Throb (Club Grit) (7 page)

“If you want it, you’re going to have to get it,” I teased, punctuating the sentence with a few quick motions of my hips, forcing him and in and out of my opening quickly, before pulling off of him, and forcing him out of me, until all that was left was the head of his cock.

Jason didn’t need any further instruction. He pulled all the way out of me, slipped out from under me, leaving me on the bed, stomach to the sheets, back to the air. “You want it rough, baby?” he asked, his voice deep once again, as he took my ass, a cheek in each hand, and started to open me up as if I was a ripe fruit, requiring coring.

“Yes, Jason,” I said quickly, impatient and needing for his dick even though it had only been out of me for a minute.

“You’re going to have to beg for it, then,” he said, and I knew I had my dominant Jason back. As fun as it was to have him as my slave, sometimes, I needed him to take control. He was such a nice guy, I was sure it didn’t come naturally to him, but when Jason unleashed the beast within, I knew that he was capable of bringing me to sheer ecstasy.

“Please, Jason, fuck me,” I said quickly.

“No, say it like you mean it.”

“I do mean it,” I said, but then I let out a yelp, as Jason smacked my ass, hard. I’d talked back to him and he was punishing me, with no ifs, ands, or buts about it...except for the butt he was torturing by not sticking his cock inside its perfect hole.

“Any more questions?” he asked.

I resisted correcting him, telling him that I hadn’t asked a question, and said, “Please, Jason, I’d really like it if you fucked me,” in as sweet a voice as possible. I needed Jason and I wasn’t about to let my mouth deny my loins the ultimate pleasure.

“Sounds like maybe I need to teach your mouth a lesson, baby,” he said, moving his hands up to my waist, and turning me over by force. I didn’t know what to expect: his cock in my mouth? His fingers? Instead, he climbed on top of me and pressed his mouth onto mine, firmly. This was no kiss: this was an act of dominance, as if he was whispering a dirty command into my ears, except conveyed only through delicate fire. Jason was always careful: when he bit, he didn’t draw blood. When he sucked at my neck, he left no permanent bruising. It didn’t mean that he didn’t know how to though, and that with every motion, he made me worry in that all too enticing way.

As Jason nibbled at my lower lip, his hands pressed down hard on my shoulders, massaging my collarbones forcefully, he entered me like a hot knife through warmed butter, and I let out a moan, a moan he swallowed down along with my mouth’s juices, shutting me up with a long and passionate kiss as he kept thrusting in and out of me. He didn’t let go until after my body had, with a mind of its own, driven by lust, forced my legs to wrap around his waist, and when he did, it was only to make me moan louder. Jason kept one hand on my shoulders, the other, moved down to my pleasure center.

“I forgot something important, Becca,” he teased.

“It’s fine, I’ve got an IUD,” I said, confused. He pressed his hand to my mouth to shut me up: not a finger, not two fingers in my mouth, but a hand clapped over my mouth.

“Do you like your martinis shaken...” he started coyly, pulling out of me and then thrusting in, faster and faster, so that my entire body was shaking on the bed, and not just from its own writhing, but from the sheer power that Jason was releasing. If it wasn’t for his hand on my mouth, I’m sure that the screams I let out would have shattered his windows, because he knew how much I loved it when he fucked me this way, when he fucked me instead of making love to me, instead of trying to pleasure me, instead of trying to bring me to some pleasurable plane of existence that laid too much pressure on me. When he just took me, used me, and treated me like his own personal fuck toy, without regard for things like comfort and sensation, that’s when Jason pleased me the most.

He released my mouth, and then leaned in again, whispering into my ear, “...or stirred?” He took the hand that he’d kept tracing around my inner folds and brought it up to my clit, pressing down on it with his thumb and with his index finger, rubbing in small, slow arcs in the area between the clit and its hood, back and forth like a pendulum, each press of the thumb punctuating a full cycle. I let out a short moan with each press, and Jason shut me up again with his mouth, which, even in the dark, I could tell was spread in a wide smile.

Jason let out a low chuckle. “It doesn’t matter, does it? If you want your drinks on the house, you better be prepared to take whatever the bartender serves you, barfly. Or are you a lush, tonight? Who are you, Becca?”

