Page 44 of Defiant
I drop to the floor, concerned when the thigh-high leather boots I wear make too loud athunk. But no one knocks, no one shouts in the hall to see if Jonah dropped something. I take a relieved breath as I slowly stand to see perfection facing me.
Door locked, Jonah stands naked in the middle of his room, cupping himself modestly, waiting, just like I’d told him to. His perfect biceps are on display and even though his thick forearms block part of the view of his perfect abs, I can still see the light brown happy trail beneath his naval.
Like a magnet, I’m drawn toward him, toward those sculpted muscles in his thighs, those hands that can be just as gentle or rough as I command. Those sky-blue eyes take me in and I notice Jonah’s got a little scruff today. That’s going to feel amazing on my thighs. I lick my lips and let the anticipation build between us for a second. It’s so delicious I can almost feel it like a tweak to a nipple.
I force myself to turn around and shut the window, carefully closing the curtains so that no one can see in.
Jonah clears his throat before saying softly, “I’m not sure this is a good—”
“Quiet. Get a pillow and get on your knees.” I order.
Jonah chews on his soft pink lip, but when I tug off my jacket and he sees that I only wore a thin white t-shirt with no bra underneath, he hurries over to his queen bed and shucks the blue plaid comforter so he can grab a pillow. I march over to the middle of the room so he has space and then I spread my legs as far as they can go within the confines of the skirt. I’m not wearing panties, but I don’t tell Jonah that. I’m saving that tidbit as a surprise for later.
I simply make him kneel on his pillow, controlling this delicate strand of gossamer that extends between us as he submits. He settles on the floor a foot in front of me and I give him a smile as I slowly drag up the hem of my shirt and then toss it aside. My breasts aren’t big, but Jonah’s always loved to touch them. Every time I deny him access to them he ends up begging. I reach for him, his head near my waist, and shove my fingers into his mouth, letting him get them nice and wet, his tongue showcasing how well he can stroke before I retreat and trace the wet digits along my nipples, reveling in the way Jonah’s stare becomes as mesmerized as if I were a hypnotist.
Tiny sparks of pleasure shoot from my nipples to my mid-back, but they aren’t big enough to make me wild yet.
“Jonah,” I whisper just as enraptured by the sight of him kneeling as he is by the sight of me.
“Yeah?” He hauls his eyes slowly up from my breasts.
“Use your tongue and make me come. I want you to make me come so loud that someone walks by the door and checks on you.”
His entire face brightens. He loves when I give him orders. And I love it too, that sweet eagerness to please. He tugs my skirt up, his palms skimming over my thighs.
“These boots are awesome. Fuck. You came all the way here without panties?”
“Yes. And can you see how wet I am for you? Thinking about you. Wanting you. Waiting for your mouth.”
Jonah moans, the sound deep and low, before he dives down, licking a line on either side of my slit before blowing on it and then slowly lapping it.
Oh my.
His tongue teases and spreads me, hitting on my sensitive spots and then darting quickly away. Jonah knows my body so well, and works it gently, letting the heat rise under my skin, gradually changing the tide so that lust sweeps in and covers me with swirling wet want.
He uses his fingers to open me up and his tongue starts to plunge into me while his other hand travels slowly up to tease all around my clit. Need builds and grows brick by brick until it’s a skyscraper piercing my mind, I’m clinging to the tip of the steeple.
“Jonah!” his mother calls out from somewhere down the hall. “It’s time to eat! Turkey’s ready!”
“Don’t stop,” I grit out, reaching down to cling to his hair. There’s never much to cling to because he keeps it cut short. But tonight, in this dream, it’s long. It falls down past his cheeks and there’s so much of it.
I don’t analyze, I’m too close to that peak, too close to release. I just arch myself into him and scream.
“Jonah!” his mom calls. “You alright?”
I hold his head to my pussy, grip it hard, a dark thrill racing down my spine as I hear footsteps approach but I make Jonah draw out my pleasure. “More,” I tell him. I’m not ready to be done. “More.”
I buck up into his tongue, as sensation turns me into a tangled mess of need. A finger slides into me.
My eyes fly open and I wake up, startled—gasping.
Jonah never fingers me until I order him to. He knows better.
I look down to find my hands tangled in long dark hair, a different mouth devouring me, my pants drooping off one ankle, thighs shaking as Black’s tongue and fingers work my body to a peak so high it might eclipse Mount Everest. I’m gasping, light-headed, and I moan as he thrusts a second finger into me.
“Black?” I can’t finish the question forming in my mind because one of Black’s hands comes up and twists my nipple. It’s as if someone set off a charge of dynamite in the heart of a mountain. My insides explode, my mind crumbles, I shake and break in ways that are irreparable.
If possible, that orgasm is even better than the one he gave me earlier.
