Throb (Club Grit) (6 page)

“Oh, no, I meant do you want to get more comfortable? I have a tank and pajama bottoms in my room for you, if you want,” he said. Usually, I was either in my clubbing clothes or naked with Jason. I hadn’t borrowed his clothes before. I headed into the bedroom. Sure enough, there was a jet black ribbed tank top and a pair of dark blue plaid pajama bottoms. I lifted the clothes up to my face and inhaled. They weren’t just clean, they were new. I slipped them on and put my other clothes in a pile.

I went to the bathroom to see how I looked. The straps of the tank top fell on my mocha shoulders loosely, shoulders with freckles just like the ones across my face, before the fabric tightened over my generous bust. The pajama bottoms fell to my hips, even at their tightest, and I redid my hair so it was in a loose ponytail. Most of my eye makeup had flaked away so I removed the rest with Jason’s face wash, which smelled musky and metallic like most men’s products, but I didn’t care. I looked back up at my clean face and saw someone I rarely saw around others: me, Becca. Becca, without the fancy clothes. Becca, without the caked on makeup. Becca, without the masks, without the shields. I was just Becca again.

Inside the medicine cabinet was my toothbrush, the one that he’d started leaving for me a  month into our “arrangement”. Right now, that was the last thing I wanted to see: a reminder that things between us were getting complicated, and it was something I had to confront. I went back to the living room without brushing my teeth and I picked up a controller. Jason started the game and we were well into the dungeon before I brought up the topic.

“Jason, about the other night...” I said, moving the dwarf character to kill a beast. I always played as the ugliest male characters I could find, as a novelty, at first, but soon, my gaming style developed so that I always played fighter characters and tanks.

“Yeah?” Jason moved the purple female character, raising minions from the dead as her breasts bounced up and down comically on the screen. The sorceress was ridiculous, feeding skeletons with breast milk, but Jason insisted he liked the game for its art style. Right.

“You said you didn’t have any other friends with benefits, right?” I said, picking up gold.

“Yeah?”

“Do you bring home other girls?”

“Nope,” he said, his voice still detached as he focused on the game.

“And you know I bring home other guys, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, not sounding bothered in the least.

“And that doesn’t make you, like mad, or anything?”

Jason paused the game and turned to look at me. “I can’t tell you what to do, Becca,”

“So why don’t you bring home other girls?” I asked, looking back at him.

“Because I don’t want to,” he said, putting down his controller.

I put mine down too, but I still wanted something to hold, to fidget with. I was starting to mirror Jason physically, in terms of actions, and I didn’t like that, didn’t like knowing we had this weird link, that I was starting to act like him without consciously trying too. “When was the last time you brought home someone else?”

“Probably...November?” I hadn’t even met Jason until December.

“No way,” I said, but I knew Jason wouldn’t lie to me.

He gave me a small smile, not showing his teeth, but forming a small wrinkle below his cheeks. “It’s true. I used to be more of what people would maybe call a ‘player’, back when I was younger, when I had what people your age call ‘swag’,” he joked, and I ribbed him with my elbow. He knew he wasn’t that much older than me. “But anyway, in the last few years...I haven’t really been into the casual thing. I had still been bringing home someone maybe every month or so, but ever since I met you, there hasn’t been anyone else.”

Jason didn’t let what he said linger in the air, marinated by the awkward atmosphere of the room. He didn’t give it a chance to. Instead, he leaned in and kissed me without shifting over, his neck straining to help his lips reach mine, which he pressed on firmly, even though I didn’t move to get closer to him. I pulled away, only an inch, but once he sensed my resistance,  he pulled away as well.

“I didn’t even brush my teeth!” I said, turning away and blushing.

“And I don’t care! So I don’t see why you do,” he said softly.

But wasn’t that the issue? The fact that there were all these things I cared about, that Jason didn’t? Things I shouldn’t care about, that Jason should? It was messing up everything. What we had was good, before I sipped the Appletini of forbidden knowledge and started to question whether what we had was right. I had no qualms about premarital sex, casual sex, or sex in general. I never had, and I don’t think I ever would.

What I had an issue with was emotional commitment: I didn’t want to get hurt, I was never the kind of woman that would stand for being used, for being played around with, for being torn open and then sewn too tightly shut again.

