Chapter 10: A Night to remember
Jen’s eyes, wide and dark in the moonlight, locked onto Lisa’s naked form. Terror warred with a desperate, bottomless hunger in their depths. The question hung, brutal and stark: Still want more? Jen’s lips trembled, but no sound emerged. Only a frantic, almost imperceptible nod, her gaze flicking down Lisa’s body and back up, pleading. More. After everything. Especially after everything.
A low growl vibrated in Lisa’s throat. Satisfaction, dark and liquid. She didn’t kneel. She loomed. Her hand shot out, not gentle, fingers tangling in the damp fabric of Jen’s shirt. With a sharp, tearing sound, buttons scattered across the hardwood like tiny pearls. She ripped the shirt open, exposing Jen’s small breasts, the pale skin goose-pimpling instantly in the cool air, dark nipples already peaked tight. Jen gasped, a sound of shock swallowed by the sheer violence of the act. Lisa didn’t stop. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of Jen’s skirt, already pushed high, and yanked it down her legs along with the torn shreds of her panties. She kicked the tangled fabric aside.
Now Jen lay completely bare on the rug, bathed in stripes of moonlight, bruises stark against her pallor, her breath hitching in shallow bursts. Utterly exposed. Utterly Lisa’s. Lisa’s gaze raked over her, possessive and assessing. She traced a fingertip down Jen’s sternum, over the slight curve of her stomach, circling her navel. Jen shivered violently.
"Cold?" Lisa murmured, a note of dark amusement threading her voice. Her finger continued its path, skirting the dark thatch of curls between Jen’s thighs, damp and glistening. "You’re burning up inside, aren’t you? Still fucking needy." She paused, her fingertip hovering just above the slick, swollen folds. "Look at you. All laid out. Just like you always wanted."
Jen whimpered, her hips twitching involuntarily upwards towards that teasing touch. "Lisa… please…"
"Please what?" Lisa demanded, her voice hardening. "Use your words, Jen. Tell me what your greedy little cunt wants."
"Touch me," Jen begged, the words ripped raw. "Please… touch me…"
Lisa’s fingertip finally dipped, not inside, but tracing the outer lips, spreading the slickness. A shuddering moan escaped Jen. "Like this?" Lisa asked, her touch feather-light, maddening. "Or…" Her hand shifted. Without warning, her mouth descended, hot and hungry, capturing Jen’s right nipple. She sucked it hard, deep into her mouth, her tongue swirling roughly over the hardened peak. Jen cried out, her back arching off the floor, her hands instinctively reaching for Lisa’s head.
Lisa’s free hand snapped up, pinning Jen’s wrist back to the floor. "Don’t fucking touch me," she hissed around the nipple in her mouth, the vibration sending another jolt through Jen. She bit down, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make Jen gasp and writhe. Lisa sucked, hard, pulling the nipple taut, her other hand abandoning Jen’s slit to roughly knead the other breast, pinching the neglected nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Jen’s cries became a constant, breathy stream of sound, punctuated by sharp gasps.
Lisa switched breasts, lavishing the same rough, possessive attention on the left nipple, biting, sucking, dominating the sensitive flesh until Jen was sobbing, her body a trembling arc of sensation. Lisa finally released the swollen bud with an audible pop, her lips glistening. She looked down at Jen’s wrecked expression, her own arousal a throbbing ache demanding attention.
"Your turn," Lisa breathed, her voice thick. She moved, shifting her weight. With deliberate intent, she lowered one knee beside Jen’s shoulder, then swung her other leg over Jen’s head, straddling her face just as she had before, but now both of them fully naked. Her wet cunt hovered inches above Jen’s open, gasping mouth. The musky scent was overwhelming. "Lick," Lisa commanded, grinding her hips down slightly, her clit brushing Jen’s lower lip. "Make me fucking wetter."
Jen’s tongue darted out, lapping tentatively at Lisa’s slick folds. It wasn't enough. Lisa grabbed Jen’s hair again, forcing her face forward, grinding her cunt down onto her mouth. "Fucking eat it, Jen," she snarled. "Like you mean it. Like you’ve dreamed about for years."
