Submit (Page 6)

Submit (Songs of Submission #3)(6)
Author: C.D. Reiss

I towered over Terry, the hostess, in four-inch heels. They made me about six feet tall, but I’d wanted to be looking Jonathan in the face. I needed to catch lies and half-truths before they dropped.

The room was a different one, smaller, with two sets of cocktail tables, and a leather loveseat and coffee table in the center of the room. He stood by the wall of windows, and when he looked at me, my heart stopped for half a beat. It was the work clothes, the charcoal suit, maroon tie, and the cufflinks. The glass of Perrier in his fingertips.

But when I got close, something had changed. His scent wasn’t the dry one I remembered, but something like sawdust, leather, and wet earth. The aroma was less beautiful, but sexier, and I felt the effects of it in the weight and wetness of my snatch and the tingle in my ass.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hello.”

The door closed behind me. I wanted to hold him, to forget everything. If I could only pretend Jessica hadn’t come into the bar, I would have wrapped myself around him. I stepped close to him, until we were eye to eye.

“Can I get you a glass of water?” he asked.

“No, thanks.”

“Flat water? I can get it without bubbles.”

“No, thanks.”

“I can order up some cookies.”

“I don’t want anything.”

“Can you just tell me what she told you?”

“You’re all aquiver, Jonathan. What do you think she told me?” My tone was sharper than I’d intended.

He swirled the ice around in his glass. “Something that upset you.” He was going to dance around indefinitely. He was guarded and undoubtedly ready to be dishonest about something.

I had come prepared to make it very difficult for him. “Yes. She said something that upset me. A lot.” I hooked my finger in his waistband.

“Did she say you looked fat? She can be very catty.”

“Funny guy.” I pulled his belt from the loop, yanking the tongue from the metal hook. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I want it answered in detail.” His belt fell open with a metallic clank. I took the glass from his hand and placed it on the table. His fingertips went for my face, but I pulled them away. “Hands at your sides.”

“You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” I unzipped his pants. “I’m going to be on my knees. No touching.”

“Was there a question? You said there was a question.”

I dropped to my knees and rubbed his organ through his underwear, hardening it. I put my lips to it and breathed a hot breath, then rubbed my teeth through the cloth covering his growing stiffness. He groaned.

I pulled out his cock, the gorgeous thing, and licked the tip. “Are you ready for my question?”

“No.”

I put the head in my mouth to get it wet, sucking on the way out. “You stop talking, I stop sucking. Okay?” I looked up at him.

He reached for my hair, but I pushed his hand back.

“Okay,” he said, and I could hear the smile on his lips.

I gave the head another suck, then said, “Tell me where you went after you dropped me at my house and what happened there.”

“I don’t need a blowjob this bad, Monica.”

“I want your guard down, and I want your dick.” I slid my mouth all the way down then, lips dragging along the length of him, tongue following, my throat open. I let it feel the whole of me for a second before drawing it slowly out.

“God damn.” He reached for the back of my head, and I pulled his hand away again. “I’m tying your hands behind your back next time,” he said.

“You went which way on Vestal Street?”

“I’m just going to cut to it,” he said. “Jessica’s. I went to see Jessica.”

“An hour after we agreed to be exclusive?”

I didn’t want to look at him when he answered, so I took his dick in my mouth and worked it while he spoke.

“She texted me. She wanted to talk. I was always there for her because she was there for me. I didn’t see any harm in it. I didn’t think anything would happen.” He must have felt a hitch in my throat, because he added, “Wait. I don’t want to phrase it like that.”

“Phrase it any way you have to,” I said, stroking his dick with my hand. My saliva made it slick enough to work, and his sharp intake of breath told me he could slip up anytime. A drop of pre-come oozed from his red tip, and I caught it with my tongue. I licked down to the base, his skin paper thin against my tongue, and what I was looking for, the scent of another woman, was nowhere on him.

“Monica, I like you. I don’t want to—” He gasped as a tooth grazed his shaft.

“Speak. I can take it.”

“I didn’t f**k her. I don’t know what she said, but I’m not telling you anything else while you’re sucking me off.” He grabbed my wrists and placed them on my head like I was being arrested. “Now, finish the job.”

I looked up at his smiling lips. I didn’t know what he’d done. Undoubtedly, there was more to the story, but was I going to swallow a load of his come to find out?

I opened my mouth. He held my wrists in his right hand, gripping them tightly. With his left, he guided his c**k into my mouth, and unlike a second ago when I had controlled the situation, the taste and tautness of his skin sent a bolt of pleasure through me. I couldn’t resist it. My pu**y bulged when he tightened his lock on my wrists. Jesus, the motherfucker sucked away my resolve and turned it into orgasms.

He put his left hand to the back of my head and gently thrust himself down my throat, letting out a groan on the third thrust.

“You okay down there?” he asked.

I made a noise that indicated I was.

“Take it. All the way.”

The act of obeying his command engorged my clit. It throbbed, demanding I notice the tone of his voice, his new smell, his hand tugging the hair at the back of my head.

“Flatten your tongue along the bottom. Ah, like that.”

He pushed into my throat, my tongue stroking the underside of his throbbing, hot cock. He squeezed my wrists and thrust hard and fast, holding my head still. I opened my mouth wide to keep from biting him as he went down my throat to the base. The hairs of his stomach tickled my nose. All the concentration it took to keep my mouth open and take his c**k only brought my own orgasm closer.

“I’m coming,” he whispered. It was a statement, not a question, and I was meant to prepare to swallow.