2. Taking Control
2
Taking Control
Jessica
I wake in stages, my eyes blinking into the darkness as I try to pinpoint what woke me.
The eery silence echoes gently. I stretch my legs out, my hands reaching forward as I realign myself, then tuck my hands in and roll toward the center of the bed. Only to stop mid-roll, a gasp of surprise caught in my throat to find that I’m not alone.
He stayed.
I swallow the sudden lump in my throat, my heart pounding in my chest as the events of the past twelve hours flood back.
Bobby attacking me.
Bobby is dead.
The wrong man answered the phone of the person I called for help.
The wrong man turned out to be the right man.
He is now lying on his back, his head turned slightly toward me. I take a moment to look at him, this man I barely know but who already knows more about me than people I’ve known for decades.
His sandy blond hair gleams in the dim light. Long overdue for a trim, the silky-looking locks fall onto his forehead, accentuating the fall of his lashes on his cheeks as he sleeps. High cheekbones, full lips, and a strong neck, my eyes scan down his body until my view is disrupted by the sheet covering him from his midsection down.
He’s kind of hot in a boring Midwest kind of way.
Sighing, I adjust my position on the mattress so I’m turned to face him, my bottom leg bent at the knee to keep me from rolling into him completely.
He sighs, his hand closest to me slowly moving until it settles on my bent leg, his hand warm on the skin of my inner thigh.
Emotion builds in my chest with such sudden ferocity that it barrels up my throat and out of my mouth before I have a chance to temper it. The sob is violent and guttural, and I choke as I roll onto my back, fully intent on rolling to the floor to make an escape.
A hand on my shoulder stops me, and I look over just as Matt sits up. His hands hook in my armpits, and then he’s lying back in his original position, using his momentum to yank me over on top of him.
I struggle halfheartedly, and he wraps his arms around my torso, trapping my arms to my sides and pulling me into him so my breasts are pressed firmly against his chest.
He holds me steady, waiting patiently for me to stop fighting, and once I do, he lifts his head, forcing me to meet his eyes as he whispers, “I’ve got you, Jess.”
Another sob breaks free, but this one is quieter and more controlled. Slowly, I allow my body to relax until I’m lying limply on top of him, my face pressed into his neck.
Shivering, I work to control my breathing, taking deep inhalations followed by slow shuddering exhalations until, finally, my heart rate slows, and the only sound in the room is our mingled breathing and that eery silence.
Shivering again, I burrow closer, and he sits up slightly, jostling me around as he reaches down and yanks the sheet free from where it was stuck, pulling it over us.
Matt settles back down, his arms around me firm and comforting, and I squirm, my legs bracketing him snugly as I get as close as possible to him.
And that’s when I realize I’m naked.
Naked and straddling the hips of an obviously interested man.
An obviously interested man, who is also obviously naked.
I giggle, watery as it may be, and he shakes his head as he mutters, “Ignore that. It doesn’t mean anything.”
I giggle again and then reply against his neck, “So, you’re saying it doesn’t mean your dick is happy to see me?”
Chuckling, he replies quietly, “Well, no. But he’s not the boss, so ignoring it is always an option. He’ll live.”
I lie there for a few long moments, enjoying the easy silence, but then I whimper, frustration quickly building inside me as I struggle to manage the quietness I seek.
Matt’s hands move to my upper arms, then to my shoulders, and he pushes me gently until I sit up. His eyes remain on mine, even as his hands glide across my collarbone, down my arms, finally settling on my hips. “What is it? What do you need?”
I shake my head, my words stuck in my throat as I attempt to answer and fail. He waits patiently and then adds, “You can tell me. It’s okay.”
“Please,” I manage to whisper brokenly. “Please help me forget.”
He smiles softly, his gaze warm as his hands gently stroke my hips. “Take what you need, sugar. Take it all.”
I frown, unsure how I’m supposed to know what I need, but then he presses his hips up, and the slide of his dick against my slippery pussy awakens a new kind of tension.
White-hot arousal.
Rocking my hips, I slide my cunt along his hard length, enjoying the contrast of hard and slippery against my aching clit. He remains passive beneath me, watching me calmly as I try to decide how much I want to take from him.
How much I’m willing to give of myself in the process.
Matt moans softly, lying completely still on the mattress, but heat burns in his eyes as his gaze flits from my face to my breasts to the spot where I’m rubbing against him shamelessly.
I stroke my hands down his chest, fluttering over his toned stomach as I say, “Touch me. Put your hands on me.”
Without hesitation, his hands tighten on my hips, his touch a tad less gentle, his eyes on mine questioning, and I slowly raise my hands, gliding my fingers up my stomach to my breasts. He’s watching me, his eyes now intent on my breasts, and I cup them, my fingers playing with my nipples as I rub my clit against his cock.
His groan is guttural, his tongue peeking out and wetting his lips. I lean forward, my hands pressed into the mattress on both sides of his head, and put my breasts right in his face, silently begging for him to lick, suck, and bite my nipples.
His wet lips brush the very tip of my sensitive flesh. I gasp with pleasure and lean closer. “Please. Please.”
That’s all it takes. He opens his lips, closing them around my tight peak and sucking hard. Pulling back, his firm lips are replaced by the sharp edge of his teeth, and my gasp turns into a moan as my hips move urgently, my clit rubbing against his cock with intent.
He provides the same treatment to my other breast, using his lips, teeth, and tongue to tease me mercilessly. When I straighten, he attempts to sit up, his seeking mouth still intent on torturing me. My hand on his chest keeps him away, and he lies there, chest heaving, his eyes feral as he watches me.
