*27:Witch

The woman gliding her tongue into his mouth and her hands gently up his chest made Jon almost as uncomfortable as the nervous one in the car.  Since when did the counselor give up a chance at combative foreplay in favor of this… softness?  What in the hell was going on?

Sandwiching her face between his palms, he held her immobile in order to ease out of the kiss. 

“You’re gonna have to forgive me if I don’t exactly trust you.”

Slightly fuzzy cocoa eyes blinked up at him, but it took only seconds before they were as clear and sharp as her words.  “I’d rather have sex than get verbally assaulted.  What the hell is so difficult to understand about that?”

Okay.  There she was.  This was the “date” he’d been expecting – either she or the screaming bitch he’d ushered onto this boat could have interchangeably presented an RSVP for tonight and he wouldn’t have batted an eye.  The serene and seductive entity that had just arrived was not on the anticipated guest list and, in his experience, no good came of unannounced visitors.

“It’s all in the presentation, Counselor,” he enlightened her and leaned back in to capture her smart lips in a kiss that was more reflective of what they were together – hard, forceful and fully invasive. 

The groan that swelled from the back of her throat when his tongue engulfed her mouth showed a hell of a lot more reaction than the quiet press of lips a moment ago.  Restless hands smoothed along his waist and those damn nails of hers started digging their way through his shirt while her tongue began eagerly stroking along the underside of his.  When he offered even the briefest retreat, she suckled at the tip to lure him back.

With a full night to have his way with her, Jon felt like an unsupervised kid in a candy shop, and was having a hard time deciding how he wanted to proceed.  Did he run through and sample a little bit of everything, then go back to gorge on his favorites?  Should he take a more methodical approach, working through the array of delicacies one at a time, savoring each to its fullest before moving on to the next?  Or did he stand back and revel in the anticipation of how good they were all going to be?

A good argument could be made for each tactic, but he was too far immersed in her mouth and the tangle of her hair around his fingers to know what those arguments were.  When he came up for air to find her lips a deep shade of rose from the bruising kisses, her cheeks flushed nearly that same shade and wide-eyes coated with a chocolate glaze… It took a Herculean display of willpower not to shove her dress up and just fuck her against the wall – again.

“Want you so much,” she murmured into the hollow of his throat.  “It’s embarrassing.”

It wasn’t like he’d never heard a woman say things like that before.  Hell, it would be easier to count the ones who hadn’t, but knowing that this counselor would almost rather damn herself to Hell than admit a soft spot – particularly to him about him, when she wasn’t on the verge of orgasm – that particular confession hit him hard in the libido.

Her fingers came around to adroitly work through the buttons on his shirt and push aside the separated halves so that open palms could paint his chest with their heat.  Damaging fingernails were gentle when scraping the flat disks of his nipples on their way down to his belt. 

Jon slipped his hands under the curtain of her hair, feeling for a zipper that would have her dress sliding away from the curves he was finally going to take the time to inspect.  He was going to measure the dip of her waist and the swell of her hip on his way to pushing down the panties that he’d already separated her from once today. 

The discovered zipper rasped to its end at the same time his belt fell apart – and at the same time the chorus of “Taking Care of Business” surrounded them.

That ringtone belonged to the only person who knew where he was and who he was with.  Everybody else thought he went back to the city for meetings.  If Matt was brave enough to call him, somebody was in intensive care or there were work problems that couldn’t wait.  Neither option appealed to him, but they couldn’t be ignored.

“Fuck,” he swore bringing his forehead to rest against hers.  “I have to get that.”

“Go ahead.  I’m not going anywhere.”

Stepping out of her dress, she nonchalantly folded it over the back of a barstool and pivoted back around to catch him ogling.  How could he not leer at the black lace boy panties and equally lacy bra that produced a mouth-watering show of cleavage as his phone continued to sing.

Growling under his breath, he dug it out of his pocket and strode to one of the sofas before irritably answering, “What?”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” came instantaneously tumbling out of his younger brother’s mouth.  “And if I could handle it myself, I swear to God I wouldn’t be calling.”

Jon dropped to the edge of the cushions, shirttails falling to the sides when he reclined enough to loll his head onto the back of the couch.  That position left him looking at the light fixtures instead of her sexy underwear when sighing, “Get on with it.”

“It’s Vancouver.”  That wasn’t an unexpected bombshell, but Jon mentally cussed the timing, anyway.  “The city isn’t going to let the show go because the promoters still haven’t applied for permits.”

