The Gift by Portia Da Costa Read Free Book Online Page B

kinds of downfall.
    ‘Don’t fight it, Sandy. I can tell you’re turned on. Your face is pink and your eyes are like stars. You look exquisite. Tell me how you feel.’
    ‘A bit turned on.’ She squeezed out the words, even as she squeezed down hard on her teat again to punish herself for being so easy, so lascivious and so weak in the face of his barely exerted strength.
    ‘No, no, no. Tell me how you really feel. The sensations.… Give them to me in words.’
    I can’t, I can’t
, she cried inside again, even as she licked her lips, preparing to speak. Trying to stop herself, she twisted her nipple, harder this time, and let out a broken groan as her sex-flesh lurched in some kind of minor convulsion, a mini orgasm, sharp yet not quite satisfying.
    ‘Did you come then?’
    Sandy blinked, tried to focus. Had she blacked out or something? Time seemed to be passing strangely here in Jay’s dream machine.
    She wanted to shake her head, say ‘no’, but instead she admitted, ‘Yes, a bit … I think so.’
    ‘Surely you know, Sandy. I usually know when I’ve come.’
    Anger cut through the haze, bringing clarity, and her will again. ‘Well, of course a man knows when he’s come! There’s – there’s stuff, isn’t there? It’s either out or it’s in, and, if it’s out, you’ve come!’
    ‘Stuff?’ Jay chuckled, a strangely young, light sound, almost boyish. ‘Now there’s a poetic turn of phrase if I ever heard one.’
    ‘Well, what the hell do you call it?’
    Astonishingly, Sandy realised she was still cupping her breast. It was as if she couldn’t stop until he gave her leave to. Surreptitiously, she moved her thumb across her nipple again, trying to breathe normally when desire welled again.
    ‘Do you know, I’ve never really thought about it,’ Jay observed almost conversationally. They glided to a halt at traffic lights on the way into the town and, when he glanced across at her, his eyes flickered from her hand at her breast to her blushing face and her reddened bitten lips. ‘Semen, I suppose. Or spunk.’ That wicked tongue of his swept around his lips again and, as he turned his attention back to the lights, he asked, ‘Why, do you like the taste of it?’
    ‘I …’
    Did she? She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure it had a great deal of taste. But the thought of its texture on her tongue was so vivid, suddenly, that it made her sex rouse and glow even more. She imagined the texture, and the fugitive taste of Jay’s semen on her tongue. She wanted to taste him, sample him, take him in and imbibe his essence. Which was weird, she’d never particularly been one for giving head. She didn’t object to it. She just didn’t do it of her own volition.
    Except in her silly romantic fantasies where she happilyknelt down and sucked the cock of her long-lost Prince Charming in a show of gratitude.
    ‘So?’ her companion prompted, about as far from her fantasy rescuer as it was possible to be. The lights changed, they glided onwards, cocooned in their strange edgy world of sexual jousting.
    ‘Er, yes, I suppose I don’t mind it, really.’
    I want to taste yours.
    As if he’d heard her, Jay smiled wolfishly. ‘Excellent. You like sucking cock. That’s good to know.’
    ‘But that doesn’t necessarily mean I want to suck yours!’ It was a lie. She knew it. And she knew he knew it.
    ‘We’ll see … we’ll see …’ His voice was infuriatingly smug, but just when Sandy was about to fling back some retort at him, she knew not what, he continued, in a completely unsmug voice, ‘I think we’re nearly there, aren’t we?’
    It was true. The traffic lights they’d stopped at were the last set before the centre of town, and now they were cruising into Kissley proper. Sandy snatched her hand away from the front of her dress. There were people around, and the urban lighting was well maintained. Any of the couples and groups of either sex traversing between the pubs, the video store and