Flowers for Jill Ch. 06

Suddenly the thought of being so far away from him didn't bother her as much as it presented the possibility of resuming their tryst as a long distance arrangement. The idea shone like a beacon in a dark night.

"What are you waiting for?" she rubbed her pussy on his hand provoking him, and he silenced her with a kiss. The fingers of his left hand wrapped securely around her neck pinning her head to the wall, and his right hand scraped the wet lacey crotch of her underwear.

And just like she told her neighbor earlier, she felt everything. Pulsing, burning, expanding until it was almost too much for her to take all at once...the prints of his fingers on her neck pressing the thin gold strands of her necklace into her skin, the blunt edges of his short-cut nails when his hands contracted involuntarily as he hummed while kissing her. His lips, truculent in their attack as they mashed hers against her teeth, and stole her tongue into his mouth...his fingers teasing and spurring a response from her sopping pussy...everything.

Pulling back to take a few harsh breaths, he stared at her with glittering eyes before his dilated pupils fell on his hand that was holding her neck, and he cursed releasing her throat and cupping her head instead.

"I'm sorry," he kissed her neck, and she arched it for him, "You need to stop me when I'm hurting you."

"You won't hurt me." she whispered with conviction and felt his nose nuzzle the indentation at the bottom of her throat.

"I won't ever hurt you purposely." He confirmed moving to kiss the slope of her shoulder, "But you need to let me know if I am."

"I can take a little manhandling." She parted her legs using the height of her heels as a prop, "I'm a tough chick."

He slipped a finger under her panties, thorough in his tracing of her cleft, drawing a sigh from deep within her chest.

"Sometimes I want to treat you like a princess, but you won't let me," he drew his finger out, pulled the crotch of her thong between her pussy lips, and pinched them around it making her moan and clutch his shoulders, "You're so stubborn." He hissed nudging her nose with his to get her to meet his gaze, "So headstrong and stuck in your own head, sometimes."

"My God, Marc..." she pleaded.

"And you like playing nasty games just as much as I do."

"I don't-"

"Shut it." he smirked before kissing her mouth and shutting her up.

Her breasts strained against the tight bodice of the gown, squeezing up like they're going to spill out. She noticed his eyes dropping to her chest and automatically took a deep breath pushing them up further; Eve slicing the apple and enticing Adam with yet another piece.

His breath intake was harsh as his middle finger flirted with her opening, eyes still devouring her cleavage, "Have you been keeping this pussy for me?" he probed he with intent, and her left leg wobbled, sliding forward a little, "Have you given it to someone else after leaving me like you did?" he insisted when she didn't answer, and nudged her clit with the pad of his thumb while inserting his finger all the way inside her.

"No." she moaned, but he wasn't convinced, and questioned again, "No one's been here," he curled his fingers for emphasis, "Since I filled it with cum back in July?"

"No one." She promised, "I swear."

He brushed his lips against hers several times, and she felt compelled to add, "I didn't want anyone else, so I thought of you and...played with myself...alone." She clenched her pussy around his fingers for emphasis, which seemed to drive him insane for he added another finger stroking in and out of her, before dropping to his knees.

He prompted her to part her legs by running his fingers, slick with her moisture, on the inside of her thighs, and grumbled, "This damn dress is in the way."

Jillian was quick to help, slipping her fingers in the slash and doing some garment adjusting until she peeled the skirt off on both sides. The beaded fabric was heavy, and she felt the beads press into her palms as she fisted them, trembling with anticipation.

He stole a look up, meeting her eyes briefly as he shuffled his knees on the hard, uncarpeted floor of the janitor's room, "You smell delicious."

Out of habit, she opened her mouth to tell him the name of her perfume, but he dropped his eyes to her gold lace covered mound continuing, "I wasn't planning on eating you out in public like this, but that wet little pussy smells like my favorite dessert."

Weakly, she offered him -and herself- a way out remembering where they were, and what he intended to do, "I don't want you to ruin your tuxedo for me."

"Screw the tux,"" he mumbled pressing his nose to her crotch and inhaling, "How could you keep this sweet pussy away from me?" his mouth opened over her thong, lips pressing to her labia, and his tongue moved along the soaked fabric that covered her repeatedly. The only man who ate her like that; Frenching her cunt and using her underwear to scrape her engorged, throbbing clitoris.

