F*CKING AWKWARD

23 SHORT STORIES OF AWKWARD ENCOUNTERS

TARYN PLENDL     A.D. JUSTICE     AHREN SANDERS     ALY MARTINEZ     AMANDA MAXLYN     B.A. WOLFE     BROOKE BLAINE/ ELLA FRANK     BROOKE PAGE     CAREY HEYWOOD     CHRISTINE ZOLENDZ     CM FOSS     DINA LITTNER     HEATHER C. LEIGH     HJ BELLUS     K. LANGSTON     LAURA WARD     LEX MARTIN     LIV MORRIS     MEL BALLEW     RE HUNTER     STACY KESTWICK     TIFFANY ALEMAN     TRUDY STILES

Contents

Copyright

Foreword

1. With This Ring…

2. Wicked Weekend ~ Featuring Colton “Bull” Lanier & Chaise Lanier~Characters from the Steele Security Series

3. Sex, Blue Balls, and a little Vatooing gone horribly wrong… A Reed & Ari Short Story

4. Side Tracked

5. A Night to Remember

6. It Started With a Drink

7. Ballcuzzi

8. Too Many of Us

9. One Night Oh God No

10. #MyBigFatStupidHookUp

11. Definitely a J Name (starring Emily, from City Beautiful)

12. After the Treehouse

13. Drew and Kiera Film Love Scene

14. Happy Birthday, Jesus

15. Hot Hands

16. Cockblocked~Featuring Dean Goldsmith & Grace Yeates characters from Until Now, the Not Yet series book #2

17. My Kind of Girl

18. Toytastrophe

19. Blowjobs, baked beans, and cabbage… Oh, my!

20. Love Interrupted

21. Sunburned

22. Knotted Up

23. Is There a Baby in This Cup? An Epic Holiday Short Story

Acknowledgments

Copyright © 2016

The copyrights of With This Ring…Taryn Plendl; Wicked Weekend by A.D. Justice; Sex, Blue Balls, and a little Vatooing gone horribly wrong…by Ahren Sanders; Side Tracked by Aly Martinez; A Night to Remember by Amanda Maxlyn; It Started With a Drink by B.A. Wolfe; Ballcuzzi by Brooke Blaine and Ella Frank; Too Many of Us by Brooke Page; One Night Oh God No by Carey Heywood; #MyBigFatStupidHookUp by Christine Zolendz; Definitely a J Name by CM Foss; After the Treehouse by Dina Littner; Drew and Kiera Film Love Scene by Heather C. Leigh; Happy Birthday, Jesus by HJ Bellus; Hot Hands by K. Langston; Cockblocked by Laura Ward; My Kind of Girl by Lex Martin; Toytastrophe by Liv Morris; Blowjobs, baked beans, and cabbage…Oh, my! by Mel Ballew; Love Interrupted by R.E. Hunter; Sunburned by Stacy Kestwick; Knotted Up by Tiffany Aleman; and Is There a Baby in This Cup? by Trudy Stiles are held by the respective authors.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

FOREWORD

Dear reader:

Congratulations on purchasing the Awkward Sex Anthology! A bunch of amazing authors in a group called FTN (We could tell you what this means, but then we'd have to kill you) got together to write the most awkward sex scenes you could imagine, all for charity. You might be thinking to yourself, "I can't believe I just bought a book called F*cking Awkward" and I'm here to tell you, it's much better than the titles that were rejected:

F*cking Toasters

F*cking Goats

F*cking a Box of Captain Crunch

F*cking a T-Rex While Playing the Trumpet

F*cking My Best Friend's Neighbor's Stepsister's Starbucks Manager While Wearing a Toga

F*cking a Toga

I'm just kidding! Nobody wrote a story about f*cking a goat! It was a wombat, actually, and no one pressed charges, so it's fine. The author is fine, the wombat is fine, EVERYONE IS FINE AND I DIDN'T NEED THERAPY SO STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT.

Did you know that six out of every seven people in the entire world have experienced an awkward sexual encounter? It's true. I've done extensive research. And by extensive, I mean I did a poll of all the adults in my house - 2 dogs, 3 cats, and my husband and I. I'm pretty sure my dog Fat Ralph was lying when he told me he'd never experienced anything awkward during sex, but he had his nuts cut off when he was six weeks old and is still quite bitter about the whole thing and threatens me with a dog bone shank whenever we chat about sex, so I think it's best if I stop questioning him about the time I found him in the backyard with a jar of peanut butter, two frogs and the neighbor's cat wearing pasties.

The cat was the one wearing pasties, FYI, not Fat Ralph. That would just be weird.

So, grab some booze, sit back, and enjoy these hilariously awkward sex scenes. Give yourself a pat on the back for purchasing a book for charity and another one for never experiencing something as crazy as what you're about to read. Unless you have. In that case, it's okay to cry and rock back and forth in the corner screaming, "IT WAS ONLY THAT ONE TIME AND I HAD NO IDEA I WASN'T SUPPOSED TO PUT THAT CUCUMBER THERE!" Six out of seven of us totally understand. Except for Fat Ralph. He's totally judging you right now.

XO

Tara Sivec

WITH THIS RING…

TARYN PLENDL

I took one last glance around the room, just to be sure that everything was in place. My girl would be home soon, and I intended to surprise her with a night she’d never forget.

Chelsea and I had been a couple for almost nine months, and the woman completely changed my life. I was lucky to have her, I knew this. When we met, I was pretty much a self-indulgent asshole. Fortunately, she saw more in me than that and gave me a chance that I surely didn’t deserve.

Chelsea worked with my best friend, Trevor and his wife, Ava, so Trevor had texted me when Chelsea left work so I would be ready when she got here. He knew I was planning something, and he had my back, just like he always did.

Candles flickered from the dresser and champagne chilled next to the bed. The small black velvet bag sat at the foot of the bed where I could get to it easily. I groaned and adjusted my hard cock. The anticipation of the evening to come had been too much for me. I was pretty sure I’d been hard for hours.

“Hello?” Chelsea’s voice rang through the apartment. The sound of her heels on the hard wood floor echoed as she walked toward the bedroom. My heart sped up, suddenly nervous for her reaction. What if she thought I was crazy for trying something new?

“Nick?” She questioned, opening the bedroom door and coming to a complete stop, jaw hanging open in surprise.

“Hey,” I managed to speak, watching her reaction closely as her eyes roamed over my bare torso, down to the obvious bulge in my jeans and back up. When she smiled, I let myself exhale for the first time since she walked into the room.

“Hey, yourself,” she said, shutting the door behind her and walking toward me. “What do we have here?” I pulled her into my arms when she was close enough, holding her against me and breathing in her sweet scent. Her hair hung over her shoulder in cascading red curls and my fingers danced through them, loving how they felt.

“We’ve both been so busy; I just thought we could spend a night in.” I kissed her soft lips gently.

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.” She grinned, kissing me back.

I walked to the bottle of champagne, carefully opening it so the contents didn’t spill. With only a few drops on the floor, I proudly poured us each a glass, handing Chelsea hers before taking an undignified gulp of my own. She sipped from her glass, trying to school her features. I could see the corners of her mouth turn up slightly. She had to know that I was completely out of my element here. Chelsea was the first and only girl I’d ever put any effort into, so romancing someone was almost a foreign concept for me.

After several sips, I took her glass from her, setting it on the dresser before pulling her to me again. Gathering her long hair to the side, I exposed her neck, placing gentle kisses to her soft skin. I felt her shiver in my arms, making me grin. God, I loved that I affected her.

Leading her to the bed, I slowly lifted her shirt over her head, groaning when her lace bra came into view. “Fucking gorgeous” I groaned, cupping her breasts in my hands. Chelsea had a runner’s body, tight and lean. She was the opposite of every woman I dated before her, yet she was exactly what I wanted, now and forever.

Slowly, I unclasped her bra, dropping it to the floor before moving onto her skirt. As the skirt fell, I moaned at the sight of her matching lace panties and garter belt with thigh-high stockings. “Fuck woman, you’re like a wet dream.” My fingers slipped below the waist of her panties, sliding them down her legs, keeping the garter belt and stockings in place.

Once I had her just where I wanted, I backed her to the bed, easing her down so she was laying back. I knelt on the floor, spreading her legs wide, cursing at the pinch of my rock-hard cock, stilled confined. Without a word, I moved in, running my tongue through her cleft, groaning at the sweet taste of my girl.

“Yes!” Chelsea moaned, urging me on.

I ran my tongue over her clit in quick succession, just how she liked it. I could feel her beginning to tremble, her breathing faster and moans louder. Slipping a finger inside, moving with the same tempo of my tongue, I heard her gasp as her body went tense, her walls gripping my finger from the inside.

“Fuck me, Chelsea, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” I slipped my finger out of her, standing up and helping her scoot further onto the bed. “Roll over.” I instructed.

“What are you up to, Nick?” She asked, eyeing me curiously.

“Trust me.”

As she rolled over, I reached for the velvet bag, reaching into it until I found what I was feeling for. The small flogger had little leather hearts hanging from the eight inch leather straps. I had never used something like this before, but I’d watched my fair share of porn, and I figured this wouldn’t be too hard.

At the first touch of leather to skin, Chelsea moaned. I began slowly, just dragging the leather up and down her back and ass. When I felt like I’d gotten the hang of it and she seemed to be enjoying the feel of it, I flicked my wrist, snapping it against her skin.

“Ooh!” Chelsea yelped.

“Too much?” I asked, worried that I hurt her.

“No, just surprised me. It felt good.”

I continued the same motions, snapping her sporadically then dragging it up and down, each time producing a pleasurable moan from her. “Let me try you,” She suggested, rolling over and looking at me. I hadn’t thought about changing roles, but her moans had intrigued me, so I shrugged and lay down, handing the flogger to her.

Chelsea straddled me, sitting on my ass as she began dragging the leather straps over my skin. The softness of it felt surprisingly good.

Snap.

The slight sting got my attention, but it didn’t hurt.

“Did that sting?” She asked.

“Not really.” I shrugged, relaxing into the bed as the leather trailed again.

Snap.

“How about that?” She asked. The sting had been a bit more than before, but it still wasn’t painful.

“Fine.” I shrugged, barely laying my head on my arms before she started again.

Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap!

Warning bells began to go off in my head as I reached back and grabbed a hold of her small wrist, halting her flogging in mid air. Her face morphed from determination to regret quickly.

“I’m sorry. I guess I got carried away.” Her voice was soft.

“I think so, you little dominatrix,” I said, prying the flogger out of her hand and tossing it across the room, well out of her reach. “I think we are done with that.” The sting in my back was still apparent even after she stopped.

“Sorry, babe.” Her sheepish grin made me smile.

Chelsea reached for me. “My turn, Nick.” I went willingly, my throbbing cock needing some relief.

She slipped her fingers into the waist of my pants, pulling me closer and taking my mouth in a soft kiss, tongues tasting and warring. My entire groin was throbbing now—almost painfully. “Please, Chelsea,” I begged.

After much unnecessary seduction, she finally pulled my pants down, following with my underwear. “Holy shit, Nick!” Chelsea exclaimed.

“I know, baby.” I smiled, her reaction inflating my ego.

“What did you do?” The change in her voice had me opening my eyes to see what was wrong. Chelsea was looking at my dick with a strange look on her face. Her hands reached for me, but stopped just short of touching.

“Chelsea? What’s wrong?” My eyes followed to where she was staring.

“What the fuck?” I exclaimed, finally seeing exactly what had Chelsea worried.

I was aroused, that was for sure, but that wasn’t the reason for my throbbing groin after all.

My fucking junk was purple! Swollen and fucking circulation-cut off-purple!

“Oh my god, Chelsea! Help me get it off!”

“Get what off?” Chelsea looked at me, completely confused.

“The cock ring.” In my attempt to make this night memorable, I’d purchased a metal cock ring and placed it around my balls and penis. The guy at the adult book store asked if I had experience with the rings, and I assured him that I did, not wanting to look stupid. Maybe I should’ve listened to him.

“Why do you have a cock ring, Nick?” Chelsea looked up at me, her eyes wide.

“I thought it would be exciting.” I shrugged, the panic welling up.

“Okay, lay down. I’ll try to put some lube on it.” I lay back as she instructed, watching as she went to work on my hard cock, just not in the way I’d planned. Each touch was almost painful. My skin was so sensitive. When she tugged on the metal, I shot off the bed.

“That’s not going to work. It fucking hurts!” I didn’t want to panic, but I couldn’t help it.

“I’m going to call Talia,” Chelsea said, climbing off the bed.

“No!” Talia was the last person I wanted to know about this. She was Chelsea and Ava’s best friend and my other best friend, Tom’s girlfriend. She also happened to be an ER nurse, and I would never hear the end of this if she got involved.

“Why not? She’s off work tonight, and could tell us what to do.” Chelsea looked at me like I was crazy.

“She’s off tonight?” I asked, already grabbing my clothes and stepping into my pants.

“Yes, why?”

“Take me to the hospital, Chelsea. I need help.”

FORTUNATELY FOR US, the Emergency Room wasn’t too busy. We approached the desk and were greeted by the woman behind it. She smiled before asking us what we were here for. I looked to Chelsea for help, but she was texting someone on her phone.

Leaning in, I whispered, “I, um… I have a problem with my, uh, my penis.” Her eyes widened momentarily before she schooled her features. After relaying my information to her, I was given a hospital bracelet and instructed to sit down.

“Who are you texting?” I asked, cringing as my throbbing cock rubbed against my pants as I sat.

“Ava wants to know if she and Trevor should come.”

“You told them?” My mouth dropped.

Chelsea looked at me like I had two heads. “Of course. They’re like family.”

“This isn’t like I’m having a heart attack, Chelsea. I have a fucking metal ring around my balls and cock!” I realized my voice was a little too loud when several eyes landed on us. Thank God that the nurse in triage took mercy on my at that point and called us back.

After taking my blood pressure, which was slightly elevated, and temperature, I was shown to a small room and given a gown to put on. The gown felt so much better than the pressure of my underwear and jeans, and I sat on the bed, slightly relieved. Chelsea sat in the chair and smiled at me like she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Aren’t you even slightly worried? What if I can’t ever have sex again?” The panic started to well up in me. What if I caused permanent damage?

“Hi, Nick. I’m Dr. Shaft.” The man in the scrubs walked in extending his hand to me. He looked to be younger than me.

“Dr. Shaft? Is that a joke?” I asked, looking at his name badge to make sure.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I’m afraid not, and seeing why you are here,” he flipped through my chart, “I guess it is fitting, huh?” Chelsea giggled and I glared at her.

Dr. Shaft washed his hands and put on some gloves before coming over to the side of the bed. “Let’s see what we have going on here.” He pulled up the gown and grimaced when he saw my cock and balls. “Well, this isn’t good.”

“No shit. That’s why we came here. Can you get it off?” I asked, gripping the rail of the bed as Dr. Shaft poked and prodded at my swollen members.

“We’ve got some tricks up our sleeve here. Don’t worry, I’m just going to get the nurse and we’ll get you taken care of.” He tossed his gloves into the trash can and left through the curtain.

“Nick?” A familiar voice came through the curtain and I groaned as my best friend, Tom came into the small room.

“Are you okay?” He looked from Chelsea to me, concern covering his face.

“You texted, Tom too?” I glared at Chelsea, who held her hands up.

“I did not.” She shook her head adamantly.

“Chelsea didn’t text me. Talia got called in to work, so I was just dropping off some dinner. What happened?” Tom came in and stood by the bed. I relaxed a bit, glad to know that Chelsea hadn’t texted everyone.

“I had a mishap with something. I’m fine. We should be out of here in no time. I’ll call you later.” I did my best to get Tom to leave, but he wasn’t having it. Tom and Trevor were my best friends, and Chelsea was right, they were family. I knew that Tom was genuinely concerned, but that was only because he had no idea what was really wrong.

“You’re the ‘Cock Ring Guy’?” I groaned loudly at the sound of Talia’s voice as she pushed a metal tray into the room, a smile spreading across her face when she realized her patient was me.

“Talia!” Chelsea jumped up and hugged her. “I feel so much better knowing you’re here.”

“Me too.” She grinned, looking at me. This night just got a whole lot worse.

“Cock Ring?” Tom asked, glancing down at my crotch before grimacing. “Dude!”

“Shut up,” I ground out between my teeth. “It wasn’t supposed to get stuck.”

“Okay, ready to get started?” Dr. Shaft came back in the room, pulling on another pair of gloves.

“Can I get another nurse?” I asked, giving Talia my dirtiest look. She and I had a love/hate relationship, and this whole ordeal was giving her the upper hand. She was going to have way too much ammunition with this one.

“I’m sorry, Nick, but Talia is the only one available right now.” Dr. Shaft looked between us both, frowning.

“Oh, its fine, Dr. Shaft. Nick and I are friends, so this is a bit strange for him, but you know me…always the professional.” Talia winked at me. Bitch.

“Did you want your family to stay?” Dr. Shaft looked at Tom and Chelsea.

“Come on, Tom.” Chelsea pulled him toward the door. “You don’t want to see this. It’ll give you nightmares.” So much for the support of my girl.

With Tom and Chelsea gone, the doctor pulled up my gown, revealing my problem.

“Damn, Nick if you want to boost your self-esteem all you needed to do was get dressed and go to Walmart.” Talia looked at my swollen dick and balls, not even flinching. I’m sure she had seen worse.

“Yup, no doubt about it, Talia, your dad should’ve pulled out,” I grumbled, no longer having the energy to be embarrassed.

“Says the man with his genitals in a vice.” She grinned.

“Touché.” I shrugged, lying back against the pillow.

“Talia, give me the lube.” Dr. Shaft took the lube from her and squirted a generous amount onto me. The cold caused me to shiver. At least I didn’t have to worry about shrinkage. He then began to push and pull on my tender flesh.

“Son of a bitch!” I hollered. The pain was excruciating.

“Do you think if we got rid of the erection it would help?” Talia suggested.

“Maybe,” The doctor agreed, and it wasn’t lost on me that they seemed to have no idea what to do.

“Do you want a syringe of phenylephrine?” Talia asked and I sat up like lightning.

“Hell no!” I shook my head. “He does not want a syringe. What’s wrong with you, woman?”

“Nick, we have a medicine that can help make the erection go down. It might make it easier to get the ring off,” Talia tried to explain, but I’d have none of it.

“I know what a syringe is, Talia, and I have no doubt it would get rid of an erection, but you’re not sticking a needle in my dick.”

“When is the intermission for all this drama? I need to pee,” Talia rolled her eyes at me, clearly not taking me seriously.

“Talia, the color is getting worse,” Dr. Shaft pointed at my poor guys.

“Well, you know what they say… ‘Once you go black’.” She grinned at me.

“I may look calm right now, but I’ve already killed you in my head three times.” I glared at her, causing her smile to widen. She was having entirely too much fun at my expense.

“I think we need to cut it off.” Dr. Shaft turned to Talia and she nodded.

“Cut it off?” I jumped out of the bed and pressed myself against the wall, knocking over a trashcan in the process.

Tom and Chelsea ran back in the small room with all the commotion. “What’s going on?” Chelsea asked, taking in the situation.

“They want to cut my dick off!” I screamed, only slightly embarrassed at the fact that my voice sounded like a screaming pre-pubescent girl at a Justin Bieber concert.

“What are you talking about?” Tom asked, looking to me and his girlfriend. Dr. Shaft was smirking and Talia was all but rolling on the floor in a fit of laughter.

“Now, Nick, I can assure you that we are not cutting your penis off. I was referring to the ring when I said we needed to cut it off.” Dr. Shaft approached me like I was a freaking mental patient, guiding me back to the bed. He placed an ice pack on my groin and backed away, apparently so I wouldn’t be spooked again.

I tried to catch my breath, the panic slowly lessening now that I knew my poor guys weren’t in harm’s way.

“I’m going to get the bolt cutters.” Talia left the room.

“Bolt cutters?” I asked, sure I heard her wrong.

Dr. Shaft nodded. “We have them for situations like this. You’re not the first one to get stuck in a predicament like this.” He chuckled and I glared at Chelsea and Tom when they joined him. Was no one loyal anymore?

Dr. Shaft once again lifted my gown up and exposed me, taking with it the last bit of dignity that I’d held on to.

Talia came back in with the biggest pair of bolt cutters I’d ever seen and I felt myself getting nauseated. “Here, baby,” she said, handing Tom a red wrapped bar of some sort. Food? Was he really fucking eating right now?

“I don’t feel so good,” I whispered, but nobody seemed to notice. I realized Tom had just caught sight of my cock and balls and his face had gone pale. Chelsea worked to get him in a seat, ignoring me completely. “You need to eat something, Tom.” she coaxed him down and unwrapped his candy bar, holding it while he took a bite.

“Hey, asshole! Are you really fucking eating right now?” I asked as Tom took a bite.

His smile grew before replying, “Hey, I’m just here for the Nut Roll.”

“You better pray you aren’t talking about my junk.” I warned, some of the fight coming back into me.

“Nut Roll.” He held up his candy bar and sure as shit it was an actual Nut Roll. I just shook my head. I didn’t even have a comeback.

“I think we’ll go from the side,” Dr. Shaft said, tucking some wet gauze around my tender skin to protect it. “I’m going to hold back the skin. Do you think you can get the jaws of the cutters under?”

It was then that I realized that Talia was manning the bolt cutters and heading straight for my cock and balls. I began to plead, “I’m sorry, Talia. I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever said to you.” I was shaking, sweat dripped down my temple. This just might be it. I may never be able to use my dick again.

It was with this final thought that I lost consciousness.

“ARE YOU OKAY?” Chelsea asked as we climbed into the car.

“I feel like I’ve been run over by the Karma bus.” I stared out the front of the windshield. Dr. Shaft and Talia were able to remove the cock ring while I was passed out. Fortunately, my erection went away on its own shortly after without needing a needle to help it along. My skin was still tender, but Dr. Shaft seemed to think that it would all be back in working order without issues. I wasn’t convinced as I sat there feeling very vulnerable with an ice pack on my groin.

“Thank you for trying to give me a special night.” Chelsea ran her hand down my cheek before she put the car in reverse. “Maybe next time you should try an adjustable cock ring,” she said, smiling at me.

