You Don't Own Me(99)

‘Give Jeremy a nut. Give Jeremy a nut,’ the bird squawks.

‘What kind of a bird is he?’

‘An African Grey.’

‘And how on earth did you get him?’

‘His owner owed me money and had to leave the country in a hurry. So I took the bird.’

Jeremy fixes me with a belligerent eye and flaps his wings. ‘You’re wet.’

I gasp.

BJ turns to me with a glimmer of laughter in his eyes. ‘It’s not what you think. He just wants a bath.’

I laugh.

‘Want a cookie.’

BJ gives him something from his pocket and the bird holds it in his claws and eats it.

‘Oh BJ. I think he’s gorgeous.’

BJ grins happily and there is nothing to outshine his smile. I about melt into a puddle right there and then.

‘God only knows why I care so much for this stupid bird,’ he says.

‘You’re a wimp,’ Jeremy says and begins to laugh like a human.

It is funny and we both laugh.

‘Kiss. Oops, bad birdie. Bite the dog. Bad dog.’

‘How old is he?’

‘Not sure, but older than you and me. He’s maybe 40.’

‘Wow. Can he fly?’

‘Give me the money, bitch,’ the bird squawks.

‘Yup, he can fly.’

‘Do you take him outside?’

‘I have in the past, but he doesn’t really seem to like it.’

I watch Jeremy get a bath. It’s the cutest thing ever. It is fun and we both laugh. I look at BJ with his bird and I can hardly believe that this is the same aggressive fighting monster I saw in the pit.

I offer Jeremy a nut. He takes it from me and quickly flutters away screeching, ‘Where’s my money, bitch.’

I laugh and BJ catches me by the waist. I look up at him, tall and broad-shouldered, and the laughter dies in my throat.

‘Time my cock was inside you,’ he says.

I hop on to his body and wrap my legs around his hips. ‘Carry me to your bed and ravish me then,’ I whisper daringly.

We go up the stairs and he opens the door to the bedroom where I had received my spanking. He puts me at the edge of the bed. Outside the wind howls. Inside we are absolutely silent. I cannot even hear my own heartbeat. The only sound is the fire crackling in the fireplace.

He starts off by kissing me. By the time he raises his mouth I am totally nude.

‘That’s a clever trick. Now show me my cock,’ I whisper hoarsely.

He throws aside his t-shirt and unbuttons his trousers. I drink in the inked, tanned skin, the barely leashed strength in his coiled muscles and follow the line of straight black hair on its epic journey down to his crotch. The last scrap of cloth slides to the floor and I fix my gaze on his cock. Have me with a side order of caviar, or a maraschino cherry and two scoops of ice cream, or just me on my own, but fucking eat me, it screams aggressively.

I love his raging cock.

I grab his hips and slowly slide my puckered mouth over the thick roll of meat. He groans with pleasure. The heat of his lust flows from him onto my skin. I love sucking his cock. I’ll make all the other women who have taken him into their mouths a memory that never was. It is a lazy, dreamlike thought.

Outside the storm passes. The sky becomes milky white, shadows move, but I do not stop. Every time he is about to come, I pause, I change my rhythm. He hisses with frustration. I understand. It’s annoying. But there is a point to it all. My lips grow as numb, but I do not stop. As if sucking his cock is an old tradition that can bring bad luck if broken.

But he has other ideas.

He seizes my head, fully determined that I will no longer have the reins, and starts thrusting lustily towards his climax. I taste the salt in my mouth and jerk my head back so his cum sprays onto my face, my open mouth, my chin, and my throat. There is nothing he has done to another woman that he cannot do to me. When the last drop has been squeezed onto me I slip my tongue out of my mouth and slowly lick his cum from my lips.

He smears the rest on my face, neck and breasts.

Then he pushes me onto my back and presses his naked flank into my softness, crushing it beautifully, and thrusts into my body as it arches up to receive him. The sensation is magic. My loins ache. My insides feel raw. A gasp. A cry. A stiffening. His muscles strain and ripple urgently. We move together, slick and sliding against each other. My breath comes faster as his cock swells inside me. The whole time his gaze never leaves mine, his eyes smoldering and rapt. The moments lengthen into technicolor dreams: rich like wine. I sigh at his gentle hands, his velvet mouth.

Afterwards, I slip on his t-shirt and we drink apple mojitos. He is funny. I laugh. We have sex on the floor. Then we drink more mojitos and eat cold chicken and popcorn. I feel myself become lazily drunk.