Chapter 7: Sweet Consecration

A/N: I'm back! 2020 has been kicking my ass for the longest. 2021 me please! School has started back off without a hitch and I already have 52 assignments due by next week. First off, let me start by saying I am not one of those writers who are blessed with the ability to write a full chapter in one day, even though I wish I was. I would put out soooo many chapters in such a short time, it's not even funny lol. I'm somewhat of a perfectionist who needs time to brainstorm and construct the next chapter. Plus, I love long chapters so be patient with me. Writing porn with plot is clearly my expertise so be prepared because things are about to start getting juicy from this point forward! Thanks for encouraging me! Enjoy my loves!


You didn't know why you woke up in the first place, but you could feel that something was amiss. You could just feel it. Everything just felt all around wrong. A coldness had enveloped your entire body and was loath to let it go. You were standing in an empty void that had soon transformed into your bedroom a fraction of a second later. Everything was moving in slow motion.

The closet slowly opened to reveal your landlord staring straight at you with the biggest cheshire smile on his face. The grin pulled back his lips and cheeks to the point where every inch of his gums were showing. The sight was one of the more disturbing images you'd ever seen and you'd watched a number of horror films growing up.

Out of the corner of your eye, you glanced out frantically to see John clad in his dark attire, stepping from the shroud of unending shadow of darkness. Why the hell was he standing in your room was unclear. His eyes looked dead almost as if there was nothing in them. You've seen it on his face before but now the look terrified you.

The man's right hand held a scary looking gun that was slowly being lifted in the direction of your landlord's head. Your heart must've dropped in the deepest pits of your stomach.

"John...don't."

The shot was loud enough to the point where your ears were ringing. When you looked at your landlord, you were horrified to find his brains splattered all over the wall. The sight nearly forced bile up from your stomach. It was so grotesque. As much as you hated the guy, he didn't deserve to die like this. Brains blown out in your bedroom.

More scared than you could ever remember being, you turned to John only to find his gun now aimed at you. "John, what are you doing?" His facial expression unchanged. Suddenly a burning pain was felt in your stomach and you looked down to a bloodied hole there.

A glimmer of awareness returned to your eyes as the ceiling came into view. The fact that it never occurred to you that you might be dreaming the whole time was a problem. It was hard to recall when you'd even dozed off in the first place. Your mind being free to wander while you slept was distressing enough. You certainly didn't need any sleep disturbances. This was not your first nightmare brought on by stress and anxiety and it likely wouldn't be the last. The dream was the most unsettling thing you'd experienced in quite a while. The dream itself felt like you'd been in a trance for hours unchecked.

Your eyes darted around the living room - fortunately there was no dead landlord and no pistol wielding John Wick. Everything seemed in order - everything but your mind perhaps. But that was okay because you were still working on getting that together. It was difficult to be able to relax back into sleep as it was. Your heart was beating way too fast, unable to process that your conscious thoughts had morphed into a dream and that you weren't in any immediate danger. After John left, you'd ended up falling asleep on the couch.

After a while most of your dreams would go unremembered. Now that it was morning and some time had passed, you could vaguely recall some aspects of the dream - John shooting you being the main one. With no point in lying to yourself, you couldn't accurately say that your view of him wasn't somewhat distorted. John wouldn't dare point a gun in your direction would he? Relatively speaking...John was not a threat to you - maybe to a selected group of others but certainly not you. Were you afraid of him deep down? It was a dark speculation. All that overthinking you'd done the previous day threatened to make a swift reappearance; you could not allow it to negatively affect your daytime energy or activities. Any energy would be preserved for positive things. If you spent your whole day thinking of him, nothing would ever get done.

Realistically speaking, you couldn't backpedal on how you felt about him based on a dream.

Permitting your unconscious mind to cripple you and prevent you from living your life. It wasn't going to happen. You didn't need this shit right now. What good would it do to be a paranoid shell of your former self? Ultimately, your life was what you made it. If you perceived it to be bad, then it was bad. If you thought of it as good then that's what it was. No in-between. Maybe you just needed a more positive outlook on things.

Bothered some deep part of your psyche and you just couldn't let things play out without overthinking. You would do your best to shield yourself from all things unpleasant.

