Chapter Four
Jen
Apparently, I’m weak.
Weak and Simple.
Weak, simple, and horny.
It’s sad, really. I always pictured myself as this independent woman with class who’d cautiously date a man for at least three months before I got into bed with him, maybe longer depending on the circumstances of how we met.
I told myself I’d be careful with who I interacted with because it directly affects what Jackson thinks of me.
I don’t want to be one of those moms with a revolving door of men. I don’t want him to look back on his childhood and remember a different man next to me with every memory.
Halloween with the mailman.
Thanksgiving with the gym teacher.
Christmas with the random guy who used to own this property.
Yet, here I am, stripping down for an ex-con I barely know under the guise of ‘it feels good.’
What am I doing? I’m sure this guy doesn’t want to touch me. He probably wants to earn some extra credit. Maybe he figures if he touches me right, he’ll get himself an extra acre of land.
This thought alone should stop me in my tracks, but desperation overtakes me, and all I’m thinking about is how his sandpaper-like touch feels so damn good against my skin.
You wouldn’t think sandpaper would feel good, but there’s something about it.
The roughness of his hands against my soft skin.
Apparently, I’m a simp for the dichotomy of it.
My clit throbs as his hands wander, and my panties soak at the mere thought of how big this giant’s dick must be. I mean, it must be huge. Most things in life are proportionate to their size, and this man is colossal.
My heart rate jumps as he digs his fingers into the back of my hair and leans into my ear. “Do you like to be told what to do?”
Dear God! I swallow hard and meet his gaze. “What?”
“You have a lot on your plate. Does it help you relax if someone tells you what to do?”
I’ve never in my life been asked what I want in bed. Reed is the only person I’ve ever been with, and sex with him was like everything else in our lives. What I wanted was always too much of something.
My nipples swell and scratch against the thin fabric of my dress. God, I should have some self-control. I’m a forty-year-old woman. I should have far more self-respect by now.
“Yes,” I pant, “I like being told what to do.”
“Good,” Atlas growls against the lobe of my ear, heat spreading down the curve of my neck.
Why the hell is this so hot?
“Now lean back on that ottoman in the sunroom and tug up your dress for me.”
I have no clue what I’m doing. Not emotionally, not physically, not in any way at all, but I don’t want to stop, so I obey and lay back on the ottoman I bought last week, tugging my dress up as I fall.
“Perfect,” his tone is low and ragged as he stares at me, “now tug those panties out of the way and touch yourself. I want to see how you do it.”
My chest tightens. “What? I—”
“No, little bunny. You agreed to do as I asked. Every time you disobey, you get a punishment. Are you ready for a punishment already?”
My clit twitches. “Little bunny, here?”
“You like it?”
I nod slowly, my clit pulsing so hard I might come before he ever touches me.
“Then do as you’re told.” He steps forward and tugs my panties down slowly, his big, rough hands scratching against my thighs as he moves.
“I’m not giving them back until you touch that juicy, pink pussy for me.
” He’s staring at my crease as he talks, his eyes heavy with a haze I’ve only dreamt about.
It’s like he’s drunk on me, on the way I look, the way I smell, the way I obey his every command.
I reach between my legs and slide my finger against the slippery nub, working the spot over as I arch and bend, moan, and whine.
“Slide your fingers inside, little bunny. Show me what it looks like when you finger fuck that little pussy.” His jaw locks as he speaks, a hunger in his throat that wakes neurons in my body I didn’t know existed.
I scrub my finger down toward my slippery little entryway, sliding one inside before the other, thrusting in and out as my thighs tighten.
“That’s right,” he groans low. “You’re a filthy little slut for me, aren’t you? You’ll do whatever I ask.”
“Oh God,” I moan, my breath getting shallower as I close in on relief. “I’m so close.”
“Then stop,” he growls. “Don’t come. If you come, you’re in trouble.”
I hear the command, but I can’t stop. It’s too good, and the mere fact that he’s telling me to stop when I’m this close only makes me want it more.
Maybe that’s part of the plan.
I continue to thrust into my pussy, sloppy wet sounds echoing in the small room surrounded by windows as I close in on the greatest orgasm of my life.
“No, little rabbit,” he demands as he steps forward, his warm hand landing on my knee. “What did I say?”
“You told me to stop,” I whine and squirm, my butt lifting to meet each thrust of my fingers, until I’m convulsing against the soft taupe fabric of the ottoman.
God, I’ve never felt an orgasm this strong in my life! It’s like every nerve in my body is reacting, like for the first time ever, I’ve really finally let go!
When the orgasm begins to fade, my eyes flicker open and I see Atlas standing over me, his arms crossed, his cock hard, a grumpy look on his face. “That was very naughty. Now you have to be punished.”
I smile sweetly. “I can’t move.”
