Greedy: A Spicy Novella

The rest of the day is a complete blur. I make myself cum, giving myself only the tiniest bit of relief. The relief barely lasts two fucking minutes before my mind is back to taunting me. Uninvited, my mind runs through images of what could happen tonight, of all the ways I want Jax to fuck me, and then I find myself horny again, consumed by the need to finally have what I’ve been craving. Who I’ve been craving. I clean my house from top to bottom, desperate for the anxiety to go away, but it doesn’t. It just swirls around in my gut all afternoon, taking up far too much of my attention.

I’ve been on a lot of first dates, and usually, I’m a little nervous, but nothing like this. I feel like I’m only nerves. I keep wondering what could go wrong tonight. Maybe it is because I have been thinking about this for over a week. I’ve been trying to build up the courage to actually get my tattoo covered and to put myself out there to someone I have found attractive for months–to put myself out there for a chance to be with Jax.

The knock on my door makes my heart leap, and my eyes go wide as I stare at the door, my brain not working right away. Instantly, I try to figure out what time it is. I cannot believe I lost track of time. When was the last time I even looked at the clock? Was it right before I started dusting the top of my fridge? Shit. I have been sitting on my counter for the last half-hour scrubbing down my cabinets. As my mind dwelled on Jax, I was insistent on getting every inch of my apartment spotless. Why? I’m not sure. It seemed like the only thing that would calm my anxiety was to keep my hands busy, and deep cleaning the house just seemed like the easiest way to do that, but now I’ve gone and fucked myself.

I jump off the counter quickly, looking down at my outfit. The loungewear that I threw on before I started cleaning, the outfit that I promised myself I could change out of before he came, stares back at me, mocking me. The soft t-shirt that has been worn more times than I’d like to admit, full of holes and small stains, and the sweatpants that hang loose on my hips, three sizes too big, laugh at me, making dread fill my stomach. I desperately want to change, but he’s already here, and I have no fucking time.

I throw my cleaning supplies into the hall closet, a few feet away from the door, for once thankful that my apartment is impossibly small. I brush the dust off my shirt, willing myself to get my shit together, pretending that I’m not a slave to my nerves right now.

I swing the door open, and my eyes instantly connect with a chest. I’ve seen it many times, I even saw it earlier today, but it has never felt like this. My stomach flutters with desire and I trail my eyes up his body, soaking in every ounce of him in front of me. My eyes connect with his, there is something familiar but also completely new inside of them.

“Hi,” I breathe out, a little out of breath. I don’t know what to say or how to respond to him just yet. The newness of it all is throwing me off balance. I don’t know why, but since I’ve known him, I’ve seen him ready to rip Greg’s head off more times than I could count. I figured this would feel familiar. I figured he would fuck like he fights, with dominance and attitude, never letting the other person get a word in. But as he stands in front of me, taking up the whole fucking door frame, I realize that this is a side of him I’ve never seen before.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his eyes lingering and his gaze trailing down my body. He takes me in, looking hungry, looking desperate. Well, that’s something I wasn’t expecting. I figured he would storm in and make me beg for his cock within a matter of a few seconds. But as he stands in front of me, he looks like he’s the one ready to beg.

He looks so fucking needy, so fucking desperate to get his hands on me. His eyes trail down my body, then back up again, acting as if I’m wearing something sexy instead of the outfit I only wear when I clean the house. He looks like he can’t drink me in enough, like it would physically pain him to take his eyes off of me.

I take my time checking him out too, soaking his body in, hungry for even just a taste, my body ready to finally have what I’ve wanted for so fucking long.

He’s wearing the same thing he was at the shop, dark jeans, and a black shirt, a shirt that molds to his chest, showing off his arms, his time in the gym is obvious based on his size. I try not to think about all the ways I want to rip his clothes off, how badly my body wants him, how desperate I am for him now that we are actually here, but it’s hard to when he is looking at me like something he wants to fucking eat.

“Want to come in?” I say, my voice sounding weak, my cheeks heating as I try to pretend that every nasty thought in the world isn’t running through my head. I try to push my anxiety away, desperate to be the same confident person I was just a few hours ago, confident enough to proposition a man to fuck the memories of my ex out of my pretty little head. But, it isn’t working. My charade of confidence withers when I notice him looking at me as if he is finally seeing me for the first time.

