Maneater Page 5
The Rock:
Get your sexy arse over here now, woman!
Jemma:
LOL. Well, if you insist …
Be there in twenty.
Yes! Checkmate.
Make them beg for it.
God, I need this distraction right now …
***
Known for his cockiness, he answers the door in his training shorts and nothing else.
That fucking V is taunting me. His chiselled chest and abs are seriously cut and flawless. Perfection is staring me in the face.
“You took your time,” he declares, eyeing me up and down with just as much lust in his eyes as I have in mine.
The tiny skirt and low top I threw on don’t leave much to the imagination.
“What’s the rush?” I ask sarcastically, waiting for the lustful pouncing that always happens when we are in close proximity. Some people just have that heat, the sizzle that makes the air instantly humid. I can feel my hair frizzing as the temperature rises.
“Get your arse naked and on the bed. I’ll show you what the rush is, woman,” he orders, smirking. My panties soak instantly.
I smile at his request, and do what I’m told for once, throwing my bag on his table and making my way into his room. It’s a place I know quite well …
He has a typical bachelor pad: massive flat-screen TV, leather recliner lounge, state of the art sound system, and his kitchen is all stainless steel, like something from a model home. He doesn’t hide the fact that he makes plenty of cash from his boxing tournaments; pity about his arrogance, as he is quite the catch in most other areas.
I hear the door slam behind me, and I can feel his alpha male body stalking me, almost touching me. I feel his hot breath on my neck as he lifts my hair and kisses me. I lift my arms and wrap them around his neck, knowing that our encounter will be hard and rough, just the way it always is with us, a welcome rush that we both crave.
His hand is rough and callused as he firmly fondles my breast then tweaks my already hard nipple. Multitasking, he bites my earlobe. I run my nails through his hair and along his scalp as I pull his body closer into mine.
“You want me to fuck you from behind, Jemma?” he asks me, and his deep voice is so sexy and already has me squirming.
“Yes,” I manage to reply as I raise my arms. He obeys my unspoken command, lifting my top above my head. Within seconds, my hot pink and black bra is unfastened and thrown across the room. Both hands instantly cup my tits; he squeezes hard, flicking both nipples. He nudges his hard cock again my arse, showing me just how ready he is. I instinctively push back, just as eager.
“I know you are just as horny as I am. We are a good pair in the bedroom, Jem,” he declares, his breathing laboured.
I start to shimmy out of my skirt, pushing it to the ground and showing him my matching thong. Instantly, his hands are on my arse, rubbing my cheeks. Then smack! He slaps my arse hard, causing me to jump, but I enjoy the roughness. He pushes against me, and I feel his harness between my arse cheeks as his hand slides inside my pants.
“Fuck, you are soaking, dripping, and so ready. It is so hot,” he moans, biting my earlobe again and licking my neck as he pushes two fingers deep inside me.
“Yes,” I moan as he moves them around then out and back inside.
“Playtime is over,” he declares as he yanks down his pants. I feel his hot, throbbing cock on my arse in record time.
“Fuck, yes,” I say as I lean back into him.
“Forward,” he orders, and I put my hands flat on the bed, exposing my wet pussy, which is pulsing, ready for him to enter.
I hear him rip open a condom and roll it on.
The tip of his heated cock is pushing into my slick folds in no time. I stretch open for his thickness; he presses inside slowly, until he completely fills me.
I brace myself, knowing it won’t stay slow and gentle.
He suddenly pulls out, leaving me wanting more, then without warning, he slams inside, gliding in with ease as my wetness drips down my legs. He adjusts my hips as he thrusts again, deeper and harder, not relenting for a minute as he gets a rhythm. His hands massage my tits as he angles me and slams again, now hitting the J spot; that feeling is instantly rewarding and hot.