I also never wanted to subject anyone else to that sort of pain, but right now, I was worried that maybe, that’s what I was doing to Jason, and the fact that neither of the two of us had even seen it coming was the scariest part of it all. I hadn’t thought to find out Jason’s situation earlier, or his expectations of a relationship, or whether or not what I was doing to him, emotionally, was something that I was okay with.

“Do you...want to go back to playing the game?” asked Jason, but I got up and started to walk to the bedroom instead. Jason didn’t need another invitation: he put the controllers away quickly, turned off the console, and shut off the television, before coming after me.

I didn’t bother turning on the lights and neither did Jason. As soon as we got to the bed, he turned me over and started to pull off the pajama bottoms.

“No underwear?” he said, and I knew, even without the lights, that he was grinning ear to ear.

“They’re called panties,” I said cheekily, closing my legs around his hand, trapping it between my thighs with the waist band of the pajamas still in his grip. He paused and I realized that although I could predict his facial expression, Jason couldn’t know mine, so I said, with a laugh, “It’s fine, Jason. Keep going.”

I heard him let out a sigh before he finally pulled himself up onto the bed. I felt it sag beneath me and I had to hold on to stop myself from slipping as he put his full weight on the very edge as he continued to pull the pants down, before reaching up to my hips, taking the tank top’s hem gingerly, and pulling it over my head.

“You better not be this gentle with me,” I joked.

Jason’s voice got deeper. “You sure about that, babe?” When he talked like that, without worrying about hurting me, is when I wanted him most, and the answer I gave was with my lips, pulling him close and feeling his half bare chest against mine, his nipples pert as he took my breasts, one in each hand, and rubbed the pebbled nibs until they matched his in hardness.

But there was one hard thing I couldn’t match: the thick member pressing against me through his jeans. I unlatched the belt, and, not bothering to toss it aside like he had my soft clothes, partially out of impatience, partially out of fear of having it hit something and leaving a dent or crack, I continued to unbutton his jeans and he took the zipper, pulling it down along with his boxers and the rest of his jeans, and shimmying out of them, off the bed for only a second, before he was back against me.

It was dark but I didn’t want Jason to have to turn on the lights or get up to find his way into me, ruining the moment. Instead, while I leaned back on the bed, Jason over me, kissing me, I pressed him up, his chest off of mine, and as he moved to suck my neck, I traced my hands along his waist. Like mine, it was tight and taut, muscled by his strenuous work, the way I was toned from working on the elliptical a few times per week, but unlike mine, his skin was rougher, the muscles broader, and his six pack was much more prominent. As much as I wanted to linger and feel the rippling cords of muscle, wet with his sweat, I desired something else far more, and I found it with ease, following the lines of his Adonis belt to the crux of his legs.

Jason’s member was already slick at the tip with precum, a slickness I spread with my finger up and down his shaft. I knew that I was already wet, I could feel it without touching myself with my hands, but I knew that if Jason fucked me now, he’d have to work his way up to screwing me hard and fast. As fun as it could be, to be loved by Jason tenderly, to be held, to be caressed, what I needed tonight was to be fucked, not to be made love to. I knew that his precum was thinner than my own juices, easier to spread, and a better lubricant for this purpose, so as I felt his cock warm my hand and melt his precum further, I became even more turned on, but I knew that if I wanted what I wanted, I’d have to be patient.

Jason kept everything from the neck down still as I did this to him, until I’d touched the head of his cock. Once he felt my hand on his most tender of areas, he sucked at my neck, hard, and I gasped.

“Too hard?” he said, taking his mouth off my neck.

“No, not hard enough,” I said, and once he went back to my neck, although I’d said I wanted more, I wanted to feel the pain, he only gently kissed and licked at me. It was nice, it was sweet, but those were not what I wanted this night to be. We had so many nights where he was a good guy, why couldn’t he be the villain?

I used my free hand and kept my hole ready for Jason’s cock, no worries about my labia catching under the head of his cock, and pressed his head against my entrance. “Do you want it?” I asked breathily, pressing the length of the head into me and pulling it back out twice.

“Y-yes,” stammered Jason. “I want you so badly, Becca.”

I pulled his cock away. “You sure about that Jason?”

“Becca, please,” he begged.

“You sure?”

“Becca!”