“I’m –” I started, but Jason interrupted me by fucking me hard while pressing his fingers onto me, hard.

“Who are you, Becca?” he kept teasing. “Say it, Becca, say it, out loud.”

“I’m, I’m –” I started, but Jason didn’t stop, and he knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn’t letting me finish, and he was giving me exactly what I wanted. It was a devilish game, and he knew that talking dirty was the only thing that worked better on me that fucking dirty.

“Say it, Becca. Out loud.”

I knew what the answer he wanted was. He wanted me to say something like,
I’m your fuck toy,
or
Baby, I’m all yours
, or even
I’m the only one who needs your dick right now, so get to work
. Unfortunately, that wasn’t what I could say. There was something else that I had to say, and he had to know.

As I felt the pressure that had built in me, from the moment that we’d gotten up from the living room, continuing when I was the one in the lead, and leading up to this moment, I knew that the answer I was going to give Jason wasn’t the one he was expecting. It was too bad. If anything that happened between us was somehow not predictable, if it somehow made sense, then we wouldn’t be here to begin with.

“I’m coming, Jason, I’m coming,” I said, reaching up from the bed, to wrap my arms around him the way that my legs were already around him, pulling him tight as I felt the contractions on his shaft. “I’m coming.”

“That’s right, baby, that’s right,” he said, making sure he kept thrusting into me, hard, and pressing into me with his fingers, knowing that if that was what had worked to get me to my current state, that if he continued, he could ensure that I kept orgasming for him.

My folds squeezed him as hard as his fingers pressed into me, and I felt his dick start to throb, faster and faster, the veins pressing into me as well. The physical lines between Jason and I became blurrier because with each throb, it was like the two of us were like one person. With each throb, I felt him getting closer to a release, and felt myself getting closer to another as well. With each throb, I knew that Jason and I had something that we needed to figure out, that we needed to define, and that the two of us deserved a label, that we deserved something to describe our relationship.

“Becca, I’m, I’m,” he started, before letting out a moan, and as he kept himself plunged inside of me, his shaft still throbbing as I felt the head of his cock start to quiver, I knew that he was going to have his own release.

“I know, baby, I know,” I said, before I let out my own moan. The heat of his cum, which started to shoot up and into me, past my cervix, sent a shockwave through my body. It was as if I had been struck by white-hot lightning, our bodies now fused electrically as well as by the glues of our fluids. We were together, we were one, linked as we lay in the now sticky sheets that pooled around us like unending waves from some foreign ocean, an ocean that was thick and mysterious, like love itself.

“Jason, I, I,” I started, but I couldn’t finish my sentence. I felt myself clench up again, the time for loosening and taking more cock past, the time for needing to hold onto Jason with all parts of my body, inside and out, required lest I float away, off the sheets, carried on the winds of pleasure.

“I know, Becca, I can feel it,” he said with a moan, as he kept himself inside of me, as he started to thrust faster and faster with what remained of his erection, not about to let any part of my second orgasm go to waste. Jason pulled me close, locking his mouth onto my neck and biting down, harder than usual, and making me moan as I kept myself wrapped on his softening stiffness, until finally, all that was left was a feeling of pure bliss.

We lay in the dark, holding each other, and drifted to sleep. Jason and I still hadn’t given what we had a name, but we’d given each other pleasures that nobody else could give us. Our dynamic wasn’t able to be replicated, the same way an artisan luxury good couldn’t be. As I closed my eyes for the last time that night, the only word I thought of was his name.
Jason.

W
HEN I GOT BACK TO THE HOUSE, the rest of the girls were finishing up breakfast. Kim took me aside, into the hall. “You haven’t been spending as much time with the sisters, now that you’ve been seeing so much of that bartender,” she said, clucking her tongue.

I wanted to roll my eyes, to tell Kim off, to give her a piece of my mind for once, but I knew she was technically right. I’d been spending more and more time with Jason during my days off, and basically, I was using the sorority like a dorm, as if I was an RA who planned a few mixers and that was it. Mixer season was practically over now that the sorority was spending so much time at Club Grit, but every time I bailed to hang out with Jason, I missed things like late night Starbucks and McDonalds runs, like mooning the frats, like staying up late and watching the sun rise, sitting on the roof with the girls.

