Bend (32 page)

And every time, it’s the same realization that washes over me like a flash flood and drives me wild: This is Jay.

Jay’s tongue thrusting inside my mouth.

Jay’s hands unzipping my dress and tearing it off my shoulders and down to my waist, nudging until it falls in a puddle around my ankles.

Jay unclasping my bra and yanking it off, and Jay lifting me up by my armpits while dipping his head down to draw a nipple in between his lips and teeth.

It’s Jay, and that’s still so surreal and so arousing it feels like it might shatter me from the inside out.

Impatient to have no barriers between us, I squirm until he lets me down, my feet connecting with the floor again. Wedging a finger into the knot of his tie to undo it, I wrench it off. Next I run my hands from his neck and down the broad expanse of his shoulders, wedging them under and shoving his suit jacket off.

“Help me,” I demand under my breath as I fiddle with his belt, and he complies by starting on his shirt buttons. Then, because I need him to be in as much of a hurry as I am, I drop my other hand and cup the thick and unyielding bulge in his pants.

He lets out a groan, swaying against me for a second before he pops the last button and sheds the shirt. Brushing aside my hand, he goes to work on his belt.

“Where’s that sex toy kit of yours?” he rasps out.

“Uhhh,” I say, distracted by the clink of his belt buckle and metallic slide of his zipper, squinting at him in the moonlight as his suit pants fall to the floor with a whoosh. “Why?”

“Just get it.” He walks over to the bed and starts rummaging with the bedding. Feeling like I’m moving in slow motion, I somehow find my way to the closet, digging around blindly until I find the stiff wax-paper gift bag and fish out the plastic pouch inside.

I have no idea what he plans on doing with this stuff, but whatever it is, I have no objections. I’m high-strung with lust, and with every step I take back toward him, I feel myself still wet and swollen and throbbing from what he just did to me on the stairs. A mental image flashes, a bird’s-eye view of us down there only a few minutes ago, my legs spread wide, Jay’s head between my thighs.

God. My breathing gets shallower, my pulse quickening.

“What are you doing?” I’m watching Jay rip a bundle of blankets and pillows off the bed and carry it toward the window where the moonlight glows brighter and the darkness is diminished.

“Bed’s too noisy.” He drops the comforter first, tossing pillows and blankets down on top of it.

And then he looks back at me. He’s standing there in the half-light, looking so hot in his boxer briefs that I grow weak with the need to touch him. To have him inside me, right now.

I can see his face better over there, can see the dark intensity in his gaze and how his eyes are burning with focused intent, heavy with promises.

He gestures for the bag in my hands, and I give it to him almost reluctantly, struck by sudden apprehension. “What are we doing, Jay?” I ask, laboring hard with each breath I’m forcing in and out of my lungs.

“Get down on your hands and knees.”

“Excuse me?” I splutter.

Flinging the toy packet down on the makeshift bed, he cuts the small distance between us and inches his fingers into the waistband on my panties.

“You heard me,” he murmurs, sliding my underwear down until it loosens enough to fall the rest of the way on its own.

Limbs quaking, I lower myself to the comforter. Going down on all fours. Obeying him. Resting there like that, waiting and vulnerable, bared and open to him. Sensing him kneeling behind me, I tense up in anticipation.

Palms covering my ass cheeks, his thumbs dig into the plump, pliable flesh as he pulls them apart. My breath hitches. Ohmygod, what is he doing? What is he—

A shock goes through me as his tongue starts tasting me there. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, my God. It’s a whole new sensation—a warm, wet, and firm pressure that sends electric jolts to my nerve endings. My gulps for air sound like sobs.

“Shh,” Jay says in a harsh whisper, and I let out an even louder moan that grows into a growl because he stopped what he was doing, and that’s so not okay.

He gives the little knot of skin one last stroke with his tongue, digging his teeth into my butt cheek before letting go of me.

And then comes the creaky squeak of the sex toy bag and the slide of the zipper as he opens it. But that’s not the only sound I hear. The front door slamming shut reverberates from downstairs, followed by a low hum of voices.

Shit.

A jolt rips through me as Jay suddenly rubs a cold and sticky liquid on me, and a startled whimper erupts from my throat.

“Shh,” he hisses out again.

“Screw you,” I whisper back at him. “It’s not my fault.”

“Be quiet or we’re done.”

Yeah, right. If he thinks I’m going to let him stop now—

I suck in my breath and hold it. Something smooth and hard is probing the entrance to my ass. It penetrates me only a fraction of an inch at first. Then, slowly and cautiously, it goes deeper with each stroke.

It’s the dildo from the toy kit. It’s big, and as it strains me, a faint stab of pain shoots up into my spine.

“Jay…” I choke out, but I don’t know what to say next. Stop? Slow down?

“Relax,” he says, a quiet and gentle command. He stops moving the toy so that it’s just a still, solid pressure inside me.

Okay. Inhaling and exhaling deeply and deliberately, I focus on loosening my muscles, letting go. It’s difficult and seems to take forever, an eternity in which I hear only our heavy breathing—my own and Jay’s, behind and above me. I’m listening for other sounds from whoever just came home, but in the rest of the house there’s only silence, not even the slightest creak on the stairs.

When I’m ready, I let him know by pushing backward, gasping as the dildo slides farther in, deeper and deeper. Any hint of pain is gone. Only raw, razor-sharp sensation remains. It tears through me with each slow, slippery thrust, and it’s awakening every nerve and pleasure point in my body.

But it’s not enough. I’m feeling filled and stretched but still empty. I want Jay inside me, too. Want him to stop being selfless, to lose that self-restraint, and stop trying to please only me.