Today would be a busy day and you couldn't afford to be distracted. A simple phone call to your mother should be enough to soothe your restless mind at least for a while.


Tuesday provided a deceptively chilly morning that would carry on well into the afternoon. The sun was still beaming overhead. There were a variety of people at the station and yet you still felt quite different from everyone. There's people casually strolling around, making light conversation. You were dressed in your best professional clothing with the prettiest pumps from the boutique Alexis worked for. You made her promise not to sell them to any customer before you could buy them. Jasmine helped you pick your outfit out for the occasion after you both bickered like cats and dogs for thirty minutes beforehand. You told her to wait for you in the lobby area since unauthorized guests were not allowed past a certain point.

Glazed donuts and coffee sat on a table for the sole purpose of having people devour them. You could smell the sweet, sugary aroma of food the moment you walked in. And as much as you wanted to call yourself ignoring the temptation, you eventually gave in. Though the taste of the warm pastry didn't make you regret your decision in the slightest. For once it didn't smell better than it tastes.

Your initial excitement was dampened when you spotted your professor speaking with another classmate who was vying for the same potential job opening as you. Laughing obnoxiously in the other's face like something was just so fuckin hilarious that he couldn't pay you the slightest attention. Shit like that really pissed you off. Every interaction with Professor Thomas continued to drift around in your subconscious unwittingly at random times. This man had been stepping on yours for at least a year now with no foreseeable end in sight. Distinguished director of the Journalism board or not, he was not about to continue playing in your face like you weren't deserving of some kind of respect.

With no concern for interrupting, you walked up to the pair, careful to note that the conversation had stopped.

You offered one of your brightest smiles even though he didn't deserve a fraction of your generosity, you still felt it necessary to give. "Professor Thomas."

No smile or greeting was offered in return. A small incline of his head was given before he attempted to engage with the male once more. He was truly one of the most insensitive people you knew. He was one of those people whose behavior was juvenile in a sense that it was almost too hard to prove to others.

That little voice in the back of your mind was getting louder and more restless. Even provided an unprecedented opportunity you were terrible at pretending. If something was bothering you, there would soon be at least one attempt to acknowledge the nuisance at any given time.

That considered, you felt as if he had already made up his mind that your classmate deserved the position over you despite the time and effort you put in your labor. It wasn't the guy's fault so you couldn't blame him. History had shown that white men were often given positions over people of color even if the latter was much more qualified. It was one of the harsh realities of the world - one you weren't prepared to face or accept just yet. Frankly you didn't have the willpower or self-control to just sit and ignore how you were being treated as opposed to your white counterpart. You are not learning to cope with anything that you didn't think was right in the first place. Your tolerance with the old man had long run out. You intended to make your voice heard even if it carried the risk of damaging your grade or ruining your reputation.

"You know what you're doing is really rude right? I greet you and you don't say anything."

The look that appeared on his face was nothing short of taken aback - like he wasn't expecting you to address his behavior.

"I'm sorry...I wasn't aware that I needed to acknowledge your presence." He explained, exacerbating the defensiveness he was always quick to envelope himself in.

"It's just common courtesy. But I'm thinking that maybe you don't know anything about that."

The air was suddenly brimming with mounting tension and the male classmate standing between you two had picked up on it. He began shifting uncomfortably, watching you with nervous eyes.

"Oh I know plenty about it. I was just under the impression that a person could extend that course to whomever they felt worthy enough to receive it."

Right away, you wanted to be surprised but you just couldn't muster up the faux reaction. You knew what to expect from the get-go. Irritation was festering inside of you like a million ants. In that moment, your mother's voice echoed in your mind, "Not everything deserves a reaction, a response or your energy." The statement heavily contradicted how you were feeling. You didn't much give a damn about maintaining any sense of class or poise. You felt disrespected in one of the worst possible ways.

Another person's behavior usually wouldn't affect you like this but this particular professor was just that good at rubbing you the wrong way. You were sick to death of having to deal with his condescending attitude.

"I'm one of your most valued students, top of my class with honors. And you think I'm not deserving of common courtesy? That's really strange to hear since you're the one who selected me as a candidate for this job. Or do you think I don't deserve this either?"

