Degradation (22 page)

“Hot. So, were
either of them
prettier than me?” Tate asked again.

“They were twins, and they were very sexy, but not as sexy as you,” Jameson assured her. She smiled big.

“I'm choosing to believe you on that. Were they better in bed?” she continued. He thought for a second.

“Well, that's hard to answer. Twice the anatomy to play with, kind of gives them an advantage,” he said. Tate pouted her lower lip out at him, trying to hide her laughter. “But they weren't better. No. No, definitely not. No one takes care of me quite like you.”

“That's good to hear, seeing as how it's usually you doing all the taking care of – have you ever slept with them before?” she asked, munching on a cracker. He shook his head.

“No, I just met them that week. Kind of a spur of the moment thing. They asked me to dinner, one thing led to another,” he nodded his head for emphasis. Tate laughed.

“The ol'
one-thing-led-to-another-suddenly-I'm-fucking-twins
kind of night. I have that same problem all the time. Bitches just be falling for you in pairs, man,” she teased. He rolled his eyes.

“God, I shouldn't have said anything.”

“No, I'm glad you did. I want to know
everything,
” she urged, pushing the box of crackers away. His face became hard, serious. Almost angry.

“
Really? You want to know
everything?
Like how I tied one girl down and had her watch while I fucked the other? Or how they took turns sucking my dick? Things like that?” Jameson's voice was serious as well. The temperature in the kitchen suddenly cranked up about a hundred degrees. She licked her lips and nodded.

“
Exactly
like that,” Tate replied, her voice breathy. He stared at her for a second, and then he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, pushed a button.

“Sanders,” he barked in to the phone, still staring at her. “Party's over. I want everyone out of my house in five minutes.”

“Ooohhh, finally, alone time,” Tate chuckled.

He didn't say anything in response, and they watched each other in silence. When they heard the sound of feet clomping through the house, he winked at her and slid out the door, closing it behind him.

She let out a breath, bowing her head forward. The mental image of Jameson, having sex, with two women. She rubbed her legs together. When she was having sex with him, she was too caught up in the moment, most of the time, to really pay attention. The idea of sitting back and watching him, seeing him in all his perfect kind of action; it turned her on. With two women?
Wow.

The goodbyes seemed to take forever. She could hear voices murmuring, picked out Jameson's voice among them. She laid back flat on the island, propped her feet up on the edge.
Two women
. Did he talk with other women the way he talked with her? She imagined him tying a woman's wrists to a bed post, calling her names. Tracing his tongue down her prone body. Tate's hand crept onto her stomach. Fiddled with the edge of her bikini bottoms. She took a deep breath through her nose, forcing her hand to stay still.

It had been a long week without him.

“Getting started without me? Bad girl,” Jameson's voice was soft as he walked back in to the kitchen.

“No, but I thought about it,” she replied, not lifting her head but holding up her hands for him to see.

“That's bad enough. I've barely told you anything, and you're already turned on?” he asked, moving so he was standing in front of her. She sat up, letting her legs fall back down against the drawers beneath her. He grabbed her knees and spread her legs so he could stand between them.

“I've got a very good imagination, Mr. Kane,” she assured him. He placed a hand against the crotch of her bikini bottoms, gently tracing his middle finger up and down. She sucked air through her teeth, trying not to moan.

“Apparently. You're soaking wet, Tatum,” he informed her. She nodded.

“You have that effect on me, if you haven't noticed.”

“You sure it wasn't all those men you were flirting with? Laying it on pretty thick out there,” he told her, his fingers from his other hand digging in to her knee.

“I thought you liked it when I was slutty,” she pointed out. He narrowed his eyes.

“Hmmm, sometimes,” was all he said in response, the pressure from his fingers getting harder. She sucked in another gasp of air and grabbed onto his wrist.

“No fair. I want to hear your story,” she told him, stopping his movements.

“You are an amazing woman, Tatum O'Shea,” Jameson chuckled, stepping back away from her.

“You have no idea. Now make it juicy. Lie if you have to,” she told him, and he laughed, going back to his position by the door, leaning against the wall.

“Alright. What do you want to know first?” he asked. She laid back down.

“How it all started, start there. What were you wearing. What were they wearing,” she suggested.

“Awfully detailed.”

“I'm a very visual person.”

“Let's see. I met them for dinner. I was wearing clothing. One of them was wearing a ridiculous dress, you would have loved it – short, slutty, only covered one shoulder. The other one was more demure, some fancy shirt, and tight pants,” he described. Tate laughed.

“
You were
'wearing clothing
', huh? You're a horrible story teller. Do these girls have names?” she asked, propping her foot up on the island top.

“Probably,” was all he said, and she laughed.

“Terrible. So okay, we'll say Thing One is Slutty One - right up your alley. Thing Two, Demure Temptress. How long did it take you to talk them in to coming home with you?” she asked. He snorted.

“I didn't talk them in to shit, Tate. We had appetizers, I told them I was going home, they asked to join me. Demure Temptress sucked my dick during the cab ride to my hotel,” Jameson stated.

“Oh my. Lucky cab driver,” Tate whispered.

“Once we got in to my room, I sat on the balcony while they took turns blowing me. Slutty One couldn't wait any longer, and climbed on top of me right out there,” he continued.

“What was Demure Temptress doing?” Tate asked, staring up at the ceiling.

“She went back in to the room, got naked. Stretched out on the bed. Played with herself,” his voice was soft. Tate could feel her breathing pick up.

