Page 53 of Jazz

I leant back further, tipping my hips up, using his cock just for me. Chasing the heat and the beginning of that tingle, Chase let go of my head, his fingers stroking down through the middle of my chest, over my stomach. Fuck. Dipping between us.

“Come on, Tiger,” his voice rasped. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

His thumb swirled on my clit. One movement. One circle over the top of me was all it took to take me over the edge. My body shook, my hips rocking faster and faster as I chased the feeling. His thumb didn’t stop, moving with me simultaneously as I pushed myself onto him. My head rolled back again, my mouth dropping open. I shuddered, riding to the last.

“Good girl,” Chase wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into him. “My turn.”

There was no mistaking the growl in his voice now. How close he was to coming. And that he needed me now like I’d needed him. He hugged my body to him, pushing up onto his feet, lifting me with him like it took no effort whatsoever. And then, he laid me on the bed, crawling over the top of me.

I felt his cock again, pushing up at my entrance. It took no effort to slide in; I was so wet. He moved inside me, twisting before settling into a rhythm that was just for him now. His hips pistoned hard, the rhythm growing. His eyes focused on my tits like he might just eat them, moving in and out of me. None of this was for me. Now he was just fucking, pulling out of me and plunging back into me. Using my pussy just for him.

Chase chewed on his lip, a sudden grunt filling the room, then another, and another. He grabbed at my thighs, pulling my legs apart, his fingers kneading my flesh, watching as he fucked me, the grunts filling the room like a rutting animal. Harder and harder. Stretching my legs out wider and wider.

“Ah, fuck,” he growled, “ah, fuck, ah, fuck.” His voice trailed off.

His hips moved faster, his fingertips dug in harder. Much harder, and then his forearms shook, and he threw his head back, pulling his cock from me, his fist moving fast over it. His cum hit my stomach warm and wet. And fuck, it felt like he would never stop as each pump of his fist shot more and more cum all over my skin.

And then he stopped, his cock still in his hand, his face still tipped up to the ceiling as I lay with my legs sprawled wide in front of him.

For a while neither of us said anything, the only noise Chase’s heavy breaths. Then the bed shifted, and the floorboards creaked. My eyes fluttered closed, tiredness overwhelming. A warming heat in my pussy.

Something wet touched my stomach, my eyes snapping open, my body jolting in panic.

“Shush,” his voice. “Sorry, Jazz. Just me.”

I lay still as Chase moved the warm cloth over my stomach, carefully cleaning me up. A warmth spread where the cloth touched, gentle sweeps that made my body twitch. He said nothing else, didn’t try to soothe or explain, just kept moving, slow and methodical, until the ache in my chest outgrew everything else. When he finished, the sound of his breathing filled the silence.

I hadn’t realised how quiet it was until then. No voices. No fear. Not really. Just that soft sound of Chase and my own heartbeat. The room felt small, like it had suddenly shrunk. The air had thickened, suffocating me, pressure building in my chest. I wanted to breathe but couldn’t quite get the rhythm right.

The bed dipped again. A soft rustle. A hand brushed my arm, hesitant. Then the blanket pulled up and around me.I didn’t look at him, couldn’t. My throat felt tight. Burning and throbbing. Then the tears came without warning, fast and choking, my chest shaking before I could stop it. Every image, every sound, every touch from the last few days crashed over me at once. The blindfold. The ropes. The drill. The smell of leather and sweat and fear. Hands all over me from people I couldn’t see.

The blanket moved, the bed squeaking loudly. And then his arms were around me.

“I’ve got you, Jazz,” his words tangled with my hair.

Chase gathered me in against him, skin to skin, his chest pressed to my back. The weight of him was solid, grounding. I could feel his heartbeat, steady and deep, against the sore patch of skin where the tattoo sat raw and angry. It stung where his chest touched it, but I didn’t pull away. That pain was real. The rest of the world felt like a nightmare that I hadn’t woken up from yet.

My tears slowed, but they didn’t stop. Every time I thought I’d run out, more came. The pillow was wet beneath my cheek, my breath catching on the inhale. Chase’s hand stayed at my stomach, thumb tracing small, absent-minded circles. Not lust. Not possession. Just warmth.

I wanted to believe I was safe. That this was over. But the thought kept worming its way through the haze. The Rats wouldn’t just let this go. Not after what Chase had done. My eyes stung again.

He murmured something I couldn’t make out, just a low rumble of his voice against my neck, and for the first time in days, I let my body go slack. The exhaustion was too much. My head spun, eyelids heavy, the world dimming around the edges.

The last thing I felt was the slow rise and fall of his chest against me and the quiet hum of his breath in my hair. The ache in my muscles dulled, the noise in my head softened, and the darkness that took me this time wasn’t cruel.

Just sleep.

*****

When I woke up, my whole body ached. My joints, my arms, my face and my back. The inside flesh of my thighs felt freshly bruised, a deep feeling of fullness inside me. Carefully, I stretched out. Nothing restrained me. Everything moved freely. But now I was awake, my head thumped hard, like I’d gone ten rounds with vodka.

At my back there was only space, the bed covers cool. Chase had got up some hours ago. My eyes struggled to focus, the room almost dark, and I had to touch them, just to check I wasn’t blindfolded again. I struggled up onto my arms; the movement kicked off a spin in my brain. I slowed, pushing upright one tiny centimetre at a time, stopping and checking and moving again once I knew the spinning had stopped.

The darkness almost consumed the room. I must have slept the entire day. My stomach growled loudly.

“You need to eat, Tiger,” his voice came from the corner of the room, and I followed the sound to the dark shape.

He didn’t move, and I didn’t answer, my brain straining to make him out in the dying light. He hunched over, elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands. I caught the movement, his fingers moving through his hair, tension clear even in the dark.