Next time? Fuck that.

The End

You can find more of these characters in Taryn’s Philadelphia Series!

In My Arms

A Part of Me

Out of My Element

Learning to Live Again

TARYN IS a lover of books and wine, usually enjoying them together. Writing has been a way for her to step away from chaotic reality and live a bit through her fun and sometimes damaged characters. You will almost always find a Happy Ever After at the end of her stories. She can't help it, it's an addiction.

She enjoys spending time with her friends and family, but cherishes those quiet nights after everyone is asleep when she can curl up on the couch to read with her geriatric dog. (Shh, don't tell...He's not supposed to be on the couch.)

www.TarynPlendl.com

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WICKED WEEKEND ~ FEATURING COLTON “BULL” LANIER & CHAISE LANIER~CHARACTERS FROM THE STEELE SECURITY SERIES

A.D. JUSTICE

“F inally,” Colton grumbled. “That was the longest fucking case we’ve ever worked. I can’t wait to take you away and have you all to myself for the next five days.”

“I’m so ready, Colton,” Chaise agreed. “We barely had a honeymoon because of that case. You’re leaving your phone behind. There’s no way I’m sharing you with Steele Security for our long weekend away.”

“Deal. No fucking way I’m leaving your side for one second. I have so many things planned for that sexy body of yours.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Let’s just say I’ve definitely upped the game in my bag of tricks.” He shot her a sly smile and a mischievous wink. “Trust me, babe.”

Chaise zipped her suitcase closed and flashed Colton her sexy smile. “I’m ready.”

“Keep talking like that, and I’ll be ready right now,” Colton warned as he picked up her suitcase. “Get that fine ass of yours in the car and let’s hit the road.”

Colton keyed the address into the GPS, and they set out for their destination–a private bed-and-breakfast on a secluded part of a barrier island in the Gulf of Mexico. As a key member of the security firm, Colton was often needed to oversee critical assignments. With the last one completed and behind him, he decided a getaway with his wife of only a few months was the best reward for a job well done.

“I can’t believe we’re finally doing this,” Chaise remarked. “I thought this day would never come. You realize you’ve been on a case since the day I met you?”

“Yeah, I sure have.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “But for the next five days, I’ll only be on you.”

“You know I do love that mouth of yours, Colton.”

“My mouth will be on you, too. All over you, baby.”

“Just hurry up and get there. You’re killing me,” Chaise demanded.

Colt chuckled and turned up the radio. “Anything you say, my love.”

After a couple of hours of driving and fantasizing about everything he planned to do to his wife, he needed a distraction before his urges forced him to pull over on the side of the road. Glancing over at Chaise, all he saw were her toned, tanned legs. The smooth skin begging him to glide his tongue across every inch of them before reaching her soft, delicious center. He quickly averted his eyes, moving his focus back to the road.

“How’d you find this place anyway?” He sounded calm and casual, but the blood surged through his veins and had started to collect between his legs. The uncomfortable swelling that pushed against the inside of his zipper was hard to ignore.

“I didn’t find it. I thought you did.”

“No, Liz gave me the paper and said you printed it.”

Liz was an adopted member of the Steele Security family. In her late sixties, her eccentric ways and lack of a brain-mouth filter kept everyone on their toes. Somehow, she always seemed to get away with whatever crazy new stunt she pulled, regardless of how embarrassed it made the team.

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, oh, shit. What have we done?”

“It’s too late now. We’re almost there, and our reservation is nonrefundable. I’m sure Liz wouldn’t send us somewhere awful. Right?”

“Not if she knows what’s good for her. She’ll have to see us again in a few days.”

“We’re about to find out. Take the next left,” Chaise pointed.

Across the bridge, at the end of a road devoid of anything resembling civilization, Colt pulled into the driveway and put his truck in park. His eyes roamed over the grounds, took in the buildings on the lot, and gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “I’ve never seen a bed-and-breakfast like this before.”

“You’re right,” Chaise agreed. “It doesn’t look like a regular B&B. Let’s just go in and check it out. If it’s too bad, we’ll just go stay somewhere else.”

They climbed out of the truck and approached the front door of the main house. As they reached the door, they were met by a woman who was the exact image of Liz, only slightly older. Colt and Chaise stopped in their tracks and flashed each other a tentative glance.

“You must be Bull and Chaise,” the lady addressed them with a knowing nod. “Liz told me all about you, young man. Your name is Colton, but your code name is Bull. I like code names. They’re all dangerous and sexy.

“You’re even sexier than she described. Look at those broad shoulders. Women love that, you know. Bulging muscles, strong back. You don’t skip leg day at the gym, do you?”

“Uh, no, ma’am, I don’t,” Colt stuttered. “Do you know Liz Stanton?”

“I’m Bea Lee, her older sister.” She extended her hand and shook their hands. “My husband, Earl, is around here somewhere.”

“Do you own this bed-and-breakfast?” Chaise asked.

“Bed-and-breakfast?” She chuckled sarcastically. “I guess you could call it that. I rent out a couple of rooms in this big house from time to time. Like right now, I have two couples staying here for the week on their vacation.”

A young, black Labrador retriever suddenly came bounding out the door behind Bea, nearly knocking her down on its way out. Chaise jumped out of the way in the nick of time, but Colt wasn’t as lucky. The lab’s big nose plowed into Colt’s family jewels as she rushed through the space between his legs. Colt’s knees buckled, his hands instinctively flew to cover his wounded package, and he bent at the waist with a groan of pain.

“Harper, bad dog!” Bea yelled. “Bad dog!”

Harper apparently didn’t care what her owner thought of her behavior as she continued bouncing around the yard, chasing the flying insects, and marking her territory on the tires of Colt’s truck.

“Damn dog,” Bea huffed. “Thinks she’s a boy. I’ve never seen a girl dog hike her leg and piss on everything like that one does. Craziest thing I’ve ever seen. You two come on in, and I’ll grab the key to the private cottage. That’s the one Liz said you’d want.”

“Harper Lee?” Chaise laughed. “You must be a big fan.”

“Always have been,” Bea confirmed. “Always will be.”

Chaise and Colt followed Bea inside, still not convinced they should stay, but they knew they couldn’t very well leave now. The inside of the large beach house was decorated in a nautical theme throughout. Each room flowed into the next, giving the feel of a welcoming, lived-in home. Seeing the home so clean and well-kept, Chaise began to feel less apprehensive about spending their time away there.

“You have a lovely home, Bea,” she complimented. “Colton and I live more inland, but after seeing this, I may have to work on him to move to a beachfront home.”

“We love it here. Let me show you the back deck.” Bea led the way to the back French patio doors and swung them open to give a full view.

“It’s breathtaking,” Chaise replied. “I’d live right here, in this space, all the time. You have a perfect view of the beach and the ocean.”

“We like it.” Bea shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly, trying to downplay the importance of the location. “We can go this way to your room. I’ll unlock this door in the mornings so you can come in for breakfast and coffee.”

The smaller building on the property was a petite version of the main house, just slightly larger than a mother-in-law’s apartment. The living room and kitchen were one large, open space. The short hallway led to the master bedroom, bath, and a laundry room. A small formal dining area was situated off the kitchen and had a large sliding glass door leading to the patio area.

“I’m so glad we have the same perfect view you have,” Chaise said to Bea. “Look, Colton, we have a hot tub on the patio.”

“It’s still early enough in the season to use it without burning up, too,” Bea replied. “You’ll have plenty of privacy out here. You’re far enough from the main house to feel like you’re alone but close enough to let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you. This looks perfect. I’ll just grab our bags from the truck, and we’ll be out of your hair.” Colt turned and started back toward the front door.

“Here are the keys. You kids have fun.” Bea winked mischievously, and Chaise knew without a doubt she had the same eccentric streak Liz had. When Bea reached the door, she stopped before going through it. “Oh, and since we’re the only ones out here, we let Harper run free as much as possible. She’s still a pup and has too much energy to sit still. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. We love dogs,” Chaise assured her.

“Glad to hear it. Tell Bull he can pull his truck into the carport to get it out of the sun. That door leads straight into the laundry room, and those keys are for it, too. Enjoy your stay.”

When Colton came in with the bags, Chaise relayed the message and started unpacking while he moved the truck to the shaded carport. “Ready for a dip in the ocean? I can’t wait to see you in that skimpy bikini. On this deserted beach. Where no one else can see you.”

Chaise laughed and shook her head. “I’m definitely ready for a dip in the ocean. Get those clothes off, and put your swimming shorts on.”

“I love when you get demanding. Tell me to undress again.”

She peeled her shirt off, slowly pulling it over her head. “Colton. Get naked. Now.”

“Fuck, that’s hot. I expect you to say that again later tonight.”

She shimmied her shorts and panties down her legs and let them fall into a heap at her feet. She stepped out of them slowly and kept her eyes locked on him. “Colton, you’re not naked yet. If you want this,” she replied teasingly and squeezed her breasts together with her upper arms, “you have to get naked right now.”

“Fuck swimming. We’re staying in.”

“No, we’re not!” She pulled her bikini bottoms on before grabbing her top. “Tie me.”

His fingers trailed down her skin, lighting her on fire as they went, but she refused to give in to his kind of torture tactics. She held her breath as he pulled the strings together and intentionally took his time tying them. “I promise my surges will make you feel better than the waves will.”

“You don’t play fair,” she complained.

“Never claimed to.” His lips touched the skin on the back of her neck, and she naturally leaned backward into his embrace. His hands snaked around her, lightly brushing against her skin along her ribcage until they met in the middle, while he licked and nipped at the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

“No, Colton!” She jumped out of his arms and took a couple of steps away. “Once we start, we’ll never leave this room again. We’re getting in the water. Come on.”

“Okay,” he agreed. A little too easily. “We’ll get in the water.” Within a few seconds, he’d shed his clothes and pulled his swimming trunks on. With a playful grin, he took her hand in his. “Let’s go get wet, Chaise.”

They walked across the hot sand and straight into the warm waters of the Gulf. When they reached chest-deep water, Colt pulled Chaise into his arms. One hand slid down her leg until he lifted it. She immediately lifted the other one and locked them around his waist, her arms around his neck, and their mouths fused together. Feeling his length growing between them, she tilted her hips to rub her core against it.

Within seconds, he’d freed his cock from his shorts and slid his fingers to her bikini bottoms. He slid the small patch of fabric to the side and pushed his fingers deep inside her. He moved his hand rapidly in and out. She tilted her head back, the inner walls of her pussy tightened around his fingers, and he knew she was close.

“Ow! Shit! Fuck! Goddammit!” Colton yelled and began squirming.

“What’s wrong?”

“Something fucking stung me right on my dick. We’re getting the fuck out of the water now.” Colt adjusted his shorts and started moving through the water toward the shore.

Chaise looked down into the water and tried to withhold her laugh. “Look, honey, there are all kinds of little blobs around us. I think it’s parts of jellyfish.”

“No fucking wonder it stings. That’s it for ocean sex.”

“Take me to the room, and I’ll make it all better.”

“Later. When the stinging stops. Let’s go shower and grab something to eat.”

Hiding her smile, Chaise placed her head on his shoulder and let him carry her back to the shore. She noticed he kept adjusting himself as they walked back to their private cottage. “Are you okay, babe?”

“Yeah. But I still feel jellyfish tentacles on me.”

“You don’t have tentacles on your testicles. You’re fine.”

“You won’t say that when my dick falls off in the shower. Right in my damn hand.”

AFTER AN UNEVENTFUL SHOWER, Chaise and Colton ventured out to the more populated areas for a late lunch and shopping before returning to their secluded getaway. Settled in and relaxed, they snuggled together on a large, round lounger covered by a canopy, just off of their patio. “Maybe we can try again now,” Colton murmured against her neck.

“Right here?” Chaise’s eyes grew wide and darted back and forth between his.

“There’s no one around, babe. It’s just you and me.”

He moved to cover her body with his, to claim her mouth, and to finish what they’d started in the ocean. His erection pushed against the denim of his shorts, and he pressed it into her heated core with each lunge forward. The friction of their clothes between them only drove the anticipation higher. Her legs parted wider, his hands roamed along her body before unfastening her shorts, and he was more than ready to dive deep inside her.

“Howdy, neighbor.” A man’s voice with a deep Southern drawl interrupted their impromptu make-out session. “It’s a beautiful day, ain’t it? We thought we’d go ahead and get the fire pit ready for tonight. Roast some weenies and marshmallows, sing a few songs. Y’all game?”

Colton raised his head and gazed deeply into Chaise’s eyes. “Son of a bitch,” he whispered, trying to keep his anger under control.

With his cock still at full-staff, he couldn’t roll off Chaise without revealing his current state. With the man speaking directly to them, he couldn’t very well stay on top of her and carry on a conversation either. He felt Chaise push him to the side, so he reluctantly rolled off her. He was relieved when she followed him and rolled onto her side, hooking her leg over him to help hide his state of arousal.

“Maybe later. We’ll have to see. We honestly came here to spend some time alone because our lives have been so hectic,” Colton replied.

“Man, I hear ya. I own my own business, and it keeps me running.”

Not wanting to keep the conversation going any longer than necessary, Colt replied as vaguely as he could. “So you understand.”

“I definitely understand. My lawn-mowing business is crazy busy. Especially down here where it never gets cold enough for grass to stop growing. Lawns need maintenance care. Landscaping needs new mulch. Always something to do. Oh, I’m Tim, by the way.” He stepped more into their space to extend his hand to Colt.

Withholding a groan, Colt sat up and shook the man’s hand. “Colt. Chaise.” Tim is obviously an idiot, Colt decided.

“Well, I’ll let you two get back to it then. See y’all later.”

“Inside, woman. Right now. It’s time to barricade the doors, draw all the shades, and have you all to myself. No damn jellyfish stings. No intruding, rude-ass strangers. Just you, me, the bed, and several other places over the course of the night.”

“You know I love it when you get bossy like that.”

“Come on, I’ll show you bossy.”

After locking every door, closing all the blinds, and setting the mood music to drown out any outside sounds, Colt led Chaise to the bedroom. “Finally. No interruptions. If anyone knocks on the door, we’ll just ignore them. If they won’t go away, I’ll shoot them. Let the damn house burn down around us, I don’t care. This is our time.”

“You’re overdressed for our date.”

“So are you. But I can fix that right now.”

Colton grabbed his bag of special tricks while Chaise undressed and positioned herself on the bed.

“Uh, babe? I’m not sure how sturdy this bed is.” She scrunched her face up in concern as she tested the vintage bed. The wrought-iron headboard was beautiful, but the entire structure felt a little too shaky when she moved.

He grabbed the iron post of the footboard and shook the bed. “It’s fine. It’s just old and feels different than our bed.”

After quickly shedding his clothes, he climbed on the bed with her and began removing items from his arsenal. With each item, Chaise’s eyes grew wider and so did her smile. “You have been prepping for this.”

“Damn straight. Hope our friendly neighbors don’t need much sleep tonight.” He waggled his eyebrows and picked up the Duotone balls first. “I want to try these on you.”

“What are they?”

“They’re like Ben Wa balls, but these have smaller balls inside that roll around when you move. They’re supposed to increase sensations and stimulation. This string just makes it easier to remove them. Let’s see if they work while I work on you.”

“Death by orgasm. Sounds like heaven.”

Using the lubricant he’d bought with the toy, Colt gently pushed the pleasure balls into her pussy. With a devilish smirk, he settled between her legs and covered her clit with his mouth. The sensation made her back involuntarily arch in pleasure, and she cried out to him.

“Baby, you feel so good,” she moaned. When he pushed his finger inside her, her fingers gripped his short, blond hair and held on tightly. His second finger, in addition to the feel of his mouth on her and the Duotone balls inside her, was all it took to push her over the edge. “Oh fuck, Colton!”

“I’m going to fuck you with these balls inside your sweet pussy,” Colt stated resolutely. “If it hurts at all, tell me and I’ll stop immediately.”

“Okay,” she nodded, her excitement obvious.

Unsure of how she would like the feel of both his cock and the balls inside her, Colt pushed into her slowly at first. Her body adjusted to accept his size, and she soon began moving in time with him. Knowing she wasn’t in pain gave him the push he needed, and his thrusts became more forceful. The more his cock glided across the balls and the more her inner muscles clenched him, the more he had to hold back to make it last longer.

The room grew hotter and hotter, their bodies became slick with sweat, and Chaise drew nearer and nearer to an earth-shattering climax. She gripped his back with her fingers, her nails digging in as he brought her body closer and closer to ecstasy. With his restraint tested to the limits, he surged into her with reckless abandon, and she screamed loudly in pleasure as her orgasm tore through her.

A split second later, her grip slipped off of his back slick with sweat, and her fisted hand flew toward her face, connecting directly with her eye. In the midst of screaming his name in desire, she shouted curses in pain. “Oh my God, Colton! Oh, God! Fuck, that hurt! Shit! Oooooowww!”

“Are you okay, babe?” He unsuccessfully tried to hide his chuckle.

“Yeah. Damn, that hurt.” She laughed at herself. “Rough sex souvenir.”

“Lucky for you, we’re not finished. Turn over and get on your knees for me.”

Eagerly doing as he asked, she turned over and waited on all fours. He pushed inside her, gripping her hips with his fingers, and slammed into her repeatedly. Working up to his own release, his head dropped back and he tuned out everything else except the exquisite feel of her pussy clenched around his cock.

The unexpected cold, wet intrusion in the crack of his ass made him immediately jump to his feet without conscious thought. There behind him, on the bed, stood Harper, the gender-confused black Lab overgrown puppy. Her mouth was parted, her tongue hanging out, and she genuinely seemed to be smiling at him. “What the fuck? How’d you get in here?”

“What?” Chaise turned her head and locked eyes with the dog. “What? How? I don’t understand.”

Colt jumped down, grabbed Harper’s collar, and led her to the carport door. “The damn doggie door wasn’t locked. She just came in on her own.”

He rejoined Chaise on the bed. “Now, where were we?” His fingers glided up her legs to her pussy, where the string from the balls hung. Giving it a light tug, he tried to remove them. But they wouldn’t budge.

“Relax, babe.”

“I am relaxed.”

He pulled again. But they wouldn’t move. “Lie down on your stomach for me.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, giving him a dubious look, but lay flat on her stomach just the same. With another pull, he felt them shift slightly, but he still couldn’t remove them without pulling harder and possibly hurting his wife.

“Colt. What the hell is going on?”

“They won’t come out.”

“What? What do you mean they won’t come out?”

“I mean, they won’t come out. They’re stuck.”

She buried her face in the pillow and shouted obscenities into it. “You have to get them out, Colt. I refuse to go to the emergency room with Ben Wa balls in my hoo-ha and become the poster child of the hospital for a safe-sex campaign.”

“They’re not Ben Wa. They’re Duotone.”

“I don’t care. I do not care. Do you hear me? Get them out.”

“I’ll try more lube. Hang on a second.” He searched for the lubricant he’d used to insert them, but he couldn’t find the tube. “Shit. Just give me a minute. I’ll open the other bottle. I can’t find the one I used a few minutes ago.”

After rattling around in his bag, he pulled out another tube and squirted a generous amount on his fingertips. Gently inserting his fingers inside her, he coated her insides with the slick substance, making sure to cover the balls as well. He gently tugged on the string but with no luck. Giving it a harder tug proved even less helpful, as the string broke in his hand.

“Oh, shit,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

“Oh, shit! Oh, shit!” she screamed.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I’m on fire! Holy shit, what did you do?” Chaise jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, her hands cupping her sex as she ran, yelling curse words every step of the way. “What the hell kind of lube is that?”

Colt’s jaw fell slack, and he picked up the bottle. “Wickedly ultra-warming lube with ultra-wicked sensations” was the tag line he’d failed to read before he so generously applied it. “Just everyday, normal lube, babe. You must have sensitive skin.”

“The hell you say,” she yelled from the bathroom, over the rush of water flowing into the tub. After several minutes of soaking in the tub, she rejoined him in the bedroom and pitched the Duotone balls at him. “Seems like the string was longer when you first showed them to me.”

“It may have snapped in two when I pulled on it too hard.”

“Uh-huh. Let’s see that bottle of lube now.”

“I lost it.”

“Both bottles?”

“Yep,” he lied. “Ready to finish now?”

Her stare bored holes into him at first, but she finally relented, remembering the reason why they arranged the getaway in the first place. “Okay, but no more toys. No more lube made by the habanero farmers. No more public, indecent-exposure sexcapades. Just you, me, and the bed. At this point, I’m even afraid of trying shower sex.”

“You can be on top and in control. I’ll just lie here and please you.”

“Deal.”

After a repeat of the foreplay, without the added toys, Chaise straddled Colt and eased herself onto his cock until he was fully inside her. She began rocking her hips, moving them up and down, and relishing in the sensations as he thrust his hips upward to meet hers. With the recent events forgotten, they once again moved rapidly in tandem and became lost in their passion-fueled frenzy. Colt grabbed the wrought-iron headboard in an attempt to stop it from banging against the wall as Chaise continued to ride him, milking every last drop from him.

“Babe.” Colt hated to interrupt her bliss, especially with the beautiful expression of complete satisfaction on her face and her head thrown back in fervor. But he had to tell her.

As if on cue, the corner of the bed frame broke the moment he started to warn her about the headboard banging against the wall. With both of his hands holding the headboard up, he could only watch as Chaise toppled over with the momentum of the mattresses suddenly falling to the side. He released the headboard, but he was too late to stop her as she fell headfirst into the nightstand. After hitting her forehead on the corner of the table, she landed on the hard floor in a complete daze.

Her stunned expression, coupled with her naked body lying on the floor, nursing a quickly growing bump on her forehead, pushed Colt into action. He jumped out of the broken bed and scooped her up in his arms. “Baby, are you okay?”

“Yeah. That hurt like hell, though.” She began to laugh hysterically when her gaze landed on the bed. “I’m kind of proud of that, in a strange way.”

Colton began to laugh along with her and kissed the throbbing knot on her forehead. “I’m kind of proud of my wife, too. I can’t wait to tell the guys this story. Well, part of it anyway.”

She smacked his chest playfully. “Leave out the part where I hit my head.”

“Oh no, I’m sharing that part. I’ll just add that it didn’t stop you in the least bit.”

