The Big O Series Read online

  "Give me your mouth," he said, fisting his hand in my hair and tugging.

  I didn't know what else to do but comply, and I turned toward the sound of his voice, unaware a tear had spilled free.

  He rocked forward, then withdrew, and I cried in protest against his lips, clutching at him and trying to pull him back to me.

  But I didn't need to, because he was already thrusting forward again, deeper this time, and I shuddered. He withdrew again, and I tugged him back, the dance repeating itself over and over again with him sinking deeper each time until he was buried inside me completely. I could feel how deeply he was inside me, the coarse hair at the base of his cock a sweet friction against my clitoris every time he thrust in to the hilt.

  He slid his mouth down my neck, his teeth closing over the sensitive arch where the curve met the shoulder. One big hand palmed my ass, and he canted me higher, and I tensed as the new angle had my nerves lighting up.

  Pleasure I'd never known started to sizzle and burn.

  I gasped as he bit me, then began to suck on my neck, each pull in time with the rhythm of his hips, the head scraping over that spot deep inside.

  Oh...oh...oh!

  I screamed as the orgasm exploded inside me.

  Jake grunted and drove into me harder, tearing his mouth from my neck and slamming it down over mine. Both hands now cupped my ass, and he worked me up and down, the friction more intense, almost too much as the climax went on and on, and still he moved.

  "Again, Michelle," he muttered against my lips. "Feel it again."

  Again?

  There was no...

  He slid one hand in between us and rubbed my clitoris.

  At the same time, he caught my lower lip between his teeth and bit me. It was a light, almost delicate pain, at odds with the intensity with which he shafted me, and it was just too much.

  I did exactly as he'd ordered.

  Screaming as he pulled yet another orgasm from me.

  Nine

  Jake

  Sunday came around.

  It always did.

  Normally, I looked forward to this particular day of the week, although if anybody from my old life knew why...actually, if anybody knew why, I'd be up a shit creek.

  But today as the sun came up, shining in my eyes to wake me the way it tended to do, I didn't want to get up.

  I'd spent half the damn night dreaming about Michelle.

  I hadn't stayed at the hotel with her. I'd wanted to – wanted it pretty damn bad and because of that, I hadn't let myself.

  She'd been sound asleep when I left, sometime just after three, and I'd almost gone back, but the very fact that I had such a hard time leaving had convinced me it was the right thing to do. I had no business getting that invested in a woman.

  I had too much shit going on in my life.

  Speaking of which...

  Without opening my eyes, I swiped out a hand and grabbed my phone from the small, utilitarian table by my bed. My apartment in the city was small. At this point, I could have afforded something bigger, but I banked every penny I earned because I had plans that didn't involve fucking for a living.

  But there was a goal in mind first, and until that goal was achieved, nothing else mattered. That was another reason why I couldn't spend so much time thinking about Michelle.

  Although after last night, I had figured one thing out...not thinking about her was proving to be harder than I would have guessed.

  "Suck it, Whitley," I said, staring down at the dark head of the woman on her knees in front of me.

  Whitley Grieve McCrane was one of my regulars. She had every other Sunday with me and she had a submissive streak a mile wide. Normally, that got me going just fine, because while I wasn't an all-out Dom, I definitely had a dominant streak, and I'd gone long enough without sex in my life that getting it, kink or not, was a good thing – but I definitely didn't mind the kink,

  Having a rich woman kneeling in front of me after she'd sweetly begged my permission to suck me off was straight out of a fantasy. I wasn't rich. Never mind the fact that I was doing okay now, but Whitley was and her shit-bag husband was even more so.

  As for Whitley, her fantasy was in line with what she was doing – having a big, tattooed rough-looking guy like me order her to please him.

  She was all but trembling with need.

  And I was bored.

  Oh, my dick was interested, and if it wasn't for the much-required condom, I could have probably come already.

  Whitley took me in deeper, so far I could feel the head of my cock nudging the back of her throat.