A twinge of pained annoyance started creeping up your spine.

You couldn't articulate how you were feeling only that you're in between breaking down and tearing everything around you apart. There wasn't any gnashing of the teeth, no flipping of chairs and tables - just calm mounting fury. You had about one ounce of serenity left in you before you went ballistic. If Jasmine were allowed into the studio area she'd have already caused a scene the likes of which would really be newsworthy.

"I just feel as though Joseph would be more…"

The words flowed like a bucket of cold water dumped over your head. Having tuned out the rest of the sentence, you merely stared into nothing. You quickly cut him off. "That's not up for you to decide. And for that I'm thankful."

"I'm the one who gives the recommendations young lady. It may as well be my decision."

"Then why am I here? Why select me as a potential candidate if you had no real intention of me getting it? So it wouldn't look like you were showing favoritism and just hand it over to someone else?"

The man wisely said nothing. Knowing if he were to open his mouth he would give himself anyway.

You were beyond offended by the lack of response. Squeezing the small cup of coffee in your hand, you threw it right into his face.

The old bastard's face reddened with anger immediately. "Have you lost your mind!?" He says the words plainly like you were the one being unreasonable. "Did you forget who..."

"I don't care about none of that!" At this point, you were not concerned with catching considerable heat. You had a right to feel the way you do with good reason. He'd never planned to give you the position in the first place; all in account of who he thought should have it. People love to tell you what you aren't.

An awkward silence fell over the studio and you could feel that all eyes were focused in your direction.

"Fuck you! I don't want anything from you. Give the fucking job to Joesph." You stomped out of the room right after.


"Girl you didn't need that little funky ass job anyway." Alexis claimed. With one phone call, she was at your apartment in a heartbeat, suggesting that all three of you should go back to the station and fight everybody. On one hand, it sounded like a fantastic idea but the rational part of you knew that it would accomplish nothing.

"But I really wanted that little funky ass job though."

It didn't help that you'd been preparing all year to get it either. Perfect go-getter attitude. Tons of work ethic. And your resume was immaculate. There was no way you didn't have it in the bag.

In a way, you kind of helped him achieve his goal. Thanks to your outburst, Joseph was sure to get the position over you. That was a guaranteed fact. On the other hand, you finally gave your shitty professor a peace of your mind. You doubted that an appropriate apology had even crossed his feeble mind. As his pride would be on the line if he did and you knew he valued that above all else. Not that it was surprising, people his age were often set deep in their ways, unwilling to change or accept change. Sooner or later - he would have to reap what he sewed. And you hoped that time came soon.

"You can find another." Jasmine chimed in.

The whole situation still made you irritated beyond belief and you hated being irritated, it was the quickest way to make you cry.

You sagged back against the couch with a heavy exhale drink in hand. Your friends were trying to make you feel better by cracking jokes and dropping little positivity tidbits but it was all in vain. You couldn't even spare a genuine laugh. In life there are no reruns, no do overs. No lie, your twenties are teaching you patience. You could never put up this shit when you were sixteen. Sometimes it was hard to have belief in one's self. You felt as if you were losing yourself with every day that passes. Maybe you just needed a little encouragement. You wanted better for yourself. It was a normal human response, you only concern was what did that better entail? What sacrifices would you have to make in turn? It was hard to comprehend. Working out the logistics of it seemed too hard. You needed to consider being on an episode of Iyanla: Fix My Life.

Albeit still, you couldn't abide by failure and the feelings associated with it. Since you were a child, you hated to fail at anything. What major life changing event were you blocking out that made you this?

Technically speaking, it was natural for a person to go through a depression stage in life. Jasmine had one when her grandmother died and Alexis experienced one after her first heartbreak. Both of them were nearly inconsolable and you had never seen them so upset. Though it was comforting to have people there for you to help you see it through.

Regardless of how you currently felt, everything always ends up working out, sometimes even better than you could ever imagine. Perhaps it wasn't meant for you to get the job anyway. This was a lesson in progress - a lesson of you can't have everything at the moment. What's meant for you will be for you.

Alexis huffed in frustration. "Look girl, I don't know what else to do. We've said and tried everything in the book to make you feel better. At this point, you just gotta give it to God."

