Chapter 10
H is warm mouth enveloped me as he licked my clit and pulled it between his lips. Then he flattened his tongue against it, making moans as he ate me. I was so wet it was trickling into my ass and getting all over his beard. I leaned up to watch him eat me like I was his last meal, but he smacked my stomach lightly, forcing me to lie back down. The sight of his face between my legs was going to be burned in my mind for a very long time.
He moved lower, licking my asshole for a moment, and then swiped his tongue all the way back up to my clit. He did this a few times as he smacked me gently around my pelvis, up my thighs, and across my breasts. I started to feel the rumblings of an orgasm, and I panted, “I’m gonna come!” Suddenly, he pulled away. I lifted my shoulders off the bed to look at him.
“Why’d you stop?” I demanded. I could feel the orgasm slip away, and I fell back onto the bed, feeling let down. Kian chuckled against my leg, where he turned his head and bit the inside of my thigh. He blew some warm air onto my entrance and then stuck his tongue inside of me, lapping at my juices. He flattened his tongue and rubbed it all over my clit as a finger made circles around the puckered entrance of my ass. I wanted to grab his hair, but he had told me not to move, so I kept my hands where they were and lifted my pelvis off the bed, seeking more pressure from his mouth. He pulled his mouth off of me and then spit on my swollen flesh. I didn’t know I could grow more turned on, but I did.
“Make me come,” I keened. He sucked on my clit, and I felt the wave of an orgasm approaching again. This time, I didn’t say anything to warn him that it was happening, but he still knew, and he pulled off of me just in time.
I let out a frustrated “Fuck!” which made him chuckle again. This went on for what felt like an eternity. Every touch was driving me crazy because I just wanted to come so bad, and he was edging me till he could feel my thighs begin to shake, and then he’d pull away only to rev me up all over again. I felt his thick finger push its way into my pussy, and my hips came off the bed as he suckled my clit, making loud wet sounds.
“Let me come,” I pleaded. I was on fire, inside and out. My nerve endings were shot—frizzled out from being brought to the edge so many times but not being allowed to go over it.
“Ask nicely.” He growled against my lips and pulled back, watching his finger being slurped up into my pussy, shiny with my essence.
“Please, please let me come.” I was sobbing now, begging, and my thighs were shaking from the movements he was making with his fingers inside of me. He pulled his fingers out, gripped my thighs, pulling me even further apart, and dove back in, making an O formation with his mouth and sucking my clit inside. The suction and him holding the lower part of my body down so I literally couldn’t move blew me apart. My orgasm barreled through me, causing all of my muscles to tighten up and then release. The pleasure overwhelmed my system, and I squeezed my eyes shut as I let myself experience it fully. Say my name, I remembered him telling me.
“Kian. Kian,” I gasped out as my orgasm kept going, and he didn’t stop sucking me. I lowered my tied hands and held his head there as I finally came down from what had to be the best orgasm of my entire existence.
He looked up at me, a very satisfied gleam in his eye. “You made a mess. Come here and clean it up.” He was pointing to his face. I shivered but quickly listened and got up on my knees as he loosened the tank top from my wrists. He sat up and I took his face in my hands and kissed him, tasting my flavor in his mouth. He moaned against my lips, and then I kissed my way around his beard, his cheeks, and down his neck, cleaning up like he had told me to.
“Face the headboard and hold onto it.” His dominating tone was keeping me slick and wanting. He got up off the bed, pulling his boxers the rest of the way down his legs and leaving them on the floor as he went to get his wallet from his pants pocket. The view was spectacular. His back was corded with muscle and covered with tattoos, and his strong arms also had swirls of ink on them. His defined pecs were bare, but they were their own form of art. His etched stomach muscles led to his cock, which stuck out proudly from his thatch of pubic hair.
He faltered as he opened his wallet, and I saw that same look on his face that I had seen earlier before I had sucked his cock. I turned and placed my hands on the headboard, shaking my ass slightly, looking over my shoulder, and asked innocently, “Like this?”
He looked up at me and away from whatever was putting that compromised look on his face and dropped the wallet back onto his pants as he almost prowled back to me.
“Good listening.” He rewarded me with a slap on my ass. I heard him rip open the condom, and the mattress shifted a little as he climbed onto it.
“I’m going to fuck you, and I’m going to fuck you hard. If you need me to slow down, stop, or be softer with you, let me know. If you don’t say anything, I’m going to assume you’re okay with it.” His mouth was right by my ear, and the husk in his tone and the forewarning of his words drenched me.
“Do your worst, music man,” I whispered back at him.