“Goddammit.  What-“ Sensing that something was crawling up his thighs in a most enthralling way, curiosity drove Jon to lift his head and discover the counselor kneeling between his splayed thighs.  When bewitching fingers continued on their merry way, he couldn’t have told you what fucking country Vancouver was in, much less that he was supposed to do a gig there.  He was too enamored with the tug and pull of denim that popped open button-fly jeans, one button at an excruciating time.

“You still there?” Matt rudely commanded attention.

“Uh, yeah.”  What the hell had he been about to say?  “Call P.K. and tell him to get in touch with the people at Rogers Arena.  See what kind of deal we can work with them.”

With the placket of his fly spread wide, she unhurriedly delved a hand into the denim and pulled out his cock for a leisurely stroke.  Mischievous eyes connected with his as she stroked a second time, this time leisurely licking her lips as she did.

She’s going to suck me off while I’m on the friggin’ phone.

He no more had the thought before she was rising on her knees and bowing forward to push his tip through the circle of those freshly licked lips.

Son. Ofa.  Bitch.

“Jon?  Did you hear me?”

“What?” he barked in lieu of moaning at how good those lips felt sliding all the way down, until he was lodged in her throat.

“P.K. wants you to call him to talk about this.  I tried telling him you weren’t available until tomorrow, but…”

She only graced him with the one glide of her mouth, but a practiced hand took over to twist around the head and swipe a thumb over the slit before pushing back down to the base with a hard squeeze.  All this happened at the same time open-mouth kisses blanketed every exposed inch of skin between there and his navel.  Then she pushed the denim out of the way to expose even more, dragging wet lips over him while she pumped.

Vancouver be damned.  Somebody else could take care of it or it just wouldn’t get taken care of.  Whatever.  Jon had more pressing things on his cock right now.

“He’s been doing this for enough goddamn years that he doesn’t need me to hold his hand!  Tell him to throw money at it.  Get Rogers, figure out how to assign seats for GA tickets and let me know when it’s done.”

His brother was sputtering some kind of answer when Jon disconnected the call and threw it toward the far end of the couch. 

“Chiara…” he intoned menacingly, while narrowing his eyes with condemnation.  “What exactly are you doing?”

Lifting her face from the crotch of his jeans, naughty eyes danced with devilry as she favored him with a smile to match. 

An honest-to-God smile. 

“You must be going senile,” came the lilting taunt that didn’t affect the efforts of that industrious little hand of hers.  “Because there’s no way this hasn’t happened before.”

His fingers burrowed their way through wavy tresses that were just starting to become good and mussed, and he used the grip to angle her head and study the transformation wrought by an ordinary facial expression.  Both corners of that sinful mouth were effortlessly curled, pearly teeth sparkled in the evening light and, whereas he’d always been attracted to her, that smile took it to a different level.  It wasn’t a chemistry thing now; the counselor was simply beautiful woman.

“This definitely hasn’t happened before,” he vowed with his own amused grin.  “You don’t smile at me.  Ever.”

Her transformational smile twisted into a wry smirk.  “Never smile at a crocodile.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

The smile-turned-smirk completely vanished as exasperation rolled her eyes to the heavens.  “You wanna talk about crocodiles or get a blow job?”

Both, actually, but with her hand still doing its thing on his thing, there was a definite priority to his wants.

Fisting her hair hard enough to draw her head slightly backward, he tersely demanded, “Suck me.”

“That’s what I thought.”

With no further distractions or delays, she took his entire length in one smooth motion and sucked hard enough to hollow out her cheeks before releasing him one centimeter at a time.  All he could do was hold her hair back so as not to miss one second of his girth disappearing between glossy lips to reappear just as glossy. 

It was the sexiest fucking magic trick ever.

“Suck harder.  And faster.”

Her pace didn’t change, but she did put one hand around the base and hold tight while continuing to bob rhythmically on his aching cock.   The other hand was tucked underneath to give his balls a hard squeeze that made Jon’s eyes roll back in his head.

“Faster, goddammit,” he dictated in a strangled voice, now using his grip on her head to influence the pace.  His hips reared up of their own accord, pushing him deep inside the steamy wet that felt so frigging good at the same time he compelled her mouth downward. 

Jon grunted softly.  He could feel the pressure mounting.  If she would speed up just a little bit, suck a little harder, swallow his head, squeeze his balls...  Then he could let loose and...

