*79:Hickey

“Jonnn!”  Charlie’s voice was hoarse with the cry and she tried to push him away.  Abused muscles quivered, sweat beaded on her brow and the hair at her neck was a matted mess.  No doubt her face was a overexerted shade of red.  “You’re killing me.”

“I’m stocking up.”  He ignored her attempts to separate from him and continued to lick at hypersensitive flesh and suck on her clit until she felt another stirring low in her belly.

“Jesussss….  You’ve made me come twice already.  How can I still be turned on?”

If she’d had any notion of their “goodbye sex” being tender and wrought with affection, she needn’t have worried.  He had been voracious in his assault of her from the moment they got upstairs. 

Stripping her clothes away and throwing her to the bed where no square inch of skin was safe from his mouth or hands, he didn’t caress.  A purposeful placement of fingers demanded reaction from her, and when she gave it, he pushed harder until that first orgasm crashed over her almost immediately like a tidal wave – while he was still dressed.

Then he’d stripped himself and crudely shoved her thighs apart so that he could dive face first between them.  The touch was softer then, and the pace slowed a bit, but he was no less driven.  His tongue was determined to taste every crevice and lap up each drop of desire that he could milk from her. 

Periodically, he’d switch things up and use his fingers so that his tongue could tell her what he liked about her body in triple-X pornographic detail that Charlie should’ve found vile.  Instead, it had her bowing into a painful arch with her heels digging into mattress as she screamed out her release.

“Because sex between us is fucking phenomenal,” he mumbled into the cleft between her legs before sliding his tongue along its length again.

“What the hell is up with you and your need to drain me of orgasms?” she panted, fisting restless fingers into his hair while watching glossy lips suckle her so intimately.  “I don’t remember setting a quota for you to meet.”

Emerging to scrub away the shine around his mouth with rough fingertips, he finally notched his hips between her thighs but without penetration.  Jon merely nudged a rock-hard cock against soft, swollen flesh that pulsed frantically with anticipation.

“Consider it your Team Monogamy bracelet,” he murmured before slanting their mouths together and pushing into Charlie’s mouth with a tongue that still carried her flavor.  Washing away the taste with that of her mouth, she wrapped clinging arms around him and savored the lush, sucking kiss.

He bit sharply at her bottom lip when ending it, causing her to lick at it while rolling hips that were seeking the impossible third orgasm.  With heavy lids and a sarcastic lilt, she drawled, “If you’re trying to leave me with enough to last a month, it won’t work.  The more I get the more I want.”

Propping his forearms on the outside of her biceps, he lifted so show her resolute blue irises that were ringed with navy and said with confidence, “You’ll wait for me.  And if you don’t, I’ll fuck three times as many women as you do men, just for spite.  I’m an asshole like that.”

Charlie wasn’t sure if it was his vindictive arrogance or the earthy possessiveness that stole her ability to breathe for that moment, but her lungs were locked on intake and couldn’t release the oxygen she held.  Maybe it was the fact that he cared enough to say it at all.  What kind of sicko did that make her, she wondered as the air finally hissed quietly free.

“Did you threaten Dorothea with that before every tour?”

“No.  We had a different understanding.”  Leaning all of his weight on his left arm, he lifted the right to sweep the hair away from her forehead and quietly remind, “You started this monogamy shit, so this is our arrangement, Chiara – mine and yours.  Owen is the extent of my tolerance when it comes to sharing you.  You fuck somebody else, you make sure you like it because that’s who you’ll be fucking from now on.”

Life truly was all about the presentation.  Those words were boorish and offensive standing on their own and, if he’d offered them with any hint of tone that she didn’t like, Charlie would’ve thrown him off of her and to the floor.  Because they were delivered as a quiet statement of fact, with an odd, underlying gentleness… 

“As long as you understand that arrangement is a reciprocal one.”

“I already told you I did.”  The whole while they were talking, he never ceased the leisurely thrust and retreat along her slick seam.

He may know that he wasn’t really single but the female population did not.  Suddenly, he wasn’t the only one feeling possessive. 

“I want to put a hickey on your neck.”

Levering up onto his hands, he looked down at her with a raised brow.  “How ‘bout a ring in my nose, too?  Just to be safe.”

“Don’t be an ass,” she ordered , reaching up to tweak his nipple.  “I’d let you do it if you wanted.”

“Yeah?”  The broad head of his cock finally nudged between her swollen, achy lips and Charlie’s insides were stretched and in a delicious way.  “You gonna go parade that shit around in front of your family, too?  Let them know a real man owns you now?”