He clenched my hips in a bruising grip, and in one sure stroke, he slammed into me from behind. I bumped up against the headboard and had to catch my breath as he practically hit my cervix. My body clenched at the invasion, and I let out a gasp. He pulled back out, and as he slammed back in, he bit my shoulder. Hard.
Then he forced me to stay upright by holding his arm across my chest, and he fucked me like that, holding me still as he rutted into me. He was breathing heavily in my ear, saying things like, “You’re so tight. Your pussy tasted so good. God, your body is hot. Fucking take me, Jessamine. Can you come again like this?”
Suddenly, he let go, and I fell forward, catching myself before my face hit the pillow. He bent over me, continuing to fuck me, never missing a beat. He felt bigger this way, and I moaned. He stuck his fingers in my mouth, holding himself up with one arm.
“Suck,” he demanded, biting my earlobe. I sucked, the sensations taking over my body again. He removed his fingers, reached down, and strummed my clit. I exploded. I felt myself grow wetter, and I was certain he could feel me leaking all over his thighs. He pulled out, holding onto the condom, and rolled me onto my back. Then he pushed my legs up so my knees were by my chest, and my pussy was raised and exposed for him.
“Yesss,” he hissed. “Hold your legs for me like a good girl.”
I immediately responded and held onto my legs with shaking arms. He pushed back into me, and I groaned, feeling overly sensitive as I recovered from my second orgasm. He was thrusting into me, hitting my G-spot as he reached down and squeezed the sides of my neck.
My pulse throbbed beneath his fingers, and I took a deep breath in as he squeezed a little harder. Then he let go and slapped the skin right above my clit, once, twice, three times. I felt my eyes get heavy as pleasure began to assault me again, and he said roughly, “Look at me when you come. Don’t you dare close your eyes, Jessamine.”
The Jessamine detonated me. With no clitoral stimulation, I came again, staring at him as I moaned and groaned and panted out his name.
“Kian. I can’t…”
He pinched my clit, sending another shockwave through me.
“Tell me you like it.” He gritted through clenched teeth. His hips were snapping against me.
“It’s so good. It’s so good,” I cried as he finally came. He roared with the effort of his orgasm. Sweat was gathering at his temples, some of his hair had come loose around his face, and his eyes were wild with our shared pleasure. He pulled out, letting my legs, which were numb at this point, down gently onto the bed. Then he flopped down on his back, letting out a satisfied sigh.
“Holy fuck.”
I looked over at him, and he had a triumphant smile on his face. I knew exactly what he was feeling because I had never experienced sex like this. I had slept with men who bossed me around or held me down, and most of the time, it had been good. But nothing had ever felt like this. This current of my energy flowing to him allowed him to somehow know what I wanted before I even knew. The subtle knowledge that he was in charge but he didn’t have to prove it by being an asshole was so hot for me. I also knew I had to leave. My one-night rule was not something I could break. Not with everything else I had to focus on. But a small nap wouldn’t hurt was the last thing I thought as I drifted off to sleep.
I woke up to find Kian wrapped around me, his legs caging mine, his arm protectively across my chest, and his beard tickling my neck. The light was on in the bathroom, and I could see the tattoos on his arm in the glow. I shifted slightly so I could get a better view. Around his wrist was a staff drawn in black ink, on the left was a black treble clef, and across the rest of the staff were splats of watercolor in blues, pinks, and purple ink that turned into birds in flight along the edges. It was such a delicate choice for such a strong, dominant man.
I looked further up his forearm, where another fine-line tattoo was etched. It was a strand of DNA that was covered in music notes. At the bottom of the strand was an anchor, and at the top was the arrow from a compass. Across his bicep was a fine-line guitar, shaded in some areas to look like the ink had bled off the sides of the drawing. On one side, near the bottom of the guitar, there was half a fingerprint, and at the top were what looked like furls of smoke. These were not cheap tattoos; this much I knew. Who was this man and how did he have such expensive, precise skin art when he also lived in his van? Kian shifted next to me, and I turned to find him watching me.
“Fuck me one more time before I go,” I whispered.
He did.
And then I left.
I took the elevator of shame down to the first floor, pausing to wave at the girl at the front desk, who waved back with a knowing look on her face. I tried to be quiet as I opened the door to our room, but Myles sat up from where he was lying under a blanket on the couch as I shut the door.
“What time is it?” he murmured.
“Three a.m.,” I whispered. “Sorry I woke you.”
He stood, wrapped up in the blanket.
“I tried to stay up for you, but I got tired.”
“You didn’t have to stay up for me, My.”