“Now, Jay,” I pant out, glancing back at him over my shoulder.

He’s looking down at me with a lazy and almost smug gaze. Still moving the dildo slowly and carefully back and forth in my ass. “Now, what?”

Damn it. Resisting the urge to snarl at him, I clench my jaws. “Aren’t you fulfilling my dirtiest fantasy?”

One corner of Jay’s mouth dimples as he smirks. “I don’t know. What was it again? I forget.”

Half twisting my body, I reach behind me to hook my fingers on the elastic of his boxer briefs. I pull them down as far as I can, and his erection springs free. Keeping my voice in a hush, I say, “Your cock. Inside me. Now.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, but he doesn’t sound concerned—only playful. And breathless.

“Jesus.” I turn back to face forward again. The slip and slide of the silicone dick in my ass feels so good I know if I let myself, I’ll come just from that. But I don’t want to.

“Just fuck me, Jay,” I say with a whimper. “Please.”

His answer is nonverbal: I can suddenly feel the head of his dick probing the slick entrance to my pussy. He starts to push inside, but with the dildo in my ass, it’s a tight fit.

“Shit,” Jay gasps as he shoves past the resistance and glides all the way in.

Oh, my God. I can’t breathe. I’m afraid to move, afraid I’ll split in half.

Bravado? That’s an understatement and a half. Me and my big mouth.

“You okay?” Jay’s voice sounds shaky.

“Mhmm,” I manage to reply, a high and squeaky noise that comes out through my nose.

And then he’s fucking me, and immediately I start to fall apart. His dick is in my pussy, the vibrator in my ass—stretching and filling and penetrating me, and with each tandem stroke, it gets more difficult to hold back my sobs of pleasure. Goose bumps ripple down my spine as my orgasm rushes over me, fast and violent, leaving me gasping and trembling.

Jay doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down to let me catch my breath. He just keeps pounding into me, rubbing my raw and tingling nerves, and the sensory overload is almost too much to handle. I want to tell him to take it easy and give me a chance to recover, but I also don’t want to, because he feels so good inside me that if he stopped right now, I would probably start crying.

Suddenly there’s a quiet knock on the door followed by my sister’s voice, muffled and tentative. “Mia?”

Oh, my God. No. No!
Go away, Paige.
Squeezing my eyes tight while Jay is still driving himself into me, I put my fist up to my mouth and swallow the moan that rises into my throat. Waiting, waiting, waiting for my sister to knock again. While I’m on my hands and knees on the floor and the man I’ve sworn is only a friend is kneeling behind me, screwing me.

When seconds tick by with only silence from the hallway, I release my breath with a sigh of relief. And I stop thinking. I’m just feeling. My breasts bounce with every thrust, and I push backward to meet him beat by beat. I’m seeking and straining, chasing another orgasm, my breath coming out in panting gasps.

“Touch me.” I’m forcing the words, a frantic whisper.

And Jay obliges, sliding his hand around my front and down between my legs. A shock runs through me as his fingers find my clit. He teases it, rubs it, slowly and then quickly, then slowly again. Playing with the nub while he continues to fuck me with his cock and the dildo.

“Jay,” I moan quietly as the shooting sparks of heat start building once more. “Don’t stop. I’m gonna come again.”

“Come for me, baby,” he responds in a low growl.

And I do. Shudders sweep through my entire body as I’m coming and coming, so long and so hard that I feel like fireworks are going off in my head.

“God,” I breathe out as the sensation subsides, and thankfully Jay slows down, or I might just die. But he’s still going—still stroking into me, his cock hard and hot inside me, and with a whimper, I beg, “No more, Jay. You’re killing me.”

“We’re not done,” he says, his fingers flicking my clit, which sends a stab through me that’s almost painful.

“Oh, my God,” I whine, bucking underneath him. “Just fuck me and finish. Fuck me and come inside me. Please.”

He lets out a harsh breath. My eyes bug and I let out a strangled whimper as he pulls the vibrator out. He digs his fingers into my hair, which is still in an updo, and I feel pins loosening and falling out. “Put your face on the pillow and tuck your knees up,” he orders me, and numbly, I do as he says.

The motion makes him slip out of me, but only for a moment. My ass is sticking up in the air and my pussy is open and bared to him when he pushes his dick back inside me. He feels big and thick and throbbing, and he slides in all the way to the hilt, burying himself deep.

Then he leans down, so far that I can feel the heat of him on my back. “You feel so goddamned good, Mia.”

I let out a moan as he starts pounding into me again, and pleasure-pain racks through me each time he hits the neck of my womb. His thrusts are going faster and faster until he slows with a deep groan, and he’s pulsing and surging inside me. As I feel him coming, sparks shoot up through me and into my core as I climax again, a short and sharp burst of utter bliss.

Winded and shaking, I collapse facedown on the comforter, my head turned sideways on my pillow. Jay throws himself down beside me, and he still sounds out of breath as he covers us both with the flat sheet. The soft fabric feels cool against my flushed and clammy skin.

Am I still alive? If I’m not, that means Jay just fucked me to death. And right now I honestly can’t think of a better way to go.

“Did you really have sex dreams about me?” comes Jay’s subdued voice from next to me in the semi-dark.

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I take my time answering. Should’ve known he wouldn’t let that go. “Yeah,” I admit, because it’s the truth, though not one I’ve ever been proud of.

We’re still on the comforter on the floor, and I’m lying on my stomach, watching him with my arms folded under my pillow. From the soft glow of the moon, I can see his silhouette—the strong and well-defined profile of his face, the chiseled outline of his torso. My hands are itching to reach out and touch him.