14. Mandi
Fuck.
Being fucked by Jason King is like being thrust from a frypan into the fire, only to then have the earth crack open below the flaming coals and everything engulfed by liquid hot magma.
He made me an absolute mess. A slippery, cum-filled mess, devoid of stamina or muscle tone and therefore the ability to move — except for the involuntary spasms that periodically grip my vagina, because Jason broke its fucking springs or something.
He put me to bed, to recover, and I can hear him rattling around in the kitchen and making calls in a very boss-like tone.
Guilt washes over me when I realize it’s mid-morning on a week day. He’s meant to be working. I’m interrupting his life, and I need to not do that. I don’t want to change his important plans or be a burden.
I slide awkwardly to the edge of the bed. My thighs are smeared with so much cum and more dribbles out of me whenever I move. I’m beginning to think there’s no way I’m not going to soak his mattress.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Jason arrives just as I get one foot to the floor. “Going to run out on me again, before I can apologize for whatever I did that drove you away the first time?”
A little unnerved by his tone, I pull my foot back into the bed and ease my head back to the pillow. “You didn’t drive me away.”
“Don’t speak if you’re going to lie,” he rumbles. “Where were you going?”
“To the bathroom, to wash up,” I reply quietly.
He grunts. “Sounds like something you’d need to do before making a run for it. Stay where you are.” He enters the adjoining bathroom, runs the water, and then returns with a steaming cloth.
“I wasn’t making a run for it,” I say as he sits on the edge of the bed next to me.
“Then why would you be in a hurry to wash?” he asks without pause. “Does the evidence of my pleasure disgust you?”
I stare at him. “No. Why are you angry?”
“I’m always angry. Legs.” The command is sharp, and I spread myself for inspection.
For a while, he simply gazes at my creamed pussy with admiration in his eyes, and by the time he starts wiping his semen from my inner thighs, my face is ready to burst into flames.
He doesn’t look up from his gentle cleansing of my sensitive flesh. He’s careful, and he’s not invasive with his ministrations, giving me only a superficial spruce-up. “Are you on birth control?”
The heat in my cheeks burns with more intensity. He regrets fucking me bare, and I don’t blame him. “I’ll take care of it,” I assure him.
“What does that mean?” he asks, looking up from his work. “Plan B from the pharmacy? That’s where you were going?”
I open my mouth to speak, but he continues his interrogation, his tone getting louder with each question. “Where in your cycle are you right now? Are you fertile? You can’t risk staying in my bed a second longer in case a child starts to grow inside you? Is it the worst imaginable thing? You said you only wanted my babies, but now the thought repulses to you? Is that it?”
My eyes prickle with the arrival of hot tears, and I look away. “No.”
Jason takes my chin in his hand and guides me to face him. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m not.”
He lifts one eyebrow and waits.
“I don’t want you to hate me,” I whisper.
“Why would I hate you?” he asks. “Because you fuck with my head and make me feel crazy? Because you said you’d be mine, and then left me? You turn up twenty years later, needing me like never before, and no matter how badly I want to say no, I can’t fucking leave you to suffer? You think that’s because I hate you?”
He looks down at me with such pain in his eyes, my insides squirm with discomfort. I did this to him.
A therapist once said that, until I learn to love myself, I’ll hurt anyone who gets close to me. The more I push them away, the harder it is for them to stay, but I’ll go on testing them, only convinced of their love if they’re willing to suffer me at my most awful.
I never needed to test Jason, in order to feel his love, and I never wanted to hurt him, but I have. In some ways, I wish he hadn’t started caring about me to begin with, but then, I’d have given up long ago.
His love is the kind that lasts, but I don’t deserve it, and as good as it feels to have him in my corner, I don’t want to cause him more harm. I’ve let him down on so many levels, and I’m only going to keep hurting him, if he continues to care about me.
I can’t pull my chin from his firm grip, so I close my eyes, to escape the intensity of his confronting stare. “I don’t want you to hate me, but I don’t want you to love me, either.”
He doesn’t say anything for so long, I open my eyes again.
His eyebrow twitches, but it’s the only slip in his fa?ade, as he maintains an otherwise level expression. “What do you want from me?”
I swallow hard. “Mercy.”
“For what?” he demands to know. “What did you do, Amanda? Where have you been, for twenty fucking years?”
“Nineteen.” I’m back to Amanda now?
“Are you being intentionally avoidant and oppositional?” he asks in a warning tone. “Is this you, begging for more punishment? Because I want a straight answer, and I will get it. By any means necessary.”
Getting my ass spanked some more sounds less painful than confessing. I turn my face. “Do whatever you want with me.”
His frown deepens, and he tenses his jaw while he wipes at my thigh with the cloth that’s turned cold. “I will.”
* * *
He doesn’t punish me.
At least, not in the conventional sense.
There’s no dragging me down to his dungeon and forcing the truth from my lips. Instead, he brings me a glass of water and some pain relief for my swollen pussy and throbbing ass. It both confuses and unsettles me. Which is a lot less fun than an intensive paddling, if I’m honest.
“It doesn’t hurt that much,” I say when he sets his kind offerings on the bedside table for me.
“It will if you don’t take them,” he assures me in a flat tone. “I’ll make sure of it.”
I shiver at the threat, and he smiles. Not a happy smile. A dangerous one.
The thing about Jason King, is that I never quite know which way things will go. He’s like a wild animal I could never hope to tame, and if I ever believe I have, that’s when he’ll most likely tear me to shreds and leave me wishing I was dead. As with any powerful, hot-blooded, and unpredictable creature, it’s healthiest to keep a certain level of respect and not cross any lines drawn to keep me safe.
