In Your Corner
Page 49
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“Do it now. I can’t take any more.” I whimper, unable to control the desperate rock of my hips as he withdraws his fingers yet again.
“Not yet.”
My lust-soaked brain tries to process his words. Why am I not coming when I want to come? Why am I playing this game? But the answer comes in a heartbeat. Somewhere deep inside I wanted this. And I knew what the game was going to be the minute I took off my panties.
The next three minutes are the longest of my life. Jake brings me up and takes me down. A flick of his thumb over my throbbing clit, the stroke of his finger over my swollen inner tissue, a hand squeezing my br**sts, and even a breathtaking moment when he bares one breast for his nipping pleasure. The band plays. The bass pounds. Moisture floods my sex, trickling down my thighs. Excitement and fear thunder through my veins. The fans cheer and stomp their feet. But nothing is as loud as the rush of blood through my veins or the rasp of Jake’s breath in my ear, and nothing has ever consumed me so absolutely and totally as the almost painful, overwhelming need to orgasm.
“Jake…please.”
“You’re doing so well, baby. Breathe through it. Give it up to me.” He slicks my moisture up and around my clit, so close but never close enough, bringing me down again from the peak I almost reached seconds ago. I tighten, gripping him, my body getting wetter, hotter, clenching around his fingers, and he continues to torture and tease.
The band finally segues into a new tune. My pleas become whimpers. Jake whispers encouragement in my ear. He tells me he knows it hurts, but it will be worth it in the end. He tells me to let go, to trust him to take care of me. Never have I been so completely at a man’s mercy. Never have I been so out of my mind with lust I don’t care.
The tempo changes. The lead singer falls to his knees. Smoke jets into the air, perfuming the venue with the chalky, sweet scent of dry ice. The music turns into one long stream of white noise. The lead singer screams and the audience screams back.
“Now, baby.” Jake’s voice rumbles in my ear. “Come for me.” He simultaneously strokes his thumb over my clit and pulses his fingers against the sensitive tissue of my inner walls. I shoot from simmer to full boil in an instant, coiling, coiling, climbing, and then my orgasm hits like a tidal wave, crashing over me, drowning me in sensation until I can’t tell the difference between pleasure and pain.
And I scream. A scream to end all screams, blending in with the screams around me. Head back, body rigid, hands locked around Jake’s neck. The scream starts in my belly and radiates outward, taking my tension, my need, and my will with it. My orgasm grips me, my hips rocking violently against his hand, but he continues to stroke inside me, drawing it out until I slump, boneless, against the wall.
“Fuck. That was beautiful.” He pulls me up against his chest, taking my weight in his strong arms. “I want you so bad I’m tempted to take you right here. Right now.”
“Please do.”
He cups my jaw with his hand and tilts my head up. His jaw is tight and tension creases the corners of his eyes. “Not yet.”
“But…” I slide one hand over his erection, palming his hard steel through his jeans. “You’re so hard. Let me take care of you.”
“It’s okay, baby. I’m good.” He releases me and helps me straighten my clothes while I lean against the door, dazed, exhausted, and confused. I look out over the sea of heads and spot a flash of gold on stage. “Oh. My. God. Penny’s on the stage.”
Jake spins around, and for a moment we can only stare at Penny dirty dancing with the lead singer.
“Where the f**k is Fuzz?”
I scan the crowd and spot Fuzzy and Shayla frantically trying to get Penny’s attention. “There. Right up at the front. They’re trying to coax her down.” But with the lead singer wrapped around her, and their hips humping and pumping in time to a heavy metal ballad, Penny doesn’t seem interested in anything except the tribute to death metal grinding his c**k into her ass.
“We’d better go give them a hand.” Jake brushes his lips over my cheek. “When you said she was into death metal, you weren’t kidding.”
We take a few steps out of the alcove and I hesitate. “Wait. I think they’re done. He’s slipping something into her hand.” As the last notes of the ballad fade away, the lead singer spins Penny around and plants a long, wet one on her. All tongue. No class.
The crowd goes crazy. Penny grins and curtsies. Fuzzy leaps up on stage with the agility of a pole-vaulter and helps her back down to the floor. High fives all round.
By the time we reach them, the band is halfway through their next song.
“He invited me backstage after the show,” Penny whispers in my ear after I pull her aside. “His name is Vetch Retch, and boy, can he kiss.”
I glance up at Vetch. He is well over six feet of skinny scrawniness. Long, unkempt hair falling to the waist; eyes ringed black with makeup; tight, black leather pants that show off his scrawny chicken-like legs. Mick Jagger eat your heart out.
“You can do better.”
Penny shakes her head. “He’s a British girl’s dream lad. And look at that face. Stark beauty. Plus, it’s been a dry year, and he’s the lead singer in a famous band. Once I get a picture of us on all my social media, my mates will be seething with jealousy.”
After the last of the endless encores, Shayla and I go with Penny to make sure she’ll be all right on her own backstage. A huge bouncer wearing a Slugs T-shirt motions her forward with a thick finger and then he points to Shayla and me. “Ladies can join you if they want. We always like the ladies.”
