Jonathan – first morning
Jonathan's Point of View – his and Monica's first morning together
She stared up at me with my dick at her cheek, smiling. I propped my hand under my head so I could watch her. She licked me with the flattest part of her tongue. When she got to the top, she slid the entire length of it down her throat. It felt endless.
She took my breath away.
“Where did you learn to do that?” I asked.
“Los Angeles High School of Performing Arts,” she said. “They taught me how to open my throat to sing. Then Kevin Wainwright taught me how to put his dick down it.”
She was perfectly within her rights to mention another man in passing. We were in the middle of exactly nothing. Our encounter would be forgotten in a week or a month. Yet, I didn’t care for it. Not at all.
“I’d like to thank LA Unified and Kevin Whatever for this moment.” I said.
A little laugh escaped her lips. “I like you, Jonathan.”
Lots of women had told me lots of things over the years, and many of them meant it so ardently I had to walk out of the room before they mistook another ounce of physical contact as agreement. But no other woman had made something so simple and non-committal sound so sincere.
“Feeling’s mutual Monica,” I replied with the same sincerity. I did like her. She was fun and smart, two traits that rarely kept company with beauty. “Put your hands behind your back.”
She did it without comment or complaint, and when I pushed her head slowly down onto my cock, she moved with me. Perfect. I gathered her hair in my fist and moved her. She gave me control like she was returning my wallet with the money still in it; as if it had always been mine.
I wanted to taste her, and did. I licked her. Then I fucked her slowly, then quickly, then slowly again. She was so easy to read, with her shuddering cunt and articulations melting into throaty gasps. I pulled her away, until she begged me for release, then I took her halfway, watching her lose herself in pleasure.
“Please,” she gasped. “I need to come.”
“No, you don’t.”
“May I? Please?”
I wanted to watch her fall apart, break into pleading. A few more strokes and I’d have her. I never in my life wanted a woman to shudder under the intensity of pleasure more than this one. And if she begged with the same words she’d used the first time, all the better.
“Jonathan,” she said. “Please let me come. I can’t…I’m going to lose it. Please do it so I come.”
“Fuck me hard. Please. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll suck anywhere you want. I’ll be yours. It’s all I have, but please fuck me so I come.”
Her sincerity, her realness, the depth of her pleading could not be denied.
I went faster and harder. She clenched around me, arching, crying out. I bit her neck. I wouldn’t normally play with pain the first time, but I had to hurt her. I had to break the velvet texture of her pleasure. It was a craving, like running across the smooth sand of the beach just to put your footprints on it, or getting the first knife mark into the jar of peanut butter, breaking the flawless swirl with a slash. But never the first time. Unless I was dealing with a trained sub, I always waited until the second time to introduce a little pain. I didn’t seem to be able to wait with this one.
I thought she’d push me off, or squeal, but she groaned and pushed herself toward me. A beautiful, smart, funny, masochist.
Almost immediately, I started thinking of ways to see her more than three times while keeping my heart open for Jessica.
I woke to the sound of the water pipes humming. The house had been expensive, but it was still old, and even new pipes didn’t keep a whoosh from being heard in the bedroom whenever a faucet was turned. I can’t say I minded knowing what was going on in another corner of the house.
I found her at the kitchen sink, back to me, hair slung over one shoulder so I could see her neck and the little red mark where I’d bitten her. It would be gone by noon, but I wanted to make more, to stamp my feet in new snow, and feel her buckle under my teeth. I offered her breakfast to get her to stay, but my mind was on that neck and the curve of it.
“How about another go?” I asked. It would count for the first time, and I could see her twice more without her getting attached. As a matter of fact, if I could get her to stay the morning, it would still count for the first time.
“The sun is up,” she teased. I slipped the dress’s zipper down. “You need to beg again. You’re good at it.” I kissed her back, sliding the dress off her shoulders, feeling her skin under it.
“Your phone rang,” she said.
“It’s always ringing.”
She threw her head back and her chest out, like a kitten under my touch. I’d have her on the counter, maybe. Or I’d throw her on the floor. Condoms were upstairs. Fuck. I’d have to drag her up there by the hair, or carry her like a gentleman. Whichever made her squirm more.
The phone buzzed.
I did work. I didn’t have to, but I enjoyed building things and not being a waste of life like my sister, Fiona. I cared about what I did. So when the phone buzzed, I glanced at it even though I had an erection pressed against a beautiful young woman’s ass.
“I think I need to take this,” I said, zipping her back up.
“Sure,” she whispered. “My shoes are upstairs.”
I popped the phone from the charger and went outside.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Jon.” Her voice, so collected and in control.
“Is this about the Eclipse show?”
“I need to know if you’re going.”
I sat on the patio couch, rubbing my eyes. I was tired again. Drained.
“You have a career now, Jess. You don’t need me at every event.”
I could hear the pout and look of discontent transmitted over fiber optic cables.
“You know how important this is. You know that you’re seen as a major collector. If you don’t go, it will look like you only supported me because we were married.”
“No, it’ll look like I had other plans.”
“I need you to go.”
“And I need to be left alone, Jessica. I don’t need to spend my time looking at you with Erik.” I was getting pissed thinking about it. “Do you enjoy that it upsets me? Does it get you off?”
“You know it doesn’t.”
“I’m not going. The end. Get your kicks elsewhere.”
I hung up.
That was a first. I’d never told her to fuck off before. It felt kind of good. I’d have to do it again some time. I leaned back in my chair staring out at the pool, the surface still in the late summer heat.
My phone buzzed, and I looked over it. A text.
—I’ll tell Erik to stay home—
I realized I didn’t want her to acquiesce. Erik pissed me off, but her friends whispering that I liked to fuck like a violent offender were worse.
Which reminded me of the night before.
The singer. One more go.
I went inside.
“Monica?” I cursed the size of the house. I heard the rumble of a car starting out front. By the time I got out to the porch, she’d pulled into the street.
We’d have another go when I got back from my trip. I was sure of it.
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