I clenched and unclenched my fists, digging my nails
into the palms of my hands. Jim,
beside me, leaned against the elevator wall, apparently unaware that
I was thinking of killing him. Or
screwing him, whichever I could accomplish first.
To hell with him anyway.
The man is un-fucking-believable. How he can look so innocent, I
will never know.
We stepped off the elevator and headed for the loft. I pushed past him and got there first, so that
I could slam the door on him as I went inside.
"Whoa, Chief--watch it!"
I threw my jacket across the room and whirled on Jim. I was beyond speech at this point, beyond anything
but blind raging jealousy over what I'd seen when I'd gone to pick Jim
up at the train station.
Seen Jim, smiling, leaning over a young man, brushing
a gentle nose over brush-cut black hair.
Seen the guy lay a familiar hand on Jim's chest and flick a thumb
over one nipple. Seen *more*
than enough.
Saw Jim swallow now.
"Blair, I--"
"Shut up." I body-checked him, forcing him back against the door of the loft.
"Just shut the hell up."
I unbuckled his belt, scrabbled at the button of his khakis,
at his fly, opening and pushing down soft cotton pants, warm silk boxers.
Jim tried to push me away, but I was furious, and refused
to back off. I wrapped one hand
around Jim's cock. "Blair--"
I slammed my hand over his mouth, hard enough to bounce
his head against the door. "SHUT
UP." He closed his eyes,
and I dropped my hand to the nipple the man at the train station had
brushed earlier, twisted it, pinched it hard.
He gasped, and I snarled low in my throat as I began to stroke
his cock, loving the feel of Jim--Jim!--shuddering against me.
I pressed my arm against Jim's chest, pressed him back
into the door. He cried out,
his voice hoarse, and dropped his hands to his sides, the palms flat
against the wood. Oh, yeah. I smiled and sped up my strokes until he bucked
into my hand, shaking, the muscles of his stomach quivering in the dim
light.
"I'm going to fuck you," I whispered, leaning
up to bite his jaw, and he hissed
through his teeth and came.
When the tremors subsided, I let him go, let him slide
down the door. "Wait there."
I headed for my bedroom for lube and a condom.
When I came back out, Jim had stripped and was flat on his back
on the floor, his wet half-hard cock lying against his thigh.
"Get up."
He obeyed, bracing his hands on the door, legs spread. I rolled the condom on and slicked myself with
lube. Jim remained still, his
body trembling slightly, and I wrapped an arm around his waist to hold
him still. "Can you take
this?" I asked, pressing the head of my erection against the entrance
to his body.
"Yeah," Jim said.
"Yeah--" and
I thrust up and in, and Jim cried out and dropped his head down to his
chest.
"God, you feel good." I began to move, feeling
his ass clench around my cock, feeling the fine tremors running through
him. "So...fucking...tight."
I bit down on Jim's shoulder, loving the twitches that caused
in the muscles of his back, thrust hard again, and again, until the
world went red and white-hot as I came, slamming into him, the door
rattling in its housing.
Afterwards, I rested against him until I felt him begin
to shiver. I pulled out, pressed
one hand to the small of his back.
"Stay there a sec, Jim."
He complied, and I knelt down to make sure he wasn't
hurt. Cautiously, I slipped
a finger inside, and he whimpered.
"You OK?"
"Sore," he said softly.
"No blood. No
tearing that I can see. You'll
be fine." I nipped one
tight cheek. "God, you have a sweet ass."
"Blair?" he said.
"Yeah?"
"Why?"
I sighed and stood up.
"Because I'm a jealous son of a bitch, Jim."
He looked over his shoulder at me. "Oh?"
"Yeah."
I swatted him on the ass. "Go
shower."
He did, and I pulled on a pair of sweats and made soup
and sandwiches for dinner.