I move away from the door, giving him room to come into my small apartment, instantly noticing how big he is. He’s taller, much taller than me. The difference is enough that he towers over me, forcing me to tilt my neck while I look at him. He glances around, taking in the room for the first time, my kitchen, living room, and dining room are all within a few feet of each other, the only actual indicator they are different rooms is the furniture I have laid out between them, trying to create makeshift walls.

“You want something to drink? Something to eat?” I ask automatically, my brain busy working double time. I hope I don’t look fucking stupid but not sure how to act, not sure if we are going to make small talk before he fucks me, or if he wants to just jump right in. I know my body is ready. I am desperate to feel our lips connect for the first time, to feel his hands on me, and aching for him to take every memory of Greg and strip it away until I’m bare in front of him.

“I’m not hungry,” he mutters, his eyes connecting back with mine, his gaze intense. He looks hungry though, but not for food, for me. He looks like he wants to eat me alive, like he is a starving man, and I’m the first food he has seen for days.

“Want a tour?” I ask with a shrug, needing something to shift us from awkwardly standing in my kitchen, to me on my knees, his cock in my throat, pulling obscenities from his mouth.

“Sure,” he says with a small smirk. He gives me a knowing look, as if he knows what I’m trying to do. Like he can see right through me. I feel my cheeks redden again, but I turn away, too eager to give a shit if I’m embarrassing myself because I know we are both here for one thing.

“Well, this is the kitchen, dining room, and living room,” I say, with a single motion of my arm gesturing to the room we are currently in, the main area of my apartment. I walk a few feet away, the door to the bathroom on my right. I knock it in a bit, letting him get a small view inside. “That’s the bathroom,” I say, my voice a little more sarcastic and playful than normal. I then walk a few more steps until the door to my room is in front of me.

I fight the insecurity and shyness again as I realize that I am about to show him my bedroom moments after him walking into my apartment for the first time, but we both know why he’s here. Plus, honestly, my body is so fucking ready for him and has been for a few weeks. I have been thinking about Jax making me cum for far too long. Fuck it, I no longer have any patience. I don’t want this anticipation anymore. I want him on top of me, eliciting moans from my body in a way that Greg never fucking could. I want to taste his skin on my tongue. I want to feel his cock rock inside of me, making my eyes roll to the back of my head, making my toes fucking curl.

I open the door, letting us both in. The room is simple, my bed is in the corner, my bedside table next to it, my TV is anchored to the wall across the room, and my bookshelf sits against the next wall near the door. There are little things all around the room that mean a lot to me, but I keep it pretty simple, not wanting a lot of shit to clutter the small space.

“And this–,” I whisper, my voice thick as I look back at him, waiting for him to make a move, a move both of us want, a move that will start something between us, something that might be bigger than either of us can handle. I have no room for hesitation because I want him too desperately to think anymore. I don’t care if this is a bad idea to get involved with him or if this might cause drama. I just want to finally have him in the way I’ve imagined when fucking myself, my hands between my legs, late at night.

He looks around slowly, taking in my space for the first time, his eyes moving from this to that and exploring the tiniest pieces of me. His eyes examine everything, before connecting back with mine, and the room and everything except him disappears.

He smirks at me, his eyes looking at me, bouncing down to linger on my body, as if he can’t help himself. I stare at him staring at me for a second, just enjoying his eyes on me. But then I realize that I don’t quite understand his smirk. I look around the room, looking for some clue for his cocky attitude, coming up empty. I look at him again with a small smile, not understanding.

“You get started without me?” he asks, his voice hoarse. He walks over to my bed, picking something up, and the second he lifts it, my cheeks flame.

In his hand, is my pink vibrator. The same vibrator that I used just a few hours ago, when I was too impatient to wait, too keyed up to go a minute longer without some kind of relief.

“I-I,” I stutter, unable to form words, my eyes staring at the vibrator, willing it to disappear. My humiliation runs through me but when my eyes glance back to him, he looks at me with pure desire, like his mind is filled with images of me with that vibrator between my legs, and like it turns him on, making him unable to wait for another second.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” he asks, his chin lifting at me, his eyes literally looking down at me. I feel my body flush, my body going warm, lust and humiliation mixing together into a dangerous cocktail. The mixture makes my pulse race and my pussy throb.

He steps closer to me, his body only inches away from me now, my mind completely blank. I can’t think when he is this close to me, especially not with my vibrator still in his hand.