Jasmine nodded in support.

"This is probably that sign I've been waiting for." You sighed. "Might need to go shake my ass on a pole."

"Bitch you can't dance."

"They don't know that."

Alexis snorted. "They will when you bust yo ass on that pole."

"Two things for sure one thing for certain. I'm gonna be okay."

"That's what I like to hear. I don't want you crying and moping all damn night."

A lightbulb went off in your brain, this attitude would have to get the fuck on somewhere. And you knew exactly what to do. Nothing was going to stop you from getting lit tonight. The slightest boost of serotonin would work. "Let's go to the Mirage."

"On a Tuesday night? I don't think so. And these are your own words I'm using."

"It's fine! It'll be a celebration."

"Celebration of what though?"

"Just support me in my time of need. That's all I need. Do this for me y'all, I don't ask for much."

Alexis and Jasmine shared a look before shrugging.

"Well at least give us time to get ready. I don't wanna walk in there looking like who did it and what for."

After that, the idea was pretty much a go. Tonight's occasion would be getting drunk in honor of yourself.

When the three of you finally got to the club, shots were ordered and taken straight to the head. Aleix wasted no time filming everything on her phone, saying how proud of you she was. Truthfully, you didn't even think to scold her about capturing video evidence of your descent into alcoholism. Before long you were throwing drinks back like nobody's business. You'd downed drink after drink and that little buzz was starting to make itself known. You welcomed it with open arms. But the alcohol wasn't doing its job good enough. It wasn't pushing back the sadness like you thought it would. Having previously worked as a bartender, you know better than anyone that drinking to escape your problems wouldn't work. Even then you'd listened to quite a few sob stories from various patrons and sometimes the alcohol made it worse.

The female bartender serving you seemed to notice your wretchedness and often gave you sympathetic looks when she thought you weren't paying attention. You hated how she looked at you with such pity - pity that you didn't want right now. You wanted to feel like you were on top of the world.

Jasmine and Alexis were on the dancefloor but you didn't join them. You had no desire to dance, all you wanted to do was drink. Drink to forget today. Sadly, you hadn't eaten anything before you started drinking and that would lead to big problems later on.

By this point, you were definitely a little drunk but not to the point of being totally incoherent - even you knew better to let that happen. Before you left the house, Jasmine had offered you some peach Paul Masson which you vehemently rejected. Just the smell of it would have you vomiting all over the place. The drink had put you in positions that you wouldn't willingly put yourself in even under the threat of death. You thought it was terrible that it was Jasmine's go-to drink for every occasion. And worst of all, it had taken you nearly three days to fully recover from the effects. The experience was hellish. With as many times as it put you on your ass, you would never fuck with it again. Sometime along the road, you'd learned a little trick from some of your heavy drinking family members that involved taking a BC beforehand to avoid a bad hangover.

A guy with one side of his head was shaven and a woman under his arm bumped into you causing the drink in your left hand to spill all over your front. He spared you a look, not even bothering to give an apology. That pissed you off.

"Um excuse you." You sneered, taking the napkins from the holder in an attempt to clean yourself up.

"Oh my bad."

"That's it? That's all you have to say after you bumped into me?"

"It was a fucking accident man...don't…"

"An accident that you still haven't apologized for!"

You were even more offended when he turned his nose up at you and scoffed. The bitch on his arm mirrored the look and you were about 3.5 seconds from beating both of their asses. Suddenly, you noted that there was a white residue under his nose. And that pretty much told you everything you needed to know about this guy. Luckily the bartender had watched the entire exchange and bid the couple to keep it moving or they would be escorted out by the bouncer. Luckily your girls weren't there to witness the incident or you were that they would've jumped him and his bimbo on the spot.

You pinched the skin between your nose. Was everybody working together to try your nerves today? It sure seemed like it. You came here because you thought it might make you feel better, in fact, it had done the complete opposite. You thought you wanted this but now you realized that coming here was a huge mistake. There was only one last resort now. Pulling out your phone you dialed a number.

"Can you come get me?"


In your wallowing, you'd completely forgotten about John's existence.

