Chapter 9
Lisa
I’ve given blowjobs before, okay?
Tidy, post-shower fellatio with my hair pulled back and the perfect synchronicity of suction and tongue action. Minimal slobber, thank you very much.
But this is different. My own private test, if you will.
I suck Dax in as deeply as I can, seeing how far I can go, pushing my limits. I’d forgotten how huge he is, and there’s a moment of panic where I think I might gag and embarrass myself.
But I don’t gag. Instead, I relax. And in relaxing, I realize I like this. I love it, actually.
I love the way he fills my mouth, threading his fingers through my hair as I move slowly up and down his shaft, taking my time to explore every ridge with the flat of my tongue.
He gasps when I graze a spot near the tip, so I focus more attention there, licking and sucking and making soft little circles.
There’s slobber on my chin, but I don’t even care. How nuts is that?
His fingers tighten in my hair, and he groans. “Lisa,” he gasps. “You’re so fucking good at that.”
His words send a rattle of pleasure through me, and I love this version of myself. The one who can kneel on an unfamiliar shower floor and suck a guy off like a goddamn porn star. It’s empowering. It’s liberating. It’s—
“Delicious,” I say, easing back to wipe a corner of my mouth with the back of my hand.
A flutter of embarrassment wiggles in my chest, and I wonder if that’s really what the porn star version of myself would say.
But it’s true and it feels right in the moment, so I say it again. “I like the way your cock tastes.”
The words sound weird and stilted, and for a moment I’m afraid my first attempt at dirty talk has fallen fat. But Dax stares at me with undisguised pleasure and tightens his grip in my hair. “God, you’re nothing like I expected.”
I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not, but I’ll take it as one. Truth be told, I’m surprising myself, too.
I’m also surprised to realize I like it when Dax talks dirty. I love it, actually. I love when he tells me what to do, and I really love hearing how something feels to him.
“Can I ask you for something?” The words spill from my mouth before I have a chance to think them through.
Dax grins. “You’re gripping my dick right now. You can ask me for a fucking pony if you want.”
I laugh as those words ripple through me. Not pony—I mean dick and fucking. Guys don’t talk to me like this, or at least not the ones I’ve dated.
I want more.
And while pre-Test Lisa would count on passive- aggressive cues or subtle moans to get what she wants, this one is going to ask for it.
“Talk dirty to me, Dax,” I say. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
He stares at me a moment, then nods. “I want you to suck my dick so hard your cheeks hurt,” he says. “See how much you can take.”
I groan and shift on my knees, conscious of the pressure between my legs. His words have me dripping with need, and I wonder if he knows it.
“Okay,” I say, and lick my lips.
Then I lick him again, starting slowly with the head. I swirl my tongue around him, then move down the shaft, sucking him deeper and deeper until I feel him touch the back of my throat. I see stars, but they’re not stars of discomfort.
They’re the good kind of stars.
His fingers spear into my hair, rougher this time. He must sense that’s what I want. “That’s it, baby,” he groans. “You suck me so good.”
Yes!
I’ve been praised for many skills in my life—the perfect soufflé, my knowledge of wine pairings, my knack for holiday decor.
But being praised for BJ skills sends a rush of pleasure through me that’s like nothing I’ve felt before. It’s exhilarating.
So are the throaty moans Dax is making, an audible sign of how good this feels to him. How good I’m making him feel.
“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs. “Lick the tip just like that. Suck that fat cock. God, you’re so fucking good.”
I grip the base of him, loving how much control it gives me. I lick him like a perfect scoop of cherry gelato and wait for my next command.
“Fuck,” he groans, which isn’t exactly a request. Or maybe it is.
“You like that?” I slip my hand between his legs, cupping him in my palm. “You like it when I touch you there?”
I can’t bring myself to say testicles or balls or whatever a real dirty talking woman might say, but I can see my words are getting to him anyway. Or maybe it’s what I’m doing with my fingers.
“Yeah,” he groans. “Use your nails just like that. Fuck.”
I suck him in deep again, drawing him back into my throat. His fingers tighten in my hair as I start to slide back, ready to do it again.
“Stop,” he groans.
I pull back, fighting a wave of disappointment. “Did I do something wrong?”
He shakes his head and gives a soft little laugh. “You’re doing everything right. That’s the problem. I’m not gonna last if you don’t stop.”
“Oh. Oh.” My face heats up, and I think about telling him not to stop. That I want to get him off like this.
But that’s not the only thing I want.
He grabs my hand and hefts me to my feet, reading my mind. “Take off your jeans,” he commands.