“That’s the spot,” I manage to moan as he repeatedly thrusts inside harder at full throttle, now massaging my clit with his magic thumb. I swear he has a clit wand on his thumb; it instantly works up my orgasm, building it higher and higher. He bites my earlobe, knowing each button to push to bring me undone.
His assault is so pleasurable; massaging, thrusting, biting.
“Fuck, yes, yes,” I scream as I gyrate on his cock, feeling my orgasm hit full force, so hard and amazing. My juices trickle down my thighs as my release hits a pinnacle; I squirt and convulse as I ride the wave of ecstasy. He thrusts harder, throwing me forward.
I feel another release building as he continues rubbing and thrusting. He pumps inside as his own release skyrockets, gripping my hips as his cock throbs and contracts. He grunts loudly, slamming inside so hard it amplifies my pleasure as I come again, a toe-curling, spine-tingling orgasm. He finishes with his own release, plunging hard with his full length as he comes hard and fast.
“Fuck, yes,” he screams in pleasure.
Then he slaps my arse; I’m sure as a cheeky way to say it’s his for now. I don’t expect anything less from him.
He pulls his cock out then uses a towel he had on hand to clean us both up. We both collapse on the bed, reeling from our desire-driven romp; I need a minute to get my legs to stop wobbling. If I were a smoker, I’d need a cigarette after that …
“You won’t be walking for the next ten minutes,” he jokes as he holds my knees still.
“I’ll be outta here in five,” I reply; I don’t stay any longer than I need to, and he knows it.
“You know, we could make this more permanent, Jem,” he says, totally catching me by surprise. My hands feel clammy as my freak-out commences.
“Ha-ha, very funny. You couldn’t keep your dick in your pants if your life depended on it,” I declare honestly, telling him more or less that I don’t trust him.
“All I need is someone to keep me on my toes. You do a great fucking job of that,” he replies, and I’m still gobsmacked we are having this conversation.
I stand and start to find my clothes, pretty much avoiding any more of this awkward conversation; it will never end well.
God, of all the guys I’ve been with, he is the biggest manwhore, without a doubt. Maybe we would be a good pair, but I can’t bring myself to find out.
I’m dressed, and as I grab my bag, I turn to find him still naked, hands folded under his head, just watching me intensely.
“Gotta go,” I say, smiling. Leaving him with his own thoughts, I walk out the door and hurry to my car.
Well, sure, I’ve got feelings for the guy; it’s been six months of amazing, hot, no-strings-attached, naughty, scratch-the-itch-type sex.
The Rock is not the guy I envisage taking home to meet my parents and having kids with.
No matter how fucking hot he is or how talented he is in the bedroom, I just couldn’t trust the guy. I feel shallow for admitting it.
I squash the idea before I really even give it a second thought. No chance …
Chapter 7
Devil in disguise – social media
Two words: judgmental arseholes!
I put up a meme on Facebook about being happily single and having fun with no responsibilities.
It’s my Facebook page. I post for me, not for attention; it’s not for anyone else.
And fucking BOOM … I get two comments from jealous bitches. They are like flies to shit …
Who the fuck are they to judge me? I'm guessing their own lives must be perfect and successful, and they are on top of their game.
Very rarely is this the case. Most likely, when someone puts another person down, they are passing judgment and criticising to make themselves feel
better.
Being a jerk can make you feel better, somehow.
They hide away in their fake profiles; their online photos show they are happy with lots of laughter and good times, and all of it is fucking lies!
Do they think if they comment on other people’s statuses, if they criticise and belittle, their own fucking life doesn't look half as bad?
Well, no, that's not true.
Get over yourself.
Focus on your issues and problems, and leave me the fuck alone.
Hate.
There's another word.
I feel anger and hate towards you.
But I also feel sorry for you.
You must be lacking in self-confidence and really dislike yourself. Is your life so boring that you need to involve yourself in mine?
I know … don’t bite back.
Trolls are just trolls.
Haters gonna hate.
