tagErotic CouplingsImpulse Control

Impulse Control


A/N: Thanks to GirlintheMoon for her encouragement. Hope y'all enjoy it, and maybe I'll post more.

Copyright 2013 Krista Johnson


The apartment was mostly dark as I let myself in, a flicker of sound and light coming from the living room. My roommate, Logan, watching TV in the dark. I'd been hoping he would be out, or locked in his bedroom with his girlfriend, or anywhere other than where he could hear me come home, because he always said hello, and the last thing I wanted was to be pleasant.

"Janey? Home already? Date must have sucked."

Yes, yes it did. I didn't need him to rub it in. I grunted and headed down the hall to my

room. I pushed open the door and set my purse down, frowning at the mess of clothing strewn over every available surface.


I shrieked and jumped three feet in the air, spinning around as soon as my feet hit carpet. "Jesus, Logan!"

He held up his hands in a classic "whoa now, calm down" move. "Just thought I'd see if you wanted to watch tonight's episode or not." He shoved a hand through his hair, floppy blond locks sticking out in places. It always made me want to reorder it, smooth it back into place, and tonight was no different. My hands clenched into fists at my sides.

The "episode" he was referring to was a mid-season replacement show I'd quickly become addicted to, and I'd bitched earlier in the evening about missing it tonight. Honestly, it was more that I didn't want to go on my date than anything else, but now that I was home...

I sighed. "Why not?" I stepped out of my heels and followed him back out to the living room. Curling into my preferred corner of the couch, I tried to ignore the persistent beat between my legs.

In the interest of making some "life changes", I'd stopped tonight's proceedings with my date before any clothes had come off, but I wasn't happy with my choice at the moment. I should have just fucked him. Instead, I'd taken myself home and was sitting on the couch, watching TV with my nerdboy of a roommate.

As a result, I had a hard time enjoying the show. Normally the twisted cat and mouse game between agent and serial killer drew me in to the point Logan had to smack me upside the head last week when I didn't respond to a question. I tend to get very involved in what I'm watching. Apparently, that wasn't happening tonight.

Lust was a low simmer in my blood. Already I was thinking about what I'd do once the show was over. Go back out and find a bar and a friend for the night? Call up an amicable ex? Make use of my box full of toys?

Toys. Why ruin all the hard work I'd put in?

A familiar, thrumming bass line started. Oh, no. No no no no no."Turn it off, Logan. Or

change the channel."

He peered at me from the other side of the couch. "The show's almost over, Janey."

Crap. Distracted as I was, I still wanted to see how the episode ended, but I could not sit

through this song. Already frustrated and horny, my libido perked right up as the low chords rose in pitch ever so slightly. I shifted on the couch, jeans suddenly too constricting, the seam pressing in the most inconvenient spot. The actors on the screen blurred as my skin tightened, the song rising to its first crescendo.

Fuck. Fuck me. I had to get out of here before I did something supremely stupid. Like run right back out of the apartment to my disastrous date and beg him to fuck me hard.

I couldn't leave. I was primed like Pavlov's dog, Massive Attack's "Angel" flipping the hormone switch inside into overdrive. Once I heard those opening notes, I was done for. I barely managed to stop the whine wanting to escape. The show ended, the screen went black, and all that was left was me and my roommate. In the dark.

Good choices never happen in the dark.

The episode ended before the song ended, and I blew out a breath. Not a moment too soon. Struggling to my feet, I ignored Logan on my way past him to the hallway, only to yelp in surprise as his hand closed around my wrist. He tugged, and I tumbled, landing on his lap. "What the hell?" I scrambled backward and off his lap.

"What bug crawled up your ass and died tonight? You're not normally this pissy." Dark

brown eyes glinted in the faint light from outside.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with, hon. I'm just gonna go to bed." He didn't need to know that me and my vibrator were going to go a couple rounds before I shut my eyes for the night.

"Whatever." He slouched back. "You know the name of that song playing at the end of the

show? It was pretty sweet."

The response was automatic. "Angel. Massive Attack, although that was a cover I haven't heard before."

