Illustrated by: Anna Sudit.
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From “Tell Me a Secret” from A Bloom in Cursive by Leandra Vane
Jake kissed like he sang. Easing slowly into hard, guttural desire, and once he got started he didn’t stop. His touch was like melted sugar, his taste was smoky and bitter, like I had always imagined a good punk rocker would taste. His body was soft, poetic, and I scratched lines down his back, challenging him to give up all his secrets.

When we finally broke apart, we were both heaving. He pulled the CD player remote from his pocket, silenced the music, and tossed the remote aside. He frowned.

“I did this to make you happy. Not to get into your pants.”

“Do you want in my pants?”

“Yes. But we can wait.”

“I’ve been waiting.”

Challenge accepted.

Jake picked me up and slammed my ass on the table. He had hid his muscle from me like I had hid my longing, but neither of us held back as we crashed into each other.

I pulled his sweater up his back and over his shoulder blades. The material was tight and clung to his smooth skin, tangling up in his arms. By the time he wrestled free of the pesky layer, I had tossed my sweatshirt across the room and popped the button on my jeans open.

I felt so rock-and-roll, there on the table in my yellow polka-dot bra, drinking in the contours of his long, smooth frame.

He snaked his fingers down my back, sending a shiver up my spine. With a flick my bra sprang away from my body and a cool sweep of air tantalized my tits.

Jake gripped the metal of my left nipple ring between his teeth and gave a little pull. The shot of pain was soothed by a swish of his tongue, and I began shaking. I reached down and fumbled for his fly, but it was out of my reach.

Jake reared back and hooked his thumbs in the back belt loops of my jeans and tugged. My bare ass slapped against the fake wood panel and I let out a shriek. The denim became bunched at my knees and I cursed myself for wearing laced up combat boots. I scrambled for my shoe laces but he pushed me back on the table.

He whisked around the side, grabbing me behind the ankles and flipped my legs back. A thrill rushed over me as my knees pressed against my tits and he held me there, exposed. I felt his gaze bore into me, and he let out a hum of gratitude.

I clawed the smooth, cold surface of the table and tossed my head back. He slicked his fingers over my wet pussy lips and my hips jerked forward. He just held me tighter and ran his fingertips up and down, slowly tempting me open with his stroking. A surge of heat lubricated his touch and I heard a hitch in his breathing. I was so wet it was driving me crazy.

I didn’t have to wait for the first wave of relief as he tentatively slid one finger deep inside me, pulled out, and I let out as sigh as I felt two fingers penetrate me.

Everything between us had always been so serious and calculated, I could never imagine letting myself go this far. But I was glad I had never imagined it, because fantasy wouldn’t have done the experience justice.

“Jake...” I moaned. “Get to the point.”

His fingers slicked out of me and he let me up.

“Yes, ma’am.” He quirked an eyebrow at me as I sat up. “I’ll race you to naked.”

I wasted a second giving him a glare as he kicked off his canvas lace ups. I fumbled forward and unlashed the strings on my boots as quickly as I could, tearing them off and throwing them across the room, not caring if they broke anything. I kicked my jeans off and in doing so slipped off the table. We had made quite a mess of it. But I was fucking a rock star after all. Part of the thrill was not having to be tidy. I wanted his skin under my nails. I wanted to ruin my mascara.

He may have beat me getting naked but I distracted him from his victory. Kneeling down I grabbed the base of his cock and swirled my tongue over the head. He took in a sharp breath and I eased him into my mouth.

He had a very pretty penis. I relished the size of him in my mouth, observing with my tongue the tight skin and springy muscle spasms along the bottom of the shaft. I looked up and his eyes were closed, his lips parted just so, like he was sound asleep. I popped him out of my lips like a lollipop and he jolted awake.

I pressed my puffy lips together and ran my hands across his hips. Impatient, I jerked him down to the floor.

The floor wasn’t very comfortable, but that wasn’t what Jake objected to.

“Wait, wait… don’t we need… you know… protection?”

“I’ve been on birth control for years, and yes, I took my pill this morning. I want your dick, not your babies.”

He seemed satisfied with this. I climbed on top of him.

Bouncing on my knees, I thrust my hand between my legs to finger my clit as he penetrated me. We were so slick and hot I had to bite my bottom lip hard to keep the brake on driving right into O-town. Playing with myself proved too much, so I threw my hands back and enjoyed the view, which was him enjoying the view.

My tits bounced with the rhythm I kept astride him, his warm hands on my hips. The muscles of his arms and torso flexed along with the motion, his pale skin shimmering with sweat. The room was scorching hot with all the action but that only added to the rough, animalistic rage I had unleashed. I tossed my head back.

“Claire,” he whispered. “Look at me.”

I opened my eyes and that was it. Bang. Flashing lights and the roar of the crowd and his intense blue gaze searing right through me, body and soul. I fell off the peak of my climax and felt a welling of white heat within. A moment later he was coming inside me. He kept one hand on my hip but the other he reached up and pressed right in the middle of my chest. When he came down, his hips stilled and his sharp muscles melted beneath me.

I carefully pulled myself up and slid my naked, wet body onto his. My forehead was sticky on his sternum, but I didn't care. His heart was pounding right into my brain. I was dizzy and the corners of my eyes shot sparks across the screen of my closed lids.

“So,” I ventured after a few moments, “is this going to be a secret?”

“No way.”

I raised my face up and set my chin on his chest.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he countered. “What's a punkish alt-rocker without a hot stage manager girlfriend?”



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