Driven by the command and the punishing grip, Jen’s tongue plunged deeper, swirling over Lisa’s clit, then dipping inside her, tasting her deeply. Lisa groaned, a low sound of pure pleasure this time, her hips rocking against Jen’s face. "Yeah… fuck… just like that… suck my clit…"
Jen sucked the hard nub into her mouth, her tongue flicking rapidly, her nose buried in Lisa’s blonde curls. Lisa ground down harder, fucking Jen’s face with abandon, her moans escalating. "God, yes… don’t stop… fucking good…"
The intensity built quickly, powerfully. Lisa’s thighs tightened around Jen’s head. She could feel the orgasm coiling, ready to snap. "Gonna come… gonna fucking come on your face…" she gasped, her voice high and tight. She slammed her cunt down one final time, holding Jen’s face buried deep as the climax ripped through her. Jen felt the pulsing contractions against her tongue, the gush of wetness flooding her mouth as Lisa cried out, shuddering violently above her.
Lisa collapsed back onto her heels, breathing hard, sweat slicking her skin. Jen gasped for air, coughing slightly, her face glistening, tasting of Lisa’s release. The silence stretched, heavy with spent energy and the lingering scent of sex. Lisa looked down at Jen, her expression unreadable in the dim light.
Jen, trembling, pushed herself up onto her elbows. Her gaze swept over Lisa’s body, flushed and powerful. Slowly, hesitantly, she leaned forward. Her mouth found Lisa’s left nipple. Her tongue flicked out, tentative, tasting sweat. Lisa flinched, a tiny intake of breath. Jen’s lips closed around the nipple, sucking gently at first, then with growing confidence, swirling her tongue. A soft moan escaped Lisa this time, her head tilting back. Jen reached for the other breast, her hand trembling slightly as she cupped it, her thumb brushing the nipple before leaning in to suckle that one too. The sensation was different, tender where Lisa had been demanding, sending shivers of unexpected pleasure through Lisa’s exhausted body.
Lisa watched her, a strange tightness in her chest. The raw dominance of moments before softened into a haze of sensation. Jen’s mouth was warm, insistent, worshipful. She arched her back slightly, offering more. "Yeah," she breathed, the command gone, replaced by a low hum of approval. Jen’s hands moved to Lisa’s waist, holding her gently as she moved her mouth between Lisa’s breasts, kissing, licking, tracing paths across her collarbone with a tenderness that felt foreign, terrifying, and deeply compelling.
The unexpected softness, the reverence in Jen’s touch, created a confusing whirlpool inside Lisa. The fierce possessiveness still simmered, but it was now tangled with something else – a flicker of vulnerability, a dawning awareness of Jen’s long-hidden depth. The contrast was dizzying. Lisa’s hand rose, fingertips brushing lightly against Jen’s temple, tracing the shell of her ear. Jen paused, looking up, her eyes searching Lisa’s face, filled with a question Lisa couldn’t answer.
Jen swallowed, her voice raspy from exertion and tears. "Coffee?" The word was absurd, a desperate grasp at normalcy in the shattered remains of the night. She pushed herself up further, wobbling slightly. "I… I think I need…" She trailed off, gesturing vaguely towards the small kitchen area visible through an archway, lit by the soft glow of a small under-cabinet light. The familiar scent of roasted beans, usually so comforting, felt incongruous now, a whisper of the life that existed before the floor, before the claiming.
Lisa stared at her, the haze of sensation momentarily pierced by the sheer ridiculousness of the request. Coffee? After that? A harsh, disbelieving laugh escaped her. It sounded alien in the charged stillness. But she saw the raw need in Jen’s eyes, not just for caffeine, but for a sliver of control, a fragment of the familiar world. A world Lisa had just ripped apart.
Slowly, Lisa nodded. A flicker of something unreadable crossed her face – perhaps a shred of concession, perhaps just exhaustion. "Yeah," she rasped, the word scraping her throat. "Coffee." She made no move to get up, watching Jen struggle to her feet, her movements stiff, bruised thighs protesting. The moonlight painted the dark contusions vividly as she stood, naked and vulnerable, swaying slightly before turning towards the kitchen.
