Chapter 3 #4
“Coming, baby,” he says, and another warm jolt ripples through me.
“Please?”
Please just do this so I can return to my mission before everything goes to shit the way it always does.
He’s about to press inside me, when he stops. “I… Uh… Condom?”
It’s like someone’s laid a brick on my chest. I can’t believe I almost forgot. I’m not usually so reckless. I should be glad he remembered the condom, but it feels like a slap to the face. A rejection from the kind of guy who rejected me on sight when I was younger.
“Sorry,” I hear myself say. “Totally. Sorry, I should have said—”
“I don’t want to,” he says quickly. “It’s just… Y’know?”
A cold smile lifts my cheeks, and I welcome it. Every particle of distance between me and this man is a good thing. “You’re an All Black, and you can’t be knocking up miscellaneous bar sluts?”
He opens his mouth, and I interrupt. “I’m joking. Please get a condom? I really want to do this.”
And I do. But not as much as I want to keep my shields at maximum force while it happens.
I get my wish. Jake puts on a condom and gives me what I assume is the Graves-Holland special.
I watch, rather than feel, as he fucks me slow and hard, extracting orgasms from my body like he’s shelling peas.
We burn through a dozen songs as Jake plays my body like I play the flute, his world-class ass flexing in the convenient mirror lining the wardrobe.
“You like that, Ada?” he demands. “You like takin’ that dick?”
Every time he says it, I come. Instantly.
It’s ridiculous. It’s the best sex I’ve ever had, and I’m barely here for it.
Most of me is curled up tight somewhere deep, refusing to emerge no matter how hard my body begs.
Then I glance over my shoulder. Jake’s driving into me from behind, chest slick with sweat, eyes wide with something like awe.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he says, and the way his voice cracks on the ‘g’ makes my stomach drop. The hum of warning is almost electric, but then his hand clamps on my shoulder, pinning me as he fucks me deeper.
“Ada,” he groans, and the sound of my name in his mouth burns into every place I’ve tried to hide.
“Jake,” I breathe, unable to stop myself. “Jake.”
“That’s it. Say my name. Say my fuckin’ name and look at me while you come on my cock.”
I try, but his rhythm wrecks my balance. My face falls into the pillow, eyes squeezed shut, bracing for the moment that’s about to break me open. “I’m almost there again. I just need you… closer, I think.”
Jake swears, withdrawing and flipping me onto my back like a doll.
He lowers onto me, his mouth finding mine as his cock drives deep.
His pubic bone grinds against my clit, making sparks flick through my body, and I feel like I’m opening.
He’s inside me in two places, but it feels like everywhere.
I’m screaming now, Jake’s name, to God for mercy, incoherent sobs and gasps.
Maybe that’s why I can’t hear my armour letting out one last screech before clattering to the ground.
I’m completely bare, just me and him, our bodies locked together. My body. His body. Us.
Fuck this.
I slam back into my head and reach for the alarm.
I remember the feel of cold tile, the itch of wool socks.
I remember sitting alone on the floor of the Pukekohe High toilets, crying so hard I’m hyperventilating.
All around me, people are pissing and leaving and pissing and leaving, and no one asks if I’m okay. I’m totally alone.
My armour clicks on. Lights up around me like it never went away. I feel the heat of Jake’s body, his tongue against mine, but I might as well be in space.
Okay, a new voice says in my mind. This dude can clearly bang it out for hours, and I’m not sticking around to be treated like that. So, what now?
The answer is obvious. Every time I’ve tried to do something to Jake—suck his cock, ride him, reverse cowgirl—he’s stopped me. That could mean he’s a control freak, but I don’t think so. I think there’s a very simple way to kill this excruciating intimacy.
I lay a hand on Jake’s cheek and gently urge him upward.
He stares down at me, confused. “Everything okay?”
“I’m really close,” I whisper in my Snow White voice. “Can I please go on top?”
He hesitates for a second too long. “Sure.”
Oh, Jakey, you’re a goner…
He turns us, settling onto his back as I clamber onto his massive body. He hisses out a breath as I sink onto him, tucking my heels under my thighs for extra leverage.
I torture him a little, holding still as I pull my hair across one shoulder, squeezing my tits and tracing my fingers along my stomach. Jake’s gaze flashes from my rack to my face to the place where we’re joined. His cock pulses hard inside me.
