Tease (Songs of Submission #2)(21)
Author: C.D. Reiss

I looked up from the hankie. He was gazing at my mouth as if it was the most interesting body part he’d ever seen. He touched my lower lip with his thumb and brought it down to my chin.

“I know you’re trying to be guarded, but you’re too real for that.” He brushed my lips with his fingertips, and I kissed them. “I think that piece up there wasn’t bullshit. I think it’s the most unkind thing I’ve ever seen. And to sell off the pieces to a stranger is a dirty trick.”

I looked back down at my lap, where my hands sat. My wrists were covered in bangly bracelets to hide the bruises. I felt beat up.

“Thanks for listening,” I said. “This can’t be attractive.”

“If you have never seen beauty in a moment of suffering, you have never seen beauty at all.”

“Who said that?”

“Some German poet. Now, blow your nose. The sniffling’s making me crazy.”

I held up the hankie. “I can’t. It’s too nice.” I sniffed again.

“Are you serious?” He snapped the hankie from me and draped it over his palm. He put it over my nose. It had his dry, foggy smell. “Blow,” he said.

I looked at him over the silk fabric, and he looked back at me, tilting his head as if waiting impatiently for me to blow my nose into his hankie-covered palm. The corners of his mouth curled ever so slightly. He was trying not to laugh.

“Come on now,” he said, squeezing my nose.

I couldn’t hold it in. I burst out laughing.

He laughed too, even as he said, “Blow already.”

“I can’t when I’m laughing.”

“Stop laughing then.” He was a poor salesman for not laughing, of course, as he was mid-crackup.

I took the hankie back and turned away from him. I blew my nose right into that really nice, embroidered accessory, folded it, and blew again before turning back to him. He leaned back on the bench, his arm around the top of it. Streetlamps reflected blue on his cheeks and the tips of his hair. His finger brushed my bare shoulder.

“Do you want this back?” I said, trying not to laugh all over again.

“Keep it.”

CHAPTER 15

I waited in the back seat as Jonathan spoke to Lil outside. I wanted to see him naked again. I wanted his c**k and his lips. I wanted his hands on my hurting parts. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Kevin. After I’d left him, I thought he’d forgotten about me. I sometimes thought he might have been hurt, but I took only gleeful satisfaction in that thought. He had always been the strong and confident one, and I was the doormat.

Jonathan slid in across from me, and Lil slammed the door after him.

“You going to tell me to spread my legs?” I asked.

“I’ll get to it.”

He didn’t. He just looked at me. My knees were pressed together. My ni**les were hardened from the fierce air conditioning, and my hands lay folded on my lap. Once he was done with my body, he looked at my face.

The car moved, and the view of the parking lot turned into L.A. at night.

“I want to do things to you,” Jonathan said, “but you’re not in any physical condition for that right now.”

“I’m not made of sugar.” I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice and feared I’d failed.

“Indeed.” He touched my collarbone and drew his finger down, under my dress, pulling it down below my breast. The knit of the straps strained and held as he extracted my nipple. “Shift forward again.” I pushed my hips to the edge of the seat, flinching with pain. He pulled the other side of my dress down and, getting off his seat, kissed the nipple he took out. I groaned and held his head to me. He sucked it hard, then bit on it, and I gasped.

“I want to tie you to the bed in a hundred positions and f**k you everywhere, but I want those bruises to heal first. I want a clean ass to bruise again.”

“I shouldn’t ask this.”

“Then don’t.” He brushed his finger against my nipple.

“I need to know if you’re like this with everyone. All the women.”

He looked in my eyes for a second, silent, then cast his gaze downward. I didn’t know what I wanted him to say, but the curiosity burned me from the inside out.

His fingertips touched my lips, and I opened my mouth for him. “Make these wet,” he said. “You’re going to need it.” He slid two fingers in.

I put my tongue against them, and I felt them rub my tongue and slide down my throat. He pulled them out, then shoved them in again. I sucked hard, trying to get my saliva going.

“Come on, Monica, you can do better.” He slid his fingers in and out of my mouth, hovering just at my lips then pushing them back in. My sore snatch pounded with heat. I wanted him, despite the pain, or because of it.

His fingers were in my mouth up to his hand. My lips curved around them, and I was sucking. He used his fingers to pull my head up until I faced the ceiling, and his fingers f**ked my mouth from above.

“Pull your skirt up. Gently.” I heard the smirk in his voice as he pulled his fingers out then back. I shifted my skirt around my waist.

“Ah, this is gorgeous.” With his free hand, he stroked under the garter at the tops of my legs where the pain wasn’t so bad. “Now spread these beautiful legs.”

A war raged in my pu**y between the pain of soreness and bruising, and the intense fire of need. When I opened my legs, I groaned into his fingers, because I got warmer when exposed to him.

“More, Monica. Don’t be shy.” I moved them out a little more, but my muscles burned. With his free hand, he yanked my legs apart. I gasped with pain and pleasure. He pulled his soaking fingers out of my mouth, and with his left thumb pressed under my chin, he kept me facing the ceiling.

“You don’t want a relationship,” he said. “But you keep asking about other women.” He put his fingers under the crotch of my underwear and stroked my clit. “Why is that?”

“I can’t say.” I didn’t know how I made words instead of just sounds. The pressure between my legs was so distracting.

“Yes, you do.”

“Ah, that’s so good, Jonathan.”

He put his two fingers in my pu**y. They burned all the way in, and I thrust my hips forward. His thumb rubbed my clit, and I went with his rhythm. His left thumb stayed under my chin almost painfully, keeping me from moving freely.

“Yesterday,” he said, “you mentioned something about rumors, and you asked how many women I brought to the club, and now, another question. Do you want to f**k or not?”