  As she started to pull back, I grabbed the high ponytail she wore on top of her head and pulled. "More."

  She obliged, but even when she started to swallow me, her throat muscles working around me, I still felt little interest. I started to pump against her, using her ponytail to hold her head steady. She moaned deep in her throat, the sound coming again and again, rhythmically.

  "Enough," I said, pulling back. She made a disappointed sound. "Stand up." Once she did, I slid a hand down her torso.

  We were in a boutique hotel, one known for its discretion. The room we always got was one done in an art deco style, all black and white, with a six foot bronze-framed mirror that stood by the bed.

  The mirror was the main reason we got this room each time. Whitley stood in front of it, wearing nothing but a lace choker around her neck.

  "You like that?" I asked, palming one of her breasts, watching my hands move on her body in the mirror.

  "Yes, Sir. I do like it. I like it very much," she said, her voice so prim and so proper, it didn't quite fit with the reflection cast back at us by the mirror. The reflective pane revealed an image of me, a tall man with blond hair and blue eyes, muscled, with tattoos that climbed up his arms and one side of his neck. Whitley was smaller, her slender body sweetly curved, her long dark hair spilling down from the ponytail to sweep across her shoulders. Her breasts rose up and down rapidly, nipples pink and hard, her entire body flushed with want.

  I slid my hand down the center of her body and cupped her pussy in my hand. Pushing two fingers inside her, I began to pump them. "What else do you like? Tell me, Whitley."

  "Watching," she said, her voice breathy now with need. "Sir, I like to watch what you do to me."

  That was the whole point of the mirror.

  "Then why don't you look?"

  She opened her eyes and stared as I kicked her thighs apart and fisted my cock for a moment before rubbing it up against her ass. "And what about this? You like this?"

  "Yes, Sir. I like your cock. I want it inside me," she said, each word ragged. She gasped as I lifted her onto her toes and pushed inside.

  "Lean forward," I ordered, plumping her breasts together and angling my body to nudge her into position.

  Whitley caught her weight with her hands on the frame of the mirror. Her mouth fell open as she stared at her face. Twisting my hips, I thrust deep, cleaving through swollen tissues and burying myself deep inside her cunt.

  She did it again when I reached around and folded back the protective hood that covered her clitoris. "Tell me what else you want, Whit." She moaned. I spanked her. "That's not an answer."

  Whitley cried out at the feel of my hand striking her flesh, bouncing up on her toes in surprise.

  "What else do you like, Whitley?"

  "Sir...you know." She wiggled and pressed her butt back against me.

  "It doesn't matter what I know," I growled. "It matters what you tell me. Tell me now or you don't get it." I spanked her again, then stroked my finger lazily over the soft skin of her ass.

  "It's dirty, Sir," she whispered. "Don't make me say it."

  "You have to make me understand. Otherwise...well, I'm not a mind-reader."

  She let go of the mirror with one hand and reach back, pulling on the globe of her ass, spreading her cheeks.

  "I see." I pressed my thumb against the tight circle of her anus. "You want
me here."

  "Yes." She wiggled and pushed against me, taking the tip of my thumb inside.

  There had been a time when this would have cranked me up so hot, I would have had to fight the urge to come. But I was bored. So fucking bored.

  I didn't let her see. "You want me to put my prick in there. Tell me that's what you want, Whit."

  "I want your prick in there, Sir." She moaned as I pressed against her, then sobbed as I pulled back then pulled away entirely.

  "Good girl," I told her.

  I had her on the bed a minute later. She was face down with her ass in the air while I lubricated her with my fingers then took care of myself.

  She cried out as I entered her, squealing that it hurt.

  I spanked her lightly. "You told me you wanted this."

  Whitley whimpered, "Sir, it hurts!"

  She had a safe word if it got too intense, but she had never used it.

  "Then what do you want me to do, sugar?" I asked, withdrawing before surging forward.

  "Give me more...please."