“Did you like that?”

“Very much so.”

“
What else?
”

“I carried the slutty sister in to the room, laid down on the bed between them. You can touch yourself, Tate, it's okay,” Jameson said when her finger began to trace lines above her bikini. She laughed.

“I don't need your permission,” she pointed out.

“
Wrong
.”

Her hand dived underneath the bathing suit material and she closed her eyes. She brought her other leg up so both knees were in the air, the balls of her feet balanced on the edge of the island. Sometimes she wondered who was better at touching her – herself, or Jameson. Her fingers could thread her like a needle; precise, knew exactly how to touch. Jameson was more like silk; smooth, finessing everything. She began to pant.

“What else?” she moaned.

“Fuck, Tate, what did I do to deserve you?” his voice sounded strained. She chuckled.

“Nothing,
yet
. Keep talking, please,” she begged, her other hand joining the first as she gently eased a finger in to her opening.

“The demure sister rode my cock for a while, while slutty girl let me see how many fingers I could fit inside of her. Then they traded places,” he continued. Tate moaned, pushing her hips in to the air. She dragged one hand away, brought it to her hair and pulled a little.

“Get to the part with the ropes,” she gasped.

“Tatum, naughty girl, you want me to tie you up, don't you?” Jameson asked.

“
I want you to do whatever you fucking want,
” she said, and then cried out, pushing two fingers inside.

“
Good answer.
I didn't have any rope, I had to use the slutty one's tights. I tied her down flat to the mattress, to the legs of the bed. Bent the demure one in half right beside the other girl and fucked her as hard as I could.”

“Oh my god, did you talk? Did you talk to them the way you talk to me?” the words rushed out of Tate, her voice sounding like she was almost whining. His story, the picture he was painting, was getting her so hot, she almost didn't need her hand to help her get off.

“Oh no. No, I reserve that for people that I think can actually handle it. That's why sex has always been better with you – I can always be myself,” he told her in a whisper. She moaned again, long and low, her fingers thrusting in and out of herself.

“I'm glad,” she whispered, the hand in her hair going behind her head, gripping onto edge of the island.

“Not to say that boring, old, regular sex doesn't help pass the time. After demure one came apart all around me, I moved onto slutty one. Left her tied up, so I could do anything I wanted to her,” Jameson's voice was almost menacing sounding.

“What did you do?” Tate's voice was starting to shake. She didn't want to come, not without him inside her, but she couldn't stop her fingers.

“What do
you
think I did?” he asked.

“Did you go down on her?” she asked, and then held her breath.

“No. I don't do that for just anybody,” he informed her. It made her happy to hear it, he hadn't done that for her yet.

“I noticed.”

“You want me to go down on you, Tate?” he asked.

“I don't care.”

“I consider that a
very
big favor. It's quite a treat for me to give. You would owe me,
big time,
” he told her. She shook her head.

“
Obviously, I don't need your favors,” she managed to chuckle, but it turned in to a gasp as a tremor ripped through her body, forcing her hips in to the air again. She was so close ...,

“What the the fuck did you just say to me?” Jameson snapped. She smiled, pressing her knees together.

“God,
yes,
talk to me like that,” she moaned, her fingers moving fast, running a race against him.

“Shut the fuck up and stop moving,” he ordered. She shook her head.

“Can't.
Sorry,
” she whispered, her breathing beginning to hitch.

She hadn't heard him move, but suddenly she felt his hand on her knee. She turned her head forward and opened her eyes to find him staring down at her. He slid his hand between her thighs, moving them apart. She finally pulled her hand free of her bottoms, but he grabbed her by the wrist and raised her hand to his face, wrapping his lips around two of her fingers. She moaned again, scratching the nails of her free hand down her thigh. His tongue swirled around her sticky sweet fingers, and then he slowly pulled them free.

“You
always
need my favors, Tatum,” he informed her, dropping her hand and then grabbing her by the hips, pushing her back along the counter. Her legs stretched out, till her calves were resting against the edge.

“Yes, yes, I do,” she groaned.

“Beg me,” he ordered.

“
Anything.
Do anything.
Just please, touch me, something,
anything,
” she begged.

He hooked his hands under knees and yanked them up. She planted her feet flat while he wrenched her thighs wide apart. A shudder ran down her body while his fingers dug in to her flesh. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she felt his teeth against her inner thigh. Biting his way down, his tongue softening the blows. His breath was hot against her damp bikini bottoms and she wiggled her hips in anticipation.

“A
very big
favor,” he reminded her, his fingers creeping across her skin. She laughed.

“I didn't ask for any favors,” she told him.

“You're about to get one.”

He roughly pulled the crotch of her bottoms to the side and then his mouth was on her. She cried out, her hands instantly going to his hair. His tongue made one long sweep up her center, cutting her like a knife. Her thighs shook, and she felt like her holding onto him was the only thing keeping her from flying off the island top.

The man wasn't all talk; his tongue moved expertly around her – she may have met her match in the oral sex department. Her breathing cranked back up and she started making harsh sounds in the back of her throat. Whining. Moaning. Panting. All of the above.

“God, I don't think I've ever tasted a pussy as sweet as yours,” he groaned against her, running his hands over her breasts and then clawing them back down her body. “I didn't think there could be anything better than fucking it, but this is pretty close.”

“I aim to please,” Tate whispered, pulling at his hair.