Without warning she dislodged him with a wet ‘pop’ and retracted both hands, dropping them to her sides.  One sharp twist of her head had her free of his grasp and she rose lithely to her feet while wiping wetness from her mouth.

“Jesus Christ, don’t stop now!” he bellowed, the sight of her puffy lips not easing his ache in the least.   

“Sorry, but my work here is done.  You just needed a temporary distraction from that stressful call.”

He skewered her with the vilest stink-eye he could conjure and swore bawdily, calling her a few choice names that he wasn’t prone to using.  The pressure she’d generated was bordering on painful, and he reached to hook a hand around his own dick with the intent to do something he hadn’t done in a very long time - and never in the presence of a woman.

“Don’t you dare,” came the threat that was laced with steel as she intercepted his grip.  “If it didn’t kill me, it won’t kill you.”

“I didn’t fucking do it on purpose, you vindictive she-devil.  You are!”

With her free hand, she patted his jaw and dispensed a smile that was as cruel as what she was perpetrating.  “Just trying to keep scales of justice balanced, sweet cheeks.  After dinner, we can start all over, fresh.”

Blood rushed through his ears and his molars ground together loudly enough to be heard over the rushing blood.  He wasn’t going to make it through this night without killing her.

Latching a fierce grip around her wrist, he jerked hard enough to topple her forward and, when his hard lap was filled with a half-naked witch, Jon demanded to know, “What happened to not busting my balls anymore tonight?”

“I wasn’t going to.”  The counselor had the frigging nerve to dip down and kiss the corner of his mouth.  “Then I just couldn’t seem to stop myself.  You bring out the worst in me.”

He was going to need to be medicated before he was finished with her.  Valium.  Blood pressure.  Xanax.  Prozac.  Maybe all of them.

“Didn’t anybody ever tell you that bad girls get punished?”

Black pupils dilated away brown irises, making him believe that she’d either never heard it or that, if she had, it was something she enjoyed having repeated.  “I’ve never been bad with anybody else.  You just do something to me.”

Another string of colorful epithets filled his mind, and Jon was incensed to find himself getting hornier than he’d been with her lips wrapped around his dick.  Now he was going to have to add smacking her ass to the list of things to get done tonight.

Curling one arm around her back he abruptly rose and twisted so that she was looking up at him from the sofa cushions.  After pushing his jeans down his thighs, Jon shoved one of her ankles over the back of the couch and pushed the other toward the floor.  The crotch of her panties was shoved roughly aside to bare what he was going to take.

“What are you doing?” It was probably supposed to sound indignant and intimidating, but she was a little too breathless to pull it off effectively.

“Doing something to you,” he echoed and jerked his hips forward to impale the pussy that was already slick with want.

“Oh, God.”

There was no softness, there was no taking the time to assure that she would come before or at the same time he did.  He simply pounded, knowing that she would.  Knowing that this got her off as surely as anything else – this fight and fuck thing they did. 

“Uhnnhhh!”

“That’s it, you damn little vixen.  Scream for me.”

Her low keening cry wasn’t a scream so much as a wail of agonizing pleasure as he attacked and retreated hard enough to slam into her clit on every approach.

“Ohohohohohoh!”

“Let it go, Chiara,” he demanded loudly, their flesh slapping together almost as loudly.  “This is what you like, so don’t fucking hide it.”

“Jon.  Oh, fuck yes.  That’s it.  Don’t stop.  Pleeease!  Not this time.”

“Talk about it, baby.”  The words were sweet, but they were delivered with a harshness that only she evoked.  “This is the only time you tell me the goddamn truth.  Tell me something real.”

She arched up and screamed when he bit her nipple through the bra, then pushed  her hands under his shirt to rake his back in an angry criss-cross pattern. 

“You.  I need youuu!” was her howling admission as her hips swiveled in a mindless frenzy.  “Aaahh!”

He bit down again with the next thrust.  “What else?”

“You scare me, goddammit!  I’m afraid of what you do to me!  Is that what you fucking wanted?  Uhnnnggggghhhh!!!!”

One final push sent the scorching stream of satisfaction from his body to hers, and he held himself deep in her womb allowing each convulsion to work itself out until both of them finally went still. 

Gutted and breathless, he lifted his weary head to lay soft lips against her forehead.  

“You scare me, too, Counselor.”