"Never heard it."

"Never?" I gawked at him. Mezzanine was, in my opinion, the seminal album of a great

trip-hop group, and I'd yet to meet anyone who'd never heard a track off the album. "Wait here." I darted out of the living room and down the hall, digging my iPod out of my purse. Clutching it in my hand, I hurried back into the living room, stuck it in the dock and cued up the song.

Now why on earth did I do that?

I could have hit myself.


"It's sex," I whispered. "Pure sex. It's sex in musical form. Listen. You can hear it.

Foreplay." The vocals crept in, slinking around the notes, saturating themselves. "That first thrust." Notes crashing into one another, a wave of sound. "Over and over again. Rising and falling." My hips twitched, tilting forward, hands sliding unawares over my stomach. I saw bodies moving with and against each other, skin hot and slick, gasps and moans mingling in the air. "Orgasm." The final crescendo. "Afterglow." The low hum of the bass, echoing the beating in my blood, gathering between my legs.

I never should have played this song. Every part of me ached, including parts I'd never considered to be erogenous zones before. Time to escape.

Plucking the iPod out of the docking station, I spun around and ran smack into Logan. The idiot had snuck up behind me while the song was playing and was right there.

I have impulse control problems, and I blame that for what happened next. He was handy, he had all the corresponding parts, and it was safer, in a way, than trolling the bars or the personals.

He sure wasn't surprised when I crushed my mouth to his. No, he responded with a fury that surprised me. His mouth practically devoured mine, tongue snaking in and finding every hidden spot. His tangled in my brown curls, and all I could think was how good he tasted. Like he'd been sucking on a peppermint candy.

Rising on my toes, the hard line of his cock pressed into my belly as I tried to get closer. I whimpered as his mouth left mine, groaning when he found the sensitive spot under my ear. He nipped and suckled the tender skin, and if I didn't get out of my clothes I was going to die from heat stroke.

His teeth scraped down the line of my throat, hands moving over my breasts and streaking under the hem of my shirt. Couch. There was a couch behind him. I pushed and stumbled forward, and we fell on the couch, noses bouncing off one another.

We didn't care. All that mattered is we were mostly horizontal and well on our way to

being unclothed. The thought of his warm, firm lips on my skin had me biting into the curve of his neck.

Logan's hands found their way up my belly, dragging my shirt up and off. "Angel" was on repeat in my head, driving me on. I wouldn't stop. Couldn't stop, until I was sweaty and limp and sated.

Clever fingers flicked at the hooks of my bra, and the straps slid down and off my shoulders. The fingers pinching my nipples left me gasping, replaced with a sharp cry as his teeth latched on. He feasted, hands cupping my breasts, fingers plying one nipple while his mouth worked over the other one, the hardened points jolting with each new touch, telegraphing needs to my pussy.

And doubt muscled its way in. My head fell back and I gulped down air, trying to find the strength to get up and go and finish this off, alone, in my bedroom with the door firmly shut and locked. But he couldn't see me in the dark. He wouldn't be able to tell just how average I was. Nothing special, average tits, a waistline that could be a little slimmer, an ass that could be a tad bit tighter.

In the dark, I was the stuff of dreams.

If I was going to be topless, so was he. It didn't take much more than a few seconds of insistent tugging for him to catch my drift, and he sat up and yanked it over his head. My hands connected with a hot, hard chest.

Oh. My. Where the hell had this been hiding? Skinny Logan had been holding out on me.

I curled down to him, opening my mouth and licking a line down his sternum. Yum. Fingers and tongue roaming over the clean lines of muscle covering his chest, I lowered my hips to his.

Too much. Even through four layers of clothing, it was too much. Too hard, too wet, too tempting. So I rocked, the granite line of his erection pressing the heavy cloth of my jeans into my clit. "Fuck." Too good. Too damn good.

