CHAPTER 6 #2
“I want it in more words than that,” he said, and he came close enough that I had to tip my head back to keep his face. “I am not doing a single thing you have not said out loud first, so tell me what you want and use the words for it. I have all night and no place else to be.”
“I want your hands on me. I want your mouth on my pussy and your cock in me,” I said. “I have wanted it since the second night in this building, and I have been furious about wanting it, and I would rather be the one asking than the one getting handled.”
“I am going to use a condom, and you tell me right now if that is wrong for you,” he said.
“It is not wrong for me,” I said, and my voice came out level while the rest of me did not. “I would have asked you for it myself.”
He took the hem of my shirt in both hands and did not lift it.
“I am taking this off you now. It is yes or no,” he said.
“It is yes, and I want it off,” I said.
The shirt went up over my arms and he dropped it somewhere behind him without watching where it landed. Cold air got at my skin all at once, and my nipples went hard fast enough to be embarrassing.
“I like that your nipples go hard before the rest of you catches up,” he said, and he put one hand at my back and held me right there. “I am putting my mouth on your left nipple first, and then the right one, and if any part of that is wrong you use the word instead of being polite.”
“It is not wrong. I do not want to wait,” I said.
He took the left one first, the way he had said he would, with his tongue and then with his teeth.
My knees did something I had not authorized.
He took his time about it and then he moved across and gave the right one the same treatment, and the cold air on the wet he left behind was its own separate problem.
My nipples were so hard by then they ached, and he had not touched me anywhere else yet, which I understood to be deliberate.
He put me down on the mats and knelt at the end of them, and he told me before he moved my knees at all.
“I am going to put my mouth on your pussy now,” he said. “I want the word for this one on its own, because it is not the same permission you gave me for the last one.”
“I am giving you the word for it, and I want your mouth on me,” I said.
His tongue went flat on my clit and stayed there, unhurried.
Two of his fingers pushed up into me while he kept doing the one thing without varying it.
He had all night in him. That was the discovery, that a man could be that big and that fast in a corridor and this patient with his face between my thighs.
“You are so wet I can feel it on my chin,” he said into me, and the sound of his voice went through my pussy and up my spine.
“I want you to look at me while you come,” he said, and he lifted his eyes without lifting his mouth off me.
I looked at him. His fingers kept working and his tongue stayed on my clit.
I came with my heels shoving at the mats and one hand fisted in his hair, and the noise I made came back off the block wall a half beat late.
He kept his mouth on my clit through the whole thing and only slowed when I pushed at his head.
Looking at him from that angle, wet to the chin and not smiling, I understood exactly how that building had stayed out of court for a hundred years.
“I want your cock in my—” I said, and then the rest of the sentence stopped somewhere behind my teeth.
He waited. He did not finish it for me and he did not look away while I hunted for it. He waited long enough that the shower four floors up shut off and the pipe over our heads went quiet.
“In your what,” he said.
“In my mouth. I want your cock there, and I want your hand on me while I do it,” I said.
“Open your mouth,” he said, and his hand came around my neck and settled there without any pull in it.
I took him in my mouth and his hand stayed as it was, a weight and not a lever. His cock was hot on my tongue. The sound he made when I used it was the first noise all night that he had not announced in advance.
“There it is, good girl,” he said.
He let me have as long as I wanted. Then he took my chin in his hand and lifted me off his cock, and he was breathing hard, and I had done that to him.
“I am going to fuck you now, and I am going to do it slowly,” he said. “I want the word for this one too, and I will sit here all night waiting for it if that is what you need.”
“You have the word. I want you inside me,” I said.
He got the foil out of his wallet and put it on, and then he came into me slowly and stopped when he was all the way in. He braced over me on one forearm. The burn on his right forearm was the only thing in front of my face that was not the rest of him.
“I want you to tell me if that is too much,” he said, and he held right there without taking one more inch of me.
“It is not too much. It is the opposite of too much,” I said.
He went slowly and he kept going slowly. He worked a hand down between us, found my clit with his thumb, and ground it there in time with his hips. My pussy was so wet by then that the sound of it was in the room with us, and I quit caring at around the moment I quit being able to build sentences.
“Look at you taking it,” he said, and his hips did not speed up on him at all.
I came the second time with one hand fisted in the mat and the other one on the burn. He was three strokes behind me, and he said my name and nothing else.
“That is my good girl,” he said, and his forehead came down on my shoulder and stayed there.
Near midnight we were dressed again and sitting on the mats with our backs against the block, and my shoes were in my hand because I had not bothered putting them on. My nipples were sore from his teeth and I was glad about it in a way I would not have said out loud.
His hand was on his own knee and it was not steady, and he did not hide that from me or move it out of my sight. The moss-green of his eyes had gone dark in the light coming up off the floor. He looked at me like a man looking back at a door he has already walked through.
“You did that. I am the one shaking,” he said.
“I did not do it to you. I asked you for it, and you waited,” I said.
Putting a false word into a translation had cost me nothing on the afternoon I did it. The third leaf came out of my hands reading one way when the original read the other. Three grown men had taken my reading and started moving furniture on the strength of it.
A man who will not put a hand on a wrist he has not been given is a man who takes what he is handed as true.
Younger than him by ten years and out of my depth in every room in that building, I had done to him the one thing he had spent the entire night refusing to do to me.
There was one word in that transcript I had put there myself, and on the mats with my shoes in my hand I decided to take it back out.