Calla #2
It didn’t take long. The party roared around us, bass thumping, people shouting at the DJ, but James cut through it all. His hand clamped around my wrist, dragging me through the side gate, out into the shadows where the music dulled and the air grew thick with privacy.
He pinned me against the siding, chest heaving. “What the fuck did you do in there?”
I smirked, calm as ever. “What makes you think I did anything?”
“Don’t play with me, Calla,” he growled, his body crowding mine, his hand bracing my head. “I can see it all over her. She looked wrecked. What did you do?”
I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear, and let the truth drip like poison. “I tasted her.”
His whole body jerked. His dick throbbed; I could feel the pulse of it in the air between us.
I let my nails drag down his chest, slow and deliberate. “She called me Mistress, James. Said she was mine. And when I slipped my fingers inside her…” I tilted my head, savoring the flicker of pain and hunger in his eyes. “…she was already dripping for me.”
He groaned, fists clenching at his sides.
I laughed low, dark, filthy. “She came on my hand, right against the bathroom door, then I licked her cream off my fingers. She was the perfect good girl, sweet, needy, and best of all, obedient.”
His breath hitched, his rigid dick straining so hard against his jeans it looked painful.
“And now?” I let my lips curl into a slow, vicious smile. “Now I’m soaking wet. My pussy is aching for release, and my ass is tingling just thinking about your tongue where it belongs.”
“Calla—”
“On your knees.” My voice snapped sharp, a whip crack in the night. “Now.”
And just like that, the proud, powerful engineer dropped in front of me, without an ounce of hesitation. No fight, just pure submission.
I turned, braced my palms against the siding, and arched my ass back at him. Tugged my skirt up, bared myself, glistening and ready. My pussy wet and needy, my asshole tight and begging.
“Eat,” I commanded, heat curling low in my belly. “Both.”
The growl in his throat vibrated through me as he buried his face between my cheeks. His tongue drove into my pussy first, licking me open, drinking me down. My head snapped back, a raw moan spilling out of me.
I braced against the siding, skirt hiked over my hips, my ass arched back, while he buried himself between my cheeks like a man possessed.
His tongue worked everywhere, deep inside my pussy, circling my clit, then sliding up to my tightest place, teasing, pressing, tasting like he needed it to live.
“Yes,” I hissed, nails raking against the wall. “That’s it. Be my good boy and make me come, James. Clean me like you’re starving for it.”
And God, he was.
Every swipe of his tongue fed my fire, every muffled groan against my skin sent a shock down my spine.
I was dripping down his chin, soaking his mouth, and still he didn’t stop.
He alternated between my pussy and my asshole, slurping, sucking, pushing me closer to the edge than I’d been in weeks.
His hands gripped my thighs like shackles, holding me open, holding me down.
I shook, moaned, and taunted him between gasps.
“Mmm, her taste is still on my tongue,” I purred, voice trembling with pleasure. “But this, this tongue, is what makes me break.”
His groan vibrated into me, his grip tightening on my thighs until it bordered on bruising. My clit throbbed, my stomach clenched, and then I shattered, coming so hard I cried out into the night, my orgasm ripping through me until my legs shook.
I sagged against the wall, panting, but James didn’t stop. His tongue lapped every drop, greedy, insistent, circling my asshole again like he wanted to own every part of me.
Finally, I grabbed his throat, yanking his face up to mine. His mouth was wet, chin shining with my release, his eyes burning.
“Good boy,” I whispered, dragging my lips across his, kissing him filthy, letting him taste the slick mess he’d pulled out of me. “Now you know. She’s mine and so are you.”
But the way he looked at me, wild, defiant, hungry, it sent a tremor of anticipation straight through my core.
I knew what was coming.
James Carter Jr. didn’t like staying on his knees, and as much as I loved owning him, I wanted to see how hard he’d fight back.
The taste of my orgasm was still wet on his lips when I kissed him, still slick on his chin when I whispered, “Good boy,” again.
That’s when it happened.
The shift.
His hands clamped down on my hips, hard, dragging me back against the siding. His mouth crashed onto mine, rough, devouring, all teeth and tongue like he wanted to bite through my control.
“James—” I started, already reaching to reassert myself.
But he spun me, pinning my wrists above my head in one hand, his body pressing me flush against the wall, his thick dick, hard as it ground against me through his jeans, completely rigid and unrelenting.
“Good boy?” he growled against my mouth. “Nah, baby, not tonight.”
The heat that shot through me was instant, sharp, humiliating, delicious. My pussy clenched so hard I gasped.
He kissed me again, filthy and hungry, then pulled back just enough to spit against my lips, smearing it with his tongue before biting down on my bottom lip. My body jolted. I hated giving ground, hated it, and yet my clit throbbed at the way he manhandled me.
“You don’t get to walk back out there smug like you still own it all,” he said, voice low, dark. “Not after you made her come in that bathroom and left me aching.”
My smirk faltered, and he saw it. His grin was feral.