Lisa remained on the floor, the rough wool of the rug pressing into her knees. The cool air raised goosebumps on her own sweat-slicked skin. Her gaze followed Jen’s retreating back, tracing the lines of her spine, the curve of her ass, the visible tremble in her legs. The predatory heat still coiled low in her belly, banked but far from extinguished. Jen disappeared into the kitchen. Lisa heard the clatter of the coffee pot, the rush of water. Normal sounds. Impossible sounds.
The vulnerability Jen had just shown, that tender exploration… it unnerved Lisa more than the earlier submission. It hinted at depths she wasn't prepared to navigate. She pushed herself up, the movement fluid despite the lingering tremor in her own limbs. She needed to move, to reclaim the space, the dynamic. Coffee was Jen’s desperate anchor. Lisa needed something else.
She walked towards the kitchen archway, her bare feet silent on the hardwood. Jen was at the counter, her back still turned, filling the coffee pot’s reservoir. Her shoulders were hunched, tense. Lisa leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over her bare chest, watching. The silence stretched, thick and awkward, charged with the memory of bodies and desperate cries that still echoed faintly against the cluttered walls.
Jen finished filling the pot and set it down with a thud. She turned, flinching slightly when she saw Lisa watching her. Her eyes darted away, then back, wide and wary. "It’ll… it’ll just be a minute," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the gurgle of the water starting to heat.
Lisa didn't respond. Her gaze drifted past Jen, scanning the small kitchen. Clutter. Art supplies. Half-finished canvases leaning against the fridge. And then she saw it. Sitting on the counter, partially obscured by a bag of coffee beans: a small, red aerosol can. Whipped cream. The kind you squirt straight from the can.
A slow, dangerous smile curved Lisa’s lips. A different kind of hunger sparked, lighter but no less intense. A hunger for play, for exploration, for asserting control in a new, unexpected way. The coffee could wait. She pushed off the doorframe and walked towards the counter, her movements deliberate. Jen tracked her, confusion replacing wariness.
Lisa picked up the can. It was cold in her hand. She shook it, the metallic rattle loud in the kitchen. Jen’s eyes widened further, tracking the movement. "Lisa…?" The question died in her throat as Lisa pressed the nozzle.
Pssssht.
A thick, white plume of whipped cream shot out, landing with a soft plop directly onto Jen’s left nipple, cold and startling against her warm skin. Jen gasped, flinching back, a startled yelp escaping her. "Wha—?"
Lisa didn’t wait. She moved closer, the can hissing again, this time spraying a generous dollop onto Jen’s other nipple, then a long, thick line down the center of her sternum, over her stomach, stopping just above the dark curls between her thighs. The cold made Jen shiver violently, her skin pebbling instantly. She stared down at the absurd, creamy decorations on her body, then back up at Lisa, her expression a mixture of shock, lingering fear, and a dawning, bewildered curiosity.
Lisa lowered the can, meeting Jen’s gaze. The predatory gleam was back, softened by a spark of dark amusement. "Lick it off," she commanded, her voice low and promising. A simple order. A reclaiming. The coffee machine hissed and sputtered, forgotten. Jen’s eyes dropped to the cold cream on her skin. Slowly, tentatively, her tongue darted out, lapping at the dollop on her left nipple. The sweetness burst on her tongue, cold and cloying, mingling with the salt of her sweat. A tiny, involuntary moan escaped her as the sensation registered – cold, sweet, and intensely intimate under Lisa’s watchful gaze.
Lisa watched, the hunger in her own eyes deepening. She brought the can up again, not aiming at Jen this time. Pssssht. A thick swirl of cream landed on her own right nipple, then another on her left. The cold was a shock, making her gasp, her nipples tightening instantly into hard peaks. She held Jen’s gaze as she slowly, deliberately, dragged a finger through the cream on her own breast and brought it to her mouth, sucking it clean, her eyes never leaving Jen’s.
The invitation, the challenge, was clear. Jen’s breath hitched. She shuffled a step closer, her movements tentative, drawn by the pull Lisa exerted, as undeniable as gravity. Her eyes flickered between Lisa’s cream-topped breasts and her intense stare. Slowly, hesitantly, she leaned in. Her tongue, warm and soft, touched the cold cream on Lisa’s right nipple. She lapped tentatively, then with growing purpose, swirling her tongue around the stiff peak, cleaning the sweet foam, her lips closing around it to suck gently, drawing the cold and sweetness away, replacing it with her warmth. Lisa groaned, low and deep, her head falling back slightly, her hand coming up to tangle in Jen’s dark hair, not forcing, but guiding, encouraging.
