“Fuck. Fuck,” she panted, rubbing her lips together.
“We're going to kill each other someday, while we're doing this,” Jameson breathed as well.
“Totally.”
“Get up.”
Tate barely had the feeling back in her legs and Jameson was rolling off of her. She sat up, but before she could even ask what he had in mind, his hand was in her hair, pulling it. Pushing her. Forcing her down his length. She didn't even hesitate, just wrapped her lips around the head of his shaft and began bobbing away. She had barely gotten three good pumps in, still trying to catch her breath and find her rhythm, when Jameson groaned and pushed down hard on the back of her head. Dick met back of throat and Tate swallowed against her gag reflex, forcing herself to take it.
Cause I'm a fucking champion.
One of Jameson's favorite things about her were her legendary blowjob skills, so she always tried to put on a show for him. She found her stride after that, shifting and moving on the bed so she was bent over him, a hand on his thigh. Her fingernails scratching into his skin.
“God, you're so good at that, baby girl,” Jameson groaned, and she felt the hand on the back of her head relax. “So fucking good.”
“Better than a Brazilian?” she asked, coming up for air. He chuckled and forced her head down again.
After a couple minutes, she could tell he wouldn't last much longer. She could feel him literally throbbing. But by that point, she'd been working at it for a while, and the whole scenario had gotten her heated up again. Her fingers found their way between her legs, and suddenly her attention was divided in two.
“Tate … fuck, I'm gonna come in your mouth,” Jameson warned. Tate pulled away and he actually growled, but she moved fast, swinging her leg over his hips.
“Not today,” she breathed, lowering herself onto him.
“Did I fucking say you could -,” he started to snap, but was cut off when she tightened all of her muscles around him. Both of them gasped and his hands went to her thighs, gripping hard enough that she knew there would bruises. She began rotating her hips against his.
It didn't take long. Jameson actually came before she did, a rarity for them, but his orgasm set off her own and she practically screamed, collapsing on his chest. She shook and panted, clenching her fingers against his rib cage.
“Holy shit. Holy fuck,” she gasped for air.
“What the fuck was that? A second wind?” Jameson asked, breathing hard as well. Tate slid to the side, moving off of him till she was laying flat on the mattress.
“Something like that,” she agreed, swallowing thickly. She felt his hand against her back.
“Feel better?”
“Immensely. Thank you.”
“Good,” he said, then lurched upright. He stood up and she could hear his belt buckle jangling. “Now get the fuck up and get back out there.”
“Can't. My bones don't exist anymore,” she chuckled. He smacked her on the butt, then pulled her skirt back into place. Grabbed her hips and rolled her till she was on her back.
“Tough. I rewarded your pouting. You owe me,” he said. One of her stockings had come completely loose, just a bunched up mess around her ankle. Jameson took her shoe off and pulled the hosiery free. Straightened it out.
“I don't owe you shit. If anything, I just gave you a reward,” she challenged him, stretching her arms above her head. He moved over her, his knees on either side of her hips.
“I just fucked you, and you're already getting attitudey again? Do you ever learn?” he asked, and she suddenly felt his hands near her throat. Silk against her skin. She realized he was wrapping the stocking around her neck, and she opened her eyes.
“Apparently not,” she said, her voice husky. He knotted the material and pulled it tight enough for her to feel it pinch.
“We could have a lot of fun with this,” he murmured, coiling the excess silk around his fists. One jerk, and Tate wouldn't be friends with oxygen anymore.
“A lot more fun than some boring party,” she whispered back.
“You're such a fucking whore. I love it. I'm going to -,” Jameson started pulling tighter on the stocking, when suddenly the bedroom door opened.
“Hey, can I borrow your -,” Ang's voice began blurting out, then he stopped. Tate tilted her head back, smiling up at him. Ang stared down at them, a grin spreading across his face. Jameson just glared.
“What's up?” Tate asked casually.
“You could fucking knock, you know,” Jameson pointed out.
“Thank god I didn't, I would've missed all the fun!” Ang joked, sliding in the door and shutting it behind him.
“What the hell do you think you're doing?” Jameson demanded.
“Enjoying the show. God, I feel like it's been forever since I've seen your tits, Tate,” Ang almost whined. Tate burst out laughing and looked down. She still had her bra on, but some how during their little tête à tête, Jameson had ripped open her blouse.
“What do you want, Angier?” Jameson sighed, letting go of the stocking and crawling backwards off of Tate. Once he was standing, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into a sitting position.
“Oh. Yeah. Can I crash in your guest bedroom?” Ang asked. Tate pulled the stocking away from her throat and stood up as well.
“What's wrong with your room?” she questioned, turning to face him as she attempted to close her shirt.