Chapter 12
12
Jake
The room’s dark when I arrive.
I shove back the prickle of unease that comes over me as I swing open the door and step inside, hit by that sterile hotel room smell. Like the smell’s an aphrodisiac, my body immediately primes itself, hot and ready. Who knew the scent of air freshener and bleach would make me hard as nails?
“On the bed.” Her voice is high, breathy. It sounds nothing like her.
“Kit?” Figure I’d better check.
“Yeah. Come on in.”
When the door slams closed behind me, I take a moment to allow my eyes to adjust. There’s a faint frame of light around the curtains, a dull glow from the bathroom. That’s it.
“Straight ahead,” she says. “Same as last time.”
Amazing how much opposing nonsense the human brain can provide in a few short seconds: I don’t want the same as last time. Also, bring it on. Give me dark. Give me anonymous. No. No, give me that mouth. Or her eyes. I just want to see her eyes.
I shove the key card into my pocket, suck in a deep breath, and pause, hands poised at my fly. The musky scent of her filters through the air. “You get started without me?”
“No talking either.”
“There an addendum I should sign for that?”
“I just…” She lets out a long, weary sigh. “It’s easier this way.”
I disagree, but I know enough to keep my damn mouth shut.
Slow and careful, I make my way to the bed, stop when my knee hits the mattress, and ask, “You on your back again or?—”
“On my front, like last time when you…”
“Filled your warm cunt with my come?”
“ Jake .” Her shaky voice sends a deep wave of satisfaction running through me. If I can’t make her feel good, I can at least make her feel something . Annoyance, if nothing else.
“What?”
“I said no talking.”
“I thought you meant dirty talking. While we’re doing it.”
“I meant…” An annoyed huff. “You know what I meant.”
“Might want to spell it out.” Who the hell knows why I push her buttons like this. Maybe it’s to get a rise out of her. A rise is better than this whole big load of nothing she’s trying to turn this into.
“I meant no dirty talk. At all. Period.”
“That wasn’t talking dirty, Kit.”
She snorts. “Right. Sure. Then what the hell was it?”
“Facts.” I’m close enough that I hear every breath now, every slight shift of her body on the sheets. Her smell is the perfect amount of savory sweet. My mouth’s watering to taste her.
Fuck it. She wants this to be like a job? I’ll give it to her how she wants it.
Doing my best to ignore the anticipation and treat this like a job—the way she wants—I unzip just as my jeans-clad leg nudges hers, pull my rock-hard dick out, and bend at the knees to center myself between her thighs.
She gasps when my cockhead nudges her slick lips open, and moans when I sink right the fuck in, my belly filled with this messed up combination of want and need and frustration that’s somehow, in no time at all, become the biggest turn-on in my arsenal.
“Oh, god,” she whimpers.
“That’s right.” I plunge deep as I can get and hold tightly to her hips, not moving through the first few seconds of mind-erasing pleasure. The shock’s like diving into cold water. Finally, I shake my head. “My cock’s all the way in, Kit. You feel that?”
“We’re not… You said…”
“Facts. Just stating facts. Nothing dirty about the truth, is there? Fact: I’m taking you bareback right now.” I draw out, slow and explicit, my dick aching with how good it feels, then slam back inside, satisfied at the almost violent expulsion of air from her lungs. “That is a cold, hard fact, Katarina. No more, no less.”
Another, long, slow slide, and then a thrust, rough, to the hilt.
She grunts. I join her. “I’m filling this tight little pussy with my cock. Fact.” When I pull out this time, it’s quick, purely functional. The penetration is anything but. It’s an invasion, a taking. If she won’t watch me fuck her, I can at least make sure she feels every goddamn inch, good and deep. “Using this little hole the way you’re using me.” My own words shock me, then a second later, feel so right. So fucking true. “Seems fair, doesn’t it?”
I withdraw and pump back in. Over and over again, the slap of our skin a violent staccato beat. “You like it like this, Katarina? Deep? Rough?”
Her only answer is a groan.
I stop, lodged halfway inside her and, out of breath, whisper, “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” She’s breathing hard. “It’s fine. Just keep going.”