He growls low and moves in one quick motion, swinging me up onto his shoulder like I weigh nothing at all, though I most certainly do. “Tell me what you did wrong.”
“What?” I pant as he holds me in place, my ass exposed to the cool air. “Put me down.”
“Tell me why you’re being punished.”
My clit throbs involuntarily as rain patters on the windows outside. “I came when you told me to stop.”
A sudden sharp sting wallops against my ass. “That’s right. Now tell me who’s in charge?”
Oh my God, why do I want to come again?
“You,” I manage, squirming against his shoulders.
“That’s right.” He settles me onto the edge of the sofa and stares down at me. “Unzip my jeans and put my cock in your mouth.”
My lips drop open as I draw my gaze down over the bulge behind the denim.
“Do it, little rabbit. You were warned. Now you’re getting your punishment.”
My heart hammers and my hands shake as I focus on the buckle of his belt, unfastening it slowly before unzipping his jeans and releasing the massive beast he’s been hiding.
I try not to look too impressed, but I am.
He’s huge.
As my hand grips it, I can get a sense of its weight. I never thought a cock could have a noticeable weight to it!
I don’t know if I could even take him inside me. Hell, I think getting him into my mouth is going to be a struggle.
“Take my cock in that little throat,” he growls. “Right now, little bunny.”
My clit throbs as I take his thick dick in my hand and pump him slowly before leaning in to lick and suck.
“Jesus Christ, you’re a good little slut.”
I didn’t think I’d like being called a slut, but the context here is pretty great, and it’s only serving to soak me all over again.
“You liked that I watched you come, didn’t you?” How the hell does his voice keep getting deeper? “The thought of my eyes on your little pussy, watching you get redder and redder until those thick lips started to spasm.”
I grind upward, desperate for his touch as I take his cock deep into my throat.
“That’s right, gag. Gag on my dick, little bunny, and get ready to swallow my load. You want to taste how excited you made me?”
Oh Lord.
He thrusts into my mouth harder and faster, his cock heavy and rigid as he pushes back and forth against my stretched lips, his thick fingers lost in my hair, a low groan emanating from his chest.
He’s going to come. I can feel his thighs tightening, his cock getting harder, his balls drawing up.
I sturdy my grip on him and suck with a steady motion, twisting my tongue around the head with light pressure in opposite directions until all at once he howls out and releases his hot, salty seed against my tongue.
“Fuck,” he groans loud and ragged, like he’s lost control. “Swallow it. I want to watch my seed slide down your throat.”
I do as he’s asked because I want to know his taste. I want to feel his warmth slide into my stomach. I want every ounce of him, every drop.
“Good girl.” He thrusts into me slowly as I swallow him down, his fingers in my hair, his palm against my face. “Now lay back. I need to taste you.”
I don’t hesitate for a second. I do as he’s asked and lay back against the sofa as he kneels before me and kisses my thighs one at a time, before abandoning the romance for the main show.
His beard against my pussy, his fingers tucked inside of me, a deep growl in his throat as he thrusts, licks, and groans.
My fingers dig into his hair, and I grind up into his face, scrubbing against the bump of his nose as I work my hips to near orgasm for the second time tonight.
If this night is all that ever comes of anything between Atlas and I, I’m okay with that because I’m pretty sure I’ll remember this experience for the rest of my life.
“That’s my girl,” he growls between licks. “That little clit is so swollen for me. Squeeze those thighs against my face just like that. Trap me here. Trap me between these thick thighs while you come all over my face.”
I grind up against him as he talks, squirming against his chin, his beard, his nose, his lips, his tongue, whatever I can find until all at once pressure begins to build.
I’m not okay. I’m not sure I’ll ever be okay again.
How will I forget this? How will I ever let someone else touch me knowing how good this moment was?
How can I go on pretending like this isn’t exactly what I’ve been wanting my entire life?
How can I live an acre away from this man and have a complete life knowing every fantasy I’ve ever had is across my lawn?
This was a mistake.
The best mistake, but a mistake, nonetheless.
He growls low and I lose control of my muscles. Twitching, contracting, squirming, thrusting, grinding, screaming, panting, moaning.
“Fuck me,” he groans, still thrusting his fingers into my hole as he talks. “You taste so fucking good. Do you know that? You’re so sweet.”
Why does he have to keep saying all the right things? This would be so much easier if he were really hot but bad in bed, or great in bed but not so hot, or really hot and great in bed but useless. Why does he have to be all the things I need?
As the orgasm fades, my brain turns to mush alongside my body, and my breath slows.
“Now my little rabbit is so tired. Do you know how much self-control it’s taking not to shove my cock inside of you right now?”
“I want it,” I whine. “I want to know how you feel inside of me. I need it.”
“If I give you everything right now, you won’t come back for more, and I need to know you’re coming back.” He groans and helps me up from the couch. “Let’s go eat that pie you made. I’m starving.”