After he checked her head to make sure she was really okay, they took a quick shower and Colt fixed the bed. “No big deal. The screw just came loose from the frame.”

“Colton, I know we have this place for the next several days, but I think I’d really like to go home tomorrow.”

“I’m so fucking glad you said that. I don’t know if we’ll survive another night here. Don’t worry, we’ll still have four days alone at home. No one has to know we’re back.”

“That sounds like the perfect getaway to me. No more adventures for a while!”

“The only adventure I want is to plan our revenge against Liz for sending us here in the first place,” Colton deadpanned. “I think she’s about to win an all-expense paid vacation to a place of our choice, with activities hand-picked just for her, and every moment captured on video for our amusement.”

The End

A.D. Justice is the best selling author of the Steele Security Series (Wicked Games, Wicked Ties, and the upcoming Wicked Nights), the Crazy Series (Crazy Maybe, Crazy Baby), and the Dominic Powers series (Her Dom, Her Dom's Lesson).

When she's not writing, she's spending time with her own alpha male character in their north Georgia mountain home. She is also an avid reader of romance novels, a master at procrastination, a chocolate sommelier, a twister of words, and speaks fluent sarcasm.

A.D. Justice can also be found on Facebook, Twitter (@adjustice1), Website, or by email at adjustice@outlook.com.

SEX, BLUE BALLS, AND A LITTLE VATOOING GONE HORRIBLY WRONG… A REED & ARI SHORT STORY

AHREN SANDERS

Reed

“ARI?” I shout, walking through the house and looking for my family. The rooms are silent so I go to the patio and repeat, “Ari, are you out here?”

There’s a splashing in the pool and I see my son, Davis, and daughter, Katy, playing quietly. Katy’s grinning wide as she jumps into Davis’s arms and then swims back to the stairs.

I see movement under the cabana before I spot Ari holding our eighteen- month old son, Corbin, in the shade. She looks up and gives me a blinding smile and then starts to sway in place in a move I recognize well. Corbin’s molars are breaking though, and he hasn’t been sleeping well. But now he’s passed out in her arms as she pats his back soothingly.

There’s a twist in my gut and I take a minute to soak in the sight. My Ari, my children… my fucking family. Some nights, I wake up and walk through the house to watch them all sleep and thank God Ari came back into my life.

She kisses his head gently and puts him in his pack n’ play, then locks eyes with me as she slowly pulls her cover up over her head. My dick hardens instantly as she deliberately shimmies to the side of the pool and sits, her legs hanging in the water.

Her bright green bikini sparkles in the sun, and images flood my mind of the last time she wore it. My eyes undress her slowly and my mind fills with fantasies of fucking her on the outdoor bar… again; having her spread out before me as I kiss every inch of her skin until I run my tongue along her pussy and taste her greedily. My cock jerks in my shorts and grows even harder as I picture her legs wrapped around my neck when I suck her clit as she comes against my lips. I’d fuck her hard on top of that bar, and she’d scream my name until she was hoarse.

Jesus! What the fuck is wrong with me? I cup my dick to try to stop the ache and force myself to think of anything but being buried deep inside Ari.

We wouldn’t change our life for anything in the world, but lately, I’ve felt the need to be alone with my wife and show her over and over how much I fucking need her. It’s more than the sex; it’s the comfort I get with her naked and writhing in my arms.

It’s hard to find the time get away with her during football season, but I talked her into coming to Chicago this weekend for my game. For four nights, I’ll have her all to myself with no interruptions. I can’t fucking wait.

She locks eyes with me and starts to blush, undoubtedly knowing what I’m thinking. The stare is broken when Katy paddles over and clings to her legs. She says something and Ari laughs, rubbing her wet hair out of her face. My little girl looks so much like her mother it scares the shit out of me. She has Ari’s dark hair, green eyes, and the signature dimples that will make any man melt. I’ve decided she’s going to an all-girls school until she’s eighteen and then possibly college.

I walk through the yard, picking up the football laying on the ground and chuck it at Davis, who leaps to catch it.

“Hey, honey, how was practice?” Ari asks when I get closer.

“Good. How was your day?” I squat behind her and rub along her shoulders, kissing her neck, then blow a kiss to Katy.

“I cheated and picked up Davis early from school.” She looks back at me and bites her lip nervously. “I have mommy guilt.”

I’m not surprised. She usually only travels to a few of my away football games, and it kills her to leave the kids with my mom for a whole weekend. It’s not unusual for her to get Davis early from school the night before we leave.

“Sure he enjoyed it.”

A text dings on my phone and I groan when I see it’s from the security gate.

“Angel, you expecting company?”

She leans down to whisper something in Katy’s ear and then helps her to the side. Ari leans back then swings around, standing and pulling me with her. Linking our hands, she tugs me to the edge of the cabana and wraps her arms around my neck. My hands grip her hips gently and pull her in close. I drop my mouth to hers, slipping my tongue between her lips, and taste her briefly before breaking away to kiss along her mouth.

“Sophie and Jack are coming for dinner,” she whispers.

I freeze and she lets out a soft giggle.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I have plans tonight, and they don’t include our best friends.” I thrust my hips to hers.

“Baby, there’s more.”

I close my eyes and breathe deeply. Whatever comes out of her mouth next is no doubt going to piss me off. Because I already know it could fuck with my weekend.

My kids-free, fuck-against-every-surface in the hotel suite, and set the record for mind-blowing orgasms, weekend with my wife.

“Tell me now, Ari, so I can squash the plans before they walk in.”

“Sophie is surprising Jack with a weekend in Chicago for his birthday.”

“No, no, no,” I say, over and over, trying to erase the idea. I love my best friend, but I’d rather give him a thousand dollar bottle of scotch than share my weekend with him.

“Reed!” Ari slaps me on my chest and raises an eyebrow. “Stop it!”

“Ari, I got us a suite… We leave tomorrow and don’t come back until Tuesday morning. I have plans for us that don’t include anyone but you and me naked.”

“They’re not staying with us. I think it will be fun.”

I don’t get a chance to argue when the back door opens and Katy takes off running for Jack, who comes out of the house carrying his two-year old daughter. He puts her down and the two girls collide, rolling in the grass as they screech in excitement.

Sophie steps out, followed by Ari’s other best friend, Luke, and his fiancée, Gretchen.

I moan and drop my head. It’s going to be a long night.

“I swear I didn’t know they were coming, too,” Ari says softly.

The adults join us at the pool, Luke yanking off his shirt and shoes and jumping in to dunk Davis before greeting anyone. Davis tries to wrestle with him, but it’s useless and he ends up on Luke’s shoulders.

“Dad! Get on your suit and come in!”

“Yes, why don’t you have on your suit?” Sophie pinches my side, and slides between Ari and me to give her a hug.

An idea pops into my head, and I jerk my chin at Jack. He grins and nods, then lifts the little girls in both arms and gets in the pool.

“Actually, Soph, the suit I want is in the boat. Since you’re here, maybe you can help watch the kids while Ari helps me change.” I wiggle my eyebrows and hear Ari suck in a breath.

“You two are ridiculous! Do I look like your babysitter?”

Gretchen giggles as I sidestep Sophie and bend to lift Ari over my shoulders. “Sophie, Corbin’s asleep. He should be fine for at least thirty minutes. The other two are occupied. We’ll be back in a bit.” I tune out Sophie’s protest and make our way down the dock to the boat with Ari trying to get loose from my grip.

When we get inside the cabin, I place Ari on her feet and crush my mouth to hers to drown out her squeaks of irritation. One hand goes to her head and caresses her neck, while the other grabs her ass and pulls her close. She gives up her resistance and tilts her head, allowing me full access.

Our tongues twirl together as her hands glide up my sides, bringing my shirt with them. I break away just to rip it over my head then go back to kissing her. She braces her forearms on my shoulders and hops up, wrapping her legs around my waist.

A thrill shoots up my spine when her body is fully plastered to mine. Her skin is warm and her tits poke into my chest, causing my mouth to water.

“I want you now.” One hand grazes around her hipbone and then down, pinching her clit gently. “I’m thinking you need a preview of what I have planned for this weekend.”

“God, yes,” She tosses her head back when I slide two fingers into her slick heat. Her legs tighten as she clenches my fingers and thrusts against my hand.

I back her into the small door and bend my head to suck her nipples through the fabric while stroking my fingers inside her. I pick up the pace when she starts to whimper and grind. My dick is straining, begging me to finish so he can slide in. Blood rushes and rings in my ears when Ari’s nails dig into the back of my scalp and she rocks faster.

“Come for me, Angel. Let go.”

“Reed, oh God, don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

“Never.” I slip another finger in and tweak her clit with my thumb. She shoots off, throwing her head to my shoulder and clutching me tighter.

I keep her balanced while removing my hand, shoving my shorts down. The cool air hitting my cock does nothing to stop the pulsing.

I move her bathing suit back to the side and slide in easily, swallowing the urge to cry at the sensations flooding me. Her warmth sucks me in, and I pause when our hips are pressed together.

My body stills and I breathe deeply, trying to control the urge to blow. Ari’s soft lips nip along my jawline until they reach my ear.

“Reed?” she whispers seductively, nibbling on my earlobe.

“Yes?”

“You need to start moving.”

“Give me a sec. I want this to last more than ten seconds.”

Her giggle fills the room, and she swivels her hips to tease me. The friction lights a fire, and I start to move, rocking back and forth. Her earlier giggle turns into a long, sexy, moan of approval.

From the first time I had sex with Ari, I’ve memorized her sounds and the way her body responds to me. Hearing her now tells me she’s going to come again. Pride surges through me that my girl loves my dick.

My thrusts increase and my release coils in the pit of my stomach. I lick along her collarbone, nipping at the sensitive skin at the base of her neck. She scrapes her nails down my back, and I lose control, pounding into her. Our bodies bang into the door, and the air around us heats with sexual energy.

“Reed…”

“Angel, don’t hold back.”

“I’m going to come again. Oh God. It feels so good.”

“Your pussy is gripping me so hard. Wet, hot, slick, I feel it in my balls. Baby, give it to me. I want to hear you scream my name while I fuck you hard.”

I know the dirty talk has done the trick when she lets out a throaty whimper and then starts to push into me, her muscles going tight.

“R-R-R EEED!” she screams and flies apart in my arms.

I’m ready, my own orgasm peeking and my vision getting spotty.

Then it happens… one of my worst fears.

“Mommy? Daddy?”

I freeze and pray I’m not hearing what I think I am. Ari tenses and whips her head up, eyes locking on mine. Fear and panic wash over her face.

“Please, no,” she whispers.

“Mommy? Are you okay?” Davis’s voice floats through the door, this time louder. Followed by my baby girl.

“Daddddyyyyy, where are you?”

There’s a light banging at the door and then the sounds of feet skittering.

“Fuck! You’ve got to be kidding me,” I hiss, trying to swallow the pain in my dick.

“Let me down… I can’t believe this.” Ari starts to wiggle, trying to step out of my arms.

Even the shock of my kids on the other side of the door doesn’t stop the thundering pulse of my dick begging for release.

“Ari, you have to stop moving.”

“Oh God… oh God… How the hell are we going to explain this? Davis already has questions about how Corbin and Katy got here.”

I set her on her feet and slide out right as another knock on the door comes. “Dad?”

“Be right there, Davis.” I tuck myself in my shorts and wince as my swollen balls rub against the fabric.

Ari arranges her bathing suit, but the rest of her body is harder to disguise. Scruff marks from my face are all along her neckline, and her face is completely flushed. Her slick ponytail is now completely messy. She goes into the small bathroom and throws me my shirt.

“Tell them I’m in the bathroom.”

“I’m pretty sure they heard you.”

“Reed! That’s not funny!” she whisper-shouts.

“Fuck no, it’s not funny. Look at this.” I point to the bulge in my shorts. “Nothing about this is funny.”

She gives me a sympathetic look then shuts herself in, leaving me to face our children, who probably heard me tell their mom I wanted to hear her scream while I fucked her hard.”

I take a few deep breaths as the banging starts again. Squaring my shoulders, I open it casually, expecting to see my children with worried expressions.

Instead, my blood starts to boil.

Jack and Sophie lean against the railing with conniving smirks. Jack waves his phone at me, and I clearly hear the sound of my children’s recorded voices.

“If you just did what I think you did, I’m going to KILL YOU!” I growl.

Sophie bursts into laughter and bends over, holding on to Jack for support. His grin dies and he gives me a guilty look.

“Sorry, man, but I was coerced.”

“Coerced? You want to explain?”

“What’s going on? Where are the kids?” Ari comes up, sliding an arm around my waist.

“These assholes thought it would be funny to play a practical joke. The kids aren’t here. I assume they’re still in the pool with Luke?”

Jack nods.

Ari lets out a low whistle and tightens her grip on me. “Sophie, was this your idea? Even for you, this is going a little far. ”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Fifth my ass! Payback is fucking hell, Jack.”

He throws his arms in the air in an act of innocence. “I was bribed. There was no choice.”

“Sexual bribery,” Ari mutters.

“What the fuck?”

“It was too tempting, serves you right. You should learn to behave when you have company.” Sophie smirks.

My face starts to heat, and I open my mouth to reply, when Davis calls for us and I turn to see him waving from the edge of the lawn. “You coming, Dad?”

Shit! I wish I was coming, I think to myself and shake the thought out of my head.

“Be right there!” I yell, knowing there’s no way Ari will let me take her back into the cabin.

“Don’t you need to change into your suit, Reed?” Sophie teases, still clearly happy with herself for interrupting.

I kiss Ari on the forehead and step away before I throw her best friend over the side of the boat. An idea hits me, and I walk back into the cabin and shut the door halfway before looking back and locking eyes with Sophie.

“Like I said, payback is hell. And since you’ll be bringing Jack to Chicago this weekend, I’ll have lots of opportunity.”

The smile disappears and her face grows bright red. “You asshole! That was a surprise!”

Ari sucks in a loud breath and then hangs her head to hide her amusement.

“That’ll teach you a lesson. Don’t fuck with me when I have my wife in my arms. Consequences suck.”

I slam the door as she starts screaming and Ari howls. My smile grows wider as I head into the bathroom to change and take care of my blue balls.

CHICAGO

Ari

“Where the hell are you taking me?” I ask Sophie for the second time since leaving the hotel.

“We’re here!” she announces, looking between the GPS on her phone and the building we’re standing in front of.

“What is this place?” There’s no name anywhere to be found.

“It’s a specialty women’s spa.”

“What does that mean?”

She drags me through the door, and I give a little squeak. At once, it’s obvious this is not like any day spa I’ve ever visited. It’s sexy, sultry, and intensely erotic. The walls are painted in deep red hues, and seductive music plays through the speakers in the ceiling.

“What is this place, Soph?”

“Isn’t it awesome?” she asks in a wispy voice, and I see her admiring a framed piece of art. The woman in the picture is almost completely naked except for a long pearl necklace and her vagina covered in jewels.

“Sophie and Ari?” a woman asks, coming through a side door.

“Yes,” Sophie answers, linking her arm through mine.

“I’m Terri. I’ll be helping you with your selections and then turning you over to a specialist in charge of your treatments.”

“I’m gonna do that.” Sophie points to the picture she was admiring.

“Ahh, that’s a popular one. It’s a classic with our customers. I’m sure your husband will be very pleased.” She makes a note and then hands Sophie a clipboard. “Just complete this and we can get started.”

Sophie takes it and abandons me to sit and fill out the paperwork.

“And you? Have you thought about what you’d like today?” Terri questions.

“Um, I think I’m confused. What kind of services do you offer?”

Sophie snorts behind me, and I feel the heat rising up my neck and face.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” Terri takes my hand and leads me to a counter, pushing a large photo album toward me. “We are a specialty spa, known for services more on the sexual scale. We also have an onsite photographer for boudoir shots. For example, your friend has chosen to have her vagina and pubis adorned with crystals.”

“Like vajazzling?” I blurt out and slap my hand to my mouth.

“Exactly, then we’ll take a few pictures for her as well.”

“Holy shit.”

“Would you like to see a few examples?”

“I don’t think so. It’s not really my style. ”

She nods in understanding, giving me a small smile. “We offer a variety of other treatments as well. Facials, massages, waxing, piercings.”

My eyebrows shoot up at the ‘piercings’. Then I remember Jack’s nipple piercing and wonder if it hurts. Sophie must read my mind.

“Jack said his hurt like hell. I wouldn’t recommend it if you want another kid.” She hands Terri back the clipboard and starts thumbing through the book in front of me. “But don’t be a prude. It’s obvious you’re a sex fiend, and your husband would get off on this shit.”

“SOPHIE!” I punch her shoulder, mortified

“Maybe something a little more conservative. Ari, are you a sensitive person? Will the gems bother you?”

I look around to make sure we’re still alone before I answer. “No, it’s not that. But I’ve never done anything adventurous like this. I guess I’m apprehensive.”

“We have a new technique called vatooing. It’s becoming more and more popular.”

“How does it work?”

“You’d choose a design or create one, and an artist would spray tattoo it on your vagina area. It lasts up to ten days.”

“Oh, that sounds cool.”

“It can be. Some women come in a few times a month to have it done. There’s a certain sexuality about it that a man can’t deny.”

“That would be perfect for you to try. Ari, do it!” Sophie bumps my hip. “And then maybe Reed would forgive me for our little joke the other day.”

I know she’s sorry because of her hundred apologies, but Reed won’t let it go. Besides ruining her surprise for Jack, he has made snide comments and vowed revenge. She swears he actually cursed her and Jack since Jack is now lying in a hotel room with a stomach bug.

I think about Reed’s reaction, and excitement starts to bloom. “Okay, let’s do it. I know exactly what I want. Is there someone who can sketch it for me?”

“Absolutely.” Terri grins and hands me the same paperwork she gave Sophie earlier.

When I’m done, Sophie and I split up and Terri shows me to a private room where a woman is waiting.

It takes three sketches and two hours, but when Sophie and I leave, we both have a disc of seductive pictures, a bag of lingerie, and decorated vaginas for our men.

I have no doubt; Reed will forgive Sophie for every misdemeanor after tonight.

CHICAGO

Reed

I walk into our suite and stop dead. Even though it’s still daylight outside, the entire place is bathed in darkness. The floor to ceiling windows are draped, and the only light is coming from candles lit around the room. There’s a note lying on the side table with my name in Ari’s handwriting across the front.

Reed~

I have a surprise for you. Take a seat, get comfortable, and close your eyes.

Ari

I suck in a deep breath and look at the ceiling. “Thank you, God,” I say softly. Kicking off my shoes, I go to the sofa and sit, closing my eyes and waiting.

The bedroom door opens, and I immediately grow hard. The scent of Ari fills the room, and anticipation starts to course through me.

The sofa dips on each side as she settles on my lap, straddling me.

“Hey, baby, how was your day?” she says softly, kissing along my jawline, nipping at the corner of my lips.

“Better now.”

“I missed you. In fact, I missed you so much, I spent the whole day thinking of how to show you exactly how much.”

My heart starts racing, beating hard in my chest, as my mind runs wild. “Can’t wait to see what you have in mind.”

“Keep your eyes closed.” She skims the tip of her tongue across my lips and then moves down, kissing a path down my neck, along my collarbone, and stopping at my chest. I move my hands to her thighs and massage the soft bare skin as she unbuttons my shirt.

Her nails scrape over the ridges of my abs and leave a trail of warmth behind. I arch up and help her remove my shirt as she runs her lips over my shoulders. Desire and need burn through my veins, and I run my own hands from her thighs to her waist then up, feeling goose bumps rise under my fingers. When I reach her tits, I suck in a breath. Her nipples are hard peaked under what feels like soft lace.

“I need to see you.”

“Not yet. This is all about your imagination.”

“My imagination is telling me you’re exquisite, and barely covered in lace. I see your nipples in my mind, hard and begging for my tongue to circle and suck them into my mouth. Then I’ll move lower until my tongue slides inside your sweet pussy. You’ll moan in pleasure as I feast.” My heartbeat thunders in my ears as I get more and more turned on.

“Hmmm, you’re pretty good at this game. Let’s try this.” She moves one hand down her stomach until it reaches a band of more lace. “Can you guess what this is?”

“It feels like a waistband.”

She leans in, pressing her chest against mine. “Why don’t you move your hand lower?” Her breath is warm against my ear, causing a rumble deep in my chest.

I do as she says and move straight down her skin, soft, warm… and completely bare. Holy Fuck!

“Angel, Jesus Christ. What are you doing to me?”

“You’ll see.” She brushes her lips over mine, then slides slowly down my body.

She makes quick work of unbuckling my belt and removing the rest of my clothes. My dick jumps when she licks up the length and sucks on the tip. Her tongue swirls a few times before she takes me deep, opening enough to fit all the way down her throat. I move my hands to her head and tangle my fingers in her hair. She purposely glides her tits over my thighs as she works my cock expertly.

Every aspect of sex with Ari is incredible, but her blowjobs are out of this world. Literally. Three swipes of her tongue and I’m ready to come. When she sucks me deep and cups my balls, I bow off the sofa, squeezing my eyes tight.

“Baby, I need to see you. This is fucking torture,” I beg, not caring how desperate I sound.

“Not yet,” she garbles against my dick then quickens her pace.

A tingling starts at the base of my spine, and I try to pull her head up, wanting to be inside her.

“Ari—“

“Ummm…” she hums, her throat vibrating, and I lose it.

My hands clutch at her hair as I thrust into her face, exploding as she stills, swallowing greedily.

I sink into the sofa, trying to catch my breath as she kisses my cock one last time and crawls up my body, straddling me again.

“You can open your eyes now,” she whispers seductively.

My vision is spotty as I try to focus. When my eyes land on her, my heart races. She’s sitting astride me in white lace, looking every bit of the angel she is. I run my gaze down her body and stop breathing when I see the panties she’s wearing are nothing but a scrap of fabric— literally. They are crotchless. I stare for a full minute, licking my lips when I zero in on something foreign stretching across her beautiful silky skin. My mind finally catches up with my eyes.

“What the fuck is that?”

“It’s your number in script.”

“You got a tattoo on your pussy!?!”

“It’s temporary.”