  "Play with that pretty pink pussy," I ordered, flexing my hips and thrusting deeper. She did, and by the time I was halfway inside her, she was already shuddering and shaking around my dick. She would be coming in minutes.

  Keeping one hand spread wide on the base of her back, I stroked a little bit deeper. She shuddered in reaction, arching her spine. It forced my cock deeper, and the snug heat of her tight ass felt good.

  The pretense fell away, and Whitley moaned out my name. "Oh, Jake, please."

  I gripped her hips, steadying her as I thrust forward deeper. She cried out and I tensed, waiting. But Whitley said nothing, just kept up those raw, hungry moans, and I moved harder, faster.

  She thrashed against me as the climax hit her, hard and fast. Catching her ponytail, I pulled her up onto her knees and bit her neck. "Again, Whitley. You know that's not good enough for me." I caught one of her wrists and guided it between her thighs.

  She went still, then began to rock back and forth between her hand and the cock invading her ass. I'd come after she came again. Or a second. Hell, maybe even a third time.

  She collapsed forward, and I eased her down, then pulled out, holding the condom in place as my cock popped free from the snug grip of her ass.

  Whitley rolled on to her side and smiled up at me, and I had to remind myself to smile back. "I'm going to clean up," I said, turning away instead of bending down to give her a kiss like I normally would have.

  In the bathroom, I closed the door and leaned against it for a minute. I didn't bother asking myself what the problem was. I already knew.

  Michelle.

  She was my problem – and that just meant I had an even bigger problem.

  Ten

  Michelle

  "It's perfect."

  Aunt Blair sounded thrilled and I was glad, but I sure as hell wished I could be more excited about how thrilled she was.

  Instead, I was trying to keep my focus on the conversation at hand because my mind kept wandering. Wandering right back to a hotel not too far from my apartment in Manhattan and daydreams of what Jake had done to me kept turning my thoughts to mush.

  "Have you thought about what you'll pitch next? I was thinking maybe we could do a couple of shorter articles online with the social media platforms, then redirect the links to the articles that are published while we wait for this one to go live – no point in losing momentum." Aunt Blair, once more dragged my wandering thoughts back from the hotel – and Jake.

  "That's not a bad idea," I said, buying time as I riffled through my notebook, looking for the half-assed list I'd thrown together with a few ideas. "I'll be honest, though, I'm still trying to organize some of the information he gave me."

  "Have you talked to him on the phone recently?"

  "What?" I took a deep breath. "Oh, no."

  I was afraid to. If I talked to Jake on the phone, I was likely to start blurting out things like, Oh, wow...that was...how did you...do you want to do it again.

  "Hey, what do you think about a column on using phone sex to keep the romance alive?"

  The words left my lips before I even realized I was going to say them, and I was appalled once they were hanging out there. Appalled because now I might have to–

  "Oh, that's a great idea!" Aunt Blair's enthusiasm had me squeezing my eyes shut. "You know what you ought to do, since so many of our readers are working women who travel. Include stuff about Skype. Maybe how they can do a Skype session with their significant others when one or both of them have to be gone for a couple of days. You can even practice with Jake," she suggested impishly.

  Aw, hell.

  "How can I do this?"

  Sitting in front of my computer, I kept the screen off and blew out a breath before untying my robe. I had to get around the idea of sitting naked in my living room, or I wouldn't be able to get around the idea of Skyping with Jake.

  I hadn't talked to him about it yet.

  He said he'd give me a call today or tomorrow, and once he did, I had to be ready to talk to him about this idea.

  I already knew what his answer would be.

  He'd say yes.

  I had no doubt I could suggest we play an erotic game of Go Fish and he'd find a way to do it. He'd make it fun and sexy and make sure I came while we were at it.

  The man took his work seriously.

  Saturday night had been proof of that. Even now...

  "That's what you need to do," I told myself, sliding a hand inside my robe.

