienced. He was pushing forty; she was celebrating her twentieth birthday.
They’d escaped the noisy party, finding a quiet bedroom where they could talk, though she’d known what his expectations were as she’d grabbed his hand and led him down the hall. Now they were talking about first times. Talking instead of having the much-anticipated sex or doing the smart thing and sleeping off the alcohol they’d consumed so much of earlier.
“Yes,” Ashley sat up and spun in her seat, sliding her ass towards the back of the chair. Leaning in conspiratorially, she whispered to him.
“It’s a stupid name. I didn’t believe him at first, when he told me, I mean. But it was on his license. I looked.” She lifted her cigarette, carefully pursing her lips as they clasped the filter, gently inhaling before blowing the smoke out in rings that hung in the stale air.
“When?” Greg shifted on the bed, his erection obvious.
Ashley let out a short laugh, as much at him as the question, crushing the cigarette into an overflowing ashtray.
“Later. After.” Antsy, she stood, pacing from the grimy window to the pock-marked door, her eyes closed, swaying slightly to the rock music pouring out of the radio. He watched her in silence for awhile. He was still as he watched her and she wondered if he’d finally found his control. The quiet was heavy in the room, weighing on her, caging her.
“I didn’t mean when did you look. I meant when did it happen.” His voice was tightly controlled, but she was thankful he’d finally broken the silence.
She smiled and licked her lips. “A few years ago.”
She waited for him to speak, to ask another question, but he didn’t. He just watched her as she paced. She could feel the control slipping away from her. She needed action, needed to feel alive. Reaching up, arms at an odd angle, she slid her hands behind her back and up beneath the hem of her shirt.
“You don’t mind, do you? Uncomfortable shit. Hate wearing it.”Ashley knew he didn’t mind, knew he wouldn’t answer as she slipped her bra out of her sleeve, tossing it onto the floor between them. Her nipples weren’t hard, but she knew the watery light was strong enough to show them off through the thin white t-shirt she wore.
“What was it like?” Greg’s hand was steady as he reached for his beer. She felt a shiver move through her as he took a swig out of the bottle, his gaze never leaving her. He was studying her with a look she hadn’t seen before, didn’t recognize. His edginess was gone, something else in its place-something dangerous.
“What do you mean?” She knew what he wanted to hear, but wasn’t planning to give it up so easily. Walking to the window, she twitched the curtain to the side, staring out at the moon.
He was behind her before she knew it, his hand fisting her hair, pulling her head back. His voice was raw in her ear, harsh, like salt in a wound. Fear tinged with excitement twisted in her belly, a snake coiling around the arousal that had been building.
“I’m not some prepubescent prick you can tease, Ashley.” His breath was hot on her neck, his whiskers scratching her cheek. Her breath caught in her throat as he spoke again.
“Did you come here to toy with me? If you want to play games, that’s fine, but understand this-I make the rules.”
“No, I…” Ashley’s words trailed off. She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes, not sure what to say. She had been playing. He was just a game, a way to pass the time, escape the boredom, feel alive. Her thoughts flashed by, rolling through her head like the reels of a slot machine. The deep conversations she’d had with Greg online, the surprise birthday party the group of Internet friends had thrown her, how lonely she’d been over the past year. All the moments leading up to this seemed to swim through her mind.
She wasn’t the only one crashing at Greg’s place, not the only girl. They’d drawn straws to see who would stay with him, his dark eyes, quiet attentiveness and rough manners a turn on for them all.
Fuck, she thought. I’m in over my head.
It seemed like hours passed as they stood there, his body pressed against her from behind, his cock hard against her ass, her pulse pounding in the silence like a base drum. She remained still as she waited for whatever would come next. Without warning, he spun her around, kissing her roughly before shoving her gently toward the door.
“You’re nothing but a tease, Ashley. Go on. Get out of my room before I really do lose control.”
She was shaking now, her nerves frayed into live wires, her breathing shallow and rapid. She looked around, eyes searching for her bra, unable to remember where she’d left it. Greg pointed at it on the floor, then held the door open, waiting for her to leave. She took a step towards escape, then stopped, her gaze searching his as she wondered if it would be safe to pass so close to him. He was fire, and everyone knew you didn’t play with fire, but something was coming to life inside her, something that her kept her from walking out of his room. She wanted him, but did she want him on his terms or hers?