Read The Willing Online

Authors: JJ Moreau

The Willing (19 page)

"What's with the grin?" I wanted to sound authoritative, but I could hear my voice tremble. Was this some kind of test?

Oliver shook his head absently and before I could question him again, his fingers cupped my cheek and he bent forward, bridging the distance between us with a soft, chaste kiss.

It wasn't just the first time I felt his lips on mine, but also the very first time he touched me of his own volition. My useless heart leapt into my throat. I froze, not quite knowing what to do, afraid that if I moved he'd come to his senses and stop.

My right hand darted up to fist in his shirt before I could think the better of it. Oliver huffed a breath against my cheek, but it wasn't even close to
stop, let go
, so I let my fingers slide across his flank to the small of his back. I'd watched him writhe and whimper at the height of pleasure and I had seen him when he was holding back tears. I knew what he sounded like when he was angry, how his voice went all sharp and jagged, like a serrated knife.

And now I knew how he kissed. My insides quivered. If there had been a chance, however slim, that I'd emerge from this with heart intact, I knew I'd missed it.

Oliver drew back, licking his lips.

"Oh hell, we can do better than that," I said, not because I minded his polite little peck but because I couldn't stand him looking all smug like that, thinking he'd managed to one-up me.

I took him by the nape and pulled him to me hard, his body flush against mine, a surprised little moan trapped between us. He steadied himself with both hands at my waist and I couldn't help think of those long fingers on other parts of my body. I'd fantasized about this, wondered what it might be like to be wanted as well as to want: now I had the chance to find out.

Oliver's tongue dueled against mine, his breaths short as he finally submitted and let me kiss him as I pleased. He only put up a little token resistance after that, hissing as I nipped at his lip and ran my teeth over his unshaven jaw.

He tasted of coffee and mint and something darker. I liked it.

His eyes were wild and liquid, but he was too tall for me and I knew I was giving him a back ache. "Get on the bed," I urged, all semblance of reluctance lost.

Oliver grinned, anticipation shinning giddy on his face. He obeyed quickly, not even stopping to kick off his shoes. I seized his shoulders as I straddled his thighs. Better. So much better. Oliver gripped my waist in his broad, delicate hands as if to help hold me steady. I felt my heart clench in my chest. He could be so careful with me. Not tentative, just mindful to touch me gently. I knew he liked to be roughed up in bed, but that didn't necessarily mean he wanted to return the favor.

I was more than okay with that. I'd always preferred being in the driver's seat.

"I'm going to fuck you," I whispered sweetly against his ear, then suckled the lobe into my mouth. He shivered with a gasp. I could tell he liked that, so I bit a little harder, worrying the soft, sensitive nub between my teeth. The thought of having him at my mercy in bed was as heady as a drug. I couldn’t get enough.

I shoved hard with both hands, pressing him down to the mattress but leaving his legs to dangle over the edge. I didn't think I could wait for props and foreplay; I needed him now.

If Oliver was surprised by my fingers busily undoing his belt, he gave nothing away. I watched him draw in a ragged breath as I sunk a hand into his pants and seized his dick, but other than that, he kept quiet. Watchful. I wondered if he, too, had lain awake in bed at night after our sessions and wondered what it might be like to go all the way. And despite committing never to invade his privacy, I couldn't help wonder if he touched himself while thinking of me as he stroked himself.

Had I not known they were there, the soft, whitish welts on his cock wouldn't have crossed my mind. I could barely even feel them under my hand, but something in Oliver's expression flickered as I touched him. His furrowed brows told me he was fretting. "That feel good, baby?" I asked, licking my lips. "You're so hard for me already..."

He moaned, low and damn near growling in his throat, and I felt the sound ripple across my skin like a clap of thunder.

"Tell me you've got condoms lying around." I worried I was going to come too quickly, worried I was close enough already, just teetering on the edge. Every session we'd had together over the past two weeks had been a sort of foreplay and I was trembling with pent-up need for him. 

"Lying around?" Oliver quipped, voice a little choked. "No, not so much, but there's some in the dresser..."