I let go of his cock, pushed him off my neck, and whispered into his ear, “Then, you should fuck me,” before licking his ear and nibbling at his earlobe.

Jason pressed into me, slowly, and I rolled my eyes. I said hard! I said fuck! I linked my legs around Jason as he continued to press in and out of me, his already lubricated cock going to waist as he gave me a gentler fucking than what I wanted.

“Jason, I said I wanted it hard,” I whined. I was still wet, but not because I was satisfied, but because I was wanting for release.

“I am, baby, I am, I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“Excuses, excuses. Turn over,” I ordered, and as we turned, side to side interlocked, and then finally, with Jason on his back, I steadied myself, hands on the headboard, as I started to gyrate up and down on his cock, slowly, just enjoying it inside of me as I rocked back, pushing his cock out, and then forward, pushing it back in. With every movement, I felt Jason tense and release the way I was, in sync with my body the way I was when I was the one on the bottom.

“How do you like that, Jason?” I asked.

“Babe, it’s so good,” he moaned. “Fuck. You wanted it this hard?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think you can do it this way, can you?”

“I can, I can,” he insisted.

“You couldn’t before,” I teased, leaning down to take one of his nipples in each hand and twist it slightly. “Now, you’re my bitch, babe. How’s it feel?”

“Pretty damn fucking good,” he admitted and I felt some resistance in his voice, as if he wanted to say something else but was afraid to sound too emotional. It didn’t matter now, I was on top, where I belonged, and if Jason wanted to take the dominant role now, it was way too late. He’d given me power and I was about to use it in ways he knew would satisfy the both of us.

“Babe, you shouldn’t curse, that’s naughty,” I said, taking my fingers off his nipples and lightly tracing them down his torso, digging in as I did so, and then, stopping at the bottom of his six pack. He should call it a sick pack, because it’s so fucking sick, it’s ill, it’s great. As I played with his nips, I rocked up and fast with my back arched, but when I reached his abdominals, I slowed my motions and just enjoyed bouncing up and down his cock.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, his voice cracking as I took my hands off of him, put them behind my back, crossed so I could have extra stability as I leaned back and spread my legs further on the bed, slowly and carefully so I wouldn’t slip off the sheets. I took more of Jason’s cock into me instead of just the first half of his shaft, and as my lower lips touched his base, like my mouth taking in all of his tongue, he twitched and let out a groan.

I stabilized myself on the back with my hands, unfurling them so I was gripping the sheets from behind, moving my legs up on the bed, and when Jason arched his back up, I slid my legs underneath, so that my legs were loosely wrapped around his waist, even from this odd angle. I noticed that his arms weren’t by his sides. “Are you gripping a pillow again, Jason?” I teased. “It’s not time to cuddle yet.”

“N-no,” he stammered, but as I started to pull off of him, slowly, he backtracked. “I mean, sorry, yes, Becca.”

“It’s not nice to lie, Jason,” I scolded, thrusting him into me harder, so that the tip of his cock would rub against my lower inner wall, so close to where I wanted it but not close enough. I readjusted myself so that the angle would be more ideal as I pushed him out and then took him inside of me again. “Liars don’t get to cuddle.”

“S-sorry,” he said before he let out another moan. Having Jason underneath me, so submissive, was such a turn on. Power play was one of the reasons I’d been so drawn to him. Too many of the men I’d been with before lacked depth. The shy ones never manned up, the alpha types never let me take the lead, but with Jason, because he enjoyed this game as much as I did, I found myself both drawn to him and able to draw him in

“Hush, baby, don’t cry,” I teased, lifting myself back up so I was on top of him vertically, instead of layered sideways, and then, pressing my hands down onto his hips as I rode up and down on him, as if he was behind me and we were dancing at Club Grit, when in reality, on top of him, in his bed, was the only place I wanted to be.

I traced the perfect lines his skin was forced to form by his muscles, following the lines of his Adonis belt around to his back, leading up to his shoulders and then, up his arms, which, as I’d suspected, were behind a pillow behind his head. Leaning in, I gave Jason only the start of a passionate kiss: more than a peck, but not enough to satisfy him. Pulling away, I knew my lips were the only bait Jason needed as he got on his elbows and reached for me with only his face, pushing it up into the air, attempting to meet mine once more, but I only lent him my cheek.