Submit (Songs of Submission #3)(10)

“I’m coming. Fuck. Jonathan….”

He moaned into me, and I knew that meant I was allowed to come. And he didn’t stop or pause long enough for me to stop the freight train of my orgasm. I tried to keep my body still, but toward the end, as the sucking felt as though his mouth was pulling every last bit of pleasure from me, I lost control of my body, and the glass tumbled, rolling along the floor. My back arched even more. The top of my head wound up on the loveseat cushions, and Jonathan stood to keep his head between my legs. He kept sucking even after I tried to push his head away, his pu**y-wet fingers holding my thighs.

He moved his mouth away when I was a hot, shuddering mess. I breathed heavily, getting my bearings again. He put his hands around my waist and lifted me to standing. I still couldn’t speak. He lowered my bra gently, then picked up my dress from the floor. I fell on him, and he laughed, holding me up.

“You all right?”

“I don’t think all my parts are attached.”

“You look just as perfect as you did ten minutes ago.”

I breathed into him for a second, taking in the new, musty scent. “I don’t think I have the coordination to get my clothes on.” I got my bearings, feeling sexually satisfied in a way I knew wouldn’t last. I could be ready for another go in minutes.

Jonathan found the neck opening of my dress and lifted it over my head.

I wiggled my arms through the sleeves. “What did she do for you that you’re so grateful about?”

“I’m about to be cryptic,” he said.

“Great.”

“I went through some stuff when I was younger, and I was treated like it all happened to me. I was this victim. She showed me that I was responsible. She gave me my manhood back. That too heartwarming for you?”

I caught the sarcasm in the last sentence, but also the defensiveness. I turned my back and moved my hair out of the way so he could zip me up.

“How did she break her wrist?” I asked.

He slowly zipped up the dress. “I said I was sorry and that I couldn’t do this with her anymore, this whole dance we’ve been doing. She ran out after me and tripped on the walk. Fell on her wrist. I couldn’t get my doctor on the phone, so I took her to the ER and waited with her. The only four words she said to me? ‘Is it that girl?’”

“She was talking about me?”

“I assumed so.”

“What did you say?”

“I lied.”

I turned around. “You said I wasn’t a girl?”

He smiled. “I said you were nothing to me. I think I used the word dalliance.”

“Am I a dalliance?”

“Not for me. Not anymore.” Looking pensive, he smoothed my dress. “But you see what she did when she thought you were. Made a special trip up to the Stock just to hurt you. If she knew I think about you all the time… well, she’s possessive. Even after she left me she made it a point to find out who I was with and what I was doing with them. I thought it meant she still loved me, but actually, it means she’s crazy.” He kissed my hands, then my cheek. His face smelled like my pu**y. “Do you have a few more minutes?”

“Some. I’m going to record something in a few hours. I set it up so we couldn’t be together too long.”

“Clever girl.”

“Well, now I just want to eat you alive.”

He turned me back around and kissed me. The taste of our tongues was a mix of sex and sweat. I fell into him, a groan rising in the back of my throat. I wanted him again, and again.

He moved his mouth to my nose, my chin, and spoke into my cheek. “I need to wash up. Can you meet me downstairs in the bar?”

CHAPTER 5

I carried a toothbrush in my bag because I knew, at the very least, his dick would be in my mouth, and I didn’t want to hit the high notes at DownDawg Studio with blowjob breath. I washed my face, readjusted my dress, and slipped on my panties. They made my pu**y feel gagged, but if any part of me needed to shut up for a minute, it was the sopping cup of sensation between my legs.

He was waiting at a small table near the window, a bottle of Perrier and two glasses ready. He saw me come in, and I noted the appreciation in his gaze.

“How long do I have?” he asked. He scooped a couple of beige pistachios from a porcelain bowl. A metal bowl sat next to it, a couple of empty shells nesting inside.

“About ninety minutes. No time for another round.” I sat. Our chairs faced the windows and were so close our knees touched.

“That’s fine. I just want to talk to you.”

“You smell different,” I said.

He smiled. “The last cologne… Jessica got it for me for Christmas seven years ago. I had something new made up north. Do you like it?”

“It’s the other side of you.”

He removed the meat from a nut and placed it to my lips. I glanced around. The bar was empty except for Larry, who was wiping glasses to an optic shine. I took the nut into my mouth like an offering.

“Which side is that?” He looked at me with those tourmaline eyes, his copper hair glinting at the edges from the afternoon sun.

I didn’t know if I was allowed to fall for him, since he’d shed Jessica like an old skin. I didn’t know if I was allowed to believe she was gone, or if that much had changed between us. “The side that makes me beg.”