tagErotic CouplingsImpulse Control Ch. 08

Impulse Control Ch. 08


I was in a cocoon of limbs and blankets and warmth. Zach. He had a habit of wrapping me up like that, and I snuggled closer.

Something was off.

No solid wall of muscle greeted me as I blinked awake. I stared at the shoulders in front of me. Too skinny to be Zach. Had I done the stupid thing and slept over? No, I was in my own bed. So...

Fuck. Logan. And of course he'd have morning wood.

I hadn't had a good morning screw in years. It used to be one of my favorite times, the two of us still half asleep, endorphins zipping and zinging every which way. I always had a good day after. Always.

As I was debating the merits of taking advantage of Logan while he was still mostly asleep versus sneaking out of bed and freaking out in the shower, he stirred and held me tighter, his rock-hard erection pressing into my belly, his thigh inching higher between my legs.

Then one hand threaded through my hair, tipping my head back, and I knew he was more awake than he'd let on.

When did his gaze get so intense? It's too early for this. Too early for him to be tracing the lines of my face, too early for his hands to be skimming over my breast, down to my hip, too early for him to be nudging me closer as though he could fuse us together.

Or maybe it's too late, because after the shift inside me last night, I'm sunk. I'm terrified he doesn't feel the same. I want more of this. More of him. And he's only a kid.

On a moan, I reached for his head and pulled him to me, lips bumping and parting, morning breath be damned. Legs tangled together, I rubbed against him, desperate to feel every inch of him on my skin. Tongues stroked, teeth nibbled and scraped, and his hands were everywhere, moving slowly, igniting sparks and fanning them until I wanted to be consumed.

The room was still shadowed in the pre-dawn light, and we were warm and buried under blankets, hands seeking those hidden nooks you know are on your lover's body and can't wait to find. You can't wait to find the next thing to turn them on, to flip their switch, to devastate them.

We moved, bodies rocking with the movement of our hips, and I needed him inside me. His cock slid along my slit, and I wanted to grind myself into it. Then his hand skimmed down and replaced his cock, his free hand tangled in my hair. "Janey," he whispered.

I couldn't look away. Gone was the occasionally immature roommate. He'd been replaced by a man so focused on me I wanted to shrink under the scrutiny. He anchored my head in place, eyes darting over my face as he continued to play me. Thumb circling my clit, two fingers plunged into me, curling with each retreat, massaging and teasing. I was dripping on him. Dripping for him. His thumb pressed down as he slammed three fingers home, and I came apart, vision blurring.

He didn't give me any recovery time. I was on my back and he'd slid home while my pussy was still spasming, his dick harder than it had ever been. Felt bigger. Felt longer. He covered me completely and stilled when the impact set off a fresh climax.

Two orgasms and I was wrung out. I couldn't handle more.

I also couldn't stop him. He flexed his cock inside me and I whimpered. "Just fuck me. Please," I whispered. I'd wanted some early morning fun. Not an experience that threatened to widen the cracks inside me.

His hips rolled forward, his thrusts slow and shallow, more of a circular movement than a full out drag. Close, close sex. Closer than last night. You couldn't fuck like this and not feel something in the very core of your being. I didn't want to know what it was.

He kept moving like that, his hips gradually pulling farther and farther back, his thrusts becoming longer, and there was nothing left but his skin on mine, the steady humming of my blood, his dick and oh, oh, OH now his fingers rushing everything forward.

For once, he stayed quiet. No words about how good I felt, how much he'd needed this. His eyes never left my face, and it was like our sex was pushing him toward some sort of breakthrough.

What it was doing was unraveling me. He was in so deep, he was hitting that spot so far inside me he'd only brushed against once before. I wanted that orgasm again. Tilting my hips up, he took the hint and lifted himself off me, pushing my knees up and out.

Then he groaned as he sank in deeper.

Now he was hitting it. Rubbing it. My hand replaced his, and that heart-stopping sensation was building. Too much. I felt everything; the heat, the sweat, the sheets below me soaking up our mess. His mouth on mine, on my neck, on my ear. His fingers, digging into my hips, pinching my nipples and sending jolts straight to my clit. The deluge had no end. He'd knock me out this time for certain.

The black started with the first waves. It edged my vision as I fought to pull him even farther in. The orgasm built, layer by layer, the black creeping in closer the higher I went. I didn't even have the air to scream. Breathing was unnecessary.

I reached the peak, and as my pussy clamped onto his dick in a vise grip, I went under.


Someone was murmuring my name, panic edging the tone. Moaning, I shifted my hips. I was cradling something. Logan. My roommate had managed to knock me out, exactly as I'd feared.

Cracking open my eyelids was almost impossible, but I managed. "You knocked me out," I mumbled.


Logan's concerned frown flipped over and became a huge shit-eating grin. I found the energy to swat him on the head, and he ducked to kiss me. "Good. Maybe that'll convince you not to fuck anyone else for a while."

I sighed. "I'm not. I told you last night I wasn't."

He only raised a brow.

"What, is it so hard to believe that sometimes people actually want to get to know each other before they sleep together for the first time? I'm going to sleep with him eventually, Logan. You're just going to have to accept that." So was I, because right now every cell in my body was saying uh-uh, you are not getting out of this bed. Ever.

His brows drew together and confusion flooded his face. "Why?" he asked quietly.

"Why what?"

He stared down at me for a long time before he flopped over on his back. "Nothing."

I sat up, pulling the sheet up to my breasts. "No. You don't get to 'nothing' me. Not after that. You told me in the beginning you were okay with this. And yes, I'm going to make you talk about your feelings so we can figure out what the hell is going on. You know what I want. And I know you won't give it to me." I almost said he wasn't capable of giving it to me, but that would have given voice to my greatest fear. Did I want something from Logan besides the soul-shattering sex we'd had?