  If I thought of him, my nervousness melted away, replaced by vivid memories of the way he'd touched me. I let my hands follow the path his had taken on my body, let them trail along my breasts, then down to my thighs.

  Spreading them, I slid down until I had them stretched wide and I was perched on the edge of the seat.

  I imagined he was there, kneeling between my thighs.

  His mouth on me.

  I gasped as my fingers brushed against the curls between my thighs, the flesh they protected already slick and wet.

  You're so wet, he'd told me.

  Just thinking about him had a habit of doing this to me.

  I'd spent more time this past week masturbating or thinking about it than I normally did all year. Sex was something I thought about a lot, but it hadn't ever been a need...until now. A part of me was almost sorry, because once this...thing between us was done, I'd go back to solving my own needs.

  "So don't think about it. Think about him," I said to the ceiling.

  On his knees, between my thighs, pressing his mouth to me.

  He'd lick me, his hands palming my ass.

  He'd like the fact that I had an ass. I was a size twelve, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get any smaller, but he said he'd loved how ripe I looked, said he loved my butt and my breasts.

  I love your tits, the dream Jake said, and in my mind, he was cupping them, plumping them together before he sucked one nipple then the other into his mouth, going back and forth until he had them both erect and hard, throbbing.

  In reality, that's how they were, erect and hard, throbbing.

  I licked my fingers and pinched them so they'd be wet, almost as if his mouth had been there.

  Do that again, sugar. I want to see you touch yourself. Dream Jake liked it when I did that, and I wondered if the real Jake would. I bet the answer was yes.

  I sobbed as the ache low in my belly spread and slid one hand down until it was back between my thighs. Seeking out my clitoris, I circled my finger around it, and...groaned.

  This wasn't going to work, not like it did when Jake touched me.

  Then, to my surprise, the hard knot of my clit all but vibrated when I touched it, aching and throbbing. Each light pass of my fingers felt like I was rubbing it with liquid lightning, it had become so acutely sensitive.

  Keep it up, sugar. Show me what you like, so I can give it to you.

  Dream Jake was so unbelievably hot.
<
br />   I pushed a finger into my pussy and gasped. A rush of heat met me, and I bit my lip, almost afraid to go on, but my body wasn't so nervous. My hips rocked up and back, riding my hand and seeking out the climax that was getting ever closer.

  Faster. Faster.

  Faster...

  I came with a cry, but it wasn't enough. Boneless, I slid from the chair and lay on the floor, my robe open, my hips rocking up to meet my touch as I pumped two fingers in and out of my cunt. Faster. Faster. Faster.

  You're so hot, Michelle...keep it up, let me see...

  I came again, and for a second, black dots blurred in on my vision, and I panted for air.

  Closing my eyes, I waited for the ringing in my ears to fade.

  It took a few more seconds to realize it was my phone ringing. And I'd knocked it off my desk when I slid to the floor.

  I yelped, almost as if whoever was on the phone could see right through the line, and without thinking, I answered. Breathless voice and all.

  "Hello?"

  "Michelle."

  "Oh..." Blood rushed to heat my cheeks, and I wondered if they'd ever go back to their normal shade. "Umm. Hi, Jake."

  "You sound a little out of breath. Were you working out? Should I call back?"

  Say yes. Easy way out.

  "Er...um...it's fine."

  I didn't know what he heard in my voice, but his went husky. "You weren't working out, were you?"

  "I...um, yes. I was doing..." Looking around the room, up at the ceiling over me, I blurted out, "I was doing sit ups."

  "Really. So, you're lying on the floor."

  "Yes." Squeezing my eyes closed, I went to push my hair back. But I caught the scent of myself on my hand. Slowly, I opened my eyes and stared at my fingers, realizing that it wasn't a bad scent. It was just...me. My arousal.

  "How many?" Jake asked.

  "Twice," I murmured, not really aware of the question.

  "You did twice sit ups?" Now he sounded really intrigued.

  And I realized I was screwed. "I...would you just mind your own business?" I snapped.