Beautiful Disaster (Beautiful #1)
Page 56The need for any further communication dwindles fast when we start tearing off each other's clothes, in our haste knocking over a chair. I feel the back of my legs get slammed against the side of the couch. Holding onto Jazz, I kick his legs out from under him while I turn us to the side, ending with us falling into the cushions of the sofa with me mostly on top of him. The impact has jarred us both enough to break our kiss, and for a moment we simply stare at each other, panting loudly in the otherwise silent room. Whatever he sees on my face makes him grin for a moment, then he pulls me down and we resume where we left off.
When I finally manage to get my hand into his jeans, I find him already hard, and more than willing to kick off the offending garment. I chuckle as he tears off my pants next, divesting me of them and my boxer briefs with a few jerky motions. We're both needy for contact, kissing and touching each other with rising tension. Before long I rear up and search around for the bottle of lube that must be somewhere underneath the coffee table. After all, the couch has seen more action than our bed lately, no sense in not keeping the necessities at hand.
Jazz grins at me briefly when he sees my hunt has been successful, but when he tries to turn over I just lean into him, pinning him with my weight so that he has to stay on his back. Confusion remains on his face as he watches me squirt lube onto my palm, but he doesn't resist when I grab his cock and stroke it a few times, then nudge his right leg up towards the backrest of the couch so that I can reach his anus and push a wet finger into him. Leaning further into him, I grab his dick with my free hand and claim his mouth again, feeling my own hard cock rub over his lower stomach.
Even though the need to fuck him is screaming inside of me, I take my time working my fingers in and out of him, feeling him relax gradually, then raise his hips to make them push deeper into him. I speed up a bit, then lean back as I watch him succumb to his lust gradually between both of my hands.
Of course, I have jerked him off plenty of times, but this time is different somehow. I love watching him writhe, love listening to the low moans and near growled grunts that he utters before he finally can't hold back anymore and comes with a few spurts over my hand and his stomach.
Following an impulse, I lean over him and lick up his spunk, letting my teeth scrape over his abs on my way back up to his mouth. He chuckles when he tastes himself on my tongue, still a bit breathless from the exertion. I don't intend to let him catch his breath just yet, though.
Moving back until I'm sitting on my haunches, I make a grab for the lube bottle again, but Jazz is surprisingly faster than me, his prepped hand already wrapping around my cock before I can protest. Not that I would, but I'm still a little stunned, and all too happy to thrust a few times into his hand to get myself ready. Then I just can't take it any more and push him back down, and with a decisive thrust I slide my cock into him. The forcefulness of the motion makes him grunt, and my attempt not to smear any lube or jizz remaining on my hands onto the couch ends up with me nearly falling on top of him, the resulting friction delicious.
We end up face to face that way, and I grin down hungrily at him when I start to move, slow, deep thrusts that draw all kinds of sighs and moans from us both. He looks up at me with his eyes wide, his face flushed, then grabs my head and pulls me down far enough so that he can devour my mouth. Throwing all caution concerning altercations due to further ruining the couch deliberately to the wind, I put my hands flat onto the cushions to shift my balance, then pick up the pace, shoving my cock deep into him.
While our movements get more frantic by the minute, the sense of this being more than just any fuck is all encompassing, lending a special quality to the moment – making it intimate somehow. When I finally come it's with a loud shout before I sag down, my forehead against his shoulder, his breathy laugh filling my ears.
We remain lying like that for a while, and once I can move again I turn my head to look at his face, finding him smiling at me in turn. As the sweat slowly dries on my back the realization of the capital mess we've made passes through my mind, but I don't care.
"Are you done staring into space yet? Because I'm starting to get a weird feeling in the hip you're lying on, so if you don't mind, get off me," Jazz huffs, then laughs when instead of moving I just look at him. "What?"
"Nothing," I snort, then pull back a little as I smirk at him, and start to laugh.