I could tell he was trying to be helpful, but honestly I was too far gone to be magnanimous. "Too far," I groaned and started rifling through the pockets of my leather jacket. I'd never been a girl scout, but my job had taught me the value of preparedness. Hand to God, I never left the house without lube and condoms on me anymore, just in case Madam called and asked me to take a shift.

Even if my clients never got past third base, Michelle sometimes went all the way; I liked being able to help her out.

Propped on his elbows, Oliver laughed as I tore the wrapper with my teeth. "I thought they only did that in movies," he said and I wondered how someone could be both so charming and so unnerving at the same time.

"Are you going to make jokes," I asked, "or be a good boy for me?"

Oliver's grin trembled a little. "I wish I could touch you." He sounded so wistful I nearly came right there.

"What's stopping you?" My hands were busy rolling the condom down his dick and copping a feel at the same time; I wasn't holding him down.

"Really?" His brows lifted high on his forehead, like he couldn't believe it. "Why didn't you say sooner..."

Before I could answer, Oliver had reversed our positions, pressing me into the mattress as his fingers slid under my skirt. I inhaled a breath and parted my legs. Later, I'd wonder that I didn't protest his taking control. In the moment, though, all I knew was that I'd made the right decision: Oliver's long fingers cupped me through my panties, a gasp catching in his throat.

"Jesus, you're soaked..."

"What, did you think I was faking?" I hadn't thought to worry that he might until now, which stole the wind from my sails a little bit as I struggled to meet his gaze. "Hey—Oliver."

He turned to me with vision unfocused, still stroking his thumb over the crotch of my underwear. "What?"

"Never... never mind." I was putting his face to my worst fears, but that didn't mean they were justified or shared. Oliver surged up to kiss me, all teeth and tongue and enthusiasm, and I stopped worrying altogether, if only for a little while.

Together, we got my skirt pushed up to my waist as I wrestled Oliver out of his pants. He shivered, his condom-sheathed cock straining and hard. I wanted him inside me. Oliver nodded, stroking himself almost lazily as he settled above me.

In truth, we were like teenagers, still feeling our way around each other. We were utterly graceless. I only narrowly avoided elbowing him in the nose. He laughed and kissed my collarbones. Turns out Oliver's mouth was good for more than keening and rebuking me when it suited; he took my breath away when he licked and bit at my sensitive skin.

My fingers tangled in his hair. "Do that again," I gritted out and felt his teeth graze my skin.

He bit down when he entered me, not meaning to hurt. "Fuck, I'm sorry—fuck." His lips pressed into the crook of my neck, almost as though he was hiding; no wonder, if pleasure he felt as he slipped inside my cunt was anything like mine.

"Don't be sorry," I hissed. "Don't stop." I gripped him with arms and legs, pulling him into me so tightly that I could barely breathe. Every exhale that left his lungs brushed my ear, sending delicious shivers cascading through my body. Mine were coming just as quickly, though louder, demanding of him what he'd never tried to deny me.

It was a graceless romp. Oliver couldn't wait to slide inside me to the hilt before he began thrusting. I didn't want him to, goading with every slap of skin on skin for him to go faster, fuck me harder. He might have been the one pinning me to the bed sheets, but I was in control. Some things never changed.

Oliver tore his mouth away from my neck to pant raggedly against the pillowcase. "Jo—I'm, I need to, please. Please let me..."

"Come," I breathed, offering permission if needed it. "Come for me, honey." I was close, but not close enough to follow as his hips stuttered against mine.

I could pinpoint the exact moment when Oliver came undone; his whole body seized, mouth parting on a wordless cry. He rode it out fast, clutching at my shoulders as fell as against me.

Easily one of the most memorable fucks I'd had in years—and not just because Oliver kept repeating my name. I liked that he made a mantra of it. I could've contented myself with stroking my fingers through his hair as he came down, but Oliver was too sharp not to notice he'd left me hanging.

"What do you need?" he murmured, drawing himself up on his elbows. "What can I give you?"

I thought about having him watch me as I jilled off or holding him by the nape as he licked and suckled at my cunt. There was something I wanted even more than that.

Courage felt like a knot in my throat. "You have a strap-on, right?"

Oliver nodded. "Yeah. You want?"