My dick needs no recovery time when I look closer at the artwork my wife has etched on her bare skin. “This may be one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen in my fucking life.”

“Thought you may like it.”

“Please, tell me it’s safe to fuck you.”

“Oh, yeah, but we need to watch out for friction, so I thought I’d fuck you.” She threads her hands through my short hair, grazing my scalp, and seals her mouth over mine.

I grip her hips and position her so I can slide in easily. Our mouths stay fused together as she starts to rock against me. My hands move to her ass so I can hold her as I angle and thrust from below.

Her hips meet me stroke for stroke, and she pulls her mouth from mine, panting against my lips. Tiny moans escape, and I quicken my pace, determined to push her over the edge— hopefully more than once. Our bodies slap together and sexual heat surrounds us. Her body arches into mine as her head falls to the side.

“Heaven, you feel like heaven.” I lick her collarbone and then bite down lightly and suck. It’s going to leave a mark and she’ll be pissed, but I can’t help it. A carnal urge to brand her takes over, and I speed up my movements.

She starts to swivel her hips as she rides me hard. My balls grow tight when her small moans turn heated. Her pussy clenches tightly, and she lets out an erotic cry as she shatters, taking me with her.

Neither of us moves for several moments as our breathing returns to normal. She lifts her head to mine, her eyes glowing bright. “Think we may have broken the no-friction rule.” She giggles.

“It’s a stupid rule. No way I could control myself after seeing that.”

“Mmmm.” She wraps her arms around me, laying her head on my shoulder.

My hands skim up and down her back, soaking in her closeness. She sighs in contentment and wiggles. My cock twitches, but not in a good way. Heat moves through my groin and sends a burning down my dick to my balls. It’s not a slow burn. Within a second, it turns into a searing pain.

“Shit! Babe, scoot off me!” I try to move her gently, but she flops beside me clumsily with a look of confusion. I don’t have time to explain before I let out a cry in agony.

My dick is pulsing, and not because of an erection. The whole length has turned a deep red, almost purple. My balls throb and the whole groin area is starting to splotch.

I run to the bathroom, turn on the shower, and jump under the icy spray. It gives me a small bit of relief before the pain returns.

“Reed, what’s going on?”

“My dick is on fire.” I grunt, trying to get a handle on the tingles shooting down my thighs.

“Oh my God! It’s swollen and purple!” She steps in front of me and touches it. I hiss and leap back. My knees give out and I sink down, clutching my manhood and praying for relief.

“Mutherfucker!” I scream as scorching, agonizing, bone-chilling pain seeps down my lower body.

“I’m calling 911!” She runs out of the bathroom frantically.

“No! Call Dr. Ross!”

A few minutes pass when the door flies open and Ari comes in, followed by the team doctor and his PA.

“Reed, can you stand?” he asks gently.

I shake my head, not caring how pathetic it looks. He turns off the water and joins me in the oversized shower, bending down and lifting my hands.

I miss the cold water and wince when he pats a towel to dry my lower body.

“You’re quite swollen.”

“No shit.”

“Can someone tell me what happened?”

Ari steps in and bends down, taking one of my hands. She bites her lips nervously, and I notice she’s wearing my shirt from earlier.

“Nothing unusual. Reed came back from the stadium. I was waiting on him. We umm, well, we umm…”

Her face turns bright red as she locks eyes with mine. “We had sex on the sofa. Then this happened.” She blurts it out so fast then hangs her head in embarrassment.

“We had phenomenal sex.” I correct her, trying to break the tension. Doc nudges me with his knee, doing a shit job of hiding his amusement.

“This can’t be happening,” she says quietly.

“How about letting me examine Reed and you go talk to my PA?”

She nods and kisses me on the forehead, then walks out.

Doctor Ross lays a cold compress on me while he inspects the area. “Is there a reason you have specks of teal all over your penis and pubic area?”

What?

“Damn.” I scrub my hand up and down my face. “Ari got a temporary tattoo on her pu—”

“Vagina?” he cuts me off.

“Yeah.”

“I think what I’m seeing is an allergic reaction to the ink.”

“Am I going to be okay? Please, tell me my dick’s not broken.”

He chuckles and hands me an ointment. “It’s not broken. You’ll be fine in a few days. My suggestion is to shave the area and apply this ointment. I’ll leave a few ice packs to get you through the night. Benadryl is safe. But no sex until the swelling recedes and you’re back to normal.”

“What about the game tomorrow.”

“We’ll assess at nine am. It’s really how you feel.”

“Reed, I’m so sorry.” Ari’s voice cracks and I look to see her standing in the doorway with tears in her eyes. “I thought it would be sexy.”

“We’ll let ourselves out,” Dr. Ross tells me in a hushed tone, giving me a look of understanding. He helps me stand then slaps me on the back before leaving.

“Come here.” I reach out to her and she curls into my body, her tears falling on my chest. “It was sexy. Don’t blame yourself. But now I’m gonna need you to help make it better.”

I give her the instructions from Dr. Ross. Once I’m feeling a little more like a human, she gets me to bed and tucks in close.

“Ari, you said this thing is temporary… When will it be gone?”

“Seven to ten days.”

Seven to ten days? No sex for seven to ten days? No way that’s gonna fly. Even in pain, I know I can’t go that long.

She must read my mind because she lifts up, balancing on my chest, and gives me a slow grin. “So I guess blow jobs will have to do until it’s gone.”

“I think I can live with that.”

Suddenly, a wonderful night that turned disastrous now seems a little less tragic.

Oh yeah, I can definitely live with that…

2 ½ WEEKS later

Ari

I walk into the kitchen looking for Reed and find him leaning against the counter watching a sports recap on the local news. He’s laser focused until I step in front of him and block his view.

“You realize you played that game yesterday, right?”

“Yeah, and we kicked ass. It’ll never get old seeing the highlights when we win.”

“Cocky much?”

“Not cocky if it’s true.” He flashes a wide smile and I melt against his chest, kissing him lightly.

“Where are the kids?”

“Davis has Katy in the playroom watching a movie. Corbin’s asleep.

“We need to talk,” I say, stepping back and hopping onto the counter, pulling him between my legs.

“About?”

“Remember our little debacle a few weeks ago in Chicago?”

“Never will forget it,” he replies roughly.

“Well, I think it’s time you forgave Sophie. She still feels guilty.”

“She should. She talked my wife into a hair-brained idea that resulted in excruciating pain and endless humiliation. I’m still fielding jokes in the locker room.”

“But she didn’t force me to get vatooed.”

“No, but she used her craziness to lure you there. You’d never have done that on your own.”

“True, but we had some of the hottest sex of our lives. I still remember every detail.”

“I do too. But I also remember having to leave the game at half-time and the doctor having to report it as a scrotum injury. Do you know how much shit I’ve taken?”

“It’s too bad, really.” I sigh and tilt my head to the side, giving him my best disappointed look. “Because it may have ended badly, but that night will forever be etched in my brain. Good or bad. Humiliated or not. I’d go as far to say as it’s going into the ‘top nights of our life’ category.”

He narrows his eyes and looks at me skeptically. “Have you been drinking?”

“Not a drop.” I move his hand to my stomach and watch his eyes grow wide in surprise. “I’m pregnant, again.”

His breath hitches and he lifts his eyes to mine. “Chicago?”

“Yes, it had to be. I took a test and did the dates in my head this morning. It has to be that night.”

He stares at our hands and then steps closer, cupping my face and kissing me gently. “You’re going to give me four.” He refers to his wish before Katy was born to have four children.

“I am, but we’re gonna have a talk after this one is born.”

“I love you, Arianna Williams.”

“I love you too.”

He rests his forehead against mine and sighs in resignation. “I’ll forgive her. But damn if she doesn’t stay out of our sex life from now on.”

“Agreed.” I giggle and grip his hands holding my face. “It’s funny how the most awkward night of our lives may be the most memorable.”

He laughs along with me and pulls me close. “Oh yeah, it’s definitely one we’ll never ever forget.”

The End

AHREN SPENT her formative years living in an active volcano. There her family made collectible lava art. She studied rock collecting at the Sorbonne in France. There she met the love of her life-her pet pig Sybil. She returned to the states and started writing. She is happily married to a guy who used to live under a bridge and she met while pole-dancing. They have one amazing daughter.

Now, meet the real me. I grew up in the south and consider myself a true “Southerner”. Most of the special locations mentioned in my books are reflections of my favorite places. Living on the Florida coast, my family spends a lot time at the beach, which is where I usually can be found with a book in my hand.

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Other Books by Ahren Sanders

Surrender Series:

Surrendering (Raven & Declan)

Surviving (Raven & Declan Conclusion)

Salvation (Robbie & Ember)

Series Box Set

Finding Series:

Finding Our Way (Bryce & Devon Novella)

Staying On Course (Bryce & Devon)

Standalones:

Reed’s Reckoning

Smokescreen

Finn

SIDE TRACKED

ALY MARTINEZ

Hunter Coy

“MACE, seriously, I can’t talk right now,” I said into my phone as I pulled my rental car into a parking spot in front of her apartment.

“Can you come take a look at him? The damn foal is lame as shit, and I can’t decide if the vet is an idiot or if the farrier has lost his mind.”

“Probably both,” I mumbled, leaning into the back seat to grab my duffel bag. “Look, I’m not at home. I’ll drive up next week when I get back to Savannah.”

“Where the hell are you?”

“Ah…” I stalled.

Where the hell was I? I mean, I knew the geographical location. I’d not seven hours earlier paid a shit-ton of money for a last-minute plane ticket. But the whys of this little excursion were a mystery to me.

Not my cock though. No, it knew exactly why I was there.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw a light in her apartment on.

“I’m in Chicago,” I confessed.

“What the hell for?”

I shook my head. Good fucking question. “I met a girl while I was up here for Emma’s wedding.”

The smile in his voice was unmistakable. “A girl? Singular?”

Grinning, I climbed out of my car. “Yes, singular, jackass. Now, look, she doesn’t know I’m here, so either I’m going to call you back in ten minutes as I search for a place to stay tonight or I’ll come by when I get back, assuming I’m still able to walk.”

He barked a laugh. “Good luck on that one.”

“Yeah, thanks. Tell Lacey I said hey.”

“Will do.” He hung up without so much as a goodbye. Such was Mason Wynn’s style.

Jogging up her steps, I smoothed my shirt down, wishing I’d had time to take a shower before seeing her. But, after the pictures she’d sent me at lunch of her in nothing but an apron from the coffee shop she worked at, I’d feared an all-out revolt from my balls if I’d stopped at a hotel first.

Meh. We can start the party in the shower.

Please, God, let there be a fucking party.

Seconds later, I was pressing my ear to her door, listening for voices while praying that she was alone. Not creepy at all.

Rolling my shoulders back, I rapped twice and dropped my bag to the ground at my side, hoping I could pull off cool, calm, and sexy when she opened the door.

“Who is it?” she called from the other side of the door.

I hesitated. “Um…me?”

“Is that a question?”

I twisted my lips. “No. Not a question. Sorry. Let me try again.” I cleared the frog from my throat. “It’s me.”

“I’m proud of you for taking charge of your identity in such a decisive manner. But I still have no idea who you are. You sure you have the right apartment, Me?

I smirked. Kara Reed was crazy on basically every level, and I loved it. It was the only reason my mind had allowed my penis to hand my credit card over to the ticketing agent at the airport.

“You can call me Hunter, sugar,” I said suggestively.

“Shut up!”

I laughed. “Open the door, baby.”

“Shut up!” she repeated, but I heard the click of her deadbolt.

Then the other deadbolt.

Then the rattle of a chain.

I silently chastised myself for not having brought a magazine for the wait.

Then the lock on the handle.

Then, finally, the door creaked open and her big, brown eyes peeked through the crack.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, staring at me.

I couldn’t read her reaction through the one-inch opening, so I smiled nervously. “Put me out of my misery here. What kinda prayers you asking God for right now? Thanks or deliverance?”

“You can’t be here!” she exclaimed.

I rocked back on my heels as my heart lurched into my throat. “I…uh…wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, you succeeded. Jesus, Hunter. You can’t surprise a girl who lives alone at eight p.m. on a Sunday night after she’s had the whole weekend off.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. So not the response I was hoping for. “I… Sorry?”

“I haven’t showered since Friday!” she announced. “Hell, the only reason I’ve even changed my clothes was to send you dirty pics. My apartment is a wreck. And you’ve just interrupted me in the middle of changing the cat’s litter box. So please listen to me when I say: I want to jump you so bad right now.” She dropped her head to the doorjamb. “But you. Can. Not. Be here right now.”

I smiled…huge. “Open the door, Kara.”

“No! I look like hell. And I’m assuming you want to see me naked or you wouldn’t have flown all the way here. And, Hunter, you should know, even though I showered on Friday, there was not a razor involved in that equation.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, “Like, at all!”

I gently pressed on the door and smirked. “What do you know… We’re both in luck. I’ve always had a thing for natural women. Seventies porn is my favorite.”

She groaned. “See? Yet another disappointment. I don’t even have a porn bush.”

I laughed and pushed on the door again until she finally gave up and backed up enough for me to swing it open.

She hadn’t been lying. She looked like utter hell. Her long, brown hair was sitting in a messy bun on the top of her head. And an oversized T-shirt—complete with holes and a ketchup stain—hung over a pair of tattered, blue sleep shorts. At least those were cute and showed off her tan and—slightly hairy—legs.

Yet my smile never wavered. And that had nothing to do with my cock—for once.

“Hey, beautiful,” I crooned, pulling her into a hug.

Kara was short, her head hitting just below my pecs. But her body fit mine like a second skin as she molded against me.

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

I leaned down to kiss the top of her—greasy—hair. “What can I say? I missed you.”

It was the absolute truth. We’d been doing the long-distance thing since we’d met at a wedding two weeks earlier. Despite my desires to sleep with her that first night, a voice I’d never heard had told me to wait. She was a good girl—albeit slightly insane and vegetable obsessed. And it had been a long time since anyone had actually interested me in ways that didn’t involve a bed and a bottle of lube.

“Mmm,” she purred into my chest, wiggling even closer. “You smell terrible too.”

I tipped her head back and took both sides of her face. “I’ve been on a plane all afternoon.”

The corners of her lips turned up into a glowing, white smile that stirred something deep within my chest—and my pants.

It seemed I wasn’t the only one, because before I even had the chance to go in for the kiss, she was mounting me.

Our mouths painfully slammed together as her legs wrapped around my hips, which sent me stumbling back into the half open front door.

“Fuck,” I groaned when it T-boned me directly between my shoulder blades. My grip on her ass faltered as the pain sliced through me. “Son of a…”

She giggled and continued to work my mouth. And, within seconds, the pain ebbed away.

“What do you say we take this to the shower?” I mumbled against her lips.

She shifted her hold, locking her legs at her ankles. “Is it too soon to say I love you?”

I froze and popped my lids open.

Yes. It was entirely too soon to say that.

As she slowly opened her eyes, confusion painted her makeup-free face. “Oh, Jesus, it was a joke. Don’t be a dumbass.”

“It’s just…” I started to apologize. Maybe lay out a few ground rules about where our relationship was headed. I mean, technically, this was only the second time we’d actually seen each other. But, then again, I was about to have as much sex with her as I could over the next twenty-four hours.. And, assuming all went well in the penis-and-vagina meeting, I’d already decided I’d be back the next weekend to do the same. Maybe she was the type of woman who reads into shit like that.

“For fuck’s sake, Hunter. I’m not in love with you. I’m about to shave my pubes while you scrub your balls beside me. I believe we both know exactly where tonight is going. So let’s just calm down, get clean, and then get to fucking.”

Oh. My. God. Sweet Baby Jesus sent me an angel.

And that was the exact moment I fell in love.

Without another conscious thought, I scooped her off her feet and headed down the hall like a man on a mission. After kicking the door open, I darted through her bedroom and into the bathroom.

We were all hands and mouths as we stripped each other naked. With my lips connected to hers, I blindly turned the shower on, and then we both climbed inside.

“Goddamn!” I yelled when the water fresh off a polar ice cap hit my back. Instinctively, I jumped but in the process, I accidently shoved her under the spray.

“Hunter!” she shrieked, scrambling from the shower.

However, in our haste, we’d failed to take any of the standard shower-sex safety precautions, like, say…not spilling half a bottle shampoo on to the bathroom floor.

As though we’d been cast in Final Destination Four Million and Twelve, she slipped in slow motion and cracked her head on the counter.

Every episode of Rescue 911 I’d watched as a child flashed into my head as I dove after her.

“Kara!” I yelled, grabbing her shoulders and rolling her to her back.

Kneeling beside her head, I assessed her for an injury.

Her hands were frantically moving over her face, but she’d yet to say anything besides a few grumbled curses.

“Shit, sugar. Are you okay?” I asked as a small cut on her forehead started to drip blood.

She huffed. “It’s like I’m destined to be a virgin for the rest of my life.”

My entire body froze. It shouldn’t have been the matter at hand, but for some reason, the question sprang from my mouth damn near immediately.

“You’re a virgin?” I asked, palpable fear packed into every syllable.

She flashed opened her eyes. “No. That was another joke. You know, for such a funny guy, you seriously lack the ability to follow sarcasm.”

“Well, excuse me, little Miss Comedy. I like you. You’ll have to forgive my nerves about deflowering you.” I was bending over her to grab a piece of toilet paper off the roll to clean her forehead when my erection poked her in the cheek.

“I guess that’s one way to ask for a blow job,” she teased as I sat back up.

I quickly moved my cock out of her face. “Shit. Sorry.”

“Christ, your cock is huge!” she gasped, shifting to the side to get a better view.

I smiled proudly, rocking back onto my heels and then passing her the toilet paper for her head. “Don’t worry. It’ll fit.” I winked arrogantly.

She arched an eyebrow and attempted to stifle a laugh. “They always do.”

“They?” I questioned before tipping my head. “You know what? Let’s go back to you being a virgin. That was more fun.”

She slowly sat up and used my shoulders to pull herself to her feet. “Fun for who? I’m not losing my virginity to a parsnip that size.”

“Parsnip? Really?”

She smirked teasingly.

AFTER GETTING a glimpse of the amount of hair that would soon be clogging the drain, I suggested solo showers. She insisted I go first, and when I emerged from the bathroom, I found that she’d done a quickie tidy on her apartment. The clothes that once had littered the floor were now in the hamper, and a few vanilla-scented candles had been lit. If I was being honest, even when it was messy, her apartment was still a hell of a lot cleaner than mine.

I was lounging on the bed, petting her orange-and-white cat, when she finally emerged from the bathroom.

Completely.

Fucking.

Nude.

I blinked entirely too many times as though the erotic oasis were going to disappear.

“You’re wearing clothes,” she said, sauntering toward me.

I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. “You’re not.”

She shook her head and stopped in front of me. In this position, her breasts were at the same level as my mouth. It was that moment that I realized short men had all the luck.

Using her hips, I guided her between my legs. Her breasts swayed as they taunted me. So fucking close.

Tipping my head back, I caught her gaze. “So, you seem like a pretty straightforward girl.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, climbing into my lap.

I glanced back down at her tits. “Good. Because I want to be straight with you. Foreplay with someone new is always stressful and never any good. I’d fumble around, trying to figure out what the hell you like. And then you’d have to fake at least three orgasms only to hopefully achieve one. So I’d like to propose that we skip all of that for now.”

She smiled and purposely brushed her nipple across my lips. “I don’t know. It could be fun to watch you fumble around.”

I latched on to her breast, sucking hard as I ground her against my erection. “Trust me, it’s more fun to make you come on my cock. Then we can try all the awkward foreplay in round two.”

As she circled her hips, I groaned.

“I see your point,” she said. “We should definitely introduce our bodies first. No point in a play date if they don’t even like each other.”

A lazy smirk pulled at the sides of my mouth as I whispered, “Exactly.”

“Then I suggest you get naked, Hunter.”

This.

Woman.

I threw her on the bed and tugged my boxers off in record time. She giggled as she brazenly opened her legs while I rolled a condom on. That alone might have been the best first-time foreplay I’d ever experienced.

As I crawled on top of her, I took her mouth in a gentle kiss that soon became frenzied. Her hands roamed over my back while I dipped my hand between her legs finding her more than primed.

“You’re soaked,” I rasped.

Her hands slid down and gripped my ass, her short nails biting into each cheek. “Yeah. I lubed up in the bathroom.”

My lips twisted as I popped up my head in surprise. “You lubed up?”

She shrugged. “I saw the size of your cock, remember? Better safe than sorry.”

I grinned wide. “You might be the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. It takes a special kind of girl to pre-lube.”

She giggled as she took my mouth in another kiss. “I’m glad you approve.”

“Oh, I so fucking approve, Kara.” I rose to my knees and lined my cock up with her opening. She’d pre-lubed, so there was no point in beating around the bush. Pun intended.

Her laughter stopped as I pressed the tip inside her. “Fuck,” she moaned, throwing her head back against the pillow.

I fought the urge to slam inside her, but only because she looked so fucking sexy writhing under me as I worked her with only an inch of my length.

“Please,” she begged, using my ass to urge me deeper.

I silenced her with my mouth and then continued the torturous rhythm.

Suddenly, her hands disappeared from my ass and a finger trailed up my crack and over that sensitive flesh of my ass.

My body went solid. While I’d been known to enjoy a little finger action during a blow job, I was still surprised. I hadn’t even gotten all the way inside her and she was already going for my ass. Oh, she was bold.

“Hunter?” she questioned, but her finger once again slid up my crack.

I swallowed hard and decided there was no fucking way I was going to be the prude in our relationship.

Relationship?

I smiled at the thought.

I liked this girl, and if this was what got her off, so be it.

“Sorry. You just surprised me. Go ahead.” I leaned over her and pressed my ass higher so she could have better access. The action forced me another inch deeper, causing us both to gasp.

“Yes,” she hissed, arching her back off the bed, her breasts pressing into my chest. “Move!” she cried.

Her finger slid over my ass again, which sent an undeniable tingle through my shaft. It was officially time to end the games. As fun as “just the tip” had been, I was ready for “balls-deep.”

We both let out a string of expletives as I drove into her, planting myself at the hilt. Her pussy convulsed around me as she adjusted to the intrusion.

