Page 47 of Grift

Jessica

The way Patrick’s head moves back and his eyes become unfocused is like catnip. Suddenly, I understand the appeal of learning how to give an amazing blowjob.

Every interaction we have it seems like he’s in charge. He’s the one giving the orgasms. Taking control. Moving things forward.

And that shift in the power balance?

Taking a man like Patrick into your mouth and slowly destroying him, the way he’d destroyed my self-control and left me begging for more. Watching his body quiver and his hard length strain for more. Now there’s a feeling of power.

I’ve known different kinds of power in my life. But it’s the first time that I’ve understood viscerally how intoxicating it can be.

I’d chase this particular high.

Patrick eases himself to his feet, stepping out of his pants and complete stripping off his shirt. I don’t actually know when the last time is that I’ve been with a completely naked man, and never with one that’s built like Patrick.

Tall, strong, muscle upon muscle. God. With his dark hair and wild blue eyes, there’s something primal about him.

One strong hand extends out to me, pulling me effortlessly to my feet. In one swift move, Patrick sweeps me up, but he doesn’t take me to the bedroom like I expect. Instead, one hand cups my ass greedily and in a swift, aggressive move he sweeps everything off the table.

The kitchen table. Something shatters with a spectacular crash on its way down to the tile floor.

“That was very dramatic.”

“Fuck yes.” His lips are on me - greedy, demanding, taking my mouth and offering a preview of what he intends to do to the rest of my body. This man: God. I’m so ready to come undone on his kitchen table. Now there’s an unexpected image.

His hands roam my body, touching, testing, feeling every inch. Nothing will be denied to him, I can feel it in the way he takes possession of me. I want to be wanted, possessed and claimed. He slips a hand up under my dress and warm fingers slide along my stomach and touch my nipple. Tracing lazy circles, it hardens instantly to his touch and he brings the other to his mouth, nipping through my dress.

“Tell me what you want.”

“You. This.” I lift myself up off the table, pushing my hips toward him in invitation. I can’t go another round where I don’t get some release. He wouldn’t do that to me, would he?

He quickly strips my dress off, stopping when he reveals the pink lace bra and panties I’d worn. I’d started wearing matching underwear sets, the prettiest ones I can find, just in case. Tonight’s last-minute date is not exception.

“Holy fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” he says, his voice in a low growl against my neck.

His fingers slowly draw down the strap of one side of my bra, then the other, and the release the clasp at the back so the bra falls away. So exposed. So free.

But Patrick’s energy is pure domination, worshipping first one breast and then the other. His tongue traces easy circles that are all pleasure, and then nips bring me to the edge of pain. I’ll take it all: the pleasure, the pain, and the edge in between as long as he’s giving it to me. My core is hot with need by the time he works his way there.

He buries his face in my center, tongue dancing across me, inside me, that leaves a spiral of pure sensation in his wake.

“Let go.”

At his command, I lean back, my head tipping back, moaning, mewling, crying. Jesus Christ. He’s claiming me like I’m his, like no man will ever go here again, like I’ll never need another moment of bliss by the time he done with me. Coming undone in his hands, I arch against his mouth and have to press my lips together to keep from screaming when the orgasm takes me.

Serious blue eyes regard me from between my legs.

“Bad girl.”

Confusion gives way to comprehension as he pulls me toward him, spins me around, and slowly bends me over the table facing away from him. “I said let go. Let go means scream my name.”

His hand caresses my ass and more than anything I want him to bend me over and, oh God. The flat, powerful palm stings one cheek. Yes. What is wrong with me? What is wrong with my body? Instinctively, I’m pushing back against his hand. Again. Give me more.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

He slaps the other side. It’s so good. At first, I don’t feel his hand snaking around, finding my clit and beginning to rub. Sensitive, swollen, sore from already coming under his mouth, I can’t help but cry out.

“Give me more, Jessie.”

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