Chapter 12 #2
“Jesus, are you actually purring?” Jazz asks with a hearty laugh.
“You can shame me later,” I chide, bumping my head against his palm to encourage more petting. “I’m being a cat now.”
To my disappointment, not only does Jazz disregard my nudges but he moves his hand away completely, taking a firm grip of my jaw instead. Damn it. Ten minutes ago a display of dominance like this would have had me trembling with need; now I just feel thwarted.
“I wasn’t shaming you, Damon,” he says sternly, stunning me with a rare use of my name.
“Playtime’s over. It finished when you did.
And if this is how you want to wind down, I’m happy to oblige.
” His uncharacteristically serious expression gives way to that familiar smirk.
“But don’t expect me to pass up the chance to tease you when you start fucking purring. ”
Before I can muster a response to that he releases my jaw and starts petting my hair once again. And it’s not long before I start purring…again.
“This is really fucking weird isn’t it?” I ask about ten minutes later.
It’s taken for-fucking-ever but I’m finally starting to feel like a solid person again and as some semblance of order returns to my brain it suddenly occurs to me that the bulk of the last fifteen minutes has been spent with me getting petted, and nuzzling into Jazz’s neck, and even occasionally rubbing my body against him… all while purring like a fucking cat.
“Ah, there he is,” Jazz says with a soft laugh as he takes a small step back from me. “Jeez, it’s about time. Here...”—he reaches to the side of the bar to retrieve a bottle of water, which he shoves into my chest—“drink this. You’re dehydrated as fuck.”
I frown in bemusement but accept the water without protest. “Time for what?”
“For you to be you again,” he says with a shrug. “And in answer to your question—I can’t say I was expecting your wind down to feature kitty play but no, it’s not weird. It’s actually pretty common.”
I eye him dubiously. “It’s common to turn into a cat after sex?”
He lets out a breath of amusement, shaking his head. “It’s common for subs to need a cuddle or pampering of some kind after an intense kink session. You were just put through the emotional wringer—I’d probably be a little concerned if you didn’t seek out some sort of comfort.”
I take a long swig of water as I mull that over.
Leaning back a little, I scrutinize Jazz for a moment before saying, “No offense, but I wouldn’t have picked you as the cuddling after sex type.
I figured you’d be more of a ‘Wham Bam Thank You Ma’am’ kind of guy who sneaks out while their one-night stand is still sleeping. ”
“The only thing offensive about that is the assumption I’d stay long enough for a hook-up to fall asleep,” he says with a snort.
“When it comes to vanilla hook-ups I’m more of a one-hour stand kind of guy.
And definitely no cuddling. But this isn’t a vanilla hook-up,” he clarifies.
“It’s a BDSM hook-up. I told you earlier it’s a Dom’s job to make sure their sub gets what they need—during playtime that’s emotional and sexual torment, but once playtime ends it’s whatever helps them wind down and recover safely. ”
I arch a brow at him. “So…I’m going to want to be a cat every time we do this?”
Jazz lets out a soft huff of amusement, offering a casual shrug.
“It’s possible, but I doubt it. Apart from the fact that you were high as a fucking kite I’m thinking it was probably easier for you—on a subconscious level—to be a cat than ask for a cuddle.
I doubt you’ll have that problem in the future.
” At my raised brows, Jazz offers a wry smile and clarifies, “Don’t worry, I’m not suggesting you’ll want to snuggle up to me every time—it won’t always be as full-on as tonight. Just…follow your instincts, I guess.”
I let out a heavy breath and nod, taking another swing of my water.
Unbidden, my eyes travel downward and I notice Jazz is still hard.
I swallow thickly as I remember taking him in my mouth earlier.
Fuck, I really loved doing that. I loved everything about it: the taste of his precum, the feel of my tongue over his foreskin, the sensation of my mouth being stretched and stuffed full…
“My eyes are up here, dirty boy,” Jazz drawls.
I feel heat touch my cheeks but don’t avert my gaze from his erection. “You’re still hard.”
“You’re still naked,” he says wryly.
His jeans are still unfastened from earlier so his black boxer briefs are the only barrier to his cock; it’d be so easy to reach out and tug down the waistband…
“I really want to suck it again,” I blurt out.
“Playtime’s over.”
“But you still need to come…”
“I already did come,” he reminds me. “All over the floor. You had lots of fun cleaning up after me.”
My face flames at the memory, but even as mortification ripples through me it’s paired with a now familiar sense of exhilaration. Fuck, that was so wrong, so disgusting; but I loved it. And it wasn’t just the degradation; the taste of Jazz’s cum was intoxicating. I couldn’t get enough.
“Your cum tastes incredible,” I say a little dazedly, my mouth watering at the memory. “I want more. I want you to shoot your load right into my mouth. And come on my face, and in my hair. And—”
“Fill your ass?” he prompts, one dark brow raised.
My eyes widen and my face burns furiously at the reminder of my earlier faux pas. “I wasn’t imagining your cock in me,” I insist. “When I said I wanted you to come in me that’s not what I meant.”
Jazz nods obligingly. “I know. But you weren’t imagining my finger either, were you?” he asks with a slight quirk of his lip.
I shake my head, feeling my face heat. “I don’t really know what I was imagining…”
“You don’t have the experience for anything vivid,” he points out. “So my guess is you were just insanely turned on by the fantasy of a hard, dirty fuck because it appeals to your need to be dominated. As for wanting me to cum in you, well, that’s a pretty easy one—you have a fetish.”
I blink in surprise. “A fetish? Like with latex or whatever?”
He nods, offering a wry smile. “Yeah, except with you it’s cum. And as far as fetishes go this one’s pretty easy to accommodate so I appreciate that.”
A cum fetish…well that sure as hell explains a lot. I have no idea why it’s rearing its head now when I’ve been coming for almost thirty years but I guess the same could be said about a lot of shit lately.
“Is that why I loved sucking your dick?” I ask curiously. “Because I was trying to make you come?”
“You did make me come,” he points out. “But no. The fetish is about the cum itself, not the act that leads to. Why? Are you freaking out about the blowjob?”
I shrug. “Not particularly. I’m just a little curious about why I liked it so much.
I mean, it makes sense that I would like you fucking my throat but I really loved the part before that as well,” I admit.
“You weren’t really dominating me and it didn’t feel degrading.
I just really loved being on my knees sucking on a dick… ”
Jazz’s eyes glimmer with amusement and his mouth curves into a teasing smirk. “You loved it for the same reason you loved posing like a Playboy centerfold just before—it made you feel like a dirty slut. And you love being slutty—don’t you, dirty boy?”
I draw in a sharp breath and let my eyes fall closed as warmth touches my cheeks. Fuck, he’s right. That’s exactly how I felt earlier, and I loved it. I loved being on my knees, moaning around the hard dick in my mouth. I felt so fucking slutty; it was exhilarating.
“Yeah. Love being a slut.” My eyes fall to his hard-on again and I’m about to reach out and demonstrate just how slutty I can be when Jazz decides to fasten his jeans.
“I think it might be time for you to get dressed, dirty boy.”