"You're such an asshole," he grunts, then punches me in the shoulder, both as payback and to get me to move, but his success is greatly impaired by the fact that he's laughing himself. Shaking my head, I extend my hand to him and draw him to his feet.
We end up standing way closer to each other than we're used to. The moment feels strange and a bit awkward, but Jazz diffuses it by reaching up and drawing my head closer still, brushing his lips almost tentatively against mine. I happily moan into his mouth as I let his tongue snake in, then squeeze his ass almost possessively as he kisses me. He continues to laugh, rubbing his half-hard cock not very subtly against my thigh, and the meaningfulness of the moment dissipates into stupid foolery, leaving us both grinning at each other.
"Come on, let's grab a shower, I think we both need it," I propose. Jazz nods, then looks at the couch and the decorative spots left drying on the fabric.
"She's so going to have our asses for this mess!"
"Oh yes, she will," I agree, then smirk. "Unless we keep her too busy to notice."
He strikes a pensive pose, arms crossed and the fingers of one hand scratching his chin while he looks at the ceiling.
"Could work. If we try hard enough, that is. But let's shower first. I'm starting to feel vaguely gross standing here like this."
We drag our sorry selves upstairs, both too tired to race each other.
Showering is a somewhat industrial undertaking, more cleaning, less groping. After drying off we end up on the bed. I snort when he leaves the usual Bella-sized distance between us, then scoot over until I'm close enough to touch him comfortably if I want to. But for now, we just look into each other's eyes, getting a little lost in the moment.
"I'm sorry if you felt I was deliberately ignoring you," I finally start the talk we need to have eventually. "I really wasn't. I just don't work that way. I don't play games."
He holds my gaze calmly, then sighs.
"I know. I wasn't intentionally acting like a twelve year-old girl."
The surprisingly accurate analogy makes me smirk for a moment, but I try to remain serious.
"For all our sakes, don't do it again. We can talk about anything in or out of the playroom, but I won't play guessing games. When something comes up, you tell me, and we'll deal with it. Okay?"
"Sure," he agrees, then grunts. "Don't know why I was acting so stupid.
Guess I was simply afraid you'd just -"
"Kick you out?" I presume.
"Reject me," he clarifies, his gaze not quite avoiding mine, but also not holding it for more than a few seconds. "I wasn't sure if I was ready to handle that so soon again. That's why I simply wanted to wait. It wasn't like I needed to run to you and tell you the moment I realized it. And it didn't exactly happen from one day to the next, anyway. One day I just knew. And then, out of the blue Bella gets in my face, telling me that I have to talk to you about it, or else. You know how she gets when she sets her mind on an idea."
"To you maybe! To me, more like a Rottweiler, growling and teeth snapping included."
"Not much difference then," I surmise, making him share a sympathetic grin.
"Yeah. It was actually quite funny. There I was sitting, musing over my morning yogurt, and all of a sudden she's all, you need to tell him, you know? Or else you'll drive all of us insane, and then we'll have to burn the couch again."
"Which we might have to, anyway."
"Whatever, you know what she meant. I tried to act as if I didn't understand what she was talking about, but she didn't buy it. And ever since then she's been bugging me to talk to you. Guess I should have listened."
I nod, smiling.
"Rule number one for living with Bella – listen to what she says. She's usually right."
He answers with a noncommittal grunt.
"I just don't understand how she can see stuff like that so clearly, when even I wasn't all that sure what was going on myself."
"Because she's good at reading people. And, to be frank, contrary to both of us, she has the emotional distance needed to keep from acting like a moron."
"Guess so," he agrees, then regards me a little pensively. "Am I ever going to get an answer? Or should I just let your actions speak louder than words?"
"Do you need an answer?"
I feel a little weird turning the discussion to this topic, but judging from the way he's grinning at me, I can tell that he's mostly yanking my chain.
"Not really. I mean, it's just semantics, right?"