His words send a surge of lust through me, but also a twitch of nerves.
I take a deep breath and peel off the jeans, shucking my shoes and panties, too.
As I straighten up, I realize it’s the first time he’s seeing me naked.
I fight the urge to cover myself. Part of me wants to put an arm across my muffin top.
To press my palms against my breasts so he doesn’t notice they’re not very big.
But I do none of that. I square my shoulders and throw my ponytail over one shoulder, determined not to be that Lisa. The one who arranges her body at the most artistic angle like she’s posing for a boudoir selfie.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Dax shakes his head as he takes me in.
“What?” My voice sounds breathy and nervous.
Dax stares at my body, a muscle twitching beside his right eye. I’m not sure how to read his stony expression, but I try.
It’s the heat in his eyes that gives him away, then the slow blink like he’s clearing his vision. He rubs a hand over his jaw, the stubble making a scritch-scritch that shoots goosebumps up my arms.
“God, you’re beautiful.” His voice sounds thick and gravelly. “So fucking stunning.”
“Thanks.” It’s the sexiest I’ve ever felt.
“Jesus, look at you.” He takes a step forward, and turns me around so I’m facing the mirror. He’s right, I do look pretty good. Not perfect—not by any stretch of the imagination—but my whole body radiates desire like it’s been painted with candlelight.
I watch myself in the mirror as he skims a hand over my breasts, bringing me back to the present. I’m aching for him to bury himself inside me. I don’t even want the shower I came here for. I just need Dax. Now.
“Tell me what you want,” he demands, stroking my body like it belongs to him.
“I—” How do I say it?
“Do it,” he orders, gruffer this time. “I’ll give you whatever you need, baby. Count on it.”
I think about what I want, what I need, what instinct is telling me I should do. They’re all different things, and the options whirl in my brain in a pink-tinged mist of lust and desire and longing.
But there’s one thing I’m sure about.
“I need you inside me, now.” I lick my lips, then add as an afterthought, “Please.”
Dax smiles, then tips me forward against the counter. “You want me to fuck you?”
“Yes.” I go down on my forearms, fixing my gaze on the mirror. “Please.”
“Say it.”
“Wh—what?”
“Say it, Lisa.” He grips my hips tighter. “Say, ‘fuck me hard, Dax.’”
Oh my God. I can’t say that.
Can I?
My eyes lock with his in the mirror. The heat I see there has my mouth hinging open and those four filthy words tumbling out.
“Fuck me hard, Dax.” I suck in a breath, shocked at my boldness. “Please.”
“Good girl.” Chuckling, he squeezes my hips. He’s rougher than he’s been before and I love it. “You want this cock?”
I nod as he nudges my ass with it. “Yes.” Gripping the sink, I brace for whatever comes next.
Dax holds my gaze in the mirror. “I want you to watch yourself. I want you to see how beautiful you are.”
His eyes hold mine as he strokes a hand over my ass, caressing it like a cashmere sweater. One hand glides forward to cup my breast, and my next breath catches in my throat. My face in the mirror is like no version of Lisa I’ve ever seen. She’s wild and wanton and flushed with pleasure.
I think I like her.
His cock bumps into the ridge above my tailbone, and I press back against it without thinking.
“That’s what you want?” he asks.
I nod and meet his eyes in the mirror. “Yes,” I whisper. “Please, Dax.” Boldness swells up through my chest. “I want that big cock.”
He smiles like I’ve turned in an A+ exam. There’s a crinkle of cellophane behind me, and though I can’t see his hands in the mirror, I’m relieved he has a condom. As mind-numbed as I am with lust, I might have forgotten.
“Watch yourself in the mirror,” Dax urges. “I want us both to see me sliding into you.”
I do as he says, pulse throbbing in my ears. I can’t see everything, not from this angle, but I can see enough. I can see the hard, latex-sheathed length of him vanishing slowly into me.
But, oh God, I can feel it. I’m dizzy with pleasure, aching from the delicious intrusion. He’s hard and huge and oh my god, he’s bigger than I remember. I cry out as he fills me completely, and he goes still.
“You good?”
I nod and meet his eyes in the mirror. “I’m better than good.” I bite my lip. “Talk dirty to me again?”
He laughs, but not like he’s making fun of me. Crinkles of pleasure frame his eyes, and he smiles at me in the mirror.
“Oh!” I gasp.
“You like that?” he growls, and I grip the counter tighter. “You like it when I’m balls-deep in that tight little pussy?”