But seriously, I can’t help but comment back, as one thing I’ve learnt is that anger lingers, it causes pain and nothing heals.
I’m giving these bitches a taste of their own medicine.
Sheree’s comment:
Oh, God, Jemma, are you still single, desperate, and dateless? I can’t believe it!
My reply:
Thanks for that comment, Sheree. I can change my relationship status at any time, shame you can’t change your vile personality…
Now, I remember why I haven’t spoken to you in ten years.
Holly’s comment:
Wow, nothing has changed. I see you are still the slutty Jemma I remember from high school.
My reply:
Oh God, Holly, it seems you are still the rude, obnoxious loudmouth I remember too.
Now to block them both—after they read this, of course.
Karma is a bitch, and sometimes, it’s just too slow waiting for it to come around full circle; I’m not the most patient of people.
A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do …
Chapter 8
Size does matter…
Work is quiet today, and the totally inappropriate discussion about cock size has made it so much more interesting.
In the words of the humorous and wise comedian Chris Rock, “There are only three things women need in life: food, water, and compliments.”
“Do you think Chris Rock believes that statement?” I question as I shake my head in disbelief; maybe it’s meant tongue in cheek.
And sex …
“We need sex and chocolate too,” I state truthfully.
Well, I sure need sex. I'm sure I'm a little more hot-blooded than the average girl. I can manage without it daily, but I think seven days is a hard limit, though.
I've had a drought for fourteen days before ... lots of toy action, but I'm a stickler for the real thing. Give me a cock and a tongue any day.
Crystal finally comments. “Oh God, yes, sex and chocolate. Don’t forget wine.” She smiles widely as the conversation continues and becomes more engrossing by the minute.
“Maybe I’m just shallow, but size matters to me. They gotta reach the spot. Thickness and length make a difference.” I add my two cents and realise I’m making the convo dirtier, which shouldn’t surprise me.
Size is my weakness; a good firm cock. I want a guy who’s packed and stacked in his pants.
“I don’t like ’em huge; so long as he knows what he’s doing, that’s all I want,” Crystal declares as we sip our tea like grandmas in the kitchen. We don’t talk loud, especially when our conversations turn dirty, as they seem to seventy percent of the time.
“Too big is painful,” she adds, cringing at the thought.
“Yes, you don’t want to be split in two,” Jasmine declares, now laughing and holding her crotch at the thought of being split.
“I haven’t found one too big yet,” I admit, and the other two laugh. Did I just say I have a big, loose pussy? Interpretations are everything.
“Oh God, we are gonna call you Lucy from now on,” Crystal jokes at my expense.
I shake my head, smiling. “I didn’t mean it like that, just that if you are wet enough, the size fits like a glove. I like to be completely filled,” I tell them, and realise I’m an oversharer, but at least I’m honest.
“But I’m totally with you on the ‘know what they are doing’ bandwagon. If they can get the rhythm perfect, everything else is history,” I admit, and the others nod.
“What’s the smallest you have seen?” I ask them both, curious as to what experiences they have had.
Crystal holds up her pinkie, and we laugh hysterically.
“It was tiny. I should have stopped it, but I couldn’t,” she admits, and I nod, thinking about bad lay. He was little and clueless.
“Yes, God, isn’t it disappointing when you can barely feel it,” Jasmine comments, letting out a sigh.
“I mean, girls aren’t perfect, some tits are barely a handful, but it’s different when it’s meant to serve a sexual purpose; men are turned on no matter what,” I declare, knowing it’s true; it takes a lot less for a guy to become horny than it does for a female. Maybe it’s the testosterone.
“It’s so goddamn true! They are turned on from just sitting next to us, like a dog in heat,” she states, and makes a humping action, causing more laughter.
“We are gonna get busted, girlfriends. Let’s finish this conversation another day and get back to it,” Jasmine declares, winking at me. This is totally a “to be continued” moment.