Jen moved to the other breast, her tongue tracing the line of cream down Lisa’s sternum, following the trail towards her navel. Her movements were less hesitant now, more deliberate, driven by the taste, the scent, the permission Lisa radiated. She licked the cream from Lisa’s stomach, her tongue swirling, the cold sweetness dissolving under her warm touch. She paused at the edge of Lisa’s blonde curls, looking up, her eyes asking the silent question.
Lisa looked down at her, the air crackling. She raised the can again. Pssssht. A thick, deliberate squirt landed directly on her own mound, the cold foam stark against her skin. Jen’s breath caught. Lisa’s gaze was unwavering, commanding. "Everywhere," she whispered, the word thick with promise and dominance. Jen didn't hesitate this time. She lowered her head, her tongue finding the cold sweetness nestled in Lisa’s curls, lapping it away, delving deeper as the cream melted, tasting skin and musk beneath the sugar. Lisa gasped, her fingers tightening in Jen’s hair, her hips pressing forward slightly.
Jen’s tongue worked, cleaning the cream with thorough, intimate strokes, her breath warm against Lisa’s sensitive skin, sending shivers that had nothing to do with the cold. The absurdity of the whipped cream had dissolved into pure, raw sensuality, a new layer of exploration laid bare on the foundation of everything that had come before. The scent of coffee brewing filled the small kitchen, mingling strangely with the sweetness of cream and the heady musk of their bodies, as Jen worshiped Lisa with her mouth, following the command, cleaning everywhere, lost in the taste and the permission, the line between surrender and devotion blurring beyond recognition. Lisa watched, her breathing shallow, the power thrumming through her veins, a dark, sweet intoxication. The night wasn't over. It had just found a new, unexpected flavor.
The coffee machine’s final gurgle echoed like a sigh in the thick, sweet air. Jen’s tongue had fallen still, pressed against the heat of Lisa’s skin, the lingering taste of cream and arousal a heavy coating in her mouth. Lisa’s fingers remained tangled in her dark hair, a possessive anchor. The power radiating from Lisa was a tangible thing, a current humming between their damp bodies. Jen felt pinned, cherished, and utterly exposed.
Lisa gently pulled Jen’s head back, breaking the contact. Jen looked up, her lips swollen, eyes wide pools reflecting the dim kitchen light and Lisa’s unreadable expression. A single droplet of moisture, clear and slick, glistened just below her mouth. Lisa stared at it, her own breath catching for a fraction of a second before the predatory mask snapped back into place, harder, fiercer.
"Turn around," Lisa commanded, her voice a low rasp stripped of amusement. "Face the counter." She released Jen’s hair. The command hung, sharp and absolute. Jen scrambled to obey, her movements stiff, the cold tile jolting her bare knees as she knelt facing the cabinets. The edge of the counter pressed into her ribs. She heard Lisa shift behind her, the soft sound of the whipped cream can being set aside.
Lisa’s hands landed on Jen’s hips, thumbs digging into the soft flesh above her ass. She pulled Jen backwards roughly, forcing her to arch her spine, presenting herself fully. Jen gasped, her cheek pressed against the cold cupboard door, the vulnerable curve of her lower back exposed. Bruises flared with fresh protest. Lisa’s gaze raked over the offered view: the swell of Jen’s ass, the dark crease between, the glistening wetness visible lower down. The whipped cream was gone, but the invitation wasn't.
"Open yourself," Lisa ordered, her voice thick. "Show me that fucking hole."
A shudder wracked Jen’s frame. The command was humiliating, electric. Trembling fingers reached back, fumbling. She hooked her thumbs into the soft flesh of her ass cheeks and pulled them apart, exposing the tight, pink furl hidden between. Cool air kissed the intimate opening, making it pucker instinctively. She held herself open, utterly bared, a low whine escaping her throat. The vulnerability was absolute, terrifying, and impossibly arousing.