Her voice was desperate as she begged, “Yes, Hunter, please. Harder.” Then her finger once again teased up my crack, fueling me forward.

My cock jumped in response. It was more than I could take.

But I could give her hard if that was what she needed to follow me over the edge.

I was shifting her legs, one and then the other, to rest over my shoulders, when she palmed my face with both hands and kissed me.

Deep.

Needy.

Desperate.

This woman. Fuck!

I was lost in her mouth when her finger stroked up my ass again.

Only…her hands…were on my face?

I snapped my eyes open as I swung a hand back landing directly on—

“Holy fuck!” I yelled, flying off the bed and coming face-to-face with her cat.

He was chilling at the foot of the bed and I swear to God, the moment our eyes met, the bastard licked his lips.

“What’s wrong?” Kara asked, clearly confused.

She had no idea what had happened. I should have played it cool and kept it that way. Fuck, I should have made up some bullshit about the condom breaking to explain away my sudden departure.

I glanced down at my cock. Shit! Where is the condom?

“Holy fuck!” I yelled again, rushing back to the bed and spreading her legs wide. “Where’s the condom?”

“Christ. Calm down. It’s right here.” She slowly pulled it out of her.

If I hadn’t just gotten a rim job from a cat, I would have said that the sight of an empty condom being slowly removed from a vagina was the grossest thing imaginable. As it stood, it was only the second-grossest thing imaginable and both had happened to me in the last sixty seconds.

Fuck. My. Life.

I blew out a loud sigh and settled on the edge of the bed, dropping my head into hands. “Holy fuck. This is not happening.”

Kara sat up and rested her hand on my back. “What the hell is going on?”

“Well…” I tried to think of a good lie but gave up pretty quickly. “Your cat licked my ass. Repeatedly.” I peeked over my shoulder just in time to see her mouth fall open. “And I think I enjoyed it.” Because yeah…for some reason I needed to add that fun fact.

“What?” she gasped.

“I thought it was your finger!” I defended before she got the wrong idea.

She blinked. Then blinked again. “How the long do you think my arms are?”

Glaring at her, I shot back, “We were having sex. I didn’t exactly take the time to run the measurements.”

Her lips thinned as she desperately fought to stifle a laugh. “Hunter, I had to sit up to grab your ass, and you thought I could reach your asshole?”

I stood up and raked a hand through my hair. “Hey! Do not blame me because you have a perverted, gay cat!”

“Posh Spice is a girl,” she informed me, still fighting her laugh back.

I threw my hands out to my sides. “Well, fan-fucking-tastic! My straight card is still intact! Now, I only have to turn my bestiality card over at the end of the evening.”

And that’s when she lost it. Crashing over onto her side in the bed, she became consumed by a fit of laughter. I glared for several seconds, but it didn’t take long before the humor of it all consumed me too.

Climbing back into the bed, I pointedly dragged the covers over us. She was still in hysterics when I pulled her against my side and said, “That was the world’s worst sex.”

Her smile was huge as she looked up into my eyes. “Kinda makes you regret buying that plane ticket now, huh?”

She was fucking beautiful. And not just in a superficial way—although that didn’t hurt. But the ease I felt with her made it easy for me to reply, “Not at all.”

Her smile grew. “I’m pretty sure sex can’t get worse than that. Foreplay should be a breeze in the awkward department now. Right?”

I kissed her forehead and then stilled when the tiny feet of a cat padded up my legs.

“Oh, hell no!” I swung a hand out, shoving the beast to the floor.

“Your girlfriend’s jealous,” she teased.

“She should be. Her cat had the pleasure of rimming me before she did.”

Her eyes flashed wide. “So, I’m your girlfriend now?”

I arched an eyebrow. “I saw your unshaved pubes. I’m pretty sure we’re at year seven of marriage at this point.”

She slapped my chest and then cuddled in closer. “I’m really glad you came.”

I gave her a tight squeeze, suddenly focusing on the fact that I’d have to leave the next day. It had been a clusterfuck since I’d arrived, but I’ll be damned if dread didn’t fill my gut.

I wanted this every day. Her. Me. The laughter. (Probably not the cat though.) But Savannah to Chicago was one hell of a commute.

I sucked in a deep breath and decided that it was worth trying though. We’d figure it out.

I had too.

I’d had more than my fair share of women, but I’d never met another Kara Reed. And, deep down, I knew I never would.

Not willing to look like any more of a bitch than I already had, I pressed a lingering kiss to her lips. “Is it time for round two yet?”

She rolled on top of me. “I’m pretty sure we still need to finish round one.”

The End

Get more of Kara Reed and Hunter Coy in Aly Martinez’s

Wrecked and Ruined series.

Wrecked and Ruined Boxed Set

Changing Course

Stolen Course

Broken Course

About Aly:

I'm a wife and stay at home mom to four wild kids under the age of six. My life is pretty much crazy at all times.

I'm a proud wino. Reader. Author. Ice cream hater. Olive lover. Southern girl. Did I mention wino already?

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Email: AuthorAlyMartinez@gmail.com

A NIGHT TO REMEMBER

AMANDA MAXLYN

A  light sheen of sweat forms along my forehead and my cheeks begin to burn. I start to fan myself under the intense lights that line my bathroom vanity as I stare at my reflection.

“You got this, Brit,” I say to myself in a reassuring tone with a small nod. A smile forms, reminding me of the confident woman I am.

Normally I’m not someone to get worked up, let alone nervous prior to having sex, but this is different. I’m actually a very sexual person. Sure, I had a slutty phase after my last breakup, but that only lasted three months. What can I say? I’m young and adventurous, and a woman at my age should explore her sexuality. Being in your early twenties is all about finding yourself. Both personally and sexually. But tonight is different. I want tonight to be perfect. A night neither Scott nor I will forget.

When my best friend Erika wanted to introduce me to Scott for the first time, I said no. She was persistent and insisted we’d hit it off. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to meet him, I was just having too much fun being single. Finally, after two weeks of her whiny voice in my ear I caved. I figured “What the hell?” If anything, maybe I’d get a one night stand out of the deal. Shit, that makes me sound like a slut.

Three weeks later and I fell for him.

But here I am. Hiding inside my bathroom while Scott’s out in my living room waiting ever so patiently for me to come back and join him. I told Erika to give us space tonight and she practically left skipping and singing at the top of her lungs a little too eager to help my vagina get laid.

Scott and I have only known each other for a short period of time and while it hasn’t been long, it’s as if we’ve known each other our entire lives. As cliché as that sounds, and trust me, I know how cliché that sounds, it’s true.

I guess you could call him my boyfriend even though we haven’t had “the talk.” We’ve spent every night together since first meeting, and I’ve already met his family. But, while we’ve kissed and let our hands explore one another’s body, we’ve yet to have sex. He’s been nothing but a complete gentleman, but as sweet as that has been, I’m ready for more. I need more. My vagina wants more!

“Brit? Everything okay in there?” Scott calls from the living room.

Fuck. Now he probably thinks I’m going number two or something. Usually when someone says they’ll be right back it means five minutes. Tops. Not ten.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute!” I holler back.

Running my fingers through my short blonde locks to give a quick fluff, I give myself a wide smile in approval. I look good. Loose curls line my oval framed face, my lips are plump and colored with my favorite fire engine red lipstick, and my new black lacy lingerie slip clings to my body, showcasing every curve.

Turning the light off and opening the bathroom door, I make the short walk to the living room. I know Scott approves the second our eyes meet. His eyebrows rise in surprise and I can see his pupils dilate from a few feet away.

“Brit, fuck.” He runs a hand through his short black locks and gives a small tug. A small nervous gesture of his I’ve grown to like. “You look… damn…” He shakes his head a few times before walking over to me.

I take a small step forward to close the distance.

His hands lightly stroke my arms up and down. He licks his lips and all I can think about is capturing his mouth with my own. I’ve kissed a lot of men, but Scott by far has the best lips. He’s the first man to actually make my toes curl with a single light touch. And his tongue. Shit, I can only imagine what it would feel like against my clit based on how he uses it on my mouth.

He tilts my head up and I suck in a breath of anticipation. The second his lips touch mine, I tell myself there is no going back. I’m done with the heavy make outs and hand exploring. My body crumbles under his touch as he picks up the pace. His tongue pushes past my lips, splitting them apart and entering my mouth. I meet his hunger with each touch and soon he’s clasping my waist, his fingers taking hold of the silk fabric. He forms a fist, clinging to me as if he’ll fall over any second.

I can taste the champagne on his tongue from earlier and suck on it, moving my head back and forth. He lets out a soft moan in my mouth, letting me know he likes it.

His hips thrust forward, allowing me to feel his hard length and I press myself into him, nearly falling. The pressure between my thighs begins to build all from this one fucking amazing kiss.

“Brit, I can’t wait,” Scott pants between kisses.

“Either can I,” I confirm.

“Bedroom?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

I just smile, giving him all the confirmation he needs.

In one swift movement, he scoops me up, flipping me over his shoulder and I let out a tiny yelp.

“I can’t wait to kiss this sweet ass of yours,” he chants with a light tap.

I giggle.

When he enters my room, he doesn’t bother closing the door. He tosses me onto the bed and I laugh. My arms fall out to my side as my hair goes flying all around. I have to push it aside as I sit up to get a clear vision of him.

I let my eyes roam over his body and he all too quickly pulls his t-shirt over his head and unzips his pants, pushing them to the floor. He kicks them to the side and I have to rest up on my elbows to get a clear view of his olive skin. He’s sexy as fuck standing in his boxers.

Scott’s not extremely fit, but he’s not soft either. He has a flawless physique, one that would make any woman look twice, no matter their type.

When he joins me on the bed, he doesn’t just get on top of me, or come straight for my mouth. No, instead he starts at my ankle. He picks up one leg and places a gentle kiss on the outside of my right ankle, his touch lingering. I can almost feel the heat shoot straight to the bone.

I fall back, resting against the middle of the bed, arms splayed back out to my sides, clenching the bedding in eagerness. Scott kisses his way up my thigh and stops just at the center of my lower abdomen to caress and plant another single kiss. My clit throbs with a slight ache at his touch. I arch my hips upward, pressing into him firmly.

He lets out a tiny laugh.

“Scott,” I beg.

“Soon.” Is his only response.

My eyes fall closed as he continues to leave his mark on every inch of my body, licking and sucking over my skin as his hands swiftly move my lingerie upward to expose my bare breasts.

My back curves at the contact. I can feel the intensity build through my core as his mouth catches my erect nipple, sucking and biting. His tongue taunts me and I want nothing more than in this second for him to capture the swollen bud between my thighs that is begging to be touched right now.

“More,” I pant. My body fills with desire and need for him as he pinches and teases my nipple. “Scott, I need you.” I’ve nearly soaked through my thong and the slow provoking motions are only causing my body to throb more for him.

My fingers find his hair and tug upward gently. I need him to look into my eyes. To see how badly I want him in this moment. How much desire I have right now for him.

He holds my gaze, a silent plead goes out between us. His smile spreads across his face showcasing two dimples. I love those dimples.

I smile even wider back.

“Relax, baby. I’m going to make you feel so good,” he lets out in a raspy whisper.

His left hand comes out to help me lay back against the pillow. Reaching upward, I wrap my hands around his neck, linking my fingers together and pull him inward. I want to feel his lips against my own. Our mouths work together like they did a hundred times before. As my tongue traces the outline of his upper lip, I get the urge to reach my hand inside his boxers and pull out his hard length that’s pressing into my thigh.

I listen to that instinct, firmly clasping against his erection, pumping my wrist fast in an upward motion. I take a quick break to push his boxer briefs down to his ankles, then pick right back up where I left off, pumping his cock in my hand.

“Baby,” Scott whimpers. “If you keep that up I’m going to come way sooner than we both want.” I slow my movement, knowing he’s right. I know the second Scott comes, we’re done for. This isn’t like one of those romance stories where the man can go the second he just emptied his load. No, this is real life, and in real life, no man can go for round two within minutes of finishing. And, if you know of one, please bring him forward because we’ve yet to be acquainted.

I’ve been waiting to feel Scott buried deep inside of me since the first week of us meeting and he fingered me on his couch. I was a puddle under his touch. This man knows exactly what he’s doing with his body and I’ll be damned if I’ll ruin that because tonight we’re bringing it home. All the way home.

Scott wiggles his body down mine. I watch as he settles himself between my thighs. He glides my thong down my body and the cool air meets my smooth skin. I clasp the hem of my lingerie that’s pushed above my breasts and lift it the rest of the way off, leaving me naked before Scott.

“Fuck, Brittney, you’re absolutely beautiful.” I blush at his use of my full name.

He gives me a simple wink before placing his head right where I want it. I bend my knees, allowing him all the access he wants.

When the tip of his tongue comes out and barely brushes the barbell that’s pierced down the center of my clit I almost crumble. It’s swollen and ready, so the lightest of touches feels like it will set my body loose.

My hands rest on top of his head. “Like that,” I plead. He kisses and slowly strokes his tongue around the warm metal.

When Scott first felt my piercing as he was fingering me, he was taken back a little. He had never been with a woman who had her clit pierced. I had to guide his fingers around it the first time to show him exactly what I wanted. He was a natural, of course, taking charge and sending me off to cloud nine, which is why I’ve been anticipating the moment his tongue swirls around my wet skin and sucks the barbell right into his mouth.

When a sharp nip rips through me, I yelp out.

“Sorry,” he says between breaths. “I didn’t mean to pull so hard.”

“It’s okay.”

My eyes drift close, letting the pleasure sink throughout.

“Flick your tongue,” I instruct. He listens, flicking faster. I thrust my hips upward, back and forth.

He nips again and I move out of his reach. “Don’t bite so hard,” I moan.

“Sorry.”

When his mouth engulfs around my clit I melt into a puddle. He continues to suck and tease as my hips keep working with his movement. My fingers intertwine with his hair and I tug.

I’m close to ecstasy when all of a sudden a sharp sting cuts through my entire body. My hips jerk backward fast, pulling away from Scott’s hold.

“That hurt,” I pant.

Now, I’m all for pain during sex, especially oral when it comes to foreplay, but when it gets to the point of slicing through my skin, that’s where I draw the line.

“I didn’t mean to. I’m not use to playing with a ring,” Scott says with a genuine tone.

I lean up on my elbows. “It’s okay, just be more gentle.” I begin to coach him, telling him exactly what to do, but when his mouth covers my clit I cry out in pain.

“Scott!” That fucking hurt.

“Uh, Brit?”

“That hurt.” Through pure instinct I place my fingers between my thighs and touch my clit. It burns. Stings, actually.

Sitting further up, I lightly tap his chest to push him to the side. Getting out of the bed, I go into the bathroom.

“Brit? I…”

“Am I bleeding?”

“I think I got your bar stuck on my permanent retainer.” Stuck. Retainer. Two words no woman with a piercing wants to hear. I replay the words over in my head as I stand in my adjacent bathroom and try to look at my clit. I can’t see anything but blood running down my legs. I grab a towel and pat myself as I look for my makeup compact. I have a mirror somewhere. I know it.

When I can’t see past the blood, I decide to jump into the shower. That’s when Scott comes into the bathroom.

“Are you okay?” He sounds worried.

“I can’t feel the ball to the barbell.”

“Huh?”

“The ball. Well, flower. It was a studded flower to keep the bar in place.”

“Shit,” he hisses. “Brit, I was sucking and felt it clink against my retainer. I didn’t think I caught it, I’m sorry.”

I wash between my legs, my skin stinging and burning in pain.

Shutting the water off, I get out and grab a towel. “I need you to look.”

“What?”

“I can’t see. I need you to see if you can see my barbell. It fucking hurts!” I whine.

I’m not normally a whiner. And, if I’m being honest, I’ve also never been with a man who has a permanent retainer along the inside bottom four teeth, so it never occurred to me this situation could be a possibility.

Turning on my bedroom light, I lie down in the center of my bed. Scott stands in my doorway, naked with a limp dick. Yup, the mood has shifted from pleasure to pure embarrassment.

With a heavy sigh, I force my legs to spread apart. “Can you see it?”

“Ah…”

“You need to come closer.”

He walks slowing toward me. I scoot to the edge as he gets on his knees at the foot of the bed. He genuinely looks concerned for me, yet at the same time he looks like he wants to run away.

“You need to spread your legs a little wider.” Cause I haven’t heard that before.

“Yeah, I see the bottom, but not the top.”

“You need to push it back through, but slowly!”

“What?” he asks in horror. Panic covers his face.

I place my hand on my inner thigh and sit up in a half crunch to try and look. “I can’t see, Scott. It freaking hurts!” I’m going to have to go to the fucking Emergency Room is all I can think. Excuse me ma’am, what happened exactly? Your boyfriend did what to your piercing? Yeah, I can hear the laughs behind the curtain now.

“Okay,” he says reluctantly.

With my legs spread apart, Scott’s head between my thighs and both hands spreading my vagina apart to examine every inch of me, makes me want to sink into a hole and die in pure awkwardness.

The only time a man should ever be between your legs are as follows: 1) Your gynecological exam. And let’s be real for a moment, those are never pleasant, and can be just as awkward. 2) Eating you the fuck out. No man should ever be down there, spreading your lips apart if his face isn’t stuck to you like glue. He should most definitely not be trying to fucking push a barbell back through your clit because it got caught on his damn permanent retainer.

“Ouch!” I scream as I feel a razor-sharp pain move through my delicate skin. Yeah, I just called my labia delicate.

“Shit, Brit, I’m sorry. I-I think I got it through, but you’re bleeding again.” Scott moves swiftly to the bathroom and is back before I can say “Mother fucker that hurt.”

He begins to use the toilet paper to clean me up and my head falls back. Could this getting any worse? My “boyfriend” of no less than three weeks is cleaning up my bleeding vagina. Awesome. I’ll just crawl into the corner now. God, please, take me.

“I don’t think you’re bleeding any more. Are you okay?” he asks with nervousness.

I don’t look at him. Nope, I’m just pretending this all didn’t happen. As if it’s one big dream turned into a nightmare. Scott saw more of me in the last ten minutes than I’ve seen of myself in my twenty-fucking-three years.

The bed dips. I feel his presence next to me.

“Brit?”

With my eyes still closed, I answer. “I’m just pretending you weren’t just between my legs cleaning up my vagina.”

“It’s okay.” He sounds so sincere. He’s too sweet. “You’re not bleeding anymore. Do you need ice?”

I want to nod. I want ice more than anything right now, but I don’t think my naked body can handle any more embarrassment at the moment.

I open my eyes and turn my head to see him watching me intently.

“Scott, the only time I want to see you using a tissue between my legs is after I’ve just come all over your face. Not because you ripped a piercing through my skin.”

His eyes widen. Then he laughs. The little shit actually laughs at me!

“Brit, it’s not that bad. I mean… sure, tonight didn’t go as we planned-”

I stop him there, holding a hand up. “You just had your invisible doctor cap on examining my vagina!” As soon as the words slip from my mouth I begin to giggle. I don’t know why, but I do and it feels good.

“See, babe, it’s funny.”

“For you!

“I just wanted to surprise you.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised all right.”

He chuckles.

“I read an article on how to please a woman with clit piercing.”

My eyes narrow in on him. Did he just say he read an article on how to please a woman?

“Excuse me?”

“Cosmo. I saw an article about giving pleasure and it talked about playing with a piercing.”

If my head could fall backwards it would. I laugh. Not just a light laugh, but a full on my abs are getting a work out kind of laugh.

“Scott! Cosmo? That shit is an Emergency Room visit waiting to happen!”

“Well, considering I almost put you there tonight I’d say you’re correct.”

We both laugh harder.

After we catch our breaths, I stare at the ceiling.

“Can we pretend tonight didn’t happen?” I ask hopefully.

“Not a chance in hell baby.” And with that, he pulls me into his side.

“Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“Before you get too comfortable I’ll take the ice.”

I feel the smile on his face spread. “Ice coming right up.”

Tonight sure didn’t go as planned, but it definitely ended up just like I wanted. A night neither of us will ever be able to forget.

The End

AMANDA MAXLYN IS an International bestselling author who lives in a tiny town outside the Twin Cities in Minnesota with her husband and two awesome little boys. When she is not writing or chasing after her boys, she can be found snuggled up with her Kindle, a glass of wine, and spending time with her fictional friends and family.

Amandamaxlyn.com

IT STARTED WITH A DRINK

B.A. WOLFE

I slammed the empty shot glass down on the bar top and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. The liquor went down smoother with each swallow. I slid the glass next to the other empties. My face scrunched at the sight. Those couldn’t be all mine. Could they? I hiccupped and shrugged. Who cared? I was having fun.

I raised my tingling arm in the air, flagging down the bartender, ready for the next drink when my friend Cassie shot me a glaring look. “Maybe you should just have some water, Mel.”

“I’m fineeeee.” I wrapped a lazy arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Normally, I was the worrisome, protective friend. But this little hole in the wall bar seemed harmless enough. Not to mention, she dragged me here. I was only making the best of the night.

“If you’re sure,” she said, sipping on her water. She had her eyes set on a guy. In fact, he wasn’t just any guy, but one I thought was her soul mate. She just wasn’t ready to accept the facts yet. That would be a story for another day.

“Go talk to him,” I urged, watching her stare longingly down the bar at him.

She flipped her hair off her shoulder and turned toward me, completely blushing.

Two things I knew for sure. One, the tequila was making me both antsy and horny. Two, my friend needed her wing-woman to step up. It was time to take one for the team.

I glared toward the other end of the bar. Cassie’s guy was sitting next to TJ. My stomach clenched at the sight of him. TJ was Cassie’s friend, not mine. In fact, he was trying to steal her away from me as his best friend, but hell if I’d let that happen. Problem was, he was fucking gorgeous. I might have even gone as far as to say he was the most attractive man I’d ever seen. The problem was that he wasn’t even remotely my type. All country with his showy belt buckle, cowboy boots, and those annoying manners I surely wasn’t used to witnessing with other guys.

I slammed shot number . . . hell, I had lost count three shots ago. With a delicious burn coating my throat, I shoved two fingers in my mouth, pursed my lips, and let out a whistle loud enough to catch TJ’s attention.