“Not yet.”
My lust-soaked brain tries to process his words. Why am I not coming when I want to come? Why am I playing this game? But the answer comes in a heartbeat. Somewhere deep inside I wanted this. And I knew what the game was going to be the minute I took off my panties.
The next three minutes are the longest of my life. Jake brings me up and takes me down. A flick of his thumb over my throbbing clit, the stroke of his finger over my swollen inner tissue, a hand squeezing my br**sts, and even a breathtaking moment when he bares one breast for his nipping pleasure. The band plays. The bass pounds. Moisture floods my sex, trickling down my thighs. Excitement and fear thunder through my veins. The fans cheer and stomp their feet. But nothing is as loud as the rush of blood through my veins or the rasp of Jake’s breath in my ear, and nothing has ever consumed me so absolutely and totally as the almost painful, overwhelming need to orgasm.
“Jake…please.”
“You’re doing so well, baby. Breathe through it. Give it up to me.” He slicks my moisture up and around my clit, so close but never close enough, bringing me down again from the peak I almost reached seconds ago. I tighten, gripping him, my body getting wetter, hotter, clenching around his fingers, and he continues to torture and tease.
The band finally segues into a new tune. My pleas become whimpers. Jake whispers encouragement in my ear. He tells me he knows it hurts, but it will be worth it in the end. He tells me to let go, to trust him to take care of me. Never have I been so completely at a man’s mercy. Never have I been so out of my mind with lust I don’t care.
The tempo changes. The lead singer falls to his knees. Smoke jets into the air, perfuming the venue with the chalky, sweet scent of dry ice. The music turns into one long stream of white noise. The lead singer screams and the audience screams back.
“Now, baby.” Jake’s voice rumbles in my ear. “Come for me.” He simultaneously strokes his thumb over my clit and pulses his fingers against the sensitive tissue of my inner walls. I shoot from simmer to full boil in an instant, coiling, coiling, climbing, and then my orgasm hits like a tidal wave, crashing over me, drowning me in sensation until I can’t tell the difference between pleasure and pain.
And I scream. A scream to end all screams, blending in with the screams around me. Head back, body rigid, hands locked around Jake’s neck. The scream starts in my belly and radiates outward, taking my tension, my need, and my will with it. My orgasm grips me, my hips rocking violently against his hand, but he continues to stroke inside me, drawing it out until I slump, boneless, against the wall.
“Fuck. That was beautiful.” He pulls me up against his chest, taking my weight in his strong arms. “I want you so bad I’m tempted to take you right here. Right now.”
“Please do.”
He cups my jaw with his hand and tilts my head up. His jaw is tight and tension creases the corners of his eyes. “Not yet.”
“But…” I slide one hand over his erection, palming his hard steel through his jeans. “You’re so hard. Let me take care of you.”
“It’s okay, baby. I’m good.” He releases me and helps me straighten my clothes while I lean against the door, dazed, exhausted, and confused. I look out over the sea of heads and spot a flash of gold on stage. “Oh. My. God. Penny’s on the stage.”
Jake spins around, and for a moment we can only stare at Penny dirty dancing with the lead singer.
“Where the f**k is Fuzz?”
I scan the crowd and spot Fuzzy and Shayla frantically trying to get Penny’s attention. “There. Right up at the front. They’re trying to coax her down.” But with the lead singer wrapped around her, and their hips humping and pumping in time to a heavy metal ballad, Penny doesn’t seem interested in anything except the tribute to death metal grinding his c**k into her ass.
“We’d better go give them a hand.” Jake brushes his lips over my cheek. “When you said she was into death metal, you weren’t kidding.”
We take a few steps out of the alcove and I hesitate. “Wait. I think they’re done. He’s slipping something into her hand.” As the last notes of the ballad fade away, the lead singer spins Penny around and plants a long, wet one on her. All tongue. No class.
The crowd goes crazy. Penny grins and curtsies. Fuzzy leaps up on stage with the agility of a pole-vaulter and helps her back down to the floor. High fives all round.
By the time we reach them, the band is halfway through their next song.
“He invited me backstage after the show,” Penny whispers in my ear after I pull her aside. “His name is Vetch Retch, and boy, can he kiss.”
I glance up at Vetch. He is well over six feet of skinny scrawniness. Long, unkempt hair falling to the waist; eyes ringed black with makeup; tight, black leather pants that show off his scrawny chicken-like legs. Mick Jagger eat your heart out.
“You can do better.”
Penny shakes her head. “He’s a British girl’s dream lad. And look at that face. Stark beauty. Plus, it’s been a dry year, and he’s the lead singer in a famous band. Once I get a picture of us on all my social media, my mates will be seething with jealousy.”
After the last of the endless encores, Shayla and I go with Penny to make sure she’ll be all right on her own backstage. A huge bouncer wearing a Slugs T-shirt motions her forward with a thick finger and then he points to Shayla and me. “Ladies can join you if they want. We always like the ladies.”
