Her cool fingers go to my chin and turn my face slowly towards hers. She’s close, leaning in, her eyes wide and round and hypnotic, somehow giving me something to focus on, to steady myself. She brushes her fingers across my jaw, and her soft touch seems to loosen the pressure inside of me a little. Her lips part slowly, and then she kisses me.
I keep my eyes closed for a few seconds after she pulls away, savoring the soft touch of her lips on mine. A touch that feels like her fingers on my soul, caressing it and protecting it from the darkness and bitterness that’s built up inside. When I open my eyes again she’s still there, still leaning towards me, and it’s like I’m in a different place – and I realize I am. I’m no longer on the grounds of my dad’s mansion. I’m with her.
She kisses me again, this time with more passion, her tongue fucking my throat, but this isn’t the guilty pleasure we embraced at the retreat anymore. This isn’t two people realizing how wrong something is and getting turned on by it, this is something that feels right. I press my seat back and Jessie straddles me swiftly, her hands fumbling at my fly as her tongue continues to press into me ravenously.
I let my hands explore her curves, pulling her toward me so the thrill of her soft body makes all the blood rush to my cock. She feels the hardness stirring against her and grasps it between her fingers, releasing it from my pants and pressing her * against it through her jeans. She grinds back and forth, panting softly in my ear, her breath warm against my neck.
Within minutes she’s got me worked up to the point where I feel like I’m about to explode. She knows by now that I love her tongue in my mouth, she knows by now just the way to work my cock, she knows by now I can’t resist her when she makes those eyes at me. She slides back until she’s perched on her knees beside me, and bends her face down over my cock, eyes fixed on mine, flashing a devilish smile before she takes me in her mouth.
Her tongue-fucking was passionate enough, but when she works that tongue against the end of my cock, it’s almost feverish. I slam my head back onto the seat like I just went from zero to sixty in less than a second, her ripe lips coaxing and controlling me with a skill and talent that seems almost unfair.
When I feel the start of a different kind of rush I raise my head and look at her, those hazel eyes burning through me like a poker, like they’re just begging me to get off. I come hard and fast inside her mouth, and then melt back into my seat as if I was dropped there from thirty thousand feet.
Jessie shuffles back onto the passenger side and I roll my head to the side to look at her.
“Feel better?” she smiles.
“Yeah,” I drawl in a voice dowsed in satisfaction. “But it’s getting kinda scary how good you are at that.”
“Just my luck to have a talent I can’t put on my resume.”
“Just put down that you’re full of ideas.”
She laughs softly. “Only when the job’s satisfying.”
We step out of the car and start walking up toward the mansion’s large doors.
When we get to the door, a tired-looking guy does his best to smile and then opens it for us. A wall of sound emerges the second he does, a million screeching voices, cackled laughter, obnoxious shouts. It sounds like hell itself. I feel it in my gut, and I’m drained before I even step across the threshold. That was another thing about my father’s parties: everyone wanted to be heard, and the result sounded like a thousand maniacs on a sinking boat.
I swap a quick glance with Jessie, her ever-calm face showing the first cracks of anxiety, and then I take her hand and we go inside.
The sound is one thing, the visual assault is a whole other level. Anywhere else and my extended family – along with the people who associate with them – would be the flashiest people in the room. Here, they meld into a giant mass of oversized jewelry, zebra prints, gravity-defying bouffants, and botox. It’s like a theme party for the worst fashion excesses of the twentieth century. In my simple, tailored suit and Jessie’s jeans and shirt we may as well be camouflaged.
“Sequins, sequins, everywhere,” Jessie mumbles in awe as I grip her hand tighter and pull her through the crowd, ducking and weaving like we’re making our way through a war zone.
“Nate? Nate! Is that you?” I hear a second before one of my step-brothers appears in front of me and puts a hand on my chest to stop me from leaving.
I shoot Jessie a look as if to say ‘first obstacle of the evening.’
“Hey, Kenny.”
“It’s really you!” the young guy in the tank top and big chain says. “Hey, Sam! Isaac!” he calls out across the room, like a mating call.
I raise a hand to stop him.
“No need for that. I’m just here to say happy birthday to my dad.”
“Nate! Do you remember when we used to go to those Raiders games together?”
Sam and Isaac – two clones of Kenny - join us and give me vigorous bro-hugs.
“Dude! Nate!”
“Do you remember?” Kenny repeats.
“I don’t think that was me,” I reply.
“Sure it was! We used to go all the time!”