He let go of my wrists just long enough to spin me again, shoving me chest-first into the siding. My palms slapped the wood, rough against my skin.
“Oh, fuck,” I hissed, heat rushing up my spine.
“Look at you,” he muttered, dragging his palm over my ass, spreading me open. “Wet as fuck. Still dripping from me eating you out, and you got the nerve to act like you’re in control.”
His fingers slid between my folds, and I cried out, my body arching against his touch.
“That’s mine,” he snarled, plunging two fingers deep inside me. “Say it.”
The words ripped from my throat before I could stop them. “Yours!”
He pumped his fingers hard, curling them up until my knees buckled, then yanked them free, shoving them into my mouth. “Taste yourself. Taste what my tongue pulled out of you.”
I clamped my lips around them, eyes rolling back, sucking until he pulled them free and wiped my spit across my cheek. Humiliation burned through me, hot and thrilling.
Then he unzipped, and the blunt head of his erection pressed against my slick entrance.
“You think you’re Mistress?” he growled, slamming into me so deep my cry echoed off the siding. “Not tonight. Tonight, you’re just my slut, and I’m about to shoot my cum all in this pussy and send you back out there laughing and giggling with everyone while I seep out of you.”
My pussy clenched violently around him, the sting of his stretch making my eyes water. He fucked into me hard, relentlessly, one hand gripping my throat from behind, the other slapping my ass so loud it cracked through the night.
“Oh my God,” I gasped, tears spilling.
“You taking this dick just like knew you would, like the nastiest bitch in the world.” He pulled almost all the way out, then drove back in, harder, rougher. “You like me fucking this attitude out of you?”
“Yes!” I sobbed, my pussy milking him shamelessly.
His hand slipped lower, thumb pressing against my asshole, circling, then pushing in just enough to make my body seize.
“Both your holes,” he gritted out, pounding into me. “Mine. Say it.”
“Yours!” I screamed, the sound breaking into a moan as my orgasm tore through me, violent and brutal, soaking my thighs and his dick.
“Jamessssss, oh my Goddddd,” I cried out, my body continuing to convulse as he fucked me through it, grunting, his hips snapping until he spilled hot inside me, grinding deep as he groaned my name like it was a curse.
“Baby, God not fucking the attitude out this wet pussy, I am,” his voice rough and ragged in my ear as he continued to his my spot unapologetically.
When he finally stilled, his chest pressed to my back, his breathing labored, he kissed the side of my neck, teeth grazing my skin.
“You ever call me ‘good boy’ again,” he whispered, voice rough, “and I’ll remind you just how bad I can be.”
And fuck me, I wanted him to.
I’d never allowed myself to surrender to a man, yet here I was thinking of the next time I did with James.
My legs shook as I tugged my skirt back down, the night air cooling slick skin that was still trembling from the orgasm he’d wrung out of me. My hair was wild, my lipstick smeared, my throat tender where his hand had gripped it.
And God, I relished it.
I leaned against the siding for a moment, pulling in sharp breaths, trying to get my composure back. James had snapped. Snatched control out of my hands and made me his slut in the shadows of his brother’s house. He broke me raw, and the sickest part of it?
I wanted more.
My thighs ached from the way he’d split me open, my asshole still tingling where his thumb had pressed in, my body humming with the memory of his growl in my ear.
He zipped up, wiping sweat from his brow, still looming like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull me back against the wall for another round. His eyes burned, feral and unrepentant, and I smirked through the mess of myself.
“You proved your point,” I murmured, adjusting my top, smoothing my skirt into place. My voice was husky, shredded from crying out. “You’re not just my good boy.”
“No,” he rasped, stepping close, his mouth brushing my temple. “I’m the man who can flip you inside out when you forget who you’re dealing with.”
That sent another pulse straight to my pussy, and I swallowed a moan.
I turned my head, lips grazing his jaw. “Then come watch me remind everyone who I am.”
He stiffened slightly, curious.
“Provocateur,” I whispered, tugging his bottom lip between my teeth before letting go. “I’m performing tonight. If you’re not scared, you’ll show up and see what your Mistress does when the stage is mine.”
His groan was low, primal, as if the thought alone made his dick hard and his temperature rise.
Good. I wanted him to know just how blessed he was to have the version of me that desired him to the point of surrendering my control when necessary, because the version that customers got NEVER thought it essential to relinquish her power.
I wanted him to be undone and needy just experiencing The Black Dahlia live and up close.
We straightened ourselves in silence, fixing clothes, wiping skin, pressing hands through hair until we looked like two professionals who hadn’t just fucked against a wall like animals.
My thighs still trembled, but I forced my stride steady.
He tucked his cap lower, his expression carved back into stone.
And together, we slipped back through the gate into the heartbeat of the cookout music, smoke, and laughter, like nothing at all had happened.
But the way Amiyah’s eyes flicked toward us when she caught sight of me, then him, told me everything.
She knew what had just gone down, and she was aroused. Her thighs started to clinch, and her eyes glazed over in lust.
I was excited to experience the three of us together.