Page 10 of Popular (Private: The Extended Edition #5)

Janae

“ You’re very bendy ,” J.T. praises against my lips, tongue stealing a taste of mine afterward.

“I am,” I warmly giggle in return.

“Like a sexy, female Stretch Armstrong.”

“I’ve never been called that before,” leaves me on another round of laughs.

And that’s something this guy constantly has me doing.

Both intentionally and unintentionally.

Starfleet Wrestling with pillows we’re pretending are alien races?

Intentional.

Scrambling to not let room service see his dick through the split in his towel?

Unintentional.

Regardless, I’ve never smiled this much in my life.

For free anyway.

“Or like a gorgeous Gumby,” he continues to praise from his position on top of me.

“What is that? Candy?”

“You don’t know who Gumby is?!” Outrage precedes a kiss being pressed against my neck. “How do you not know who Gumby is?!”

An innocent shrug is all he’s given.

“He was a childhood hero almost more important than Kirk, Spock, Batman, and Nightwing.”

“So, he was a superhero?”

“He was a symbol,” the male now brushing his mouth against my collarbone informs.

“Like Prince?”

“Prince changed his name to a symbol.” My arms are gently pinned above my head. “Huge difference.”

“ Something definitely is ,” I playfully poke on a rocking of my hips.

Redness coats his cheeks, showing me a sight I would love to see every morning.

And night.

And really anytime of the day possible.

He’s extra cute when he’s blushing.

I get why Bryn enjoys doing it.

I also love that I’m the only one who gets to kiss it away.

“You know what else is huge?” He teasingly challenges as his fingers languorously slide down the length of my arms to feather the tops of my tits. “My toy collection.”

There’s no stopping my head from tilting to one side. “Why do I feel like it’s not the type that requires special cleaning?”

“Technically they do,” chortles J.T. prior to winding his mouth around one of my nipples for a small suck. “Classic toys are no different than classic cars.” He steals a taste from the opposite side. “They’re expensive to acquire and expensive to keep.”

Moaning fuses itself into my question, “What is something you never expected to add to your collection?”

“My vintage She-Ra: Princess of Power.” His tongue’s attention begins to lower. “She was one of the first ever sold with the receipts to prove it.”

“Wow,” breathlessly escapes from both being impressed and turned on.

“I’ve spent a lot of my adult years collecting shit I couldn’t afford as a kid.” Our stares drift to meet one another’s. “ Eating things, I could’ve never afforded to even look at it.”

The subject of food causes me to unconsciously shift underneath him.

Nervously clutch at the fabric of the pillow near my fingertips.

“Doing things, I swore were only possible if we won the lottery.”

Soft snickers from me shift his mouth back to my skin.

Precede him dropping a peck on top of a random mole.

Presenting another with similar praise two seconds later.

We have yet to leave the room since we got here yesterday.

Rather than attending any of the other activities that were available, we’ve spent the last twenty-four hours banging, eating room service, binging old Star Trek movies, and arguing about the best characters until we’re wound up all over again for more banging.

Rinse and repeat.

Like rehearsal the day before a league rival game.

The only allowed disruptions were when his security guard dropped off his cell – which he hasn’t checked since – and when our themed food arrived.

It’s like we’ve been trapped in our own little universe.

I love it.

And I would love it even more if I knew that this was more than just a fling.

More than just the once in a star date entry I’m pretty sure it is.

All of a sudden, he redirects his bright-eyed gaze to me, “You know what else I’ve never done?”

“Hm?”

“Banged without a rubber.”

His confession causes the corner of my lip to curl upward. “Me either.”

Relief unmistakenly bursts through his expression.

Yeah, we probably should’ve covered this topic much sooner, but what can I say?

We were so caught up that it just…sort of…beamed elsewhere from our minds.

“You wanna know what else I’ve never done?” I sweetly precede, prepared to offer him additional reassurance. “Had an STD.”

His slender shoulders slink just the slightest to indicate gratitude. “Me either.”

“I’ve also never missed one of my birth control shots.”

“And I’ve never had an accidental pregnancy scare.”

“Doubt you’re about to start now.”

A small, amused grunt graces our ears.

“ But… ” the tone transitions to one of curiosity, “do you want kids someday?”

“Definitely,” he discloses without hesitation. “You?”

“I think so.” Beaming at him continues. “Ya know. With the right dude.”

J.T. proudly grins as if knowing I’m implying him, hums, and drags a finger across the script on my left side, reading it out loud. “ Don’t ever let life pass you by. ”

“Incubus lyrics,” I happily proclaim.

“Your favorite band.”