He was quiet for a while. "I'm not a kid anymore, Janey. So stop treating me like one."

The words were so soft I thought for a minute I'd misheard him. He reached up and curled a hand around my upper arm and pulled, tumbling me back to the bed. "You make it sound like I've never been serious about a girl before. Just because I'd rather not be tied down now doesn't mean I haven't been before."

"But that's not the point, Logan. The point is I am looking to be tied down. I am interested in a relationship, and I already know you're not. I want something to go with all the sex."

"So...what? You want to go on a date?" One hand smoothed over my hair, nudging me closer. His dick was already rising to half-mast. It must have been the knowledge of fucking me unconscious. My body was still trembling from the last bout.

My yes was out of my mouth before I could think about the consequences. Yes, I wanted a date. I didn't know how else to do. I couldn't keep seeing Rick, that much was clear. Then my brain caught up with my mouth and I tried to undo what I'd just said. "No. No, I don't want a date. Not with you. What's the point in dating someone if you already know the outcome? Here, I'll summarize: we go out a few times, have a few laughs, fuck each other senseless, and then everything goes to shit when we realize nothing has changed regarding what we want and I move out. The end."

He frowned. "Anyone ever tell you you're a world-class pessimist?"

I gave him a cheery smile I didn't feel. "I prefer realist." I sighed. "Seriously, Logan. You don't want to date me. You want to get laid on a regular basis. There's a difference."

He stiffened. "Stop it. Just fucking stop assuming you know what I want." He grabbed my hips and rolled, pinning me to the bed, glaring down at me.

I lifted a hand and slid it into his hair. "What do you want?"

He looked baffled for a moment. "Hell. All I know is every time I knew you were meeting that douche, I'd get angry. I'd still be angry even after you came home and didn't have that 'I just rolled out of bed' look." His head came down, mouth soft against mine.

And I softened. Confused. He was confused. I could understand confusion. I could be horribly, horribly wrong, but my gut told me he didn't really know what he wanted. "Babe," I murmured against his mouth. A spurt of panic flamed in my chest at the endearment. I hadn't meant to let that slip through. So I kissed him harder, hoping to distract him.

It worked perfectly, if the growl rumbling from his throat was any indication. Planting his elbows just above my shoulders, his fingers tangled in my curls while he chased my tongue back into my mouth. He'd clearly recovered, because he was rocking his hips against mine, cock bumping into my clit with each forward roll.

He left a scorching trail of kisses down my throat as he headed for my breasts, and I shrieked as he bit down on a nipple, his chuckle vibrating through me and my hips thrust up, pussy empty and aching. No matter he'd ridden me to mind-melting completion not so long ago, I needed more.

Unwilling to wait a minute longer, I reached down and wrapped my fingers around him. He was slick and a little sticky from our first time, and he groaned as I squeezed. "No teasing," he gasped.

"No teasing." I guided him until his blunt head bumped against my entrance, and he plunged forward. The feeling of fullness was so sweet I arched off the bed. On the way down my legs clamped around his hips, holding him in place. We'd done slow. I wanted fast. I wanted to be pounded into submission.

He pulled back, then pushed forward, my hips smacking into his each time. "G'damn, Jane. Hot. So fucking hot. You're always ready for this, aren't you?" Everything down below felt like it was swelling, fit to burst.

"God. Yes. Harder," I whispered, gripping his hips and grinding myself into him. That aching bundle of nerves sent out shocks with every rub and thrust, but it wasn't enough. Swollen and hard, I had to touch it. I wanted him to touch me. "Logan." His name was a moan, scaling up with a particularly athletic thrust. My voice was going to fail at any minute. I grabbed his hand and guided it between us, and he pinched my clit.

The sharp, bright pain made my legs weak. "Again." I joined him, his fingers and mine manipulating my pleasure until the spikes of pain bled together into one fierce, throbbing wave. "Oh, God. More. Keep going." Keep going keep going keep going--

Orgasm broke over me, claiming the last of my sanity with it. Dimly aware of Logan cursing and going rigid, I clung to him, breath sobbing in and out of my lungs as my brain struggled to function.

We lay there in a heap, Logan pinning me to the bed. The room had lightened while we'd been screwing, and a glimpse of the clock told me I was going to be late for work. I didn't have the energy to care.

He finally rolled off me, one arm thrown over his eyes. "I'm calling in sick. I want to fuck you until neither of us can walk."

Oh. Okay. I could get behind that.

His head twisted to the side, and he slit open an eye. "Saturday night. Minigolf. Does that work for you?"

It took me a few seconds to figure out what he was saying. Date. I think he was asking me out on a date. I nodded, and managed to find the energy to shift over when he stretched out his arm and gestured. His chest was a little sweaty as I laid my cheek on it. I didn't care. If he delivered on his promise, there wasn't much point in getting out of bed to shower just yet. We'd only have to go back.

My eyes drifted shut as his hands stroked lazily over my back, down to cup my ass. One finger slid in between my cheeks. I jerked at the sensation. I'd always shied away from ass play. Logan's slim, strong finger was tentative, unsure how far I'd let him go, and I waited to see what he'd do. "Will you let me in here?" he whispered.

Um. I lifted my head, let him see the questions and nerves and yes, the fear, because that was a line I'd never crossed and wasn't sure I wanted to. "I need to think about it."

He pushed my head gently back down to his chest. "You do that. Go back to sleep, Janey-girl. Gotta rest up, conserve your strength. I really want to watch you ride me."

Too exhausted to worry about what might happen next, I did as he told me to.

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by Anonymous

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by Anonymous04/21/14

Love this story!!

This is an amazing chapter! Jane isn't a bitch, she's scared of getting hurt.

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by Anonymous02/25/14

Jane is a world class bitch!

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