"I'd like to try that on you," I said, even as he asked me. We both laughed, more nervous than amused, and my fingers reached up to cup his cheek. "We don't have to. I just think it could be fun." And it was one of the few things absolutely guaranteed to get me off.

When I was younger and still discovering sex through porn magazines and the ever-enlightening internet, I'd always wondered why I found the idea of being on the giving end of sex so erotic. For a while there, I had even fretted about a gender identity issue; started reading up on disorders and sex change operations. But it wasn't the fact that I was a woman that felt wrong. I had some boyfriends who were more attentive than others and screwed around on my own enough to discover that I liked having a vagina. I liked being a woman, but I still wanted to be the one doing the screwing when I was with a partner.

Maybe it had something to do with my need for control; ultimately, I didn't care and I stopped asking questions. The boyfriends who freaked out when I mentioned anal play never worked out anyway. Those who were more adventurous got to see a side of me that wasn't all that obvious.

I almost worried Oliver might be among the former category when he rolled off of me. "I've never actually done that," he chuckled, throwing an arm across his pretty face as if to conceal embarrassment.

He needn't have bothered; I found his timidity inexplicably endearing.

"We don't have to," I hastened to repeat.

"Are you kidding?" Oliver snorted. "We really do."

I planted a kiss to the closest part of him I could reach. It turned out to be his temple. "I'll get it," I said and bounded off the bed.

Oliver frowned at me from the bed. "Where are you going?"

"Uh," I hesitated in the doorway. "Playroom?"

"I keep the props in here." He pointed to a lacquer dresser on the other side of the bed. There was a key in the topmost drawer that should have tipped me off. "Second drawer," Oliver clarified.

I padded over to the dresser with little shame, taking the opportunity to doff my leather jacket and my top. I should just stop wearing clothes around Oliver altogether, I thought, since I only seemed to end up naked anyway. Not that I minded. I was living the very experience I'd been fantasizing about for so long. Every second was precious.

Take the contents of the drawer for instance, suddenly revealed to me: "You've be teasing me," I shot over my shoulder. "Nipple clamps and riding crops? Baby, looks like that's just the tip of the iceberg."

Oliver grinned as he came up behind me, his skin so warm, so pale against mine. Maybe Madam Madrigal was onto something with that contrast bullshit.

"You sure you're okay with this?" I asked, canting my head back against his shoulder. "I don't want to pressure you into anything—"

"I must look very fragile," Oliver chided softly. "You keep trying to reassure me."

"Yeah, well, it's kind of my job."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wished I hadn't spoken them. Oliver stiffened fractionally behind me and I knew the barb hit home for him, too. I ducked my head a little, pretending to examine the contents of the drawer. "Okay, so what will it be? You've got one you like?"

He selected a black dildo attached to a leather harness with four adjustable straps and held it up for my inspection. "What about this one?"

I ran a hand over the smooth, silicone cock and down to the harness, turning it over and over to see if it held together well. I'd bought two strap-ons and both had their flaws. One was too loose and bounced uselessly against my pubic bone so I could never get much of a rhythm going. The other one was attached to a too-thick cock and none of my partners to date had enjoyed it very much.

Oliver's first choice went to a six inch fake dick that curved prettily, the better to hit all the right places inside his body. I could tell he'd splurged on something built specifically for anal sex. Maybe therein lay my mistake.

"Lube?"

He fished a tube from another drawer and together with our supplies, we settled back on the bed, making out as we worked up the nerve to move past tentative strokes. I slicked my fingers up while Oliver watched and guided my hand between his legs. "Stay on your back," I said, wanting him to be comfortable. "We'll be here a while."

"That a threat?" he quipped and I laughed, shaking my head as I nipped at his lips.

I liked straying off the beaten path when I had man at my mercy; I toyed with Oliver's sac as he sighed against my mouth, my thumb pressing against his perineum when I felt him squirm a little. He turned his head a little to speak and I didn't try to kiss him silent. "Can I touch myself?" Oliver asked me, as if he still needed my permission.

"Yeah." The thought was enough to crank up my dormant engine. "But slow," I insisted. "You'll want to come when I'm inside you."

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