“I’ll make plans, I swear. I’ll hang out with Sam more,” I said, knowing Sam was always up for a good time. She didn’t have a boyfriend or a job to occupy her spare time.

“Not good enough. You aren’t involved with the freshman as much as you should be. Give her a hand with Emma, take her out with you two, shopping. Ask her about that bouncer while you’re at it. I don’t want her dating a boy like him.” Before I could say something, Kim left,  but I thought to myself about what Kim meant by a “boy like him”. What kind of boy was she insinuating the bouncer was? Just because he had tattoos and a rougher style than Kim was used to didn’t mean she had to be a jerk about it.

Especially seeing as we both knew her own secret.

The rest of the week flew by quickly. I texted Jason a bit but I had to focus on school, with midterms coming up. That Friday afternoon, Sam and Emma and I walked down to Rodeo, just a few blocks from campus (like everything in Beverly Hills worth going to). We headed into the Bebe store before making a stop at a Christian Louboutin pop up boutique. On the way back, we stopped at a macaron and cupcake truck. We all ended up with an assortment of goodies. I ended up with glazed Belgian waffles and a powdered sugar doused cronut, plus, an Orangina. As I licked the different kinds of sugars off my lips, I couldn’t help but think about the mixed drinks that Jason made, with all kinds of sugars and salts on their rims, and as I drank the sour Orangina, I thought of the more classic cocktails he could concoct.

Emma got a bunch of pastel colored macarons: light violet lavender, baby pink rosebud, sheer yellow yuzu fruit, as well as an orange syrup laden Italian soda made into a French crème soda, with whipped cream shaken in, glowing an opaque orange in just the light of the California sun. Samantha went for red velvet cake mini cupcakes and a pie pop: a literal pie on a lollipop stick, oozing blueberry goodness through the quilting, with a San Pellegrino grapefruit soda

“Tell me about your date with Skylar!” asked Becca.

“Long story short, it was not the greatest,” said Emma.

“Nobody wants a short story. Tell all,” demanded Samantha.

“Alright, so, he was cute as usual, but we didn’t really click. He talked more about himself than I expected and I guess that away from work, bouncers are just normal guys and I want something...more,” said Emma, but I could tell it was a lie. Something had probably gone wrong. “We took a pic.”

The pic confirmed my suspicions. It was too posed, too artificial, not awkward enough. “You guys make such a cute couple...but if you’re not feeling it, I guess you’re just not feeling it,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

“You invited DeAndre tonight, right?” asked Samantha.

“Wait. Wait. Wait...Kim let her invite DeAndre?” I was shocked. Sam knew as well as I did what DeAndre had done just a few weeks before.

“Uh, yeah, why?” said Emma.

“Well, you know DeAndre gets...handsy, right?” I didn’t want to put him on blast but Emma had a right to know what DeAndre was capable of.

“Yeah, I know, I kinda got handsy back with him on Thursday, at Pub Night.” Emma had no idea how handsy he could get, though.

“Oh, well, as long as you know,” said Samantha.

I shot Sam a glare. “I’ve got to go,” I said, pulling out my phone. It was true. I did have something to deal with.

I texted back Keanne.

I
N THE LIMO, I didn’t want to sit near Emma. She was all over DeAndre and I had my own problem to deal with that night, texting Keanne. He’d been texting me back within minutes but I was still playing it cool, only answering a few hours after I received his texts, so he didn’t think I was as desperate for attention from him as I was. I’d missed him so much over the past school year that I didn’t want him to think that I was needy or clingy or any other word that a guy like him would attach to someone who showed emotion and affection.

However, it was Keanne that had suggested we meet up sooner rather than later, that I accompany him on a trip to New York City. He said it’d be like old times and that he had something he wanted to discuss with me. Although my heart was pounding at the thought of Keanne asking me to get serious, to be his girlfriend, I didn’t tell anyone at the sorority about it, not even Kim or Sam, because I wanted to see how things in New York went first.

As usual, we headed straight to the VIP, but as soon as the pledges were down on the dance floor and I’d had three shots of tequila, no salt, no lime, I took Kim aside with Sam. “I don’t know what the two of you are thinking, but you have to keep DeAndre away from the girls,” I said seriously.