Bingo…
I start rocking, fast and tight, moaning for good measure. I might not have done Pilates in a while, but my muscles are still strong enough to ride Jake Graves-Holland straight to hell. Only I don’t have to. Within seconds, he’s grabbing my hips, trying to slow me down.
“Baby. Baby, you’ve gotta go easy or I’ll—”
“But I’m so close…” I whimper, keeping pace. “Can you watch me, Jake? Can you look while I ride your big cock?”
He goes rigid, his eyes screwing shut. “Ada…”
“I’m gonna come so hard, Jake. You’re. Just. So. Big. You’re the biggest guy I’ve ever been with.”
He grunts like he’s been gut-shot, and I wonder if I can get tried in the Hague for this. Oh well. You get that on the big jobs.
“Jake, can you please watch me?”
“Fuck, babe, I want to, I just—”
“Please? You feel so good. You’re so huge.”
“Fuck,” he spits. “Fuckin’ hell.”
I exaggerate my movements, pulling my stomach tight, making my boobs bounce. I grab his hand and push his fingers in my mouth. They’re the two that were inside me before, and I moan as I taste myself.
“Shit. Fuck. Ada…?”
I speed up, whimpering like I’m on the brink of orgasm.
“Ada. Ada!”
Time for the cherry. I take Jake’s fingers all the way into the back of my throat, the same way I did his cock, and he comes, bucking like a wrangled bull. I turn my face skyward so he can’t see me smile.
“Jesus Christ, Ada…”
“That was so good,” I agree, clambering off him. “Sorry, I need to go to the bathroom.”
I’m still turned on as I pad to the en suite, but I like it that way.
Let Captain Popular be another man who couldn’t quite satisfy me.
I unravelled him, guiding every breath, every tremor, until Pukekohe’s hometown hero was just another dude enthralled by my body.
A body no one looked twice at back in the day.
I pee and wash my hands without looking at my reflection, my mind focused on what’s coming next.
“Hey,” Jake says as soon as I reappear. “Gimme fifteen and we’ll go again?”
“Sure,” I say, grabbing my phone from the bedside table. I unlock it and examine myself in the front camera as though checking my makeup. I tilt the lens until Jake’s face vanishes and snap a photo.
There’s me, from the shoulders up, smiling like the cat that ate the cream, with an anonymous man reclining in the bed behind me. Anonymous, except his bicep has what I assume is quite a recognisable tattoo if you’re a fan of Ye Olde All Blacks.
“You are so beautiful.”
I whirl around. “Sorry?”
“You heard me.” He gives me a heavy-lidded look. “C’mere.”
I know that expression. Dude’s gonna try and eat me out again. Or worse, make love to me.
“I need to vape,” I improvise, reaching for my discarded thong.
“You can do it in here?”
“It’s an Airbnb. I don’t want to be rude.”
Jake studies me as I shimmy into my clothes, a pinch between those kingly brows. I forgot he’s a sharp one.
“I just need a solo vape break,” I say. “Is that okay?
“Of course.” His face softens. “Want a jersey for outside?”
My heart thumps in double time. What I want is to get away. Far, far away. But a stolen All Blacks jersey would be quite the sex memento. I open my mouth to say, ‘Hell yeah,’ but the words won’t come out.
“I’m okay. It’s not that cold,” I lie once again, bundling up my shoes and tote bag. “Be back soon.”
It only takes a few seconds to creep into the kitchen, unplug the stainless-steel fridge and leave the double doors ajar.
It’s packed top to bottom with steak, sausages, cheese, bread and eggs.
If I had to guess, I’d say a massive hangover barbecue was in the works.
Well, no reason it can’t still happen, only now featuring surprise guest salmonella!
It’s hardly the all-encompassing revenge I anticipated in Stabbies, but it’ll do.
I tiptoe to the front door, ease it open and creep into the night.
I pull on my shoes at the gate and walk fast, sticking to the shadows until there are ten streets between me and Jake Graves-Holland.
I order a ride, and my phone informs me the car’s ten minutes away, so I sit on a brick fence and hit my vape until my head spins.
I feel empty, sober, and lonely to my bones.
But that’s about the same as I felt before.
It’ll get better, I tell myself.
It’s what I’ve always told myself. Whether it’s true or not, I have no idea.