Shatter (Club Grit Trilogy) (8 page)

“You look gorgeous, Kim. I almost don’t want to take it off,” he said, and it wasn’t teasing, it was genuine.

“You don’t have to,” I said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I like you a lot, Lawrence, and you don’t have to have sex with me to prove it.”

He looked at me, surprised, and smiled. “Of course I want to, Kim. And you?”

“Of course,” I answered, but he pulled himself down on the bed, reached up with two hands and shimmied my matching panties down. I wiggled to help him get them off, and he tossed them aside gently, before pulling up, wrapping one arm around my waist, the other, around my hips, each hand touching the opposite arm’s forearm around the small of my back, and he gave me the kind of kiss I wouldn’t expect a man like him would give, the most intimate of kinds.

“Damn, Kim, you’re so wet,” he said for a split second before he pressed his lips against the cleft between my legs again, sucking and licking as if he was French kissing my mouth, a mouth that was left open in sheer ecstasy, unable to produce coherent words. He pulled himself up, pressing into me further, and then pushed himself back down, using his arms so that his neck wouldn’t tire. I’d be lying if there wasn’t something ridiculously hot about knowing that I was a billionaire’s favorite treat of the night, that instead of having to suck some guy’s dick, I got to have Lawrence’s mouth blending with my pussy, two soft surfaces becoming one, two openings meeting for split seconds and then moving away, over and over like the waves of the ocean against a beach, like water breaking earth down, into beaches, into canyons, the way he was breaking me. I wasn’t used to being out of control, having somebody who controlled my pleasure so adeptly, and who cared about me feeling good more than they cared about busting a nut, but Lawrence wasn’t what I was used to, he was something else entirely.

“Oh, Lawrence,” I said, my voice raising an octave as he played me like a fiddle. “This is so amazing.” He didn’t quit but kept sucking at my clit and pressing into me with three of his slim but firm fingers, over and over, before switching, so he could press hard on my clit while applying suction to my entrance, an entrance that would taking anything that Lawrence wanted to give it, like a secret treasury thought to be long lost beneath waves of sorrow and regret. He had uncovered the Atlantis of my pleasure, the hidden temples still able to take a worshipper, just one more, just Lawrence.

“I told you I could rock your world, didn’t I?” he asked and I just answered with a low purr, but then he asked again, “Didn’t I?”

“Y-yes,” I stuttered as he kept thrusting his fingers in and out of me but I needed something more: I needed him, inside of me, and not the way he currently was, but the way that he was supposed to be, that he should be...the way that he and I knew would come next, once he stopped teasing me.

The waves of pleasure warped my body the way that the sea foam leaves its curved prints on the beach, even on the palest grains of sand in the most languid of moonlit nights. I had never thought I could feel what he’d made me feel, but the oceans of my body turned from some frigid, arctic ocean, a no man’s land, into the warm tropical seas, ready to be played in by anyone who could access it. I felt my body burn and warm as I involuntarily found myself tightening around his fingers, not wanting them to slide out, but knowing what was next.

“Are you ready for me, Kim?” he whispered, pulling his fingers out of me and waiting for my head to nod.

I pulled him close instead, and whispered in his ear, “Yes”. He pulled away from me desperately and I watched as Lawrence pulled out a condom from his pants pocket, opening it, and unrolling it as he put it on, removing his boxers with the other hand.

I hadn’t expected Lawrence to be so...well endowed. The joke with billionaires and rappers and powerful men is that they’re compensating for something, but Lawrence had nothing to compensate for. His dick was like a warped Greek column, the veins running on the side in wavy lines, and the head as steady a cap as any architect could wish to envision. His testes were like steps to this shrine of pleasure, a priapic monument to his sublime masculinity, to his ability to pleasure me in ways he’d only given me a taste of...by taking a taste of me.

He pressed the head against my entrance and I gasped. He started to pull out and asked, “Are you okay?” but I pulled him close and into me, muffling my whimpers by translating the sounds of my desire into feelings of pure pleasure that couldn’t be mistaken as anything other than the most true show of adoration. My hands felt along his head, the hair soft even as it became sticky with our sweat and body heat, the sheers not as great at ventilating the room as they’d seem, Club Grit’s atmosphere slinking in like raver rain in a warehouse, but I didn’t care. With Lawrence, I could be dirty, I could be elegant, I could be anything he desired, and it didn’t matter, because as long as I had him, I’d be anyone.

