8 #2
For someone who’s never given a blow job in her life, she’s kind of amazing at it.
Maybe there’s not a lot to giving a blow job, though.
She goes for it, though, practically gagging herself on me right away, and the tunnel of her throat squeezes me, and that’s fucking great.
And then she moves up so that her lips and tongue are teasing the head of me—catching her breath, I guess, I know how that goes—before she practically swallows me again.
She does that on and off in a rhythm, and I can’t think of anything except that, anything at all.
So, I’m startled when there’s banging on the window.
Hannah’s head comes up right away, and she wipes at her eyes, which have been watering from taking me that deep down her throat, and that’s hot. I just grin at her for a minute before I even look over at the window.
Calliope looks stricken, sort of horrified.
Part of me surges, liking that, wanting to have affected her, to have made her angry, to simply have made her react.
But another part of me feels shame spilling into me, that dark ink in the water, and I know that I haven’t done the right thing by either of these women.
The car is turned off, so I can’t roll down the window.
I settle for opening the door.
Calliope dances out of the way and then weaves around the door, and then she’s leaning into the car. My cock is still out, glistening with Hannah’s saliva. Hannah is wiping her cheeks and her mouth and looking mortified.
“What is wrong with you?” says Calliope to me. “Why did you bait me out here to the parking lot?”
“Me?” I say. “Bait you? You’re the one who sent me eighty text messages last night.”
“And you didn’t respond.” Her voice cracks.
“You’re the one posting your whereabouts on Instagram. Like you didn’t want me to come.”
“You brought her.”
I guess I was supposed to sit on the periphery of everything all alone and watch her with her friends and be lonely and pathetic and entirely devoted to her. That’s how she fucking likes me. On ice until she wants to use me for something.
Can’t blame her, I guess.
We grew up like this.
In the Polloi, everything revolves around female omegas. Omegas have packs of three or even six alphas, and all of them live with her and serve her and do her bidding and everything else.
Andrew does that for her, actually. Maybe alphas are just better at it, some instinctive part of them caters to omegas, I don’t know.
But if she thinks I can just be part of her entourage, she doesn’t know me at all. I’m an omega, too.
“Do you hate me, Ellis?” she says. “Really hate me? Is that what this is?”
I said that I hated her last night, but we say that to each other. It’s not that we don’t mean it, because I think we both do. It’s only that whatever kind of hate we have for each other, it’s such a big feeling that it feels like love in a way.
“Are you just trying to hurt me?” she says.
“It’s not like I haven’t watched you get your pussy licked,” I say to her.
“During heat,” she says. “It’s not the same thing.”
Hannah speaks up. “Does my brother know that you’re not being faithful to him?”
“Yes,” says Callie to Hannah, annoyed. “And it’s not even like that. We have talked about this, and we have boundaries, and he just needs me to be honest about whatever happens.”
I roll my eyes. That’s the stupidest way to run a relationship I think I’ve ever heard, but then, I’ve managed to be faithful to her, at least until now. Maybe they count, actually. They weren’t women, but that doesn’t mean that I was celibate or something.
“Can you put your cock away?” says Callie to me.
“No,” I say, glaring at her.
“You wanted me to come out and see this,” Calliope says.
“You did,” says Hannah quietly.
I look back and forth between the two of them. I tuck my cock away. I zip up. “I’m sorry that it upsets you so much that I’m moving on, Callie. But you did tell me to move on.”
Calliope lets out a noise of disbelief. “How is it moving on for you to bring my husband’s baby sister to the place where I’m having breakfast and then have her give you head in the parking lot after you’ve given me eye signals to follow you?”
“I didn’t give you eye signals,” I say, because I did not. “Besides, you very clearly invited me here.”
“Not everything is about you, Ellis,” says Callie.
I scoff.
Calliope’s face crumples. She bows her head. “It’s not all about you,” she says, but she doesn’t sound convincing, and I think she’s going to cry.
I reach up to touch her face. “Hey,” I whisper.
“You want to get out?” says Hannah. “Because if you guys are doing your reconciliation thing, maybe you don’t make me watch.”
I turn to look at her, and I do a quick calculation of what happens if I stay with Calliope.
She cries. I comfort her. Maybe she goes back to her friends.
Maybe not. Maybe she even does something with my cock, which is still hard, and which is still demanding to be seen to.
But maybe not. And whatever the case, in the end, she goes home to Andrew.
I also will have to listen to Callie whining all day about Andrew.