"Yes, Marc." Letting go of one side of the dress, she plunged her fingers in his hair, the red lacquered fingernails standing out in a field of dark gold locks.

"Keep your dress open." He instructed. Then, to her disbelief, he grasped the upper left side of her thong and ripped the delicate Chantilly material.

The crinkling sharp noise of lace being torn made her flinch, "Marc!"

"Pretty panties, but they're in the way." He replied nonchalantly, not even bothering to meet her shocked gaze.

The destroyed flimsy panty held on by the right leg momentarily before he pulled again causing the rip to run through the crotch and to the other side, "I have a couple of your panties still." He commented casually, slipping the abused under garment into his jacket's front right pocket.

"You're one kinky son of a bitch, Dussant." She found herself crooning, and touched his hair again, "I want them back."

"No way!" he smirked licking the corner of his mouth, "'Sides, I don't travel with them."

Ever the smartass, she teased, "What do you do with them, then? Try them on?" That earned her a bite on her thigh that made her yelp and giggle.

"Sassy-mouthed tart." He admonished.

"Pervert!" she threw back biting her smile.

"Mmmm..." he buried his face into her sex, nose pressing against her clit, chin moving on the lowest part of her nether lips as his tongue licked up and down her cleft.

She moaned staring into the harsh yellow light, and felt the tip of his tongue relentlessly play with the bundle of soft tissues where her inner cunt lips met, right under her tight entrance. More moisture leaked from her hole dripping straight into his mouth, and adding lubrication to the sweet friction his mouth caused.

Marc fed on her pussy. There was no other way to describe the voracious choreography his mouth performed on her. He sucked her inner lips into his mouth alternating between them, drawing them in and pulling back to release them with obscene little smacks, and nuzzled her clit with his nose in between. Her pussy juices left a mess on his face, but he didn't seem to mind as he sat back on his heels and spread her cunt with his thumbs, holding her folds open like a butterfly. Mouth forming an O, he leaned forward momentarily blowing on her exposed secret, then withdrew to look at her again.

The thick drops of moisture that continued to ooze profusely from her prompted him to spread her wetness with the pads of his thumbs, smearing it on her inner thighs with a wicked yet dazed look in his eyes. He glanced up at her again, "It's like a succulent, half-eaten peach."

Nudging his cheek with the inside of her left thigh, she countered, "Finish eating it then, Marc. Eat my peach...please."

He blinked as a warm light glazed his eyes then he broke their locked gazes, and inched closer to her. His large hands grasped her thighs, and he rolled his forehead on her stomach kissing her through her dress, "Say that again."

"Eat my pussy, Marc." She amended, improvising, and he seemed to like that for he squeezed her thighs and twisted his hands around, back to front, until both his thumbs grazed her sex and started to smear her honey around once more.

The cramped space smelled musky like sex and pussy. She knew the smell would stick on her for the rest of the night since he wasn't so heedful and went on rubbing her moisture on the soft skin between her thighs again and again. Jillian didn't care though, she was banking on a swift exist after their brief dalliance, and a quick trip to her apartment for round two with him.

Out of nowhere, she remembered her sheets; the 3D floral design that she ordered online and turned out to be half past garish, but was a final sale that she had to keep. Why did she decide to use them? Would Marc make a wise crack about the chichi purchase she made out of boredom? Why wouldn't he, Tamara did! She thought to herself until Marc put his mouth to her pussy again.

He kissed her cunt hole repeatedly, and she threw her head back until it hit the wall. The poster behind her rustling as her hair moved against it. Imagination, insanity, or euphoria made her head the music played in the big hall. In actuality, there was no way the sound could travel the long corridors and penetrate the wall of the small room, but she heard it still; a sappy Christmas tune that she started along with.

A light chuckle between her legs alerted her to the fact that she was staring at the single yellow bulb once more, and she blinked against the harsh light on the inside of her eyelids when she looked at Marc.

"Keep singing," he encouraged sinking his thumb into her and wiggling it a little as if to test her tightness, "I like that I can get you to sing."