I felt him hit my G spot and couldn’t help but throw my head back, and Lawrence didn’t miss the opportunity to pull me up, one hand behind my back, the other keeping my hips down and in their proper place, below him, before pressing his mouth against my tender neck. He started to suck and to bite, as if I was a sweet Popsicle on a hot summer’s day that he needed to both taste and to quench his thirst. Part of me wanted to tell him to be gentle, so that I wouldn’t get a hickey. I’d never gone back to the sorority house with one, but Lawrence...was different. Any mark from him would be a badge of honor, so as I enjoyed him pressing into my pleasure zone while pulling part of my neck further into him, like we were a paired set of ouroboros, the serpent eating itself, taking itself in and being taken in all at the same time, I just gripped hard, at his back, feeling the firm muscles rippling beneath the surface of his velvet-soft skin.

I was so wet, I could barely feel that Lawrence had the condom on. I’d seen it, I knew he had one, it was easy enough to check surreptitiously, but I didn’t need to. I trusted Lawrence. I could also feel his body heat even through the thin latex of the condom, transferring from his body to mine and back again like the way that we’d swapped spit before, but something that was more automatic and beyond our control. I could feel every ridge of his cock, from the line around the helmet shaped head, to the ripples of the veins along the shaft, and I could feel his balls slap against me as he pressed into me over and over, faster and faster, their sound like the clapping of a bird’s wings in the wind.

But as I got even wetter, Lawrence’s thrusts became more hurried, as did the way that he was using the rest of my body, moving more quickly from spot to spot, and moving his hands from my back to my breasts, pinching and squeezing at my nipples to the point that I squirmed without meaning to, but not without needing to. He knew how to work my body better than I had, and once he placed his mouth on one of my hardened nipples and sucked as hard as he had at my neck, making my back arch into the air as if I was possessed, I knew that I had never had a lover like Lawrence before, and I may never again.

Where had he learned the secrets of how to please a woman? Was he an ex-stripper? Did he have an ex-wife who had been a nympho, or had the love of his life perished, but not before they learned all about the bodies of the opposite sex through exploring one another? This was a question I had no time, nor to consider, as I just enjoyed Lawrence, pressing into me, his body shorn from the neck down, including his armpits, to the point that looking at him wasn’t like looking at some overly-hairy thing that crawled out of a frat. Lawrence was sophisticated and knew just how rough he could be with me to make my body respond to his in kind, as my nails dug into not only his scalp, but his back, not hard enough to lacerate his skin, but hard enough for him to moan aloud.

“Lawrence, you feel so good,” I moaned as I wrapped my arms around him tighter, feeling his muscled, toned back ripple as he pushed himself up and into me again.

He lifted himself up and out of my grasp, taking my chin under his fingers and lifting my face up. “Look into my eyes,” he ordered, in a whisper, a whisper with authority, and as soon as I did, he continued. “I need you to understand how gorgeous you are, Kim. It's not just your appearance, it's your inner beauty too, but damn, your body is so nice. You have no idea how amazing you look right now. I know you try to put up walls, but you're letting me in, trusting me with the secrets your vulnerable side reveals. Seeing you this way, exposed, naked, not only in terms of body, but in terms of soul? It's such a turn on,” he said, pulling me up close to him so that he could give me a small kiss on my neck, like the a sampling of perfume at a department store from a salesman, who insists that it's the perfect scent for the helpless, lost shopper.