She didn’t say finish. She said keep going. I latch onto that distinction, clasp her hips harder and pull her back onto my dick. Again and again. Every time, she grunts and gasps and pants, each sound a gift I’ve had to earn with my body. “That’s it, Kit. That’s it,” I say, my own orgasm approaching like a runaway train. I shove it back. “Fuck, you’re getting tighter.”
“I’m…I’m…oh, god, I’m gonna…”
Gonna what? Is she coming? Christ, I want that. My eyes screw shut as I force myself to hold off, needing the feel of her climax before I’ll relinquish my own. Only fair. Only fucking fair.
“Do it. Come all over my fat cock. Do it.”
A high whimper, her pussy flutters around me.
With any other woman, under any other circumstances, I’d fall forward and wrap my arms around her, maybe, if she was into the idea, grab her hair or her throat. Or something softer: a tender stroke, a kiss. I don’t have those options with Kit. I follow that urge to bend, but have to settle for latching my hands onto her shoulders, startled to feel them covered in fabric, and yank her back onto me.
“You feel my balls against you? All high and tight? Fuck, Kit, they’re so full for you. So ready to give you what you want.”
“What I need ,” she corrects, the words punctuated by the smack of my hips to her ass. Fuck me if her bossiness isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.
Bossy Katarina and her heavenly pussy.
Hell, this is it. Right this second, I can pinpoint the birth of a new fetish. Only it’s not about being told what to do. Hell, no, that would be too straightforward.
What I want, when she orders me around like this, is to do it right back, to make her change her mind. Make her want whatever I decide to give. I want to scrap, not dominate.
Kit doesn’t like to be told what to do. That’s been obvious from the first time I met her. It’s my own response to it that surprises me. Makes me want to boss her around—here, at least—manhandle her until she succumbs and then take some of the load off her shoulders. Force her to accept what I give. There’s a weird power play involved, but I get—even as wound tight as I’m feeling right now—that she won’t just give up control. She needs it wrested from her. A hard-fought struggle.
And who doesn’t love a good battle?
“It’s what you need, isn’t it, Katarina?” I slam her back onto me, bottoming out inside her. “Say it. Tell me.”
“I need it,” she whimpers.
“Need what?”
“Your…your come.”
“ Fuuuuuuck. ” Excitement gathers at the bottom of my spine, building fast and hard. “Yeah. You’ll get it.” I piston into her, quick now, too close to the end to take my time. I feel my rhythm breaking down, my lungs starting to seize.
Through the haze, I notice her backing into me, her whole spine arching to give me that extra depth. I hear the way her moans and grunts have turned needier, higher, more out of control than before. It’s the little, “Oh, gods” that hit me right in the gut. Or maybe the sudden clenching of her cunt around my shaft. It might be the way her front end collapses onto the bed, like she’s lost the use of her limbs, swamped in all this pleasure.
“That’s it,” I mumble, right into her ear, my lips so close as to almost— almost —be touching. “Take it. Come on my cock and take my seed. Fucking take every goddamn dro?—”
I lose it entirely as the orgasm hits. Pleasure that snaps and singes, burns out my inner wiring and shuts down essential synapses. My arms have wrapped all the way around her, pulled her up tight against my crotch, so she’s not on the bed at all anymore. I’m half standing, half-squatting, pulling her down onto my clenched thighs, fucking up into her, and I swear to god I lose some brain cells along with the load shooting deep inside her.
Each spurt comes out hot and hard and it takes every bit of my restraint not to reach down to cup where I’m planted inside her, to explore her, to feel where we’re connected. To stay like this. As deep as a man can get.
It’s too much. Too goddamn much.
I’m groaning when my brain comes back online and I realize I’m disobeying at least one of her cardinal rules.
No Extraneous Touching. That’s the one. Not entirely broken, but cracked. I want to smash it to smithereens.
Rattled, I drop my knees to the mattress and let her settle there, push inside her one last time, and force myself to pull out.
I don’t wait to see how she’s doing. I don’t stop for anything. I tuck my aching dick inside my underwear, zip up, and pat my pocket to make sure the keycard’s inside before stumbling to the door. After one last inhale, I leave.
The door slams shut behind me.
I squint down the hall for one off-kilter moment, trying to get back my bearings, and finally go left.
That’s it, I decide in the elevator going down. No more breeding Miss Kitty. Twice was more than enough.
I’ve got to get the hell out of here.