36. Jensen
36
JENSEN
My eyes track Maisy as she crosses the epoxy-coated floor and picks up my phone to pause the music. While she searches for whatever she’s intent on finding, I soak up the sight of her in a white ribbed tank top and black cheeky panties showcasing her perfect, round ass. If I had a pinup of her on my wall in this outfit, I’d never lift another weight in my lifetime. My hand would get enough exercise to eradicate my stress.
Habit had me changing clothes and making my way to the garage as soon as I got home from work. The night was going fine until Lydia and Lucy swept into the bar and declared themselves my campaign managers. They presented me with concepts for slogans, signs, and plastic buttons, and reality hit hard. I’m going along with this election charade because I’m too weak to voice what I want—to put myself first—and stop this train before it crashes. I won’t be the sole casualty when it does.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been in the garage, but my shaky arms indicate I’ve been lifting harder and longer than usual. If I had been thinking clearly, I would’ve found another outlet to relieve the tension. Namely, the alluring woman who fell asleep in my bed. I can be a real idiot sometimes.
A bratty smile touches Maisy’s lips—a sign she’s up to no good—when she finds her prize song. Heavy bass vibrates through the surround-sound speakers I’ve installed. It’s not my type of music, but I’ll play along with whatever game she has in mind. Still grinning with mischief, she saunters toward me, swaying her hips in time with the sultry beat.
“Hands,” she says, holding hers out to me.
I slide my palms against hers and let her guide me to the end of the bench. When I’m positioned where she wants me, seated with my hands flat on my thighs, she speaks in my ear so her voice carries over the speakers.
“No touching. Keep these to yourself.” She attempts playfulness, but her tone drips with seduction. I bet she doesn’t even realize it. Or maybe she does.
Too drunk on the sight of her to speak, I nod. When the beat drops again, she sinks into a low squat, her body writhing as she rises to a standing position and lifts the hair from her neck. She turns around and wiggles her ass in my face, running her palms along her narrow waist, teasing me with every crease and curve. I bite my lip and clench my fists to keep from folding her forward onto her hands and knees and slamming into her from behind. Fuck, she’s sexy .
She spins back around, and whatever expression she sees on my face wipes the levity from hers. Still, I keep my hands to myself. Moving her body like a snake, she raises her arms above her head and thrusts her tits in my face. Trailing the delicate fingers of one hand down her other arm from wrist to shoulder, she entices me further. My dick is hard as steel, aching for me to squeeze it in relief.
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and my restraint snaps. I yank her toward me by the hips, but she shoves my hands away.
“Hands off,” she commands.
On the next dip in the beat, she straddles my bare knee, which connects with the heat between her legs. Her damp panties rub against my skin, her lips parting in pleasure when she rolls her pelvis.
Before she can move out of range again, I snag the fabric of her tank top between my teeth to keep her in place. Smirking, I raise my hands to show I’m not touching her, following her instructions like a good boy. In a daring move, she twists her pert nipples as she continues to hump my thigh. Two can play at this game. I raise my knee, taking away her ability to maneuver freely, leaving her no choice but to grind harder on my leg.
I spit out the material and ask, “Are you trying to make me feel better? Or yourself?”
“You,” she says, resting her weight on me and rocking her hips.
In a seamless move, I shove her shirt over her breasts and splay my hands along the bottom crease of her ass cheeks, lifting her enough for my middle and ring fingers to tease her entrance.
“I think you’re a liar,” I say, flicking her nipples with my tongue while holding her gaze. She sighs, her eyelids growing heavy with lust. “Want me to make you feel good, beautiful?”
“Yes,” she breathes, caught up in her own pleasure, but she quickly backtracks. “No. I came here for you. Let me ease your pressure.”
She attempts to slide off me and fall to her knees. Damn, what I wouldn’t give to have her mouth on me. Those luscious lips…just the thought of them wrapped around my dick again has me leaking in my shorts. With an agonizing groan, I stop her descent and tug her onto my lap.
“I’m a sweaty mess, birdie. Let’s save that for another time.”
She pouts—actually fucking pouts—jutting out her plush bottom lip like a sacrificial offering to my dark side. I suck it into my mouth and bite down hard, and my girl gasps. Not a horrified gasp, but a surprised one. Her thighs squeeze my waist, and she grinds her hips faster.
I dig my fingers into her ass cheeks, and a growl rumbles from my chest. My girl wants to play hard, and I’ve never shied away from a game that requires full-body contact.
“You want me rough and raw, don’t you, beautiful? You like the thought of me dirtying you up a little.”
