Audition (North Security 4)

A gasp, and for a second I think she might be laughing. Then I realize it’s a quiet sob. “I’ve never—I haven’t—I’m sorry.”

Oh no. Oh fuck. She’s a virgin?

This cunt that’s holding me like I’ve finally found home. A virgin. I drop my forehead to her back. “I’m the one who’s sorry, sweet thing. I didn’t know. I didn’t think. And I can’t even pull out and fuck you the right way, because you feel like fucking heaven.”

“Don’t you dare stop,” she says, her tone so fervent that I let out an unsteady laugh.

“Adorable. How can you be so sexy and adorable at the same time?”

In slow degrees I feel her relax her body. It’s not something that happens on its own. It’s a force of will, because she’s an athlete. She can master the pain of an eight-hour workout. She can push through the wall that tells ordinary people to stop. That’s how she takes my cock—as a challenge.

“Do it,” she says, like a prayer, a chant. “Do it, do it, do it.”

I’m caught between her body and the moral thing to do. That’s always where I’m caught. It’s the space where I’ve lived my life since I first saw her dance in that shadowed warehouse years ago. I should pull out of her body and walk away. Or at the very least I should come in a degrading spray across her body. Then she’d really learn to hate me. Instead I fuck her in small movements, careful thrusts, forcing myself to be gentle with her—as much as I can with my dick wedged in her clenched channel.

I press a kiss to the back of her neck, and she shivers. I do it again and again and again until I find a place that makes her pussy clamp hard. The climax starts at the base of my spine. It blinds me, until I’m sucking the back of her shoulder, bucking against her like an animal, being milked by the spasms of her pussy as I make her feel nothing but pain.

We collapse in a pile of sweaty limbs. A gentleman would never crush a lady, but I land on her with no grace and no concern for her well-being. She’s strong enough to take it. That’s the best thing I can say for me—that I picked a woman strong enough to survive the way I fuck.

When I finally manage to pull myself up, she’s still sprawled on the mats, her legs bent, chest rising and falling in an endless pant. She looks relieved. She hasn’t come yet, but she still looks relieved, because she survived the ordeal that was Joshua North.

It’s not over yet. That’s the part she doesn’t know. We’re only getting started. Virgin or no, this was going to be a long night for her. I needed to take the edge off, needed to slake the smallest fraction of lust that I’ve felt for five years so that I could work her over good.

I leave her in a puddle of unsated lust to take care of the condom in the bathroom. When I come back, she’s actually sitting up, smoothing her hair back from her face.

As if we’re done.

A nudge with my foot

to her inner thigh. She looks up, confusion in her brown eyes. If only I could warn her. Find yourself a nice doctor to have missionary sex with the lights off. It’s too late for warnings. I kneel between her feet and make a home for myself. A tug of her ankle, and she topples over on the mat. I press my face between her legs and breathe deep. Salt and sex and woman. I want to drown here. I lick her through the damp fabric of her leotard.

“I want you wet every time you wear this,” I mutter, biting at the inside of her leg. “It’s going to be so fucking embarrassing, having a wet spot between your legs every time you dance. Doing the splits and knowing everyone can smell how aroused you are.”

She moans something that sounds like protest but feels like surrender.

“All the men in their suits. They’ll pull out their dicks right there in the theater, watching you spin for them, watching you dance like it’s your goddamn art, and all they want is a piece of this pussy.”

Her hips jerk, and I hold her down, licking hard through the fabric, using my tongue and my teeth. It will never be enough friction with the leotard between us, and she keens her dissatisfaction with the barrier.

“The women would all be jealous of you, of this tight little body, of the way their husbands pretend to be interested in dance so they can imagine fucking you.” Finally, finally I push aside the leotard. She’s burning hot and so wet, the scent of her stronger now. “They want to be the ones onstage, instead of you.”

Bethany rocks her hips in silent plea. “Josh.”

“It’s okay,” I reassure her, soothing her clit with an almost-chaste kiss. “You can come.”

I follow that up with a swipe of my tongue, and she comes with small, hard waves, her whole body clenched, her fingers tight in my closely cropped hair.

When she’s done, she collapses again on the mat, but I don’t let her have a moment. Instead I clamp my lips around her clit and suck. A high-pitched squeal fills the gym, but that only makes me suck harder. Her hands claw uselessly at my hair, pulling it, yanking it from my scalp, but it does not fucking matter. I work her body until she comes again, right on the heels of the last orgasm, her whole body bucking against me, a hoarse scream bouncing off the mats.

My lips are slick with her desire. She keeps shivering, her body out of her control now. It’s under my control, and now she understands that. “You said—” She breaks off in a helpless moan. “You said you’d stop.”

“Did you tell me no?” I offer an innocent shrug. “I don’t think you did.”

She’s shivering and shaking, as if her body can’t decide what to do. I gather her in my arms and press a kiss to her cheek. “Close your eyes,” I murmur. “Rest a moment. We don’t have to hurry through this. We have all night.”

Then her eyes do fly open. “All night?”

“You didn’t think I was finished with you, did you? Under the circumstances.”—such as the fact that you were a fucking virgin—“I won’t ride you anytime soon. There’s no help for it. I’m going to have to use your mouth extra to make up for it, though.”