Right now, with the insides of her thighs quivering like Jell-O at his waist and him filling her emptiness as only he could, she didn’t care who knew about them.  Charlie was wrung out like a limp dishrag yet still crazy starved for another high that only he could provide.  If he’d give it to her – if he’d make her scream and go blind with pleasure one more time – she’d take out an ad in the freaking Times.

“Yes.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” she repeated into his eyes while clutching granite glutes and clenching the muscles that would keep him close.  “Do whatever you want to.  I don’t care as long as you fuck me.”

Holding himself deeply buried, Jon levered forward to nip at the spot were jaw melded into neck and followed it with a soothing lick.  “Anywhere?”

“Anywhere,” she confirmed, hoping that her makeup would be enough to conceal an obvious hickey.

It was yet one more thing she needn’t have worried about.  With that approval, he was gone from her body and sliding down the mattress to put his face back between her legs.  Hard, even teeth grabbed a sensitive spot on the inside Charlie’s right thigh, almost touching the empty void he’d left behind. 

Her hips came off the mattress when he bit down and sucked hard, rolling the flesh over and over in his mouth with intense pressure until it was guaranteed to be a shade somewhere between black and purple.  After releasing the spot with a grunt of pleasure, he repeated the same maneuver on her left thigh, and Charlie thought the avid sucking in such a tender spot was going to make her explode. 

“Fuck!” she swore when he was done.  A third orgasm wasn’t impossible.  It was imminent.  “Fuck me now or I’m getting the vibrator out.”

“Thought you wanted to put that ring through my nose?” he grunted when slamming home hard enough to shove her all the way to the headboard. 

“Hurts so good, baby.  Do it again.”

He slammed again and, with him holding her immobile to take it this time, she felt him bump a spot deep in her womb that had her clawing at his back. 

“Again!”

At her request, he was brutal.  There was no softness, tenderness or affection in their coupling.  The two of them were slaves to the ruthless physical pleasure that first brought them together and was still a delicacy they hungered to gorge themselves upon.  He pounded her already tenderized body, making a deep-seated mark on her whose effect far-exceeded the physical bruises.  This abuse she would feel for days and miss him every time she did.

“Fuck me!  Fuck me!”

“I am, goddammit!”  Sweat dripped from the end of his nose with the jackhammer exertion of meeting her demands and his need.  “Fucking come already!”

“I can’t!”

Charlie wanted to.  Oh God, did she want to.  Everything was in place – he invaded her fully and completely, the fleshy soundtrack of colliding bodies was playing at full tilt, he scraped every nerve ending raw, and he swore at her with that gruff tenderness that flipped her switch. 

It all should’ve combined into an epicurean recipe for orgasm, but Charlie was still left hanging on the verge of starvation.

Incessantly pounding, he touched the first two fingers on his right hand to her bottom lip and hoarsely ordered, “Suck.”

Desperate, she opened her mouth and let him push the salty flesh into her mouth.  She rolled her tongue over and between the two fingers, lapping all the taste from them and still trying to find her happy place.   

“I said suck, goddammit.” 

If it was suck the man wanted, suck he would get.  Charlie’s cheeks hollowed out with the effort she put into it.  In the process, she quickly found out why he was so adamant about it.  With his heated gaze lecherously fixed to her mouth while he spewed explicit reminders of where those fingers had been, she felt each suck all the way down to her core – and it felt good.   

Harder and faster she blew his fingers until the rumbling started at her core.  Like the deep rumble of thunder during a summer storm, it was slow to roll from her womb out to the other parts of her that shook with anticipation, but when it hit…

“Ohgodohgodohgod…. Unnnnhhhhh!”

It rocked her like the shuddering earth around a lightning strike, and the added heat of Jon’s explosion had her convulsing with an agonizing pain that felt as bone-crushingly good as anything she’d ever experienced.

In her life. 

Collapsed in a sweaty heap on top of her, the man responsible for emptying out her soul and replacing it with his, panted loudly.  His body was slick against her, his body was slick inside her and Charlie couldn’t have moved if the whole damn building threatened to fall in. 

“Jesus Christ,” Jon groaned into her neck.  “I need a month off after that.”

Chuckling beneath him, she affectionately petted his heaving back and tasted the brine of sweat when laying a kiss against his temple.  “You’ll be back between my legs by morning.”

If he wasn’t, then she’d be between his.