“Correct.”

“Only followed-”

“ Distantly followed .”

“-by Georgian ArKtecture.”

“Correct again.”

“Then these,” his index finger trails along the script on the other side, “are also Incubus lyrics?”

I instantly nod.

“ Whatever tomorrow brings, I’ll be there ,” he reads in a soft tone.

“It matches Jer’s.” Our stares connect again. “He has the other half of the lyrics tattooed around his ankle.”

“Why?”

“Why there or why the tats?”

“Both.”

“He’s always wanted to be a ball player, and I always wanted to be dancer.

We’ve always been huge supporters of one another, having each other’s backs, carving our way through the world together, so when he got drafted into the NBA, we got them to celebrate.

He wanted me to ‘always be there with him’ no matter where I ended up. ”

“Like a yin and yang thing?”

“But with Incubus.”

“Also, his favorite band?”

“Yeah,” giggles fill the room for the millionth time, “but he expects people to ignore that shit like fans were supposed to just pretend Worf’s ridges hadn’t changed in season two.”

At that, the naked man above me cockily grins. “You know that’s because someone stole the original prosthetics from the prop department, right?”

“I did know that.” My body excitedly wiggles. “And I like that you know that.”

“I like when you’re on top of me,” he salaciously flirts, frame peeling itself back onto his hunches.

“I like when I’m top of you too…” An idea quickly pops into my mind and out of my mouth. “Let’s switch places, and I’ll show you how stretchy I can really get.”

The idea of banging me is enough on its own to get J.T. hot and bothered; however, having him in a sitting position, with his back against the cushioned headboard, my hands braced on his shoulders, watching me slide down his dick into the splits has him almost coming instantly.

“ ForfucksakeBeloved, ” leaves him alongside a twitch of his cock. “ Howinthefuck… ”

My forehead falls forward to rest against his. “ Practice. ”

“ You only practice this shit with me from now on ,” J.T. growls as his fingers latch onto my sides. “ Got it? ”

“ I like it when you’re bossy. ”

“ I like it when you’re coming. ”

Stopping my dripping wet muscles from clenching is impossible.

“ Let’s make that happen, Beloved. ”

There’s barely an opportunity to brace myself for the first unrestrained thrust I’m delivered.

J.T. harshly yanks down and bucks up in tandem, taking full advantage of his easy accessibility.

The forceful impact knocks our faces into one another.

Prompts his mouth to conquer mine.

Allows juices to drip down his balls.

My pussy tauntingly squeezes his shaft, needlessly reminding it how deep he is, how deep he can be felt, how deep he can reach, all of which tips him from captain to warrior.

Kirk to Klingon.

J.T. grips my sides tight enough to bruise and slams into me even harder than before.

An attempt to pull my mouth away from his is foiled by his tongue furiously lashing against mine, whipping it for wanting to be elsewhere.

Demanding it stays exactly where it is.

Succumbing to it the same way his cock is commanding submission from my soaking wet pussy that’s ruthlessly working to survive every stroke.

Trapped moans get lapped up one right after another while his greedy groans vibrate their way through both of us.

My fingers anxiously claw at the nape of his neck for freedom.

Air.

More.

Less.

Faster.

Slower.

The revolving set of needs and wants and wants and needs ceaselessly continues throughout his unremitting pounding.

Grazes of my clit are unsteady and inconsistent, yet so deliciously executed that my toes can’t help but curl.

And my thighs can’t help but flex.

And my sopping wet muscles can’t help but tense, which pushes him to hammer harder.

Quicker.

Grunt and piston his hips to the point my body is being flailed around like a ragdoll.

Mercilessly heaved as though the end goal isn’t to get me off so much as make sure I remember no one else can ever get me off like he does.

That no one else can ever fuck me like he does.

Have me like he does.

Misplaced awe causes my chest and pussy to constrict alike, an action that encourages his shaft to noticeably swell more.

Clumsily, J.T. changes tactics.

Stops bouncing and begins grinding.

Pulling me forward.

Caressing my clit with his cock.

He drops one hand to my ass and skates a single digit along my crack to roughly bump the tip of it against my back hole.

Roll it around.

Nudge.

Irrefutably remind me that every inch of my body deserves pleasure.

Can be pleasured.

His.

Without warning, J.T.’s mouth slides off mine to praise, “ I love when you come on my cock, Beloved. ”

The lecherous words make me wetter.

More eager.

“ I love when you come so hard your whole-body shakes. ” He flexes his finger and my ass along with my pussy tighten. “ I love when you scream my name while you do it. ”

One hitch in my breath becomes two.

Three.

Four.