I stroke my hands up his chest, my fingers touching along his collarbone. His breath catches, a low moan falling from his lips, so I do it again, my touch harder this time, more intent. His breath catches, his moan louder, and he shudders beneath me.
“Put your hands on my neck,” he gasps, his hands moving from my hips to my wrists, pulling my hands up until I’m bracketing his neck. He sighs, his eyes closing as I squeeze tentatively, then he smiles and adds, “Harder. You won’t hurt me.”
I tighten my hold, and he bucks his hips in response, the head of his dick sliding partway inside me. I gasp in response to the sudden intrusion.
But I fucking love it.
And I want more.
He attempts to pull back, but I lean into my hands, keeping him in place with the pressure on his neck. I rotate my hips, taking more of him inside me.
His eyes open, meeting mine, and I slide down, inch-by-inch, and we watch each other, unblinking, unflinching as I sit astride him, his cock speared all the way inside me.
I lean forward, my hands still encircling his throat, using the press of my forearms on his chest to balance as I brush my lips against his tentatively. He doesn’t move, allowing me a moment of exploration, but then my tongue brushes against his bottom lip, and he opens for me, his tongue flicking against mine teasingly.
A short laugh bursts out of me so suddenly I’m briefly frozen, and then he laughs, the sweet vibration sending a jolt of pleasure right to my pussy. I clench around him, his laugh quickly becoming a moan, so I press my lips firmly against his, my tongue sweeping in, drinking his sounds of pleasure like the lifeline it is.
He stops playing, his arms wrapping around me, holding me in place as he kisses me ravenously. I rock my hips, reveling in the slick stretch of him inside me. I press down firmly, grinding against him, stimulating my aching clit.
I set a fast rhythm, sliding up and down, my clit rubbing against him with each rotation of my hips. I’m panting, my hands still gripping his neck, ignoring the burn in my arms and lower back from the awkward angle as I feel the tension building rapidly.
I move faster, a sheen of sweat coating both of us, and his expression turns almost pained. His eyes squeeze shut as he gasps, “Oh, fuck, Jess. What are you doing?”
“Taking what I want,” I reply breathlessly.
A whimper falls from his lips, and I answer with a whimper of my own, my pussy clenching tighter in response, and then he ask, “Birth control? Are you safe?”
Recklessly, I ignore his words, wanting to forget anything and everything other than this moment. He stills beneath me, his eyes pleading as he waits for my response, so finally, I nod. Relief shines in his eyes, and then he growls, “Choke me harder.”
I tighten my grip, unsure exactly how best to do it and nervous I’m going to hurt him, but then his hands are over mine, and he’s turning my hands so I’m gripping the sides of his neck, my thumbs pressed in firmly. “Like this. Restrict the blood flow without injuring the windpipe.”
I nod, doing exactly as instructed, and his hips buck up sharply. His eyes are half-closed in pleasure, and suddenly, a sense of power rushes over me, fueling my need even further.
“Come inside me,” I command, my pace increasing until I’m undulating wildly. “Mark me. Mark all of me.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he responds, his hands gripping my hips tightly as he pumps up into me, hitting just right inside me, over and over, my clit rubbing against his pubic bone, just so. Then, he adds, “I’m gonna fucking come. Oh, yeah. I’m gonna come.”
The pleasure pulses inside me, cresting and overflowing.
Matt curses, and I squeeze his neck, my fingers digging into his carotid on both sides. His words cut off incoherently as he tenses beneath me, his cock pulsing rhythmically, the sounds of our pleasure echoing around us.
Slowing my movements, I release my grip on his neck, watching in awe as the white marks quickly redden. I smile, warmth rushing over me at the sign of ownership.
His throat clearing jars me from my thoughts, and I glance up at his face to see he’s smiling knowingly. I return his smile, though it’s likely a tad sheepishly.
I clear my throat, suddenly feeling a bit awkward. Fidgeting, my hands stroke where I was just squeezing, then he swallows, and I grin again, swallowing my own bubble of nervous laughter.
“Do you feel better?” His words are quiet, almost hesitant, and then I do laugh.
“Yes. I mean, obviously, I’m not back to normal, but I don’t feel so chaotic now.”
He sighs, some of the tension leaving his body, and I move to ease off him, the mess between us now more than evident between my legs.
His hands on my hips stop me, and I look back at him questioningly.
“Leave it,” he replies firmly. “Just stay.”
I smile softly, straightening over him, my eyes locking with his. His brow furrows, the amused glint in his eyes darkening slightly. So, I ask, “What is it?”
He shakes his head, his features softening as he continues to stare up at me. “Do you feel that?”
“Feel what?”
“The magnetic pull. The tangle of electricity.”
I laugh, sliding my pussy along the slick mess between us. “Do you mean that?”
With his breath catching in his throat, his fingers flex on my hips. “Well, that, too. But no.”
“Then, what do you mean?”
His hand slides from my hip, up over my waist, coming to rest between my breasts. “Right here. It’s all right here.”
My heart skips in my chest, and my breath is suddenly stuck in my throat. He doesn’t blink; he just lies beneath me, his hand pressed firmly against my chest. I glance down at his hand, his fingertips digging in ever-so-slightly, and after a long moment, I manage to drag in a ragged breath. “What does it mean?”
“I have no fucking idea.”
“Should we be worried?”
His lips curve up in a sexy smirk. “Probably.”
“Would that stop you?”
“Fuck, no.”
I smile again, content we both feel the same about what appears to be our whirlwind courtship. I grip his hand between both of mine, pulling it away from my chest and lifting it to my mouth. Placing a soft kiss on his knuckles, I smile, allowing myself to relax back into my original position, sprawled on top of him. Tucking my arms into my sides, his arms come back around me, squeezing tightly.
And for the first time in a long time, I breathe.