I couldn’t agree more; I would turn beetroot red if Tony heard me talking about cocks and sex; he’s like an older father figure.
***
After work, I change quickly into my gym clothes. I decided earlier in the day that a walk would be perfect. Sometimes working indoors has its downsides; fresh air is something I crave.
The last of the afternoon sun is still burning down; the vitamin D is so invigorating. I increase my speed to get my heart rate up and my adrenaline pumping.
Headphones are in and the iPod is shuffling through my eclectic music.
Exercise is good for the soul; it stimulates endorphins, similar to sex. I know which one I’d rather.
Walking is less messy, more solitary, and less complicated.
I take a few deep breaths as I think about the comment the Rock made about making things more permanent. What is happening lately? He is the last person I expected to make that comment, like ever. He’s one of the biggest players I know.
Correction. He is the biggest player I know.
A brisk walk just isn’t cutting it, so I start running, slowly.
I’m feeling a little conflicted, I guess. I’m not getting any younger. What if by the time I want to settle down, there’s no one decent left? Oh God, I’m going to end up an old maid who’s alone, desperate, and dateless.
Now, I’m sprinting. I will run these crazy-arse thoughts out of my mind.
I do not want to settle down with a sex god who has literally had more than two hundred partners. He and I have never really had a lengthy conversation.
He is a boxer; imagine the hospital trips, concussions, brain injuries.
My mind is clear.
If more ever happened with him, I’d be playing with fire, so no thanks.
I’ll be avoiding him for a while.
Chapter 9
A welcome distraction
Dan:
Hey Jemma,
Work extended my trip, but I'm finally back.
You free for dinner Friday night?
Well, I wasn't expecting a message for dinner, considering the dirty texts. Maybe the whole away with work thing was legit. Who am I to judge? But seriously, is this going to get messy? I mean, is this a date?
Let’s call it a catch-up. I guess dinner could be cool then a shag. He was definitely hot.
But I like to keep it interesting, so I'll make him sweat a few hours before I text him back.
Treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen.
Three
hours later, I reply. Yep, I’m that person.
Jemma:
Hey,
Sure, dinner sounds cool.
Good old iPhones. I can see that he has read my message and is typing back already; it makes me smile. He is keen … but maybe too keen.
Dan:
Awesome!
I can pick you up around 7pm. I was thinking I'll book for 7:30.
Any suggestions on a nice place to eat?
I rack my brain, thinking of places to go for dinner.
Maybe casual like the Outback Steakhouse, or somewhere a little fancier, like Blue Water Thai at Milson’s Point.
Me:
Blue Water Thai has great food, it’s in Milson’s Point, if that suits?
Dan:
Sounds perfect. Text me your address, please.
No sex though, it’s just dinner.
I giggle at his reply. God, is he serious? No sex. What does that mean, he wants more …?
I’ll fix that.
Jemma:
Well I'm not coming then ...
Ha-ha
Dan:
I'm the one who will have trouble refusing your hotness.
Jemma:
True, so why refuse then.
Dan:
Good question. You are keeping me on my toes already.
Jemma:
That's just what I do …
Dan:
I like it.
Jemma:
See you Friday.
Dan:
I'm looking forward to it.
Jemma:
Oh, and my address is:
14 Dwyer Street, North Sydney
Apartment 6
I’m left smiling again after our texting. There are no crazy alarm bells going off with him; hopefully, what you see is what you get.
Chapter 10
Brazilian vs the hairy mound
In all seriousness, my hoo-ha is getting way overgrown. Thank God, I’ve got my waxing appointment tomorrow; in case Dan’s no-sex rule gets thrown out the window, preparation is key. I need a few days to desensitise as even after years that shit still hurts like a motherfucker.
But gotta love the smoothness and being hair free.
Tia is all about the hairy mound; her words “guys love it,” are such a cop-out. I don’t believe guys like wiry, curly pubes hanging and covering the very part they want to get inside.