Cassie eyed me like I had officially had too much to drink and for once she might’ve been right. I shrugged and smiled as TJ strolled over, all cocky and wearing a smirk. My plan worked.

What happened next, I completely blame on the tequila . . .

“GODDAMN, I want you so bad, Melanie.” His voice purred in my ear as his fingertips dug into my hips, holding me in place against the wall. His touch was just enough to let me know he wasn’t letting go. And for the love of everything, I didn’t want him to. Sure, this wasn’t the ideal place to kiss a guy that I didn’t really like, but the liquor drowning in my veins didn’t care.

His lips descended down the curve of my neck, landing on the sensitive flesh of my shoulder. Nope, I definitely didn’t care that we were tucked next to the bathroom doors in this small dingy place. Instead, my lips curled in sweet delight the second he bit down on that exposed skin. I moaned at the feeling. The way he crowded my body had me about to wrap my legs around his waist and take him right here in the open hallway.

Dammit.

Okay, so I was enjoying this too much. I shouldn’t have had that last tequila shot . . . or maybe the last three shots. They were clouding my judgment.

I, Melanie Rhodes, wasn’t supposed to be turned on by TJ Preston or “Moose” as he liked to be called, but I refused. In fact, normally I refused to talk to him period.

I wanted to smack myself. This wasn’t me! Damn tequlia. It made me drag him from the dance floor and down the hall. It was all the tequila’s fault. I should’ve been back at the bar, scouting out a guy who wasn’t TJ, who wasn’t the most frustrating man on the planet. But instead, TJ’s plump lips continued their assault and truth be told, I wasn’t about to walk away. Because tonight, I was letting other parts of my body do the thinking. I was taking one for the team, so Cassie could go get her man.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Ugh! My phone went off in my back pocket, disrupting TJ’s sinful mouth. I gulped away the distraction and then tilted my head, giving him more access.

But the annoying sound continued.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

TJ released the sleeve of my shirt, sending it bouncing back over my shoulder, covering where his mouth was just seconds ago.

“You gonna get that or just let it keep going off? ‘Cause it’s a little distractin’.” His low voice sounded as agitated as I felt. And not because my phone was going off, but because he stopped kissing me.

“It’s probably just Cassie. Don’t worry about it.”

He dipped his head lower. “Maybe you should tell your friend that you’re busy and she should stop textin’. ‘Cause she’s kinda ruinin’ the mood.”

I wasn’t about to see what she wanted. She was supposed to be hanging with her guy. I did this for her. It just so happened to be benefiting me.

TJ leaned back a few inches, a mischievous grin splitting his face. “Or would you rather I tell her that you’re a little preoccupied?”

I smacked his hard shoulder. “Are you crazy?”

“Just busy.” He shrugged. “And I’d like to get back to what I was doin’. You?” His brows rose in unison and I groaned as his blue eyes stared back at me. I hated admitting he was one of the most attractive men I’d ever laid eyes on. But it was safe to say he had something that clearly, I wanted. At least for tonight anyway.

I grinned at my wicked thoughts and without breaking eye contact grabbed my phone from the back pocket of my mini skirt. I positioned it between our close bodies and held the button, shutting down the phone. I widened my grin and with a snarky voice said, “Happy?”

“No.” He frowned. “Now she’s gonna come searchin’ for you.”

Double fuck. He was right.

I glanced around us. The wall next to the men’s bathroom wasn’t exactly what you’d call “hiding”. I peeked over his shoulder, ready to duck if Cassie came waltzing around the corner. “So, what do you suggest?”

Our gazes met and the gleam in his eyes sent a sweet chill down my spine. He snatched my hand in his and bolted down the hallway toward a dark area. I followed behind him like he was the captain and I was his first mate. There was no going back. And I swore Cassie would have my woman balls, knowing I was headed somewhere hidden to go make hanky with the one man who drove me crazier than anyone I’d ever met before.

Like I said, TJ, aka “Moose” was her friend, not mine. Of course, I was forced to hang out with him for that reason. But tonight, liquor tucked my conscience to the wayside and burned all my reason for the next few hours. I was free to let my body fall against his, my hand melt into his, and of course, my panties were ready to be ripped right off my anxious body by his teeth.

There was nothing pretty about what was going to happen and tomorrow I’d shame myself for it, but now, right this very second, I was standing in a pitch black room that TJ just locked us inside of.

Wait. What? I’m in a room?

Confused, I peered into the darkness, but there was nothing to see. I pulled my hand from his and reached for his hips, digging my hand into his pocket.

He wiggled his waist at my touch. “Whoa. Easy does it, woman. We’ll get there.”

“Stop! I just need some light.” I huffed and yanked his phone from his tight pocket. I held the phone out, shining the light around the room. “Where in the hell are we?" There was a broom, a bucket, a furry thing that was either someone’s dog or a mop, a larger broom, towels, cleaning products, and a vacuum.

TJ took his phone from me and did his own personal inspection of the room. “Fuck,” he sighed.

I shook my head as my clouded mind started to grasp the realization that we were in a cleaning closet. “Great, TJ. A broom closet big enough for an ant." There wasn’t enough liquor in me to be that limber.

He huffed with agitation. "It's this or risk getting caught by Cass. Your pick, woman."

Ugh. I hated that he called me woman but I really hated that this felt as if it was the hardest choice I had to make in my life. I anchored my teeth into my bottom lip and met those hypnotic blue eyes that were locked on me.

“How about a little mood music?” he asked. With a smirk that showcased his edible dimple, TJ tapped an icon on his phone and turned up the volume.

I cringed instantly at the sound of upbeat country music followed by a man talking about his sexy tractor. “That’s supposed to set the mood?” I laughed as I watched TJ’s eyes go wide before he quickly turned off the song. “How about we skip the music and just get to it?” I suggested.

His dimple deepened. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

Determined to set the tone for the night, TJ’s attention went back to his phone and within seconds, a low, sexy melody filled the air. Tractors were a thing of the past. The song TJ picked was “Come a Little Closer” by Dierks Bentley, one I’d heard before. The words were seductive, sensuous, and I had to admit, perfect for the mood.

TJ reached above him, perching the phone on a shelf, letting the dim light shine down on us. Everything was set.

Goddamn it. The ache between my legs was getting to be too much. I needed sex. Hot, sweaty, passionate, can't get enough, sex . . . Now!

“No one can know about this,” I stated, reminding him of the fact that there would be no mention of this nor would there be a replay.

He cocked his head. “I don’t like that rule.”

“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

He raked a hand through his hair and groaned. “You’re impossible. Fine.”

Impossibly ready to get laid, that’s what I was.

I grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head, banging my arm and elbow on the edge of a wooden shelf in the process. "Ouch! Holy shit, that hurt," I whimpered, yanking my top off the rest of the way. I exhaled and looked up at him. "This isn't going to work,” I mumbled, the tequila no longer traveling through my veins, numbing the pain.

"Yes it is," his voice dropped to a low, seductive timber and then a warm hand found my elbow, a pair of lips following with a gentle kiss to the sore skin.

A soft sigh left me. Okay, this could totally work.

“Still wanna leave?” he asked, his hands locking behind my back, tugging me against his chest.

He was such a smug, cocky cowboy. “I’ll stay for now.”

“Mmm . . . I bet you will.”

I bit down on my lip again, my body flashing in anxious heat. Unable to take it any longer, I reached between us and unhooked the button of my mini skirt.

He groaned and I smiled to myself. He wasn’t the only one that could play games. “I could work around that, you know. You don’t have to try and take it off,” he whispered as if each word was a struggle.

My legs tingled as I unzipped the skirt. “Now where’s the fun in that?” I threw his words back at him and watched him pinch his eyes shut, his jaw straining.

I wiggled my hips, letting the skirt shimmy down my thighs, slide past my knees, and fall to my ankles. TJ’s palms moved across the bare skin of my ass cheeks and I moaned at the primitive touch.

“Goddamn it, woman. I need to fuck you now.”

Every pulse in me was beating out of control. My legs were languid, my skin on fire, my sex was about to explode if TJ didn’t get inside of me soon. I inched my legs apart, giving him access when I was stopped short due to my skirt pooling at my feet.

It had to go. I needed that damn thing far away.

TJ’s fingers trailed lower, sending goose bumps cascading down my backside at the sensual touch.

I lifted my left leg, easing my foot out of the skirt only to get the edge of my heel caught on the seam. Trying to nonchalantly unhook it while TJ was nibbling on my ear lobe, I gracefully kicked my heel off. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as graceful as it was intended to be.

Clank. Crash. Thunk.

TJ’s hand flew straight to the back of his head. “Ouch! What the fuck!”

I palmed my mouth to smother a giggle desperately trying to escape.

“Really?” he asked, holding the broom that knocked him in the back of the head because of my not so ‘graceful’ move.

“Oopsy.” I shrugged.

His shoulders fell with a heavy sigh as he put the broom behind him in a more secure spot. “I’m gonna stand over here while you take your other shoe off.” He folded his arms over his chest.

I let out a laugh while I carefully slipped off my other shoe. The last piece separating me from TJ was my skirt that was pooling at my right foot. I decided to give TJ a little something extra while he waited patiently for me to finish. I leaned backward as much as I could and kicked my foot up. Instead of the skirt flying upward into TJ, my foot made contact with his groin.

TJ cupped his junk and groaned.

“Oh, shit!” I stumbled over my foot but caught myself as I came to TJ’s aid. I held my hands over his, not realizing the intimate moment until his wide eyes lifted and met my panicked ones.

I glanced down at my hands that were cupping his manhood. Was the room shrinking or was it just me?

“I got it from here.” TJ’s raspy low voice interrupted my thoughts.

This wasn’t the end. Playing off my foul, I curled my lips to the side. “Now where’s the fun in that? Hmmmm?” I pried his fingers away, earning a raised brow in return.

I undid his fancy buckle, leaving his belt hanging on the sides as I popped open the brass button to his jeans. “Still got it from here?” I asked, peering up at him with question in my eyes.

He straightened his spine and squared his shoulders, sending my chest into another fit of rapid beats. “You’re runnin’ the show. By all means, continue.” His dimple made another appearance and I swallowed hard. Another wave of excitement rolled through me. Ready for more of this man, I hurried to lower his zipper but his warm hand on top of mine stopped me. I batted my lashes as I glanced up at him.

“Easy does it on that, ‘kay?”

I peered down at the zipper and then back up at TJ. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“Lemme do it.” His words were rushed as if he didn’t trust me at all.

I nudged his hand away and tilted my head. “I’ve got this,” I said, with only a minor feeling of apprehension in my voice. I’d already hurt his precious jewels once. I didn’t need to do it again.

His loud breath rolled between us and I chuckled as my not so steady fingers tightened on the zipper, causing TJ’s body to stiffen. Then in one swift movement, I closed my eyes and pulled it down until it could go no further. My lids lifted in excitement, meeting TJ’s line of vision. “Seeeeee,” I told him.

His chest relaxed in a long breath and he smiled.

I was a little worried, too, but I’d never admit it. I slid my palms up to his hips, tucking my fingers into the waistband of his jeans. “Now for the rest,” I purred, my hands itching to get these off so we could really have some fun.

Before I started, I glanced up and found TJ’s gaze already on mine, his eyes darker than ever, his breathing harder than just moments ago. The ache burning between my legs was ready to ignite by just that look.

Frantically, I went back to his jeans and yanked them down. I got them lowered to his thighs and they wouldn’t budge. Taking a quick break, I wiped the sweat on my forehead, the room suddenly feeling like an inferno with all this work.

“You alright down there?” TJ’s voice sliced through my mental pep talk, assuring me that I could get these things off the rest of the way.

I sighed and pulled my hair to one side. “Could your jeans be any tighter? I mean, what gives?” Sure, these jeans gave a great show for those looking at his delectable ass, but holy hell, they were terrible for an impromptu escapade in a cleaning closet.

I fanned my face, feeling overly hot in this room that seemed to have shrunk in size since we first locked ourselves in here.

His frustrated groan echoed off the walls. “Jesus, woman. Lemme just do it.”

I didn’t even have a chance to tell him no. TJ started shimmying side to side, lowering his jeans inch by inch. He was having better luck than I was but the second he got his jeans to his shins, he stopped. His damn boots were still on.

“Damn,” he grumbled, shooting a glare at his feet.

This was not happening! Another obstacle. I reached out and blurted, “Lift your leg!”

His head cocked to the side, a brow rising with it. “You serious right now?”

“I’ll help you,” I told him, full of eagerness. My body was overly hot, beyond ready, and not willing to wait another second.

Surprisingly, TJ did as I asked. He plopped his boot in my waiting hand and I tightened my grip around the leather ready to pull. I planted my feet into the gross floor and yanked as hard as I could.

TJ’s boot didn’t budge, but TJ did. His arms flew up in the air as he slammed against the wall. “Shitttt,” TJ groaned slowly, sliding down and in turn, taking me down with him.

I blinked, my head spinning a little too much as I peered around. TJ was on the floor, wincing and I was on top straddling him, his boot no longer in my hold, but now sideways on his foot. A gut-busting laugh barreled through me. What I didn’t expect was TJ to be chuckling, too.

This was the most dysfunctional orchestrated sex I'd ever been involved in. As much as every organ inside me wanted to get laid, this wasn’t working. “I think we're done here.” The tequila seemed to be wearing off as I glanced around us. What were we thinking? “No way this is happening.” TJ’s voice was low and unexpected. “I'm not ready for you to leave me yet.”

I looked down at him. He gazed up at me. My heart fluttered a little too much for what I’d normally call a one night stand. I palmed the side of his smooth cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, yet I heard it loud and clear.

Guys had told me that before, but not the way TJ did. He said it like he meant it.

His hands trailed around my waist, ghosting up my back until his fingers wrapped around the clasp of my bra.

I closed my eyes, the feel of TJ’s hard on pressing so perfectly into my thigh and the way I felt was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I wanted this so bad my whole body was tingling, the room spinning, my skin flashing in a heat so hot I’d swear I was on fire.

“TJ . . .” I murmured.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice soft, mimicking mine. His fingers were making quick work of my bra and I couldn’t wait to be free of it, to feel the cool touch of his hands on my bare breasts.

“I . . . I . . .”

“Yeah, Mel. You want this, don’t you?” TJ leaned closer to me, my breasts spilling out of my bra as my straps fell down my shoulders.

“Yesssss,” I admitted. “I . . . I . . .” My words lodged somewhere between my tightening throat and churning stomach. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” My eyes popped open and I slammed a hand over my mouth.

TJ’s ninja instincts kicked into gear but it was too late. Vomit spewed all over his button down shirt. I was kind of glad I had forgotten to take that off now. At least, it saved his skin.

TJ dropped the bucket that he had grabbed. “I guess there’s no need for that.” He grimaced as he stared down at his chest, his brows pulled in tight.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, getting rid of the remnants. My mouth twisted to the side as I surveyed the damage. “I am so sorry, TJ.”

“Actually, I think we, uh, are done now after all.” His eyes wouldn’t leave his shirt and the worst part was half of me wanted to laugh at the situation. The other half wanted to crawl inside the bucket and never come out. How was I ever going to look at this man again?

How was he going to look at me the same way again?

I palmed my forehead. “Oh, God. I really am sorry.”

TJ made quick work of the small buttons, moving carefully around the ones covered in puke. He pulled his arms out of the shirt and left it behind him.

His beautifully crafted chest stared back at me and I sighed at the sight. And then I held a hand over my mouth, nausea creeping back once again. “I need to get out of here.”

Once standing, TJ helped me put my skirt back on and then grabbed my bra. He held it out as I put my arms through the holes and pulled the straps up onto my shoulders. TJ moved behind me and clasped the bra closed. As I was sliding the shirt over my head, my heart stopped at the sound of the door clicking open and another female voice shrieking.

"Oh, shit! This isn’t the bathroom. Uh . . . Moose?"

I yanked my shirt down over my face, eyeing the girl. My pulse pounded in my ears as I watched her eyes ping pong from TJ, aka Moose, back to me. TJ stood there, his face turning a deep color of red. "Kacey? What are you doing?”

I whipped my head back to the girl who just stood there with the door open to the world, my drunken self half naked in front of her.

"Opps. Sorry.” She hiccupped and then pinched her eyes shut for a long beat. “I had a little too much to drink. Wrong door I guess. I should . . . um . . . I should go now."

The door slammed shut and I gulped through the tennis ball stuck in my throat. "Who in the hell was that?" I asked TJ, my voice cracking in panic and anger.

He scrubbed a hand down his face and exhaled so hard I felt his breath hit my bare stomach. "She’s my friend.” His head bobbed side to side, his mouth twisting. “Kinda sorta, an ex."

"Awesome! Just great." My hands flew up to my sides. "’Cause that’s not awkward at all!"

A low chuckle escaped him and my jaw locked tight. "I'll talk to her. It’ll be fine. She probably won’t even remember." I lowered my gaze on him, shooting daggers his way. “Let’s just get you home, woman. Before you ruin my jeans, too.”

I nodded. There was no part of this tequlia soaked night that could be salvaged. It was time to call it quits. The ride in his truck to the house Cassie and I were staying at was quick. Neither of us spoke, the radio stayed silent, but the awkwardness sat like a huge fucking elephant between us.

TJ pulled up to the house and I quickly unbuckled my seat belt and after a quick ‘thanks for the ride’, I quickly bailed, shutting the passenger door behind me.

“Hey,” TJ’s voice called out behind me.

I stopped in the grass, my heels clasped tight to my chest.

TJ smiled and said, "Some day, Melanie Rhodes, we’re gonna try this again. And it’ll be worth it. I can promise you that much."

I fought the smile playing on my lips and hugged the shoes tighter to my beating heart. “Someday, TJ Preston, I hope you’re right.”

THE END

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: This short features two beloved characters, Melanie and Moose from The Keaton Series. If you've enjoyed this story and would like to read more of their adventures, you can find them in Away, and Stay. Be sure to watch for their novel, For Keeps, coming 2016. You can add on Goodreads.

AUTHOR BIO:

B.A. Wolfe is a girl with a passion for reading and writing, and lives in the gorgeous state of Colorado with her husband (her biggest cheerleader), and her two fur babies. B.A. spends all her free time either furiously typing stories on her laptop or happily reading through her endless TBR. She is a sucker for #hashtags, wine, gummy bears, and a good love story that makes her cry.

You can follow B.A. here:

Twitter: @BAWolfe3

Instagram: author.bawolfe

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Website

Email: author.bawolfe@gmail.com

BALLCUZZI

BROOKE BLAINE AND ELLA FRANK

“So she’ll be here at eight, right?” Reagan finished off her glass of Cabernet and promptly poured another, filling it to the top.

Evan raised an eyebrow at the almost-empty bottle in her hand. “Is this still okay? I can always call her off—”

“No, no, I’m good. Just…thirsty.” She took a long swallow of the robust wine and then gave him a smile. “So…what’s she like?”

“Uh…well, apparently she specializes in couples, spankings, rope play, and fisting.”

“What?”

“Relax. I told her no fisting on the first date.”

“But we’ll be tied up and spanked. Good. Did you tell her we’re okay with penetration? Vibrators? Dildos? Plugs?”

Evan stole Reagan’s glass and took a swig. “Mhmm. I told her all about the naughty things my girl likes.” He grabbed a hold of her waist and pulled her closer, nuzzling into her chestnut locks. Fuck he loved the way she smelled. Like orchids and passionfruit. And the way she was up for anything, anytime. If you’d asked him thirteen months ago when he was at the lowest point of his life if he’d ever find someone who could love and accept him for who he was, he would’ve told you that shit would happen when his cock grew wings. But there she was. Working alongside him all day at Kelman Corporations, practically living with him in his condo, and spending her nights surprising him time and time again by how willing and wild she was between the sheets.

“Have I mentioned how much I fucking love you?” he asked, before tasting her lips. They parted easily underneath his mouth, and he slipped his tongue inside, eliciting a low moan from Reagan.

“Because I’m into your kinky shit?” she asked with a wink.

“Because I’m into yours.”

Knock, knock, knock.

“Oh, it looks like the third guest to our little party has arrived,” Reagan said, then nipped his lower lip.

“I’m not sure she would consider herself a guest. More like the boss of this evening’s activities.”

As Evan took a step back toward the door, he drew his hand down Reagan’s arm to her fingers, and then let them fall away. She picked up her glass of wine and, as she saluted him, turned to walk into his bedroom on her ice-pick black heels.

Evan watched her go until the knock sounded again, causing Reagan to glance over her shoulder, and the little minx gave a seductive smirk that told him she knew he was standing there watching the sway of her hips in that slinky black dress she’d slipped over her naked body earlier.

Fuck, his woman was something else. Her hair was spilling in loose curls down the creamy skin of her naked back, and the dress dipped so low at the base of her spine it barely covered her tailbone. It was held up by thin straps, and when she’d shimmied into it earlier Evan had known it would be a fucking challenge not to have her out of it before Mistress J arrived.

Knock, knock, knock.

Speaking of…

Evan took a calming breath and twisted the door handle under his palm. As he pulled open the door, the erection that had been stirring to life stiffened to full attention at the sight that greeted him.

It wasn’t so much the thought of another woman joining him and Reagan for the evening that had him so excited. It was the fantasy said woman represented as she stood there with her purple hair slicked back into a high ponytail. She was decked out in a metallic corset with three buckles from navel to breastbone and a black skintight leather skirt that barely covered her ass. She was eye to eye with him with some help from her wicked hot boots that had heels that even out-stilleto’d Reagan’s. But what was really stroking his fuck stick was the duffel bag the woman had a tight hold of.

Hell yes. Happy anniversary to us. It seems like a year of being good has brought three hours of being fucked bad right to my doorstep.

Mistress J’s heavily lined eyes narrowed, and when she let go of the bag, it dropped to the ground like a shit ton of bricks were stored inside.

“I had to knock—three times.” Her voice was deep and no-nonsense, and as she stepped inside, she ran a long black fingernail down his shirt. “I hope you’re prepared to make that up to me. Now, pick up my bag.”

The point of her nail dug into his chest, and for a moment, he hesitated.

“Now,” she repeated, and this time he moved. The bag had to weigh a hundred pounds, and it had him wondering how the hell she’d carried it.

He kicked the door shut behind him, and as they moved into the bedroom, Reagan said, “A woman after my own heart.”