Jason makes his expectations and boundaries clear. All I have to do is obey them. I’ve always found comfort in knowing where I stand, and with him, there’s never a need to ask exactly where that is.
I take the Tylenol and drink the water.
He nods and leaves to answer a knock at the door.
When he returns, he sets a small stack of clothes next to me.
Newclothes.
Leather pants. Cotton panties. And a T-shirt, so soft, it feels perfectly worn-in already. All my size.
“Get dressed. We leave in five minutes,” he says.
“Five minutes?”
He starts to leave, and I call after him. “Where are we going? Shouldn’t I shower first?”
He pauses in the doorway but doesn’t turn to face me. “Did I tell you to shower?”
“No, but…”
He’s already walking away. The conversation is over, from his perspective.
I stand to dress, and his cum dribbles down my leg, to soak my new underwear as I pull them up. He wanted this to happen. And I don’t hate it.
I pull on the pants and the T-shirt, which is amazingly comfortable against my skin. My nipples look hard and thick through the fabric, and the moment I think about his mouth, latching on and pulling the milk from my breasts, a tremor grips my pussy.
It did feel incredible.
A hot, human mouth, bringing forth the milky goodness from inside me… The only tangible thing of value I have to give, and he’d wanted it.
I’m used to the breast pump. I’ve thought about how breastfeeding is meant to feel, but I didn’t know it could be like that. And with a grown man? I didn’t know how different it would be. How warm and natural and… spine-meltingly good.
I rest my hands on my breasts to assess how firm they are. I’m not going to have time to pump before we go, but they won’t start to get overly full and uncomfortable for another hour or two. As long as I have my pump, I can deal with them then.
I head downstairs, to meet Jason in the kitchen.
“Hungry?” he asks.
I shake my head.
He comes to stand in front of me. “Open your mouth.”
I don’t hesitate to obey, and he places a piece of chocolate onto my tongue. “You’ll keep your energy up, regardless of appetite,” he says before tilting his head toward the door — my instruction to leave.
I reach for my backpack, but he shoves it out of reach. “You won’t need that,” he says, handing me my leather jacket for riding.
“But—”
One look at his face, and I raise my hands in surrender. “I won’t need it,” I say to appease him, though going without the breast pump will mean drying-off cold turkey, and my tits are going to hate that.
He gestures for me to head toward his garage, where we left his bike this morning when we got back from ’Cinda’s place.
I stand between the Ducati and his truck, not wanting to assume which we’ll be taking.
“Get on.”
I climb onto his bike and hold onto the handle at the base of the passenger seat again, like I’ve been told. The position, with my arms behind me, thrusts my chest high and forward, like I’m proudly presenting my breasts.
Jason watches me closely, and I squirm under his attention. In my slippery, cum-soaked panties. God, I’m such a dirty bitch for loving it, but I’ve always been filthy for him.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.
“I’ve ruined my new panties.”
“You didn’t like them? Is that why you didn’t say thank you?”
I frown. “I meant to,” I say quietly. “I swear I’m not the entitled rich girl I was before we met. You’re just very distracting. And so are my soaking fucking panties. I haven’t ruined them beyond repair; they’re just… Thank you.”
“I’ll get you a new pair when I think you’ve stewed in your juices long enough.” He sets my helmet onto my head and tightens the strap. He then pulls on his own and slides down the black visor that hides his face. He remains where he is a while longer. Is he still looking at me?
Eventually, he walks behind the bike, pries my fingers from the handle, and stows it away, before he takes his seat in front. “Hold on to me.” His words are a little muffled, but he doesn’t have to ask me twice.
I wrap my arms around his waist and ease myself up against his strong back, as the powerful engine purrs to life between my legs. The vibrations run through my fucked pussy and make everything throb in the best way. If we’re riding more than a few blocks, I’m going to absolutely destroy these fucking panties.
Luckily, Jason pulls into a parking lot behind a string of stores after about ten minutes.
“I’ll be back soon.” He glances in the vague direction of the stores before giving me all of his focus. “Will you stay? Or do I need to chain you to my bike?”
I was just snuggling up against him, like a magnet to metal. Why would he ask that?
“Will you trust me if I say I’ll still be here?” I ask, testing.
“Should I?” he counters.
I wrap my arms over my stomach, to smother the hollow, wounded feeling, gnawing me there. “Yes.”
“The last time I trusted your yes, I spent twenty years getting over you,” he says without flinching.
“Nineteen,” I argue, my hurt turning into annoyance. “And you’re still not over me,” I throw at him.
He gives an amused-sounding grunt and pulls a set of cuffs from inside his leather jacket. “Never said I was. Hands behind your back, Princess.”
He checks I’m securely bound, leaves me perched on his bike, and disappears down an alleyway. Five minutes later, he reappears, shoving a brown paper bag inside his leather jacket. Without a word, he uncuffs my wrists, stows the restraints, and reclaims the empty seat in front of me. He sits there a moment, and then reaches back and pulls me hard against him, so my legs are forced further apart to accommodate him.
I’m still sensitive, and I gasp at the rough treatment, but as I settle into him, everything feels even better than before. Especially when he wraps my arms back around him.
He starts his engine and heads for the motorway, taking us out of the city.
North. To the mountains?
My insides give a nostalgic flutter, and I take one last look at the city, because I don’t think I’ll ever be back.
Mountain Lake Falls is where it all started, and one way or another, it’ll be where it all ends.