"You might want to sound a little more convincing," I tease back, then pull him close for a quick kiss when he looks almost offended. He grunts some kind of unintelligible protest into my mouth, before he slings an arm over my side and shimmies towards me until almost the whole length of our bodies is touching. We continue to touch each other, and explore and kiss already familiar territory with unfamiliar intimacy.
I moan softly when his hand eventually finds my cock and starts stroking me, slowly and languidly. It's not enough to make me hard fast, but enough to tease my arousal from its usual base level. I try to reciprocate but he pushes my hand away with a laugh, forcing me to look for something else to occupy myself with. Only before I find anything, he suddenly stops, looking a little guilty.
"You should call Bella. I think she was genuinely pissed, not just frustrated with us both for not doing what she thought we should."
I pointedly look down at where his hand is still wrapped around my semi erect cock, but of course he's right. I presume she took off to visit one of our friends, or my mother if she was really mad, but things could go downhill fast if I leave her locked in that state of mind for too long. And while I think that I haven't done anything wrong, she will still blame me for having let things slide for too long.
"I will. But you might want to consider finishing what you've started first?"
"Not sure I should," he grinned. "That would just lead to more and more, and then it'll be past midnight and she'll castrate us both for leaving her worrying for nothing for so long – not sure getting you off now is worth that."
Sighing theatrically I accept defeat, then get up and walk downstairs to retrieve my cell phone from my discarded pants. I have one missed text, from Bella, telling me in very few words – three to be precise – that she is at Rose's. The stupid guy part of me considers just replying in kind, but after the 'did you cook' remark, 'come home now' might not be the best idea. Plus, from the lack of dishes on or around the stove I can tell that she hasn't, anyway. I'm not that stupid.
Walking over to the window front to peer outside, I hit speed dial. Bella picks up on the fourth ring, and I wonder if she's had her cell out waiting to hear from me.
"Hey," I greet her, a bit cautiously. I hate having to talk to her on the phone when things are a little strained between us; I prefer to be able to read her body language.
"Hey," she echoes my words, sounding neutral, which in her case means she's very likely still pissed.
"Do you know when you'll be home? I miss you."
She pauses, then I hear her exhale slowly.
"Did you talk?"
"Yeah."
"Did he tell you?"
"Huh?" she asks, obviously surprised at what she must guess is a weird change of topic.
"Because there's lube and jizz all over it."
Now a completely different kind of silence follows, and I can tell she must be smiling although she tries to sound gruff.
"Seriously? Can't you ever make it up into the bedroom? The sheets are so much easier to change!"
"Guilty as charged. I jumped him. You can spank me for having been such a bad boy. I think it's mostly my jizz anyway."
Bella gives a brief bark of laughter.
"Oh, no, I won't, you actually have to be on your best behavior for me to indulge your need to be spanked!"
"Too bad, you do it so well."
"Smart-ass."
"Always," I grin, then look out into the night. "Come home now, please?"
"Sure. Shall I bring pizza? I can grab it on the way over."
"I'll get it, you just get home, 'kay?"
"How can you be so needy after what I presume amounted to you fucking the living shit out of Jazz, pun intended?"
"Because I'm a glutton! And it's been weeks since we just watched a movie together, the three of us, without anyone having their panties in a twist over something."
"What do you know about the state of my panties?" she huffs, but before I can answer, she goes on. "Scratch that. Rose is tired anyway. I should let her sleep. Extra pineapple for me, please."
"Sure thing. Love ya."
"You, too," she replies, then hangs up.
The sound of one of the floorboards creaking tells me that I'm no longer alone, but I wait for Jazz to come closer before I turn around and look at him. He's trying so hard to appear neutral but his expression screams that if not upset, he's at least slightly miffed, but that just makes me grin.
Holding his gaze I walk over to him, then pull him close, hating that he has already donned a t-shirt and sweat pants as I would have preferred to feel his skin on mine.
Looking deeply into his eyes I lean in until our foreheads almost touch, then utter the few words he so valiantly insisted he doesn't need to hear, but obviously wants to.
"Love you, too."