"Jane. Janey." My name was a groan, a prayer on his lips, and he thrust up, rocking hard. It was rising, creeping up slowly, and this was not how I wanted to get off. I slid back, biting back a moan as the pressure eased. Soon, Janey-girl, soon. With fingers made clumsy by lust, I fumbled with the fly of his jeans. The zipper strained over his dick, and I grabbed at the waistband, impatient. The jeans came down over his hips, his boxers along for the ride, and then he was naked and I was standing next to the couch in my jeans.

My panties were so wet it was uncomfortable.

Before I could undo the button, he sat up, cock sticking straight up, and if I wasn't so

desperate I would have laughed. He was as eager as I was to get on with the proceedings, and our warp speed trip to sex zipped right along. My jeans slid down to my ankles, and I kicked free, sending my underwear to the floor after them.

Then his hand snuck up the inside of my thigh, and I stilled. I loved this part, the anticipation mixing with the lust to beat a steady tattoo through my blood. His hand climbed steadily, inching closer and closer, and I almost fell over when his fingers stroked through the wetness gathered there.

"You're soaked," he whispered, voice hoarse with suppressed lust. Stroke, stroke, and his thumb circled my clit, 'round and round, pressing on the tense bundle of nerves often enough to keep me on the edge.

A finger dipped in, sliding in and out, and the squishy, sloppy sounds combined with the pants leaving my mouth. I couldn't breathe. Logan, damn him, wasn't going to let me topple over. I reached down, grabbed his hand, and showed him exactly what I wanted him to do: fuck me. Hard.

My hips found the rhythm, jerking against his hand, faster, harder, his fingers plunging in and out in imitation of what he'd be doing soon enough with his cock, and my knees went weak as the orgasm crashed into me. I ended up on the floor, on my back, Logan between my legs and ready to push forward as soon as I said "Go."

There was no need for words. I grabbed his ass and hauled him toward me and OH

GOD. I hadn't bothered to get a good look at his cock before he drove it into my pussy, but now I wish I had. He was big. Big enough it felt like I hadn't had sex in a long, long time, which was a complete lie. He kept sliding forward, and I tilted my hips up, wanting as much of him as he could give.

Finally he came to rest against me, groin to groin, and he rolled his hips, the movement rubbing my greedy clit. "Janey. Janey Janey Janey. Do you know how long I've thought about this?" He withdrew, thrust forward, his dick hitting some place inside I didn't know existed. "Months." Another thrust. "Months of wanting to get inside your pussy." Thrust, thrust, hitting that spot every single time. "God you're tight." I'm not, I wanted to tell him, but all that came out was a strangled whine. "Sopping wet." Yes, that part was true. "Hot. So fucking hot."

I reached up, laced my fingers through his hair, and pulled his head down. "Shut up," I

growled. "Shut up and fuck me."

His hips rolled forward again, and I arched under him, a silent plea for more. My hands slid over his ass, his tight, muscled ass, and pressed down, begging him for speed. I wanted it fast. I wanted it sweaty. I didn't want to think that what we were doing was so completely wrong and I would regret it as soon as we were done. All I wanted was to feel.

Urging him on, his cock pistoned in and out, the spot inside me craving more and more, slurping everything down and asking for seconds. Then thirds. Heat bloomed and spread, and this time the orgasm reared up and slapped me in the face.

I came on a long, broken moan, muscles clamping down so hard on his cock I could feel

them throb violently. Logan cursed, ground himself into me, and brought on a fresh climax on the heels of the most spectacular one I'd ever felt, his dick hardening even more as he went bowstring-taut above me.

Afterglow. I was sticky and limp, exactly like I'd wanted. The carpet pricked and rubbed my skin. I'd probably have rug burns on my ass. Regret surged in, right on schedule, and I shifted under Logan, attempting to dislodge him. He lifted himself up and off. Then he rolled to the side, his hands grabbing my waist and taking me with him. Our skin stuck together in places as we lay there. The intimacy of it sparked fear in my belly, his eyes on mine, lips millimeters apart.

His kiss was gentle, and it tore something open inside me. I wasn't going to do this. Not again. "I need to take a shower," I mumbled. I got to my feet, gathered my clothes, and limped down the hall to my bedroom, semen dripping down my legs and shame weighing me down.

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