You hadn't anticipated that the man would take you back to his house, the location of which you expected to remain ambiguous just like all other aspects of his life. The home was as secluded as a house could possibly be. Mill Neck was generally where all the super rich people took up residence. About an hour's way from Manhattan but seeing as how your lover drove like he was a speed racer the drive was cut down dramatically to about thirty minutes. In all, you were shocked that you hadn't fallen asleep during the drive since you were slumped in the passenger seat with your head against the window the whole time.

The car pulled into the garage slowly and the huge door came back down before John pulled the key from the ignition bathing the space in silence. Knowing you would have trouble getting out, John took the library to help you out of the car and allowed you to use him for support so you wouldn't have to stumble around.

John Wick's house was one of the most beautiful places you'd ever seen. Stunning interior was bathed in natural light that just so happened to blend with the outside exterior. There were huge floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the lake. Some of the walls looked to be made purely of glass. Even the house's decor was tasteful, modern, and surprisingly clean. Usually men who lived alone didn't keep up with their house and were filthy. John's place was absolutely spotless. You could only guess just how expensive this house was on the market. Being a hitman paid well you guess. You wouldn't be surprised if the bat cave was located directly under his house.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't fawning over the place. You just wanted to touch everything in sight.

"The shower is this way." He explained, leading you through his magnificent house.

The bathroom itself was a marvel to look at as well as its glass encased shower. The granite made for an equally gorgeous setup, a setup you were too drunk to memorize all the details of this little slice of heaven. There would be a better chance at remembering in the morning. The water sprayed in calming jets as you stood under it. A noise recaptured your attention and your gaze rotated to see John leaning against the wall watching your every move while you showered.

His gaze leisurely transverses over your wet form, paying extra attention to the soap and water cascading off your skin. You mischievously held his gaze, moving the bathing cloth over an erect nipple. John's eyes followed the movement and you thought he might join you in the shower. Instead you were rather disappointed when he placed a white fabric on the bathroom counter and closed the door behind him. At least he was considerate enough to leave you one of his white button-up shirts on the counter, knowing you had no other clothing to put on. Otherwise you'd be walking around naked.

After you spent some considerable amount of time in the shower, you dressed and wandered around the maze of a house admiring things until sounds drew your attention. You found him in the kitchen standing in front of a counter cleaning what looked to be his coffee pot. An intricate coffee pot but a coffee pot no less. Seeing him do normal tasks was strange.

You took a seat on the counter. "I love your house."

John hums in acknowledgment. Placing the pot back in its place, John turned to face you. His suit jacket was absent, leaving him in a dress shirt with some of the buttons undone and trademark black slacks. The sight painted a picture of suave attractiveness and sensuousness.

Unable to hold your gaze with him for an extended period of time, you simply kept your eyes downcast.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, always so perfectly calm and put together. He must have noticed that you were not acting your normal self tonight. It was the only explanation you could come up with for him to poise the question so casually.

You did feel comfortable talking to him about your problems especially since he minds his business and yours. But you were keeping your most private emotions to your chest. You didn't know if it was right but it feels right. Though inwardly, you owed him so much more than quandary and insecurity. You were full of nagging feelings and unpredictable mood swings. All you craved in life was wisdom, peace, and purpose. And here you were on the verge of an emotional breakdown. You shouldn't feel this fucking miserable.

"No." You responded quietly, staring up at him with big watery eyes. Truthfully, you didn't even know to explain your anguish, it was just one of those days.

John arches an eyebrow at your anomalous exchange, he could obviously hear the emotion in your voice. His brows drew down and it was clear that your despair was something that he didn't like to see but he would not press the issue if you didn't want to talk about it.

Emotions were clasping tightly around your neck. Your chest was so heavy with emotion you feared you might break down over the smallest thing. A direct result of pent-up anxiety which was becoming an all too disturbing pattern. Before you knew it, tears were flowing freely down your cheeks, silent hiccups escaped before you could stop them. You hadn't meant to break down right in front of him but there was no way for you to stop it. In that moment, you surrendered yourself to him - to be judged, to be scrutinized during your moment of vulnerability.