She didn't tell him that she heard the music in her head; no one liked a crazy chick who imagined a tune during sex, so she kept humming. After shuffling one side of her dress to the side and stuffing it behind her butt, she had a free hand to caress him...his cheek, temple, hair, and ear intoxicating her palm on the feel of him...rough, masculine, beautiful in that imperfect male way. And just like the song she hummed, he was all she wanted to Christmas.

That bold thumb, slickened with her essence, crept lower to flirt with her anus, slipping inside after swirling her moisture on the puckered star.

His dilated blue eyes flicked up to meet hers, and he moved the single digit in and out of her several times before whispering, almost reverently, "Would you let me in here if I wanted?" he twisted his thumb around for emphasis igniting a million little fires all over her body, tingling under her skin.

It wasn't something that she hadn't thought about, the dark kink has been added to her fantasies because of him, and she wasn't at all proud of it.

Lie, lie, lie, her brain urged, or just give him a noncommittal answer, "Yes," she blurted out feeling a flush tinge her cheeks while her brain screamed, what are you doing? "I'd let you do anything to me, Marc." Shut up already, Zahra.

"With you." He corrected popping his thumb out of her, and her small anal hole instantly shrunk closed again, "We play together, not on each other." He muttered lathering his index and middle finger with her moisture and nudging her asshole again.

Now? He was going to take her like that now? Her mind raced, and she closed her eyes tightly not knowing what to expect, or actually, not knowing how to deal with what she expected. He didn't get up though, and continued to coax the two fingers into her back passage diligently, going back to her pussy to lubricate them several times.

Her knees shook, toes curling in her shoes until she felt a cramp seize her right calf and jerked nervously to hear him whisper, "Relax, baby." And slip into her ass to the first knuckle. Both fingers. Deeper, further he went cooing for her to relax.

"Marc..." she swallowed the rest of the sentence involuntarily. She meant to say "This isn't the best of positions for this." But he attached his lips to her clit and flicked the hood with the tip of his tongue, and she banged her head against the wall again.

Her hand that still held her dress compressed tightly pressing her nails and the beads into her palm. It was a miracle the thread and intricate beading didn't tear and scatter the small golden beads everywhere like that scene from Cinderella that made her cry when she was a little girl.

Cinderella, that's what he called her earlier. Cinderella whom Prince Charming got on his knees for.

In and out, faster he fucked her ass with two broad fingers going deeper inside her than ever, and she heard his hand slapping lightly against the lower part of her luscious ass cheeks and cunt. His lips never left her distended clit that he suckled noisily, swallowing audibly every few seconds. It was all coming together, building up, and rolling towards the edge. The stupid light bulb caught her eyes again, uncomfortably burning them and making her blink repeatedly, but she didn't look away.

"Yes...oh God, yes...ummmhhh." She moaned thrusting her hips down on his fingers and face and he indulged her by slipping his thumb into her pussy.

It was funny how she felt the veins in her legs throb when she was close to a climax making them wobble. He must've sensed it, too, for he slipped his thumb out of her pussy, and gave her sex pearl a final lick to send her over the edge before pulling his head back. Evidently, he wanted her to come with his fingers in her ass and nothing else stimulating her, and she did; hurdling down like a chaotic avalanche of sharpened senses.

She bit her lower lip in an attempt not to make a noise, but couldn't help whimpering as she felt her pussy and her ass contracting and clenching in a maddening orgasmic ebb and flow. He was up and on her in a flash, fingers still deep inside her anus, he trapped her onto the wall with his big body, and covered her mouth with his other hand touching her forehead with his and staring into her eyes. The taste of the strawberry and champagne felt acidic in the back of her throat, too sweet it scratched, and she swallowed, her lips moving on his palm like she was kissing him.

The two long fingers plunged inside her didn't move until her contractions stopped, and he slipped them out delicately to cup her crotch as her orgasm turned into a dull throbbing beat.

"You're a wild little sex kitten, Ms. Jillian Zahra." He smiled removing his hand to kiss her mouth, "That was fun."

She swallowed and kissed him back, struggling to catch her breath when he didn't give her a break to do so. Then, knowing how to twist his hand, she cupped his crotch brazenly squeezing his erection, and making him start,

"Jesus, Jill, easy."