On the other hand, if I get Hannah to take me home, I bet she’ll let me do anything I want to her, and she’ll probably just snuggle in against me while I put on some TV for us to relax and watch, and she’ll be cute and sweet and… and easy.
Callie is exhausting; Hannah is not.
I pull my hand away from Calliope’s face. “Maybe I’m trying, okay? To move on? Maybe I’m doing a shit job at it, but you’re not actually helping, and… I never tried before, so…”
Calliope is stunned and hurt. She looks at Hannah. “You’re not trying to move on with her.”
“I can hear you,” says Hannah quietly.
“Sorry, Hannah, but you know he doesn’t give a shit about you,” says Calliope. “He’s doing this with you because he knows it’ll make Andrew crazy, and he knows it’ll make me crazy, and it’s not even about you.”
“She gave me her virginity, you know,” I say. “That’s not nothing.”
“You dick. I gave you my virginity, if you want to put it like that,” says Callie.
I look at Hannah. “She’s, um, she’s like the opposite of you. She’s nice and she’s good to me and she’s cute and I was in the middle of teaching her how to give me a blow job when you interrupted.” I swing my gaze over to Calliope.
Calliope’s nostrils flare. “Fuck you, Ellis. I’m leaving.”
“Good,” I say. “I’m not coming after you.”
“I don’t want you to,” she says.
“Good,” I say.
“Good,” she says. She ducks out of the car and slams the door really hard.
I look at Hannah, and I fasten my seatbelt. “Let’s go.”
“You don’t give a shit about me, though,” she says. “She’s right.”
“I do,” I say.
She just shakes her head, annoyed.
“I mean, you and I did have a bargain,” I say. “You get me off, I get you off. You haven’t gotten me off yet, but take us home. I promise I’ll live up to my end if you live up to yours.”
She is still shaking her head, but her scent has changed.
I lean over. “You were really committed, and I liked that. You took me so deep. Such a good girl, Hannah.”
“Fuck you.” Her voice is trembling. “Fuck you, Ellis, you are the worst thing that ever happened to me.” She gets out the keys and jams them into the ignition. “Your place or mine?”
hannah
Does part of me want to believe that I was so good at giving Ellis a blow job that he rejected Calliope for me because of it?
Obviously.
I know this is actually just part of his little scheme to get back at her.
I know it’s not even a scheme. He’s improvising. He doesn’t know what he wants to accomplish. He’s doing whatever he wants to do in the moment, and what he wants to do, usually, is make her jealous, and I am perfect for that.
I steal glances at him in the passenger seat as we drive back to his house.
He says we should go there because it’s bigger and I have already packed a bag and I have a feeling I’m going to be spending my third night in a row in his bed, and he still hasn’t fucked me face-to-face, and I am ashamed of myself and my terrible life choices, but I seem to be helpless to make better ones.
He’s so fucking gorgeous over there, his dark curls hanging against his thick dark eyebrows.
He didn’t shave this morning, and there’s a dark shadow against his chin and above his upper lip, and it makes him look rakish and dangerous—even more than he already looks this way.
He’s jaggedly masculine, and yet beautiful, lithely draped all over the passenger seat of my car.
He’s right at home there, as if he belongs there, as if he believes he has the right to take up space anywhere.
I wish I believed that I had the right to take up space.
He makes me blow him on the stairs in his house.
We get in there, and I start going up the stairs, and he stops me, takes my bag off my shoulder, lays it down and tells me to sit down.
I sit on the stairs and he climbs up until his crotch is eye level with me, and he takes himself out, and he’s still hard, and he smells like a thunderstorm in June, steam rising up from every newly soaked surface, and I take him into my mouth and he hums out his approval, stroking my hair, murmuring that I’m a good girl.
He urges me to take him deep, and it makes my eyes water, and he likes that, wiping my tears away and telling me I look good with his cock in my mouth.
“Hold still, okay, Hannah, let me just fuck your throat for a little bit. Tap me if it’s too much, but try to let me do it as long as you can stand, okay? I’d really like it.”
It’s a lot. I can’t breathe. I gag on him, but he likes that. He thrusts into my throat, cutting everything off, and I don’t tap him and don’t tap him and don’t tap him and—
He pulls forward to let me breathe. Tears are streaming down my face, and I’m gasping for air.
“So good, Hannah,” he says, smiling down at me, real affection all over him. “God, you’re good to me. A little more, okay? I’m close, I promise. Take me again, that’s a good girl, get your mouth nice and fucked.” He thrusts into me again, and it’s all that intensity again, and…
My pussy clenches.