To take some of the sappiness out of the sentiment, I reach for his ass and squeeze it briefly, making him snort before he steals a quick kiss.
"So, what was this about pizza? I'm starving!"
Snorting, I scroll through the directory on my phone, then call the Italian restaurant around the corner and place the order. Ten minutes later I make my way into the cold night, returning to our building just as Bella comes walking down the street from the other direction. I wait at the door for her, trying for an easy grin, but from her knowing smile I gather that I probably still look somewhat guilty. I don't like fighting with her, and prefer that her screaming at me always ends with hot, equally angry make-up sex, not hours spent apart.
I'm a little surprised when she doesn't leave it at a quick peck on my mouth but deepens her kiss to a real one, tongue and all. She even has a coy smile for me when she pulls back to unlock the door.
"What? Never heard of conditioning? Gotta reward you on the rare occasion that you get your head out of your ass."
I huff, then follow her inside, the stack of pizza cartons in my arms sadly keeping me from slapping her ass as I really want to right now.
"How's Rose?" I ask instead as we wait for the elevator.
"She's good. She was bitching for fifteen minutes that she needs a haircut.
"Probably not."
"I'm so glad we don't have one. Yet, I mean."
"Yet?" I can't keep a grin off my face. As usual, Bella scowls, but then shrugs.
"Who knows what I'll think about that in a few years? If I can see two thickheaded mules like you and Jazz see reason with a single temper tantrum, I'm sure I can get you to change diapers at 3:00 am, too. I should remember that tactic, it might prove useful in the years to come."
"Bella?"
"Yup?" She pops the 'p' succinctly, her smile already darkening with anticipation.
"Now you're the one who deserves that spanking."
"Tease! Like that will keep me from anything."
"I could leave it at just a spanking, you know."
She huffs, then holds the door open for me upstairs so I can bring the pizzas inside.
"Theoretically, I guess you could. Practically? Never. And that's one of the reasons I gladly suffer all your stubbornness and stupidity."
Taking the cartons from me after having ditched her outer layer of clothes, she makes her way over to the couch, briefly scowling at the spots before she shakes her head in exasperation. Jazz joins her, armed with three bottles of beer and a stack of napkins, and I quickly follow.
Together, we curl up on the couch, Bella wedged between Jazz and me, eating pizza right out of the box and drinking beer straight from the bottle, as it should be. Sometimes, the simplest things in life are still the best.
Chapter 34
"Do you really think this is a good idea? We could just do it in a week or so instead. Or next month. No need to rush it, right?"
I sigh, fighting hard to control the smile that threatens to spread across my face.
"Jazz, calm down. If you don't want to play, then we won't."
"It's not that I don't want to," he offers, then shrugs. "But, you know, my brief venture into topping hasn't worked out all that well, with the whole lack of observation thing. Maybe it's still too soon?"
"Only one way to find out, right? But right now it's not your lack of awareness that's a problem, but more the fact that you show as much confidence as a slug."
"Hey, who says that slugs can't be confident?"
"I do," I reply, and when that makes him pause I simply raise one eyebrow.
He grunts, then grumbles something under his breath about cocky bastards.
"Look, there's no need to fret. I'll be there the whole time, a silent observer you can depend on, should you need me. But for what it's worth, I think you're ready."
He smiles at me gratefully, then takes a last, deep breath.
"Okay, then let's do this! I mean, what can go wrong? Chances are five to one that I'll be the one to safeword, not her!"
I wisely hold my tongue, then follow him across the hall and into the playroom.
It's slightly weird being reduced to a spectator in my own playroom, but it makes sense to do Jazz's first scene as a Dom here, with Bella, not me.
We've talked at length about what he can do, what he has to keep in mind, and what signals he needs to respond to, should they occur – I really think he is ready. Bella thinks we're both full of shit and should have done this months ago already. Which is another reason why I think she deserves to be on the receiving end of a few errant flogger hits. She has been asking for it – literally and figuratively.