"I took my car coming in," She continued to rub his length through his pants, "I think I should leave first then you can follow me a short while later. I can give you the address if you're taking a taxi, or...do you have a rental? I'm bad at giving directions, do you have a GPS app on your phone?" she gushed earnestly even when he removed his hand from her pussy, and reached for a package of disposable kitchen towels, tearing into it, and cutting a big square to wipe his hands and face with.

"I'm not coming to your house, Jill." he uttered with finality, "The last time I came groveling to your place, I got slapped -metaphorically- with a shovel, and I don't want a repeat act." His words had a cruel tone, but the look in his eyes was reproachful yet genuine, "Everytime I make love to you, you go running away from me. The last time I did it, you moved to another state, I fear if I do it this time, you might punish me by moving to the other side of the world. I won't be so generous in approving a move to the Milan or Paris office, I'm afraid. So no, Jillian, this was just a little something for you and me to...celebrate our reunion, if you will. It's so hard for me to keep my hands to myself when you're around." He grasped her hand by the wrist, and lifted it to his mouth depositing a kiss on her pulse, "I prefer to play it safe when I don't know what to expect from you."

She was shocked speechless as she watched him put his hand to his nose and sniff, "I love the way you smell, I'm gonna smell like you all night." He winked and turned to the door where he halted, "It would be wise if we didn't go back at the same time."

"What?" she whispered weakly long after he left shutting the door behind him. He just...walked off, just like that. It piqued her that he made it sound so reasonable. That he could turn her inside out like that, then just stop and walk away with a good excuse, turning it all on her while escaping as the good guy.

"What?" she said to herself again, standing on wobbly legs, and finally grasping the awkwardness of her situation. She had no panties, her three-thousand-dollar dress was twisted unmercifully, and she smelled like the sticky pussy juice on her inner thighs, "Fuckin' A." she griped, righting her dress as best as she could. There had to be a bathroom close by, and she carefully sneaked out in search for one, while seething over Marc's stunt. So he was still mad at her after all, he never said that he wasn't, but she had assumed he'd let bygones be bygones during the long months during which they communicated like mature adults.

Determined to stay on top, she waltzed back into the reception hall after cleaning up and fixing her look. The double duty lip-stain she was wearing proved to be exactly what it advertised; smudge free and long lasting, since it looked as immaculate as it did when she applied it, even after the heavy make out session with Marc.

A waiter passed her, and she snatched a champagne flute fully intending to guzzle it down in one long sip, when she spotted Marc at the far exit. He was talking to someone, but had noticed her return, and ran his hand discreetly under his nose before curling his forefinger and rubbing it against the seam of his lips as if he was deep in thought. The wink he gave her proved that he wasn't at all into the conversation he was having, and was still thinking of what they did in the janitor closet a short while ago.

She wanted so badly to flip him the bird, but found herself snorting and shaking her head at him with a smile, "Vindictive jerk." She murmured getting rid of her champagne on a table. She wasn't angry with him -she couldn't be; he had gotten on his knees to pleasure her, then walked out with an obviously painful erection, unfulfilled and un-attended to. He was just...frustrated? Lonely? He was probably both, if he was anything like her, and possibly angry because he clearly still didn't endorse her move.

That whole thing about pursuing her and her not caring to return the favor clicked. He was always coming for her, not the other way around. Even when they met at the hotel and didn't have any complications present, she went to the suite and waited for him to come to her.

Maybe she needs that champagne after all.

He left a minute later, and she turned on her heels in an attempt to locate a waiter, but saw Helga talking to someone, and treaded resolutely towards the other woman.

"Can I steal you for a second?" she asked, her fingers trembling lightly.

Helga just smiled at her when she took her aside, and she was forced to blurt out, "Where is he staying?" no need to explain the man in question.

"I didn't even know he was coming."

"But you know where he's staying," she insisted, "Tell me."

"You know I couldn't believe it when this whole thing began, and you started acting bizarre, and he started acting bizarre, and..." Helga shook her head, "but now I see it. He ordered me to stay out of it, do you know that? Actually ordered me to-"