Sometime during your walling, he'd closed the distance between you both and wrapped his arms around your shaking form. It never occurred to you how much of a mess you might look. This was the worst he'd ever seen you. You didn't even have the capacity to pull yourself together. It was too much of an internal struggle for you. Why did you feel so numb? He held you until you drained your tear ducts dry. That was the only reason you were able to stop crying - had it not been for that you'd still be sobbing. The longer he held you the more you could feel any mental anguish being extinguished. Was it possible that their connection was deepening?

Admittedly, you were not much of a rambler while drunk rather more of a constantly dozing off kind of drunk.

In retrospect, you could definitely see it happening. Those visages of emotion between you two were never fleeting. You were still very accepting of the whole situation. From the outside looking in it could quite possibly be seen as wholly outrageous but this was your life and your choice. His presence was always missed and you both expressed yourself in different ways.

You love the way he looks at you. As if you're the only thing that matters in the world. He cultivates a mystique and air of intelligence that's not at all arrogant or problematic. You thought of him as the handsome loner type that had aloof and reserved mannerisms who never strayed too far from his gentlemanly code. Always excluding a monastic grace and discipline that makes him attractive. He was good at silent communication too. John Wick was a destructive masculine force that you couldn't resist. You blamed it on your unnatural attraction to silent emotionally unavailable men. He was otherworldly in those aspects. He had a certain edge about him, being in the murder business and all.

Beneath his cold exterior there resided another side of him. A dark side that came out now and then. You caught a glimpse of it when he emotionlessly struck down his targets. You understood that he had to let it out sometimes. You liked to think he held a soft spot for you on account of his actions.

You spotted quite a few appetizing wine bottles in a nearby cabinet above the stove. Your mouth instantly salivated but you pushed those thoughts down. Aside from that you were still feeling a bit hazy as a result of tonight's liquor still flowing strongly within your system and John probably would start thinking you were an alcoholic. Besides, wine drinking made you extremely horny. Now that the drinking part was done you were looking to get folded like a chair.

Your body was literally crying out for this man's body up against your curves. All the soft kisses and lingering exchange of words put so much in perspective. Sitting in his lap staring into his eyes was one of your favorite places to be. Some part of you likes getting the attention you never received from anyone before him. You craved him, his scent, his mysterious vibe, being in his company.

A hand cupped your face and you leaned slightly into the contact. Like clockwork, your body temperature spiked. It didn't take much to invoke a bout of horniness and have you melting underneath his touches - that was just the effect he had on you. He treated you so tenderly through your sadness. It's a wonder that he was in the profession of killing.

The warmth of his body over yours grew with each passing second. When he pulled back you noticed that his eyes were blackened by lust. Right away, your arms came up to embrace him.

John kissed your nose, then your cheek, causing your heart to flutter. A finger tilted your head up a fraction before his lips finally met yours. He was essentially fucking your mouth with his tongue, swirling his tongue around yours. More turned on than you could ever remember being, you lightly sucked his bottom lip. Your hands moved to pull him out of his pants. For his dick to be as big as it was, you liked to think you took it pretty well. You were exactly sure if he would be okay with you calling on him to come dick you every time a problem arose in life.

He was careful to maneuver your loosely hanging braids from your face.

He hiked the shirt up past your navel and sunk right inside your saturated mount with no effort whatsoever, pussy enveloping him with relish. Splaying agile hands across your chest to fondle your tits while you responded by raking your nails across his surprisingly soft skin. He pressed his forehead against yours as he fell straight into the depths of your suffocating heat. You watched his pectoral muscles flexing through his shirt. There wasn't much wiggle room to move on the counter but that didn't stop you from undulating against him the best you could.

Without a doubt, his counter-top would be left soaked from your activities.

John softly groaned against your open mouth maintaining direct eye contact as he moved effortlessly within your body. Sex with John was fulfilling and not predictable in any sense. His dick spoke life back into you. The strokes were a combination of slow and languid sometimes turning forceful if he felt like you weren't paying attention to the feeling and not everything he was doing to you.

The dim lighting of his spacious bedroom really set the mood. John brought you to the bed with as much grace that could be had while carrying a drunk, half-naked woman, instead of laying you down on its surface, he took a seat right in the middle with you in his lap. The action wasn't expected in the least. Not that it bothered you.