He leans in close, his breath on my ear, while he uses his free hand to tuck a strand of my hair away. I shiver as he whispers to me, “Tell me, did you think of me?” I feel my breath stop. I rub my legs together, just barely, so fucking starved for any kind of friction, anything to ease the ache between my legs as his voice runs through my head, doing ungodly fucking things to me, unraveling me, and making me feel more desperate than I thought possible. “Did you think of me while you spread your legs, coaxing an orgasm out of your pretty little cunt? Did you whimper my name?” Jesus Christ. This man is going to fucking ruin me talking to me like that. My held breath escapes in a ragged sigh. His body is so close to mine, still tempting me. I want him closer. I want him on top of me. I want him to punish me for what I did while also praising me for thinking of him the entire time because that’s the truth. I can’t cum anymore without thinking of him, without his name on my lips, not after this. He is going to ruin me for any other man.

I nod, answering his question without words, unsure if I can trust my voice right now.

“God, you’re such a greedy girl, aren’t you? Just so fucking desperate for pleasure that you couldn’t even wait for me,” his voice coaxes pleasure from me without the need for him to even fucking touch me.

The vibration against the front of my pants makes me jump, my heart rate increasing as my body adjusts to the sensation. My pussy pulses with desire, begging for more, not caring about anything other than soothing the deep ache inside of me.

I look down, and Jax has the vibrator against my sweatpants, the lowest vibration still feels like too much and too little at the same time. My body is too responsive, too wound up from his words to handle this teasing dirty-talking version of Jax.

“Get on the bed,” he growls. His voice is so sexy and so so close to me. The vibration makes my eyes roll back, my arms grasping his biceps. My clit is so fucking sensitive, so fucking needy. I nod once, intent on listening, but the vibration is just too fucking good, and I use his arms to keep him close to me. I don’t think I can walk away when the subject of my wet dreams is currently holding a sex toy to my pelvis, barely even touching my clit but still making me shake.

He quickly pulls the vibrator away, looking at me with raised eyebrows the challenge clear. I instantly comply, wanting nothing more than to listen to his instructions, my pride taking a back seat to watch me live out my fantasy.

I lay on the bed, my back against the headboard. Anticipation runs through me. I don’t know what is next, but I love the uncertainty and thrill. My eyes instantly fall to the bulge in his pants, and I lick my lips before I can even think, wishing like hell I could see his cock. I can’t wait to get my lips wrapped around it, so I can make him feel the same need that he is making me.

I don’t want to take this slow. I want it too fucking bad. The anticipation is intense, the desire even more so. I want him on top of me, fucking consuming me. I want him to have his filthy way with me, use my body for his pleasure, taking every ounce of it he can get out of me, and then I want him to do it again and again, until I’m exhausted from too many orgasms and the only thought inside of my pretty little head is of his cock.

“Take your shirt off,” he demands, looking over my body with hungry eyes, my vibrator still in his hand, turned off now. The sight in front of me makes me embarrassingly horny. The man of my fantasies is in front of me with a hard cock and a vibrator demanding me to take my clothes off.

I rip my shirt off, glad I put on a pretty white lace bra, a bra that almost shows my nipples, a small lace rose the only thing covering them, leaving the rest of my tits completely exposed.

“Now, your pants.” His eyes don’t even connect with mine as I undress for him. He watches my body like he was put on this earth for this exact reason, to watch me undress at this moment, to watch me expose myself to him, to take control of me.

I lift my ass, pulling the fabric down, leaving me only in a matching bra and panties. I know I should feel awkward, even shy, but there is no room for anything in my head. I’m so fucking horny, so ready for whatever he has planned for me, so desperate for our pleasure to soak into the walls, making everything bad, everything Greg, that has ever happened here disappear. I’m ready for some new memories, and I’m ready for them now. I don’t care about anything else.

He hands me the vibrator, and I take it willingly, not knowing where this is going, but going along with it, not fucking caring.

“Show me how you made yourself cum earlier. Show me how you teased your body to the thought of me while I was busy working.” He looks at me with a challenge, as if he expects me to say no, as if he thinks I don’t want to do everything he is asking, as if I don’t want this as badly as he does.

I feel like I’m on a stage, and he is waiting for me to perform just for him. He stares at me, his brown eyes piercing, and I feel my hands shake a little, anticipation or adrenaline running through me, my entire body coming alive.

I bring the vibrator down on my clit, still on the outside of my underwear, teasing him as much as I can, and I turn it on, moaning instantly, loving the way his eyes light on fire as he watches me.