“God, yes,” she moans, throwing her head back to expose her throat, which I lick from the base all the way to her ear.
“Then let’s get dirty,” I whisper.
I haul her across the garage and drop her onto the folding table. The lamp teeters when it wobbles. The table may not be the safest place to fuck, but it’s the perfect height.
“Are you wet enough to take me?” I ask.
Before she can answer, I slide the crotch of her panties aside and stuff two fingers inside her. She’s drenched. At the sound of her throaty groan, I change my plans. Instead of burying my dick inside her right away, I pump my hand faster and graze her clit with my thumb, eager to make her come.
I crook my fingers and find that perfect spot inside her, adding more pressure until she cries out, “Right there, J. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
Thrilled by her begging, I increase the speed and fuck her with my long fingers. Because the song ended a while ago, the garage fills with the sounds of my harsh breaths, her mewling cries, and the squelching of my hand between her legs.
“Come for me, birdie. Soak my hand.”
She clenches around my fingers and bucks her hips. A string of curses flows from her tongue. The table shakes in tandem with her legs, and the lamp falls victim to her body’s movements, crashing to the floor. With the lamp shade askew, the light shines upward, cloaking one side of our faces in shadow.
Something about the sight tips her over the edge, and she falls apart beautifully with a visible shudder racking her body, a hoarse cry scraping her throat, and my broken name on her lips. Lips I steal with brutal force, claiming them as I replace my fingers with my aching dick, filling her in a single, unforgiving thrust. Her mouth falls open against mine on a silent scream, her pupils blown with lust.
With each powerful thrust, she cries out again and again, the sound like a cheering crowd under the stadium lights on game night. I grunt each time I plunge deep. Unless she tells me to stop or go easy on her, I’ll unleash the storm wreaking havoc inside my mind and body onto hers until we find the calm that comes afterward.
“Pull my hair,” I command.
Her eyes flare with surprise. “What?”
“Pull my fucking hair. Do it.”
She fists the hair at the back of my head and tugs hard, ripping an animalistic noise from my throat. My hips take on a life of their own, plowing into her without mercy, and the flimsy table beneath her threatens to collapse. I lift her lower half to bear most of her weight, and she clamps her knees on either side of my waist, holding on for dear life. She plants one hand on the table and maintains a painful grip on my hair with the other. The pressure pulling at my scalp tempts my eyes to roll back in pure ecstasy.
“Fuck yes.” My jaw clenches as I dig deep for strength. “My dirty birdie loves getting ruined, doesn’t she? She loves when I stretch her tight, little pussy.”
“Yes!” she cries, tightening her hold on my hair.
I pound into her, wild and unrelenting. Maisy was made to take me in all my versions, in all my forms. My physical strength is no match for her mental fortitude. She’s a fighter, determined and gritty and raw when she needs to be. And her grit keeps her latched on to me when the table sways.
“Don’t drop me!” she shouts.
“Never.”
Despite my strained muscles, weak after hours of lifting, I’d sacrifice my last ounce of strength, down to my final waking breath, to keep her from ever hitting the ground. Countless times, she’s saved me, catching me before I crashed, same as she did tonight by stopping me before I injured myself. I will always do the same for her.
She loops the other arm around my neck and sinks her fingernails into my skin just as the table collapses. Knees slightly bent, I band my arms around her waist to hold her up while she bounces on my thighs, flesh slapping flesh.
The multiple points of pain she inflicts on me—the sharp nails, the stinging scalp, the screaming muscles bearing her weight after I abused them—settle as one point of pleasure low in my gut. After three more hard thrusts, I explode with a loud roar, spilling everything I have into her. All my desires. All my demons. They belong to her, and I trust her to protect them. I’ve always trusted her.
She trembles in my arms, her quickened breaths leaving her chest in a cascade of soft whimpers.
Struggling to catch my own breath, I press kisses all over her face and whisper, “I’ve got you, my beautiful birdie. I’ve always got you. I’ll never let you fall.”
She pulls my head down and slams our mouths together, giving everything she has to the kiss, our tongues attacking with equal fervor and meaning. Hers conveys fierce loyalty, a message that she accepts me for who I am. Mine expresses unwavering gratitude for that acceptance.
“I can’t stand up much longer,” I confess as my knees tremble.
Her soft chuckle ghosts across my lips. “Do you feel better at least?”
“You make everything a thousand times better just by being near me.”
I kiss her once more before slipping out of her. Securing her with one arm, I tuck myself back into my shorts. Then I swing her into a bridal hold and carry her to the shower to perform my ritual. I care for her body and praise it for being strong enough to withstand a monster like me.