Page 61 of S is for SEX

SEVENTEEN

Jaz

Day fifty.

“You don’t think he was kidding, do you?” Ethan asked.

I really didn’t care. Kidding or not, head stepping was a great fucking idea, and I was disappointed that I hadn’t thought of it before Ripp told us about it. “No. I’m sure he was being truthful, why?”

“I uhhm. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” I narrowed my eyes and stared back at him as I unbuttoned my jeans. “I’ll let you know if I’m in more pain than I can handle.”

“You sure?”

I coughed out a laugh as I pushed my jeans down my thighs. “Yeah.”

The intensity of my pussy’s desire to have Ethan step on my head and fuck me diminished somewhat on the drive back to my apartment. It wasn’t that I no longer wanted it – because I really did – but my once soaking wet pussy didn’t seem to share what was left of my mind’s sexual interest.

He pushed down his sweats and sighed. “Okay.”

“I’m gonna need you to talk dirty to me for a minute,” I said. ‘Before we get started.”

Kissing and sweet talk never really did much for me, but a good dirty talker could take me from nothing to nympho in seconds.

“How dirty?”

Dirty talk was something we hadn’t discussed, but our first – and only – sexual encounter was kind of an unplanned combination of boxing and fucking that just happened. There really wasn’t the time – or need – for him to talk dirty to me.

Now it was a different story. Being talked dirty to during sex wasn’t something that I necessarily required, but it sure seemed to help matters along.

Being a woman was difficult work. Trying to make sense of my pre-period emotions, my mind’s need to have a man be rough with me during sex, and my constant – and often insatiable – desire to have sex, was close to impossible. In the end, I rarely understood my sexual self, I simply chose to embrace my odd yearnings as being part of who I was.

“Dirty as fuck.” I pulled my tee shirt over my head and reached for the clasp of my bra. “Smash your mouth against my ear and tell me how you’re going to step on my head and stuff me full of cock. And anything else you want to say, just make it dirty. You can come up with something, can’t you?”

Standing in front of me completely naked, he shrugged “Yeah,” he said in a somewhat derisive tone.

He wasn’t very convincing, but then again, he wasn’t much of a talker – and he was much less of a braggart.

“Well, get to it.” I chuckled and tossed my bra on the floor. “I’m ready.”

In a few quick steps, he was at my side with his hand on my neck, gripping it firmly. He positioned himself behind me, pulled me into his chest, and breathed against my ear. “I’m going to shove you so full of cock that you’re going to remember it each time you sit down for the next week.”

Fuck yes, that’s it.

His mouth moved down my neck, dragging his teeth along my skin until he came to a stop right above my shoulder. He then bit into my flesh, sending shivers down my spine as he did so.

Holy. Shit.

He pressed his lips to my ear. “You want me to give you a little bit of my thick cock?”

I was soaked. I regretted ever doubting his ability to talk dirty to me. I mumbled my response, but it still didn’t come easy. “Uh huh,” I murmured.

“Too bad,” he breathed into my ear. “Because I’m not giving you a little bit, I’m gonna give you all of it.”

Dear God.

He’d done it. I was past primed, and stood on shaking legs. With his chest pressed against my back and his hand still firm on my neck, he pushed me toward the loveseat. As my legs came into contact with the front edge of the cushion, he forced my head down, causing me to bend at the waist.

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