Chuck Palahniuk, Rant
He breathed out a tremendous breath and in the next moment he’d lifted me, rotated us both, and pressed my back to the blanket. I tugged on his shirt. We took it off together, his movements impatient. As soon as he was free of it, he was on me again, his mouth covering mine, hands everywhere.
No words passed between us. I gave him no direction and he didn’t seem keen to give me any either. Working together, we kissed and removed my pants and underwear, the texture of his warm, rough hands sending goose bumps racing all over my skin. He bit my neck and I unzipped his fly. He spread my legs and I pushed down his jeans, his finger giving my center a tender, testing stroke, making my breath hitch and my brain go wild with want.
“I need you,” I said, clawing at his pants to push them further down his thighs, desperate to feel him.
Jason swatted my attempts away, and then grabbed my wrists, pinning me to the floor. He made a rumbly sound against my neck as he licked and bit and kissed me. His legs moved between my legs. I don’t know what magic he worked, but his jeans were soon cast off and I gasped as his thick, hard, naked erection nudged against my entrance just before sliding up, stroking that hot button between my legs.
“Jason!”
Moving both my wrists to one on his hands, he lifted his hips, nudging me again, and took his time sliding his free palm down the length of my body, grabbing and massaging and teasing my bare skin the whole way.
The back of his knuckles rubbed a teasing circle around my center in a touch that felt intensely possessive. He pushed two fingers inside me slowly but roughly, moving in and out several times, with no attempt at finesse, saying something that sounded like, “Mine. This is mine.”
I didn’t argue, seeing as how I’d asked him to be mine a week ago. That said, I was still my own person for heaven’s sake, and even though I was presently lost to lust and the promise of his capable hands, if he thought for one moment—
Abruptly, he released his hold on my arms and withdrew. I whimpered, immediately reaching for him. But again, he batted my hands away, placing hot, wet, tonging kisses down my body before lifting my hips and fastening his mouth on my sex.
My back arched, my eyes slammed shut, and I bit my knuckle to keep from crying out. He’d sensitized the flesh with his fingers, those hard, punishing, too-rough invasions, and the dichotomy of his soft, hot, slippery tongue now almost made me come apart.
He hummed, licking me like a lollipop. “You like that?” Lick. “Hmm?” Lick. “Tell me.” Lick. Lick.
“M—more.” It wasn’t enough, and yet the tease of it was overwhelming. He held me just on the edge.
“Ask nicely.” Lick, lick, lick.
“Ah! Please.” I tried to reach for him, or move my hips, or force him to somehow give me what I needed. But he held himself away.
“Beg,” he said, circling my center with just the tip of his tongue.
I covered my face, feeling too much, too needy, overheated. “Jason, please! Please.”
“Good girl,” he said.
But then he was gone again, and I forced my eyes open just as he settled on top of me, once more grabbing my wrists and pinning them on either side of my head.
“What—Oh. Damn.” I bowed forward as far as I was able given how I was restrained. He’d entered me with a quick, merciless thrust and it felt—he felt, I felt—beyond description. My eyes rolled back in my head as I closed them, and I decided I would not describe this. I would simply try to hold on and enjoy myself.
Jason wasn’t slow and soft, or even particularly gentle, but when I opened my eyes, I found his gaze blazing over my body. He watched my breasts move with each push of his hips, then they traveled lower to watch where we joined. He made a grunt of satisfaction, and it felt a bit like being used, like I’d become his sexual plaything and he was greedy for me, the sight of me under his command, famished for it, and I didn’t at all mind. It made me feel powerful and I loved it. I didn’t understand why, I couldn’t think, but I loved being handled and desired in this way.
“I’m coming inside you,” he told me, his teeth nipping at my jaw before he dipped his mouth to my ear and whispered hotly, “And then, I’m kissing every inch of your body before I make love to you again.”
I could only moan as the first sparks of my orgasm burst behind my eyes, my body locking, becoming nothing but hot sensation. His pace quickened and he held himself above me, taking his pleasure from my body, giving me so much in return.
I came, crying out nonsense, the muscles deep inside in my lower belly coiling and releasing until I thought I couldn’t stand it. I lost myself to the pain and pleasure. It lasted and lasted, and he pulled my hair, forcing my chin back for his mouth to claim, his movements rough, demanding, perfection.
I didn’t care. I didn’t have a single concern about what he did, how he touched me. I trusted him. There is no conquering what has been freely given. I couldn’t wait for him to come, and then play with me again, tease me, talk dirty, use me.
I loved the anticipation of it, and I knew—Jason being Jason—he’d never leave me unsatisfied.
“Diane Donner, you are positively glowing.”
“Why, thank you, Beau.” I grinned at the Winston twin, taking the compliment rather than saying something like, You are too kind. This was my only daughter’s engagement party and I was going to enjoy the ever loving heck out of it.
Also, I felt like I was glowing. I felt like my feet hadn’t touched the earth in days. Jason and I . . .
Siiiigh. And, just for the heck of it, swoooooon.
Even though we’d spent almost every night these past few weeks together and had parted over coffee and pancakes this morning, he’d shown up earlier this afternoon, sneaking into my office to give me hot kisses, wish me luck, and tell me how gorgeous I looked.
He’d also given me gigantic, antique tanzanite ring, saying it matched my eyes. The center stone must’ve been four or more carats and I’d gasped when he’d slipped it on my right hand.
“This belongs to you,” he’d said, then added, “A reminder that I do, too.”
Leaning in, he’d given me another kiss, and he’d backed me up against my desk, and he lifted my skirt, and . . .
Well.
I’d wanted to be swept off my feet, hadn’t I?
These last weeks with Jason had been perfect. He’d been perfect. He’d taught me how to ride a motorcycle and, you know what? I was a natural.
Work had been perfect. Spending time with Jennifer and Ashley leading up to the festivities had been perfect. The party preparations had been perfect and now the decorations were perfect. I’d thought the night might be too chilly, but I’d been wrong. The weather was perfect.
But more importantly, my daughter had squealed with delight when she’d seen how Ashley and I had pulled it all together.
Presently, Jennifer and I had just finished with the receiving line—everyone had been so nice—and were now standing with Beau Winston and his lady love under the canopy of string lights Ashley had artfully arranged between the Moreno glass chandeliers.
If I was glowing, Jennifer looked positively heavenly in her lovely red dress. I wasn’t surprised; she was an angel. I was so proud of her and the woman she’d become despite everything she’d experienced. I could’ve just burst with happiness.