Nine
I t was ironic, you know? Like I’d been rough with women before, not anything they weren’t into, but I hadn’t pansied about, worrying about feelings. I’d fucked women and moved on. I treated them a little like cheap whores at times, but they always had an out. The word ‘no’ had always been that out for them, and on the rare occasions a woman needed me to stop, I fucking did. That didn’t mean I was a soft guy, or gentle. I just didn’t see the need to force something when I could get it elsewhere.
Now there’s Grace. The one woman I was fully prepared to treat like a fucking queen. The one woman I’d have got on my knees for, and given her whatever she fucking wanted. And what she wanted? To be treated like she meant nothing to me. To be treated like she wasn’t my fucking world, when I was pretty sure that was exactly what she was. How many women had I ever pursued beyond a single show of interest? She was the first. The only. And she wanted me to fuck her like a whore, and make her feel like she wasn’t worth a damn.
I fucked her mouth brutally, pulling her face hard against my groin, so she was choking on my dick, which felt fucking amazing, by the way, and she took it. She was getting off on it. I caught her with her fingers inside her underwear, getting off while she got used as a fucking cum dumpster, but I put a stop to it, because I was going to be the one getting her off.
She even seemed to get off on me keeping her from getting off. It was hot as fuck, I’m not gonna lie. Hanging on, and not coming down her throat a few thrusts in had been a challenge, because it’d been a while, and it was her . It was Grace. My doc. The woman I’d been rubbing one out to ever since that accident that first put us in the same room.
She looked stunning, with her hair tangled and caught in my fist, her eyes dripping with tears, although there was no makeup running down, and I kinda regretted that. Whenever I pulled out enough to let her gag and breathe, there was slobber dripping from her lips, and running down her chin. Who doesn’t love a sloppy blowie, right? It was the most undone I’d seen this woman, and she was more beautiful than ever.
She reached up to wipe away some of the mess, and I slapped her hand away again. She wanted to be treated like a whore, she’d have to handle looking like one too. It was her fantasy, after all.
I rammed my cock deep in her throat again, feeling the last of my control snapping as she started to gag, and her throat seemed to ripple around the head. I couldn’t warn her, or pull back, before I was unloading into her, right down her throat as she choked and pushed at my legs. Hell I’m not a monster, so I backed the fuck up, letting her cough, gag, and randomly spit my cum all over herself. I was a trembling mess myself, but I dropped to my knees before her, using my thumb to brush the mess away from her lips as she gasped raggedly.
“You okay?”
Her smile was wide, trembly, and fucking ecstatic. She was so happy, so proud, and so beautiful, so fucking beautiful as she gazed back at me. Her eyes were wide and a little glazed, and as I moved my hand away, she pulled it back, sucking my cum-soaked thumb into her mouth with a happy moan.
Fuck me. This woman might have just been fucking sent by the gods. How the hell did she want anything to do with an asshole like me?
“Babe?”
She was trembling all over now, and I was starting to worry I’d pushed her too far.
I dragged the cover from the bed, wrapping it around her shoulders, as I used one corner of it to wipe her face. It was a sign of how blissed out she was, that she didn’t even notice what a mess I’d just made of her bedding, but it wasn’t my priority right now. Her wellbeing was.
I sat on the floor, my legs landing either side of her, so I could pull her back against me, holding her tight and trying to keep her warm, to chase away that trembling that still shook her body even now.
“Grace, say something.”
She didn’t respond, and it was only when I was starting to really panic that she finally breathed a word.
“Torch,” she whispered. Not just a word. My fucking name. The first word on her lips after that depravity, and it was my name.
“Babe, you okay?”
She nodded, turning to press her face against my bare chest.
“God yes,” she whispered, relaxing against me, with her fingers trailing over my skin.
“I wasn’t too rough?”
“No,” she giggled softly, “you were perfect.”
Grace
I t was just a blow job, and a rough and nasty one at that, so why did I feel like I’d just had the biggest orgasm of my life? Even as I felt needy and desperate down there, I also felt like I’d just been given this big gift, and I couldn’t ignore how relaxed and sated I felt.
I could still taste Torch’s cum, and my jaw was aching, my throat was a little tender, and I felt like I was still covered in our juices, but it was the best I’d felt in forever.
“It was okay?”
It seemed like Torch was the one who needed reassurance right now, because I was feeling fine, but he seemed unconvinced. Even though he’d clearly understood what I’d been wanting, he seemed on edge now, like he was worried he’d pushed things too far. I think he could have been even rougher, or meaner, and it still would have been just perfect.
Torch was stroking the side of my face, his touch so gentle now, so caring. It amplified just how rough and mean he’d been, but also how it wasn’t the only side of him. I’d always been afraid if I risked letting a man treat me like that, that there’d be no switch afterwards, from asshole back to the man I chose. Torch talked about himself like he was that asshole only, but he was proving to me just how much else there was about him, that he didn’t seem to see.
“Torch?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“Did you… was it good, I mean, did it give you what you needed?”
He lifted my chin, so I couldn’t help but meet his eyes this time.
“Babe, all I wanted was you, however you wanted me. Now, I have to admit that this, what just happened, that was the last thing I expected you’d want. From your bossiness at the hospital, I half expected you to be all whips and strap-ons, and while that’s not my thing, I’d have tried… for you. That sounds so lame, like what a fucking pussy, right? Thing is, if you want a woman so much, you’re an asshole if you don’t try to give her what she wants.”
I was still blinking over his crazy ideas about what he thought I would have wanted from him. Whips? Strap-ons? That was how I came across? No wonder so few people warmed to me at the hospital. Was I intolerable?
“Babe, you’re doing it again. Don’t sit there stressing over what I’m saying, like it’s some character assassination. It’s not. I’m just saying, if that’s who you’d been, I’d have tried. Gotta say I’m pretty glad that’s not what you wanted, even though,” he trailed off, seemingly unwilling to finish his sentence.
“Even though what?”
He sighed, stroking my hair back behind my ear, trying to untangle the rest of it with his fingers.
“Even though treating you like that was harder than I expected it to be,” he said finally, giving up on my hair. “Sorry, it’s tangled. You got a brush here I can use?”
He wanted to brush my hair? I pushed away from him and stood up, dragging the bedspread with me, grimacing at the slick, slimy mess on the corner of it. I made a mess. I was a mess. Fluids. There were fluids there, and on my clothes, and on me. I was covered in them.
“What’s going on?” Torch pushed up from the floor, refastening his jeans as he moved.
“I need… uh… can you,” oh god, was I really going to do this? “Can you please leave now?”
Torch froze, lifting his hands from his jeans as he stared at me, dismay on his face.
“Seriously? Just like that? Wham bam… wait a minute , that’s not even how this went. I got mine, but you, babe? You didn’t get yours.”
I could feel the panic rising in me. I needed to fix this, to tidy the mess, to tidy myself up. I was disgusting, messy, an embarrassment.
“Please,” I gasped, dragging the bedspread from my shoulders and taking it to the laundry basket in the corner, frantically shoving it into the container, fistful after fistful.
“What the… Oh, I get it . Don’t worry, doc, I fucking get it. I’m such a fucking idiot, but don’t worry, I’ll see myself out.”
He moved faster than I’d expected, grabbing the rest of his clothes and stalking from my bedroom in several strides, thundering down the stairs and leaving with a slam of the front door. I pulled my clothes off, wanting them off my skin and in the laundry, where they belonged.
From there, I went straight to the shower, knowing I had an evening of cleaning ahead of me before I could sleep. I hoped at least, when I slept, that I’d be able to relive those amazing moments with Torch, especially if they were the only ones I’d have.