“You. Get naked.” Mistress J was staring at Reagan, who blinked at her.

“Uh…should we have wine first?” Reagan asked, holding up her glass.

Mistress J crossed her arms over her chest, which caused her ample breasts to almost pop out. “This isn’t a date. And I won’t repeat myself to either of you again. Take. Your clothes off. And face the wall.”

Reagan’s eyes went wide, and she looked at Evan to gauge his reaction. When his lips twisted into a smirk, she downed the rest of her wine and set the glass on the bedside table.

“Mind if we shut those?” Reagan asked, inclining her head toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that took up one wall of Evan’s bedroom. Windows that were still open.

A beautifully cruel smile spread across Mistress J’s face. “I do mind. Strip.”

“Right. Challenge accepted,” Reagan said under her breath, before shrugging out of her straps and letting her slip of a dress fall to her feet. She kicked it away and stared Mistress J down, letting the woman take in every inch of her naked body before slowly turning toward the wall.

Evan whistled and took a step forward. “Fuck me—”

“Not so fast, lover boy,” Mistress J said, as she grabbed the back of his collar. “You get to watch.”

He held up his hands. “I am so okay with that.”

“Of course you are,” Reagan said over her shoulder. “So, what’s first, mistress? Do I get a ten-inch dildo? Some nipple clamps? A clitoral vibrator?”

Mistress J stepped in behind Reagan and took her chin in her hands roughly. “A ball gag if you don’t shut that sassy mouth. Hands on the wall.”

When Reagan complied, Mistress J glanced at Evan. “Be a good boy and make your mistress some hot water. I’m a bit…thirsty.”

“You want to drink hot water?” he asked.

She narrowed her eyes. “For my tea. And I told you to keep your mouth shut. No questions, just obey.”

Yeah, sure. I’ll just make a pot of tea while you work over my girlfriend. Exactly what we signed up for.

REAGAN STARED at the wall in front of her and tried not to let the sliver of apprehension she had at the words hot water snake up her spine. Sure, she was naked and at the hand of a total stranger, but she was also aware that Evan would never place her in harm’s way.

She trusted him…right? Yes, of course I do.

The light touch of fingertips tracing the top of her shoulder made Reagan want to turn her head and look at the woman behind her, but she didn’t dare move. She’d been instructed to keep her mouth shut, so shut she would keep it.

Dare anyone to say I can’t take a damn order, she thought. Just because she couldn’t be a smartass out loud didn’t mean she wouldn’t think it.

“You have very smooth skin, Miss Spencer. I believe it will look rather nice with a red tint to it. But…before we get to that, I’m going to tie some rope around your wrists, because you strike me as the kind of girl who needs to be bridled.”

Did she really just compare me to a horse? Ahh, okay.

“Nod if you understand.”

Reagan slowly nodded and expected Mistress J to go to her bag and fetch the rope—but she didn’t. Instead, out of the corner of her eye in the reflection of the bedroom window, Reagan spotted the good mistress pulling a cell phone from her cleavage.

What the…?

Reagan tried to keep her mouth from falling open as she watched the woman’s fingers fly across the screen.

Is she really texting someone? Now?

Mistress J stood silently for a few seconds and then nodded at whatever the hell flashed up on her screen. Then she tucked the phone back into her corset.

Geez, I’m glad she got her business sorted out, Reagan thought. It’s not like I’m just standing here bare-ass naked or anything.

She heard the distinct sound of the mistress’s boots click-clack their way across Evan’s bedroom floor, and then the duffel bag’s zipper echoed around the room. A brief buzzing sounded and then shut off.

Yessss, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. Reagan tried not to squirm as the mistress ran something solid and cool to the touch up the back of her thighs.

“Bend over and grab your ankles,” came the voice in her ear, and she shivered with anticipation. Leaning down, she held on to the black ankle straps of her heels and awaited the first touch.

Mistress J ran the toy down the back of Reagan’s spine and then farther…farther…until she felt it between the crease of her ass. Mistress kicked her legs open wider and then Reagan felt the toy probe against the tight hole of her—

“Wrong hole, wrong hole!” Reagan said, clenching her cheeks together. Jesus, isn’t it staring you in the face?

Mistress J slapped her ass. “This is the hole I want.” Then she pushed the toy back into Reagan’s resistant flesh, and the burning sensation as the unwanted object tried to pry its way in without proper lubrication had Reagan shooting up and covering her private bits with her hand.

“Whoa, buddy,” she said. “I’m all about having a good time back there, but that’s a helluva way to say hello.”

“Is there a problem?” Mistress J held up the flesh-colored butt plug. “It’s not that big.”

She stepped toward Reagan again, who put up her hands and said, “Lube. Lube would be good first.”

Mistress J stopped and frowned. “Oh. Right. Very well. Assume the position again.”

“Maybe I’ll just wait to make sure you find it okay.”

As the mistress rummaged through her bag again, the whistling of the teakettle filled the condo before quickly fading.

“This is good for you?” Mistress J said, holding up a pink bottle of lubricant. She popped open the cap, and the scent of red velvet cake filled Reagan’s nostrils.

“Much better.” Reagan smiled and then asked, “You sure you wouldn’t you prefer some front time playtime first?”

When Mistress J pursed her lips, Reagan faced the wall again and bent to grab her ankles.

Okay, so that plug looked a little bigger than the ones she and Evan had used before, and that had always been after quite a bit of foreplay. But dammit, she wasn’t a wimp, and she would take it like a champ. Provided that she was generous with the—

“Oh holy shit,” she cried out when the cold liquid hit her crack. “Did you stick that in the freezer first?”

“No. I did not.” Mistress J said, and though Reagan wasn’t facing the woman, she could’ve swore she had her teeth gnashed together. Mistress J sounded frustrated with her, but hell, it was like this was Reagan’s first damn rodeo, and honestly, if that were the case, having a butt plug that looked wider than Evan’s cock jammed up her ass suddenly didn’t sound so appealing.

“Stay as you are,” Mistress J said. “I need to…ahh…do something real quick.”

Reagan whipped her head around to watch the mistress in the window as she turned her back, but before she was fully facing away from her, she saw J reach in her corset and pull out that blasted cell phone again.

Are you fucking serious right now? Here I am with my ass in the air, the blood rushing to my face as I grip my ankles for dear life. Not to mention the view the neighbors across the way are getting of my hole—which thank God I bleached.

Yes, if one was adding up humiliating moments in life, standing bent in half while Mistress Incompetent made a fucking phone call was right up there.

“Oh. My. God.”

Yep, and now the humiliation was complete. Evan’s voice made it to her ears, and she reminded herself this was probably appealing to the kinky bastard, but then again, he hadn’t seen Mistress J try to pound her like a battering ram.

“I leave you alone for five minutes, Reagan,” he said, and through her legs she could see him walking back into the bedroom with a fucking teapot and cup on a tray like he was about to sit down to afternoon tea and cucumber sandwiches.

“Oh good, you’re back,” Mistress J said.

Reagan watched Evan’s feet come to a halt and then saw the heels of the mistress’s boots as she headed over to stand beside him.

“Your woman is very mouthy. You didn’t mention that during our phone call.”

Reagan wanted to defend herself, but at this stage she figured the fact that the woman being off her damn cell phone was a step in the right direction, and she wasn’t about to break the momentum.

“Now, when you say mouthy,” Evan said, “do you mean mouthy as in she’ll suck a dick like a Hoover, or mouthy as in she won’t be quiet?”

“As in she won’t be quiet.”

“Well, in my defense,” Evan said, and then placed the tray on the bedside table, “I thought it would be fun to watch you…rein her in. That’s your job, right?”

“It is,” Mistress J replied. “So go stand by her and strip. Scoot.”

“GLADLY,” Evan said, as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves and strolled over to his very naked, very delicious-looking girlfriend. “Lookin’ good, babe.”

Reagan glanced over at Mistress J, who was pulling items out of her bag, and then glared at him. “She tried to fuck me with no lube,” she whispered. “Even you know better than that.”

“Maybe she was just excited to get into that tight little asshole.” He ran his hand over the smooth skin of her rounded cheek and then gave it a smack.

“No touching,” came the voice behind him. “And you still have your clothes on. That’s going to cost you.”

Evan kicked off his shoes and gave the mistress a smirk. Then he slipped his shirt off and unzipped his pants, letting them drop to the ground.

“Better?” he asked.

She placed a cereal-type bowl and a package of straws on his dresser before going back to the bag and pulling out a lethal-looking flogger.

Reagan leaned toward him. “Uh…what the hell is she planning to do with hot water, a bowl, and some straws?”

“How would I know?”

“Really? Mr. Ziploc Bag? Don’t tell me you’re not into some weird shit,” she said.

“I can honestly say I’ve never used any of that before. In the bedroom, anyway.”

The sting of the flogger against his thigh snapped his focus away from Reagan and had him cursing. “What the hell?” he asked.

Mistress J looked between the two of them and shook her head. “Since neither of you take direction very well, I think I’ll have to make you. On your knees, both of you.”

Evan raised an eyebrow at Reagan, who looked like she was about to protest, but then she looked down to his thigh and the redness spreading across it and chose to lower to her knees instead.

Once they were side by side facing Mistress J, she said, “Very wise decision. Now. Clasp your hands out in front of you. Fingers interlocked.”

Evan immediately complied, his cock twitching at the command. Hell, the woman had been overzealous at first with Reagan, but maybe she’d been a little nervous. Now, she seemed to be in complete control. Well…at least he thought she was.

“Shit, one second,” Mistress J said. She then turned away and scurried across the bedroom to the bag again. Evan frowned as he watched her go, and when he looked to Reagan, her eyes were wide as saucers in a See? kind of expression.

“Where did you find this woman? I don’t think she has a clue what she’s doing. She keeps getting on her phone—look.”

Indeed, there was Mistress J on her phone…texting someone. Evan was about to speak up when he saw her stash her phone back in her cleavage and put what looked like a vibrator in the back of her skirt. She then grabbed some rope and headed back in their direction.

She stopped in front of them, and as soon as Reagan saw what was in her hand, she said, “Rope?”

Mistress J gestured to Reagan’s arms. “What did I say about your mouth earlier?”

“You told me to shut it.”

As the mistress began winding the rope around Reagan’s wrists, Evan watched on in silence. He wasn’t sure what it said about him that he was thoroughly enjoying this badass dominatrix tying up and reprimanding his sassy, wicked woman, but yep…he sure as hell was. His cock was now upright and ready to fucking play.

“That’s right,” Mistress J said. “But since you seem incapable of following that order, I’m going to give you some incentive to keep your pretty lips shut.”

Oh fuck yes, Evan thought, dying to know what the terms of this little game were going to be.

As Mistress J finished securing the restraint, she took Reagan’s chin in her hand, tilted her face up, and bent to brush her lips over Reagan’s cheek to her ear, and Christ almighty Evan had to unclasp his hands and grip his cock. That is fucking hot.

“From now on,” Mistress J said loud enough so he could hear, “every time you open your mouth to do anything other than moan, sigh, or scream, I am going to flog your boyfriend over there.”

Wait…what? Evan’s erection deflated somewhat at that little announcement.

“Do you understand?” Mistress J said directly in Reagan’s ear.

Reagan turned her head to look at him, and when a devious smile curved her lips, even the threat of a whipping wasn’t enough to stop his arousal. That clearly solidified him as fucking insane, and his girlfriend too, because then she responded with a “no”—guaranteeing his first flogging.

The tails of the flogger whipped against his other thigh, and when he grunted, both women fucking smiled.

Okay, it’s not that bad. Hell, he’d done worse to himself.

“Mistress, can I have another?” he asked with a wink, and she obliged by snapping the whip again in the same spot.

“Now your hands,” the mistress said, and when he put his hands out in front of him, she shook her head. “Behind you.”

“Trying to render me useless and at your mercy?” he asked.

Mistress J raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment, and Evan turned around and put his hands behind his back.

PANIC SET in as Reagan watched the mistress tie Evan’s hands together. “Wait, wait, wait. She can’t tie up both of us. What if she goes rogue and steals all our shit?”

Evan gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I know how to get out of these things.”

“I fucking hope so.” And then under her breath, she said, “I better start feeling some pleasure soon.”

Mistress J’s hand went to the back of her skirt, and when she brought it back around in front of her, she held up a monster-size, neon-pink cock. With a flick of her finger, the vibrator began to buzz, and Reagan nodded enthusiastically. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” she said, and spread her knees wider. When mistress dropped down to the ground to join her, she picked up the bottle of lube she’d used earlier and coated the vibrator with the liquid. Reagan licked her lips in anticipation until the mistress aimed the lube toward her pussy and squirted a steady stream that soaked her entire pelvis.

What…the shit.

But before she could voice her complaints, the vibrator was on her, rubbing against her slit. Her breath caught in her chest, and next to her, Evan let out a groan as he watched. His long, thick cock jutted out like it was dying for attention, but with his hands tied behind his back, there was no way to relieve the ache.

Perfect torture for my man…

The vibe moved against her like a damn slip and slide, too slick to stay where she most needed it, a.k.a. her damn clitoris. Mistress Incompetent had slicked her down like a jammed door that needed extra WD-40.

This is getting ridiculous.

As the buzzing continued, Reagan tried in vain to lift her hips and direct the vibe where she wanted, but it was no use, and just as she was about to mention that tiny little fact, Mistress J reached around the back of her skirt and pulled out a sleeve to slide over the top of the vibe. Reagan’s eyes widened when she saw the little rubber nubby spikes, and she hoped like hell that the soft points would add the extra traction needed to keep the toy in place.

When the mistress had the vibe ready, she gave Reagan an evil grin and crooked a finger at her.

“Come closer,” she said.

Reagan rose up on her knees and shuffled close enough that any farther and she would be straddling Mistress J’s lap. She looked into the woman’s eyes and was hoping that after all was said and done, the woman would lower the vibe, rub it all over her, and get her the fuck off while Evan watched.

But yeah, I should’ve known better…

Mistress J brought the vibe up in front of Reagan and her mouth parted, as if she was about to say something, and then…well, then all fucking hell broke loose. Before Reagan could work out how, her beautiful curls which she’d spent a goddamn hour styling for this evening were tangled all the fuck up in a toy that was supposed to be giving maximum pleasure, not intense pain.

“Reagan?”

She heard Evan’s voice but was too busy shouting, “Oww!” Reagan jerked her head forward to try and ease the pulling on her scalp, but that didn’t help because the brainiac holding the blasted thing was now yanking the vibrator her way. “Stop fucking pulling on it,” Reagan said.

The mistress put her hand on Reagan’s forehead and continued to tug. “Keep your—”

“So help me God, if you tell me to shut my mouth before I have this the fuck out of my hair…” Reagan aimed her eyes up at the woman who had a death grip on the vibrating device. Mistress J obviously decided the threat of death was a real one, because she shut her mouth and listened.

“Switch the damn thing off.”

God, when did I become the one in charge tonight? Evan better give me the check at the end of this debacle.

Mistress J switched it off, and as the humming stopped and silence fell around the room, Reagan thought she caught a chuckle behind her.

Oh no he isn’t…

Reagan glanced over her shoulder to where Evan was still kneeling, hands secured behind his back and a stupid-as-shit grin on his fool face.

“Karma,” he mouthed at her. Reagan narrowed her eyes on him, and he was smart enough to clamp his teeth down on his bottom lip.

She then looked back to the woman still holding the vibe, which was tangled in her hair like a curling iron. “If you don’t mind, how about you go work on him while I go and wipe myself off.”

“Don’t you want me to—”

“Oh no. You have done quite enough to me for the night. From here on out, you can do things and also have me do them to him. Capiche?”

Mistress J stared Reagan down, and then let go of the vibrator and got to her feet. The toy hung heavy and pulled at Reagan’s scalp, and with a grumble, she managed to put her foot underneath her and push herself to a standing position, but goddamn if the floor didn’t move under her fucking feet. The ocean of lube that’d been poured all over her dripped steadily on the hardwood, and her stiletto skated, trying to find purchase. Slowly, she put her weight on her leg and tried to stand, but the thin heel of her shoe slipped from underneath her, and she fell ass first back on the ground.

“Are you fucking kidding right now?” she cried, struggling to sit up. Great. Now there was lube in her hair, all over her back. Her legs were sliding around in it. So fucking gross. She lifted her arms to move the hair sticking to her skin out of her face and only proceeded to make herself even more of a hot mess.

And Evan’s stupid-ass chuckling wasn’t making things any better.

“Aw babe, don’t be like that. You look sexy with your hair all tangled and uh…full of cock.” He winked at her. “And you know how much I love you on your back…”

“Are you enjoying this right now?” Reagan said. “I should have her castrate you. Hell, at this rate, she might.”

“Silence!” Mistress J’s voice echoed off the walls, and had them both shutting their mouths. For the moment, anyway.

“You sit there like a good girl while I take care of Evan here,” mistress said as she poured the water from the teapot into the cereal bowl.

Reagan rolled her eyes. “Not like I can get up anyway.” And I smell like a damn cupcake.

“That’s okay,” Evan said, smirking at her. “I’m up enough for the both of us.”

Oh holy shit, Reagan thought as she watched the mistress coming around to the front of Evan. Not for long…

EVAN’S EYES were on his disheveled hellcat who was…was…now looking over his shoulder in alarm. What the—“Motherfucker!”

Mistress J had laid a firm hand on his chest and pushed him until his shoulders were touching the wall, making his thighs spread for balance as she slid the cereal bowl full of hot water under his ball sac. Before he could think more than the curse word he’d just shouted, the crazy bitch had her head down over his wilting cock with a straw inserted in the bowl, blowing like she was inflating a motherfucking balloon.

Evan tried to scramble back, but he had nowhere to go as the effervescence of the hot bubbles had him cringing and looking to Reagan for some fucking help.

Reagan’s eyes were huge as she took in the unbelievable scene happening to him, and then when they managed to lift from what the hell was going on to meet his, Evan said, “Fucking do something!”

Reagan scrambled, bare-assed, to her knees, and had this been any other part of him bar his fucking balls on the line, he may have found the situation immensely hilarious…but it was his balls on the line, and they were currently losing the ability to produce sperm with the heat that they were being drowned in, and all he could think was, Swim, fuckers, swim for your life!

“Hey, lady!” Reagan shouted, but Mistress J had apparently lost her hearing along with her damn mind, because she was still down there blowing away on her cauldron of crazy.

“Lady!” Reagan shouted again, and finally Mistress J raised her head.

She didn’t, however, free his boys.

“When your sub is shouting motherfucker, that’s a sign he is not happy to continue. Though considering you didn’t even ask us for a safe word, you probably don’t even know that. Take my guy’s balls out of your bowl. Now.”

Evan could feel the vein at the side of his temple throbbing as he clenched his hands behind him.

Jesus, please take the bowl away. Take it away, you crazy fucking madwoman.

Mistress J was in some sort of standoff with Reagan, and while Evan appreciated Reagan’s desire to have it out with the woman, maybe she could do it when his balls were on ice…not fire.

His eyes were starting to roll to the back of his head as mistress yanked the bowl away. Oh thank fuck. Then she got to her feet and glared down at Reagan.

“If you weren’t up for my services, you shouldn’t have called me,” the domibitch said.

“Oh, I was up, but then you broiled my balls for dinner,” Evan said.

“I’ll have you know the ballcuzzi is my most requested service.”

“The ballcuzzi? Are you shitting me right now?” His voice sounded unnaturally high-pitched to his ears, and he knew if he didn’t get any goddamn ice in the next minute, he’d probably pass out from second fucking degree burns and trauma. “Go right now and put some ice in this damn bowl, and then when you’ve done that, untie us.” So I can strangle you.

The expression on his face must’ve been wild, though, because mistress’s brow practically rose to her hairline, and she backed away.

“My balls are on fire, you psycho wench,” he yelled, and that got her moving. But not moving in the way he wanted. She ran around the bedroom, throwing her items back in the duffel bag, but leaving the empty lube bottle on the floor. The mistress went to grab for the dildo in Reagan’s hair, but when Reagan growled at her like a feral dog, she quickly backed away. When she’d gathered up everything—including the damn bowl not filled with ice, she threw the bag over her shoulder, and, with a middle-finger salute, she was out the door.

“Hey!” Evan called out as she scurried away from them and toward the front of the apartment.

“She’s not… She can’t be leaving,” Reagan said, and then called out, “You get back here right now and untie us, you purple-haired cuntbag, or we’ll—”

The front door slammed shut, then with a decisive fuck you, and they both sat there, stock-still, waiting for Mistress J to realize what she’d forgotten. But when they were no longer able hear the women’s footsteps and silence descended, they looked at each other with mouths agape.

“What the fuck,” they both said at the same time.

“Where did you find her?” Reagan asked. “Craigslist? Midtown East?”

“A buddy of mine recommended her.”

“I’m guessing he’s a fan of the ballcuzzi.”

Evan shuddered.

Reagan held her arms out toward him. “Okay. Untie me, please, so I can freeze your sac.”

“Uhhh. About that…”

“What about it?”

“I may have…overexaggerated my abilities.”

“What?”

“I didn’t think we’d ever actually have to escape from a demented dominatrix, Reagan.”

“Oh my God, you idiot.” Reagan sighed and looked around the apartment. “Well, at least she didn’t steal anything—”

“Besides the skin of my balls,” Evan said, and then nodded at Reagan’s hair. “And she actually left you a gift. How nice.”

“Oh shut up.” Reagan pouted. “You won’t like it much when I have to chop my hair off to get this damn thing out.”

“You could be bald, and I’d still find you sexy as hell.” When he leaned over to give her a kiss, the sting of his scalded testicles had him wincing and sitting back.

As they sat against the wall surveying the damage—an entire bottle of lube poured over Reagan and the floor, water from the bowl drenching the end of his bed from mistress’s haste to leave, the two of them naked and tied up like cattle, a fucking dildo in Reagan’s hair—he began to laugh. Hysterically. His head fell against the wall as Reagan joined in, both of them laughing until they couldn’t breathe.

“Happy anniversary,” Evan said before breaking into another fit of laughter.

Reagan chuckled and then shook her head. “The next time we celebrate, a good, old-fashioned fuck in the swing would suffice.” “Duly noted.”