“I’ve never been away from you for the night, Jessa. I don’t even know how to function without you. I know I’m a loser who doesn’t work and is always high…” He paused and looked away from me. “I just, I couldn’t go to bed until I knew you were home safe.” He leaned over, kissed my temple, and then went into his room, shutting the door behind him.
I stood there in the dark hallway for a moment, trying to process what my brother had just said to me. I sincerely hoped that he didn’t really think I saw him as a loser because I most definitely didn’t. I didn’t mind taking care of him one bit. If people looked at me like I enabled him, then so be it. In the family Al-Anon meetings I went to sometimes, they talked about forcing your addict to hit rock bottom. Some members spoke about kicking their addict out. Cutting off all contact. Shunning them out of their life until they chose sobriety. I absolutely refused to ever even consider treating my brother like that. That behavior sounded like hating the addict to me. Where was the compassion and empathy?
I had read an article that 76 percent of addicts had experienced trauma exposure, and 59 percent were diagnosed with PTSD. My brother had both.
So I would take care of him happily, even if it meant not always having the things I wanted. Like staying asleep in Kian’s arms. Like exploring where this attraction could take us. Or even admitting to myself how much I liked what we had done tonight. It had to be one night. One amazing, explosive, leg-trembling night. It was all I could afford right now. Myles needed me, and I had promised my mom I would take care of him. I was a lot of things, but a liar was not one of them, and I would be there for him, no matter what.
The next morning, I woke up sore in all the right places. I stretched, feeling the muscles in my legs protest, and I had a flashback of Kian lying behind me, both of us still on our sides, holding my leg up as he found my entrance and pounded into me from behind. My toes curled up at the memory and I let myself revel in it for a second before I shook myself free and sat up. I smelled like sex, and I needed to shower before work.
I looked at my phone and saw that it was already ten a.m. I opened up a text from Myles that said he had gone to a meeting, and he was going to stop at the local clinic afterward to see if they had any openings with his previous therapist. I had hope that this time he could see sobriety through, but I didn’t let myself get excited because I had seen him do this before. I understood the cycle because I knew how damaging this disease was, and I witnessed how tightly addiction kept its grip on its victims. When it came to him trying again, I kept a healthy mix of hope and realism inside of me at all times.
I texted Myles back to say that I was proud of him, and then I headed to the shower. I dreaded the day when whatever magical luck had us in this room ran out because taking a warm shower without having to get dressed, go to the gym, and then shower with other people in the stalls on either side of you was just glorious. Before pulling my hair up under a shower cap, I sprayed in a leave-in conditioner that I had found in the dollar store. I planned to let it sit in my hair during my shower to try to rehydrate my curls, as my hair hated the cold weather.
Once under the water, I quickly ran a razor over my body. I found that I had a bruise on the inside of my thigh, a bite mark on my breast, and a small hickey on my neck. I knew Kian hadn’t gotten out unscathed either because the second time we had fucked, my hands were not tied, and at one point, I had scratched my fingernails down his back. I rinsed the body wash off and then got out of the shower to try to put together a cute outfit out of my meager clothing choices. I didn’t usually care that much what I looked like, but today, the thought of seeing my sexy busker made me want to try.
No, not my sexy busker. He was no one. He had to stay no one. Myles needed me, I reminded myself as I pulled on the bodysuit I usually wore under things to keep warm. Today, I wore it as a shirt because it was tight and showed off every curve. Then I pulled on my dark-wash cargo jeans. I didn’t own any light-colored jeans as they weren’t allowed in the dress code for work, and since I spent the majority of my time there, it didn’t make sense to spend money on something that I couldn’t wear that often.
As my hair was air-drying from the leave-in conditioner, I spent some extra time on my makeup, which consisted of concealer for the circles under my eyes, some blush that showed up well on my tan skin tone, and mascara to lengthen my lashes. Today, I added a bit of eyeliner that I had bought from the dollar store and had never used before and a swipe of tinted lip balm.
I checked the fridge and ate a breakfast of cold gnocchi and chicken cutlets from the leftovers I had brought Myles. Then I checked to see if my direct deposit had cleared, which it had, so I logged into my account to pay for our phone bills and then calculated how much I could use for food and how much I had left to put away for a van. Did I even need a van anymore if I had this room? Too many adult decisions for one day.
I logged out of my bank account and pulled on my coat. My shift was from twelve p.m to eight p.m. today, and I wanted to stop at the gas station for a pack of cigarettes before heading into work, so I had to leave now if I were to get there on time. I had decided that I was going to act like my regular self with Kian. He knew it was a one-time thing. Just some fun between two consenting adults, and now we had to go back to being the coffee girl and the music man. It’s just how it had to be.