Lisa didn't touch her there. Not yet. She leaned forward, her breath hot against Jen’s exposed skin. The warmth traced a path from the small of Jen’s back, down the cleft, over her trembling entrance, to finally ghost over the tightly clenched bud. Jen flinched violently, a choked gasp ripped from her. Lisa made a sound low in her throat, a rumble of dark approval. The sheer proximity was torture.
"Beautiful," Lisa breathed, the word rough against Jen’s skin, making her shudder. "Always fucking beautiful." Then, without preamble, Lisa’s mouth descended. Not on Jen’s cunt. Higher. Her tongue, broad and hot and insistent, pressed flat against Jen’s puckered hole. A high, keening cry tore from Jen’s throat as the impossible intimacy registered. Lisa’s tongue pushed, demanding entry, laving the sensitive ring of muscle with relentless pressure. It was shockingly wet, unbearably intimate.
Lisa groaned, the vibration travelling straight into Jen’s core. She pressed harder, her nose buried in Jen’s crease. Her tongue tip probed, insistent, searching for weakness, tasting the unique salt and musk there. "Fuck, Jen," Lisa muttered, pulling back slightly, her voice muffled against flesh. "You taste so fucking good." Then her tongue speared forward, pointed and ruthless, breaching the tight outer ring just slightly, the pressure intense, invasive, utterly consuming.
Jen cried out again, her fingers digging into her own flesh, holding herself wider. The intrusion was shocking, taboo, overwhelming. It sparked a wildfire deep in her belly, a desperate clenching that only urged Lisa deeper. Lisa’s tongue worked relentlessly – licking broad stripes, circling the tight rim, then pressing in again with deliberate, shallow thrusts. She rimmed Jen hard, fucking her asshole with just her tongue, pushing the limits of the tight muscle.
"Jesus… Lisa… oh god…" Jen babbled, her face mashed against the cupboard, breath fogging the wood. Each stroke of Lisa’s tongue sent jolts of pure, electrifying sensation through her. It wasn't just about the physical sensation; it was the raw ownership, the complete surrender Lisa demanded and Jen gave. Lisa gripped Jen’s hips tighter, anchoring her as she devoured her.
Lisa pulled back, breathing heavily against the wet, glistening skin. Her thumb replaced her tongue, pressing firmly against the loosened ring, rubbing in small, dirty circles. "You like that?" she demanded, her voice ragged. "You like my fucking tongue up your tight little asshole?"
"Yes!" Jen gasped, the word ragged, torn from her core. "Yes! Please! More!"
Lisa chuckled, a dark, satisfied sound. "Greedy fucking slut." Her mouth descended again, this time sucking the tender flesh around the rim, drawing a sharp cry from Jen, before plunging her tongue back inside with renewed vigor, deeper, harder. She fucked Jen’s ass with her tongue, relentless, wet sounds filling the kitchen, mingling with Jen’s desperate moans and the forgotten coffee’s dying sputters. Lisa’s free hand slid down, fingers finding Jen’s swollen, dripping cunt. She pushed two fingers inside without preamble, curling them ruthlessly against Jen’s front wall.
The double assault was devastating. Jen screamed, her body convulsing between the counter and Lisa’s merciless mouth and hand. Lisa’s tongue thrust deep into her ass while her fingers pistoned into her cunt, finding that spot with unerring accuracy. The pressure built impossibly fast, a coil pulled to snapping. "Gonna come!" Jen shrieked, her voice breaking. "Lisa, I'm gonna fucking come!"
"Come!" Lisa snarled against her skin, the command vibrating through her core. "Come all over my fucking fingers. Now!" She sucked hard on the rim of Jen’s asshole, her tongue a relentless invasion, her fingers pumping brutally fast.
The orgasm detonated. Jen shattered. Her body locked, every muscle rigid as wave after wave of blinding pleasure ripped through her, tearing a raw, animalistic cry from her throat. Her cunt clenched violently around Lisa’s fingers, gushing wetness that slicked Lisa’s hand. She trembled violently, barely held up by Lisa’s grip on her hips and the counter she was braced against, lost in the brutal, beautiful wreckage Lisa had made of her. Lisa didn't stop, tongue still working her ass, fingers still pumping, drawing out the aftershocks until Jen was a sobbing, trembling mess, clinging to the counter for dear life, utterly, completely ruined. Again.