Seizing your waist, John maneuvered you forward with strong arms to bring your lower body to straddle his face. Sitting on a man's face shouldn't feel so intimidating but this particular kind of man made it impossible not to be. Placing most of your weight on your knees, this position was incorporated to focus solely on your pleasure. Not to mention it was extremely sexy.

John flicked his tongue against you vigorously and an abundance of saliva was spread all over as he ate at you sloppily, tongue dipping into the slit. In a thick haze of bliss, you threw your head back, a long whine fell from your parted lips, back arching. At this very moment, this was the best place to be - sitting on his face getting your pussy eaten so disrespectfully. You were certain that all your juices would end up in his beard and that made it even more arousing. John's face was now your favorite seat. He ate at you hungrily like a starving dog, lapping at you in an attempt to quench his thirst. The contract killer even showed much attention to that little pocket of skin between your vulva and anus.

He did everything from parting your folds to circling your clit. And the luscious suction added a new level of stimulation you hadn't thought possible. You didn't realize that you'd started slowly grinding your hips back and forth over his face. It was getting harder to support yourself.

Purring in satisfaction when he gingerly removed the only article of clothing off your body. You were well beyond the point of feeling embarrassed to be naked under his guarded gaze. He positioned you on your side, your left leg coming up unto his shoulder. This intimate position allowed for lots of leverage and you know that he's more than aware of that. It gave you the distinct impression that he liked to watch himself disappear in and out of your body. You didn't crave a tender loving this time - you wanted to be fucked.

Him subsequently seating his pulsing dick deep inside causes a sharp intake of breath to leave you. The feeling so ridiculously amazing that a symphony of moans and wails reverberated in the bedroom. John leaned over you to lick and kiss your back gently while he stroked you out. Your body could help but to quake, your stomach lurching. Eyes rolling back as he hipbones pressed intimately against the curve of your thighs.

He centers you right in the middle of mind-blowing pleasure. The way that this man was making you lose your shit like this was dangerous. Every shitty emotion and depressing thought from today was being fucked out of you. By now you were so past the point of coherent thought, all you could do was feel.

"There. Right there." You moaned out shamelessly. "Ahhh fuck me…"

You felt a momentary pause in his movements, almost like he'd faltered for a second before continuing his ministrations more intensely. He had to be shocked at the amount of obscene words coming from your mouth. Apparently, getting drunk causes filth to come out of your mouth and turns you into a porn-star.

"It feels so good."

Every thrust hit deep like he had a railgun for a dick. The way he rolled his hips on the in-stroke, the sensation left you dizzy. You accidentally dug your nails into his hip and he seemed to move with even more vigor because of it. The change in pace had you writhing - it wasn't exactly fast but it was far from slow. You almost let a declaration of love pass from your lips and you had to bite your bottom lips to stop any further noise from escaping. In the midst of everything, this might drive you crazy.

Sweat started to slick your bodies.

The wanton sounds of you whimpering and panting were loud in the room and you still couldn't conjure up the tiniest bit of embarrassment for it. John must know his dick is spectacular. If not, this would let him know. The man was a demon the way he utilized his manhood to effortlessly rock you into nirvana. He's never made you work for your orgasm, preferring to give you pleasure so long as he received his in the process. An even exchange.

Your legs were shaking and tensing from the mounting pressure, body virtually vibrating with desire. Every single muscle below your belly button was getting worked to the point of exertion. Your thighs felt like you were receiving a rigorous workout. The muscles of your stomach were beginning to cramp horribly.

While you were attempting to get the slightest bit of air into your lungs, your whole world suddenly tipped off its axis. Shockwaves rippled through your body, white light exploding behind your eyes. A natural high you didn't want to come down from. John soon followed after you, a warm gush coating your insides that signed his release. Maybe you were being too careless letting him continuously shoot up your club but that's what birth control was for. Right now, you didn't have the capacity to dwell on it for long.

John carefully removed your leg from his shoulders while he laid his weight on top of you. He didn't pull out, he just laid there.

"Are you okay Milaya?" He asked, unsurprised you find you already asleep.


A/N: Milaya - Means 'Darling' in Russian.