“You don't mean that,” I said turning away. Lawrence was a billionaire, and as fun as this game was...part of me had hoped it wasn't a game, that somehow, I was different than the other girls, that what we had was special. This thing we had? It was too surreal to be real, but not affected enough to be fake. Things like chemistry, the kind we had, was the type that mere miles away, actors and actresses were paid to fake, either for the movies or for pornos, and somehow, the heat between Lawrence and I, tempered by the tension, by how long the resistance had felt like it had lasted, even over just a matter of days, was just as hot. There was no awkward fumbling as he removed my bra; there was no blushing as gross sounds emanated from the two of us, just pure appreciation of each other's bodies as we fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

“Kim,” he said, as if he was summoning me from halfway across the room rather than from my place underneath him, and I turned without thinking that I should resist. “You have two options: either trust me and believe what I say, or call me a liar and lose the trust I have in your intellect. Any fool could see that you, above all others, are perfect for me. I'm a man who is used to getting what I want, and with ease: I flash my money or my status, and the world bows to me, but you? I wouldn't want to buy you even if I could, and I know all the money in the world couldn't buy your affections. I know that you're a woman with pride, and I know that even if you had known who I was, you wouldn't have chased me just because I am a billionaire, like any of the gold diggers that the Hills has to offer. You...you're different. You operate on a different level than other people, and I have to earn you, Kim. Just having you in bed isn't enough, don't you see?”

“N-no, I don't,” I admitted, enjoying how good his slow thrusts felt as he pulled out of me and then pressed back in, excruciatingly slowly in a way that made me want him even more.

“Kim, you're worth so much more than you think, and more than I can offer you. I'd never thought I'd meet a woman like you, but the moment I did, I couldn't believe that my imagination was so limited, that I'd been unable to even pretend someone like you existed. You give, to every possible airy virtue, a habitation and a name: Kim, Kim, Kim,” he said and then, soon, whispered, muffling my name as his lips met my skin again, tracing a trail from my collar bones to my shoulders and down my arms until he reached my hands, where he pressed his firm lips into the palm of my hand.

“Lawrence, there's things about me...that you don't know, that you don't want to know,” I said, lost in his eyes and losing the urge to pull away from him.

“Kim...there'll be time for that, later, but right now...all I want to do is make you feel pleasures you may not have even thought possible, the way I never thought it would be possible to meet a woman as amazing as you,” he murmured as he pulled my legs around his waist so that he could thrust even more deeply into my body, so that more of our intimate areas were together, so that we were closer to attaining a state of physical unity.

"How do you like it, baby?" he asked me, as he pressed in and out of me hard and slow. "Are you a G spot kind of girl, or do you like this better?" He punctuated his sentence not only with a question mark, but also by reaching one arm around his back, so he could hold my legs up with just one hand. I used my legs to wrap around him harder so he didn't have to do so much work, and he smiled, moving his free hand to the place our bodies met, and then, moving up. He pressed down hard and slow, to the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Does that feel good?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's okay," I said, lying back and enjoying the thrusts.

"How about this?" he asked, moving higher up.

"That's okay too," I said, not really caring about what he was doing with his hands, until he moved even higher, to the last place my wetness extended to, to the portal of pleasure between the start of my folds. "L-Lawrence!"

"You like that, don't you?" he said, with a smile, as he watched my eyes flutter open and closed and as I gripped the pillow behind my head so that I had some sort of anchor, because as my back arched, I was half afraid I'd fall off the back.

"Y-yes, how did you know?" I asked.

"Your voice changes when you feel excruciating pleasure honey. Everybody knows that," he teased, pressing the spot faster but not too hard, as if he knew how soft and delicate it could be, even as I felt the spot getting bigger so that it could take in even more stimulation.

"I-it feels so good, Lawrence," I said, and it was true. As he traced symbols that meant as much as the sweet nothings he'd told me, as he spoke the hidden language of my body using only his hands like a sexual sign language interpreter, he drew out a part of me I hadn't know existed, a part of me that I'd always fantasized about. With Lawrence, I wasn't Kim Lee, the Vice President of Omega Mu Gamma, but Kim, the Girl With Lips Like Rose Petals, Kim, the Girl Who Has Captivated The Billionaire, Kim, the Girl Who Didn't Want To Disappear.

“Lawrence, don’t stop,” I moaned, my voice desperate and greedy for more pleasure.

“I won’t, Kim, I won’t,” he promised, as he kept thrusting into me and pressing his fingers against me and tracing those random symbols that carried with them so much meaning, a love letter from his body to mine that neither he or I could translate mentally, only physically.