“By the way,” Reagan said, nodding at the wall of windows that had been left open. “Think anyone’s called the police yet?”

The End

FOR MORE (HOTTER) sexy time with Evan and Reagan, make sure to pick up SEX ADDICT by Brooke Blaine and Ella Frank. Available Now!

YOU COULD SAY Brooke Blaine was a book-a-holic from the time she knew how to read; she used to tell her mother that curling up with one at 4 a.m. before elementary school was her 'quiet time.' Not much has changed except for the espresso I.V. pump she now carries around and the size of her onesie pajamas.

Brooke enjoys writing sassy contemporary romance, whether in the form of comedy, suspense, or erotica. The latter has scarred her conservative Southern family for life, bless their hearts.

If you'd like to get in touch with her, she's easy to find - just keep an ear out for the Rick Astley ringtone that's dominated her cell phone for ten years.

www.BrookeBlaine.com

ELLA FRANK IS the author of the #1 Bestselling Temptation series, including Try, Take, and Trust. Her Exquisite series has been praised as “scorching hot!” and “enticingly sexy!”

A life-long fan of the romance genre, Ella writes contemporary and erotic fiction and lives with her husband in Portland, OR.  You can reach her on the web at www.ellafrank.com and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/ella.frank.author

Some of her favorite authors include Tiffany Reisz, Kresley Cole, Riley Hart, J.R. Ward, Erika Wilde, Gena Showalter, and Carly Philips.

www.EllaFrank.com

TOO MANY OF US

BROOKE PAGE

“How far from the bridge is the cabin again?” Becca asked from the back seat.

“About two hours,” Tyler said. He was hunched over the steering wheel, squinting from the bright snow that had been falling in big chunks our entire ride from Grand Rapids.

“I don’t remember it taking this long,” I muttered. I hadn’t been to our family cabin in years, around fifteen to be specific. When I told Jamie, my beautiful wife sitting behind me in the SUV, that we had a cabin buried deep in the woods in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan she became curious, wanting to make a trip to see a part of my childhood.

The idea was fantastic, something I was anxious to show her.

But I wanted to show her myself. Not with my brother and sister-in-law tagging along.

“The snow isn’t helping with our time,” Tyler sighed, making a right out of Mackinaw City toward the bridge. The sun had set, and the snow delayed our time by at least two hours.

“The bridge will be open, right?” Jamie asked warily. The heavy downfall of the snow was something she still needed to get used to. She grew up in Florida, and had only spent a handful of time in the colder climate.

“Takes a lot to close the bridge down,” I assured her, reaching behind my seat to tap her knee. She leaned into my touch, and the smallest interaction made my cock twitch.

My irritability with our unexpected company increased another twenty percent.

Jamie and I hadn’t been intimate in far too long, and I was looking forward to escaping into the woods with her for a long weekend. A summer month verses early spring would have been more ideal given the ever changing Michigan weather, but I took what I could get. Jamie wasn’t as willing to take off just the two of us often, actually never.

The soft coo’s coming from the back seat were the reason for that. Don’t get me wrong, our six month old son, Landon, was the apple of my eye, and I didn’t like leaving him either, but the need to be alone with my wife was growing.

It was strong and taking over my every thought.

I missed my hands exploring every inch of her, my mouth caressing her skin, forming goose bumps, making her beg for me to fill her until her whole body would quake.

My knee bounced to help ease the discomfort and dull the ache that was building in my pants.

“The weather isn’t perfect, but that won’t stop this get away from being fun! When’s the last time the four of us got to hang out?” Becca said.

“Seems like it’s always the four of us,” I muttered under my breath. Tyler’s lip twitched, a sign he’d heard my remark.

“Five of us,” Jamie corrected Becca. Landon babbled more, causing both women in the back to awe.

He wasn’t even a year old and knew how to get the ladies to go crazy over him.

“That son of yours is giving my wife baby fever,” Tyler mumbled.

“I heard that,” Becca snapped.

Jamie laughed. “Tyler, I’ll let Becca babysit Landon more often to help ease the itch.”

“Becca watches our nieces and nephews all the time,” Tyler stated.

“You enjoy watching them too!” Becca argued.

Letting my brother and sister in law bicker, I tilted my head toward the window. “What are you going to do about my itch?” I whispered to Jamie.

She leaned forward, resting her head on the shoulder of my seat. “You want another baby?”

My eyes widened.

“I didn’t think so.” Jamie giggled in my ear, and it made me grin. I loved hearing her happy like this.

“I wanted some alone time,” I said under my breath, reaching behind my seat to squeeze her calf.

Her lips gently pressed against my ear, sending tingles low into my groin. “You’ll get it. We have two babysitters. Why do you think I asked Becca and Tyler to come?”

“The cabin is tiny,” I hissed, damning the seat between us.

“There are two rooms, right? And Landon is a great sleeper. We can set his pack-n- play up in the living room,” she promised. The heat of her tongue teased the inside of my ear.

Tyler and Becca were still heated in conversation. Keeping my voice low, I flirted, “Why don’t you start now?”

I sensed her grin, then felt her hand creep between my seat and the door, rubbing past my hip and to my thigh. “Maybe if everyone falls asleep.”

“Would you two stop arguing?” I groaned, whipping my head in Tyler’s direction. Both their mouths clamped shut.

Jamie retreated after my outburst, but I caught her hand, lacing our fingers together.

“We weren’t arguing,” Becca mumbled, crossing her arms and leaning her head against the window.

THE CAR WAS quiet within a half hour. Landon hummed himself to sleep like usual, and Becca’s eyes had been closed for at least ten minutes. I would know, since I’d been constantly checking, anxious to get my wife to become adventurous inside this car. Tyler would mutter about the snow every few minutes, but for the most part was focused on driving in the now blizzard. He turned the weather on the radio, and every time the words unexpected winter weather warning came on he’d grumble.

Just as I was about to reach back and tap Jamie’s knee, her sly hand found my side, reaching between the seatbelt and my jeans. I resituated, angling myself so she could have better access. Draping my coat over my lap, I guided her hand to my eager cock pressing against the coarse fabric of my jeans. Her delicate fingers stroked gently along the seam of my zipper. I was prepared to undo my pants, but the seatbelt was in the way.

Glancing over at Tyler, he was still engrossed on the road, the light from the council of the car glowing on his face. Gulping, I reached to unclasp the belt buckle, slowly pushing the button down. The clicking sound seemed to blast through the car.

Tyler only kept his eyes on the road. My heart raced as Jamie’s hand became more aggressive. I hissed between my teeth, cautiously lifting my hips so she could unbutton my jeans easily.

We were really doing this.

Jamie’s hand brushed the mesh of my boxer briefs, causing me to take a ragged breath.

“So what do you think of the Cub’s new first baseman?” Tyler’s question startled me, making my back stiffen. Jamie didn’t falter, her hand sliding under the elastic of my boxers.

I sucked in air. “The what?”

“Didn’t you watch ESPN this morning? The Cubs traded their first baseman for a rookie.”

“Oh,” I choked, trying not to squirm as Jamie’s hand gripped my shaft. The warm, tense hold she had made my balls tighten.

“I’ve never heard of him. Guess he’s got a great stroke with the bat.”

Jamie snickered behind me, making a point to palm my cock from root to tip. “I think I’ve got a pretty good stroke,” she whispered against my ear, picking up her pace.

“I bet he hits the ball,” Jamie purred, her nail traced the seam of my testicles, “really far and really,” then her hand snugly cupped my scrotum, “hard.”

She literally had me by the balls, and I wanted nothing more than to let her rub me raw-- but Jesus, my brother was trying to have a conversation in the seat next to me.

“I looked up his stats, he’s good at finding holes,” Tyler continued.

“I hope you’ll be good at finding holes tonight,” Jamie murmured against my ear.

And I thought my cock couldn’t get any stiffer.

Tyler babbled on obliviously. “He mainly hits doubles. Nothing wrong with that, but I wouldn’t be bragging about getting to second base.”

“Nothing wrong with second base,” Jamie said louder, making herself present in the conversation. “I think Mitch would be happy with a double.”

If it were light outside, the whole world would mistake my face for a tomato.

“Hah! When’s the last time you hit a double in softball league?” Tyler playfully smacked my knee and laughed. The action made me jump out of my seat. Jamie’s hand pulled away from my reaction, and I pouted internally.

“Sorry buddy, didn’t mean to startle you,” Tyler chuckled, focusing back on the road.

I took a deep breath, blowing out air I’d been holding onto. For the first time I was thankful for the arctic weather, otherwise I wouldn’t have a coat to hide my wife’s naughty hand. What if Tyler would have hit my junk? Thank God Becca was still sleeping.

This was so fucking awkward.

Once I was back in my seat, Jamie’s hand slithered back under my jeans. I wanted her to keep going, I really did, but I didn’t want to get off with my brother yapping next to me. My hand gently grasped her wrist, but my movement must have been too subtle.

“You want to split season tickets this year?” Tyler carried on, not having a clue that I was about to blow my shit all over my jacket.

Jamie’s hand slid up and down my shaft faster. My hand holding her wrist must have been mistaken from stop to go--at full fucking speed.

“Sure,” I grunted, hoping my answer would be enough. Processing a complete thought that didn’t involve spurting seaman in my coat would be impossible.

My response satisfied him, because he didn’t ask for further explanation. My hand loosened around her wrist. Maybe I could get off with my brother and sister-in-law in the car. They had no clue what was happening, and as long as neither of them were talking, I could blissfully lose myself for the slightest moment.

My mind wandered, getting lost in my thoughts as Jamie’s hand found the perfect stroke she knew I liked. She was standing before me in my mind, wearing a busty black laced bra, her tits damn near popping out. I could even see areola. Licking my lips, I imagined her legs spreading as she straddled me, a miniscule black skirt hiking to her hips, revealing nothing but her smooth, pink pussy, begging to be played with.

My nostrils flared from my daydream. Turning my head toward the window, my jaw slacked open, letting out a mangled breath causing the window to fog. I was close now, and Jamie could tell. Her lips found my ear, the moistness of her tongue pressing against the shell.

“Are you going to come on my hand?” she whispered, her breath heavy with need.

Fuck me. I was. I really was…

Until a tiny snort, followed by a whimper turned cry, caused Jamie’s hand to curl back behind her seat.

My eyes sprung open. DAMN IT! “He’s fine,” I croaked, clearing my dry throat. “He’ll go back to sleep.”

Jamie quietly hushed him, and I knew her hand would no longer be on my throbbing cock and extremely blue balls.

“I think you might be right Lando,” Tyler sighed. “Enough is enough in this car. The weather is terrible. I think it’s time we stop and crash for the night.”

“What?” I muttered. “Tyler, we aren’t that far away.”

“We’ve gone five miles in forty-five minutes. I’m tired, and I can’t deal with a cranky baby in a confined area. At least not tonight.” Tyler was reaching his grumpy state. Stopping wouldn’t be so bad, if we could find a place. There wasn’t a lot of activity in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

“Look,” Tyler said, pointing with one finger to a blinking sign. “We are in luck.”

I smirked. I was the one who was about to be in luck.

“YOU’VE GOT to be kidding me,” I bellowed. “They really only have one room available?”

Tyler spun the single key in his hand. “There’s two beds. I’m not driving in that blizzard any longer, and I’m not letting anyone else drive my car.”

“Why can’t we look for another hotel?”

Tyler rolled his eyes, his jaw clenching with annoyance. “You heard the guy at the front desk. There isn’t another place to stay for another thirty miles, and it most likely is booked for the ice fishing tournament.”

I huffed, opening the lobby door, getting blasted by the frigid air in the process. “This fucking sucks.”

“I don’t want to share a room with you either,” Tyler grumbled, “but we don’t have many options. Man up and deal with it.”

Deal with it. Right. Tell that to the big load of come wanting to explode out of my agitated cock.

Tyler opened the rear hatch, informing Becca and Jamie of our situation. Neither woman complained. Jamie was busy rocking Landon back to sleep. Thankfully, he’d stopped crying. Most likely he was just sick of his car seat. I couldn’t blame him. I was sick of being the car too, but I was willing to sit in that car for another four hours to get some alone time with my wife.

THE ROOM WAS SMALLER than the playhouse in our backyard. The beds were ‘queens’ but looked like twin mattresses. There was maybe a foot between them and each wall, and another two feet between each bed. I had no idea how I was going to set up Landon’s pack-n-play. Thankfully the hallway to the bathroom was a touch bigger, and left just more than a foot for us to get into the bathroom.

“This is a joke,” I griped, trying to cram our bag into the closet. “How is this even legal? I should call the county inspector on their asses.”

“It’s just for one night,” Jamie whispered. She was rocking Landon on the bed, slowly moving her arms from side to side as she leaned against the wall. Yes, there weren’t even headboards in this fine establishment.

Becca emerged from the bathroom in pajama pants and a t-shirt, plopping herself down next to Tyler on their bed. “The snow is going to die down in the morning. We should still be able to get to the cabin in a decent amount of time.”

“I even set my alarm,” Tyler grumbled, rolling away from Becca and getting comfortable under the covers. Becca climbed under the covers with him, snuggling against his back.

I sighed, giving in to the fact I would be stuck in this tiny room for the night with too much company.

Jamie gave me a slight smile. Even with tired eyes, she was the most gorgeous woman alive.

My lip quirked into a grin. Sliding between the wall and the bed, I made my way to her side, kissing the top of her head. “Let me lay him down.”

She nodded, cautiously handing our sleeping baby boy to me.

Jamie stood and followed me the short distance to Landon’s pack-n-play. Just as I set him down, Jamie’s hand wrapped around my waist, cupping my cock. “Want to join me in the shower?”

My dick rose to the occasion. Jamie giggled in my ear, then coyly wedged her way between the pack-n-play and the wall to enter the bathroom.

Glancing toward Tyler and Becca, I noticed they hadn’t moved. Landon was passed out and cozy in his bed. Now was the time to get some well needed relief.

Following Jamie’s steps, I squeezed between Landon’s bed and the wall, all too eager to join my wife in the hot water.

Jamie was still in the door frame once I got through the tight space. Wrapping my hands around her waist, I pressed my erection to her lower back, wanting her to feel how excited and ready I was to be alone with her. To my surprise, she didn’t move forward. My lips found her neck, gently sucking and nipping.

“Um, baby…” Jamie said with humor in her voice.

“Um, what?” I murmured seductively, keeping my attention solely on her. She grabbed my hands, removing my attention from her body and to-What the hell? “Is this a fucking airport bathroom?”

Jamie softly chuckled, stepping into the smallest space for a bathroom I had ever seen. One step was all she needed, and found herself between the sink and the toilet, then a homemade stand up shower stall.

“No way in hell does this meet code,” I chided, pressing my body closer to Jamie’s. Closing the door was going to be hard to do with the two of us in here.

“Hmm, I don’t know, the puke green tile seems fitting,” Jamie teased, reaching for the bulge in my pants.

My brow rose. This miniscule bathroom wasn’t going to stop me from fucking my wife. “We just might have to get creative.”

Her hand squeezed my cock. “Good thing we both work in an imaginative field.”

Yes, yes it was. One hand reached to shut the door while the other snaked around Jamie’s waist. But there was a problem. The fucking door wouldn’t shut.

Jamie’s eyebrows furrowed while I struggled. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s jammed,” I grumbled, attempting to turn around so I could see the door. Jamie’s front pressed against me now, and she giggled by how difficult it was for us to adjust ourselves in this position. A towel was crammed in the door jam. “How crappy is this place?” I said in a harsh whisper.

Jamie ignored my attitude, rustling behind me then opening the curtain to the shower, that I only assumed to be as big as a raisin box.

Finally, after three big tugs, the wash towel was removed, and I could close the old rickety door.

“Well, now that that’s figured out-” I carefully turned, well aware of our spatial confinement.

The difficult area we were working with quickly faded as my eyes raked over my wife's now half naked body. Her shirt was tossed to the floor, and that sexy black lacy bra that made her tits pop out of my filthy dream became a reality.

She seductively bit her lip, lowering her jeans down her hips. She was confident in her body after having a baby six months ago, and I fucking loved it.

Her hands grabbed the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head so it was laying on top of hers.

Not being able to control myself any longer, I closed the small space between us, lifting her to wrap her legs around my waist. Except when I did, her head caught the shower curtain rod, knocking it out of place and making a loud crash.

Jamie covered her mouth from laughing, but then quickly reached for her head.

“Jesus, are you okay?” I asked sincerely.

She nodded, a huge grin on her face. I couldn’t help but chuckle with her.

I moved more cautiously this time, slowly rotating so I could set her down on the sink.

The moment I let her weight fall on the porcelain, a loud crack happened, and Jamie’s body jerked forward, causing me to lose my balance and fall backward, straight into the toilet.

A sharp pain from hitting the back of the toilet in such a rush shot through my back.

“Oh my God,” Jamie laughed while straddling me. “I broke the sink!”

I laughed with her, but quickly covered her mouth, attempting to hold in my own cackles. If all the noises we both had just made hadn’t woken up our other company it would be a miracle.

We both sat uncomfortably for a moment, waiting for sound to emerge behind the door, but nothing besides a soft, simmering water leak from the sink breaking filled the air.

Jamie had so much color in her cheeks as she tried to keep herself from laughing hysterically at this fucked up situation. She really was the most exquisite woman on the planet, and I was so thankful she was mine.

Cupping her beautiful face, I kissed her lips, wanting to savor the rare moment of alone time we had before anything else terribly wrong happened.

Her gentle giggles soon turned more passionate. Hands curled around the back of my neck, pulling me in deeper so her tongue could claim my mouth. I loved when she became possessive like this, demanding and controlling. It was so fucking hot. Even if I was sitting on a toilet with a gentle mist forming around us from the slow leak in the broken sink.

My hands quickly found her bra strap, unclasping it to free her swollen breasts from nursing. I couldn’t wait to get my mouth on them. Playing with her tits didn’t happen as often as I liked because they were still tender, but I was willing to be as gentle as I need to be in order to get my hands and lips on them.

She leaned back, setting her hands on my knees so those perky globes were right in my face.

I examined them, taking a big breath of appreciation before my hands roamed up her rips to cup each breast.

“Careful,” Jamie said quietly.

“Always,” I assured her, tilting my head and pressing my tongue to one taut nipple. She moaned in delight, rubbing her jean covered clit against my rock hard cock.

She loved when I played with her tits as much as I did. She wiggled her shoulders, letting my face enjoy their plumpness. It was such a tease when she did this. I didn’t know if I wanted to bite them or put my cock between them. Instead, I reached up and squeezed each one.

I opened my mouth too fucking soon to suck on her nipples, because the second I grasped her boobs, breast milk shot me in all different directions from each nipple. I mean that shit was coming out of more than just those perky little buds. My face scrunched as my mouth snapped shut.

When I opened my eyes, Jamie’s head was tilted back, her mouth hanging open and eyes squeezed shut while she continued to rock. She had no idea she was shooting me with breast milk.

She pouted when she realized my hands left her tits, but I quickly diverted, not wanting her to get embarrassed. Wiping my face swiftly with one hand, I lifted her again, this time stepping into the shower. The space in there wasn’t forgiving either, but I needed to get this fucking breast milk off my body.

Setting Jamie down on two feet, I went on my knees before her, unsnapping her jeans in a rush and yanking them down her legs along with her panties. She moaned in delight, knowing what I was about to do. She smelled so sweet, I completely forgot that I was covered in tit milk.

My mouth hummed over her mound, causing her body to shudder.

With a deep, husky breath, Jamie said, “Mitch, I don’t know if I can be quiet if you do this.”

I licked her clit faster, wanting to hear her let loose. Her moaning my name was so sexy.

“Mitch,” she groaned through gritted teeth again, clutching my hair in her hand. The way she tugged made my cock twitch. I ignored her, taking turns swirling my tongue around her sensitive nub and sucking it between my teeth.

Looking up, I wanted to see her face tighten as she came, but was greeted by something else.

A shower of fucking breast milk, again.

I winced, turning my head, and unfortunately, this time Jamie was watching.

“Oh my God!” She muffled through her hand. One arm covered her spurting breasts the best it could while the other remained covering her mouth.

Wiping my face one more time, I stood to face her. The look in her eyes was mortifying.

“Don’t worry about it,” I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been sprayed before.”

Her hand was trying to contain her smile now. “Really?”

I nodded. “Yes, maybe not that intense, but it’s natural… I think?”

Jamie shook her head and snorted. I laughed as quietly as I could with her.

After we had collected ourselves, Jamie unbuttoned my pants. “Let’s clean you up.”

Stripping bare, I agreed, turning on the water faucet. Warm water cascaded down our bodies, misting along with the slow leak from the sink since the shower curtain had broken off to block the water from the rest of the bathroom.

“Can we finish what we started, please?” Jamie asked sweetly, kissing my pec muscle.

I cupped her pussy, catching her off guard and getting a sexy little shrill to release from her lips. “Turn around and I’ll see what I can do.”

She whimpered, but obeyed once I took my hand away. Planting my hands on either side of her hips, I ran my cock between her ass cheeks, enjoying how nicely they had rounded from her pregnancy as well.

Bending as far as she could, she wiggled her ass and stood on her tip toes, demanding entry.

I wasn’t one to hold out on her, so I plunged forward, filling her completely. She moaned against the grain of the shower water, and I cursed from how tight she felt.

“You’ve been doing your exercises,” I hissed, pulling out, then slamming back into her.

She squeezed my cock with that tight pussy, and I groaned again, thrusting forward again.

“Harder,” she demanded, arching her back as much as she could in the small space. I grabbed her shoulder with one hand, keeping my other on her hip. I had a good hold on her now. The pounding I was prepared to give her wouldn’t last long.

But I drove on, completely ignoring the twinge in my back from falling on the toilet, fucking her with all I had in me. It felt so amazing, and I wanted to hold on to the feeling for as long as I could, but once her walls clutched my cock, it was over. I was spurting hot and furiously inside of her.

My high came shattering down all too soon by a loud clang, and Jamie’s body jutting upward, forcing my cock to painfully slip out of her warm center.

“Ouch!” She shouted as quietly as she could, beginning to hop on one foot.

My breath was ragged, “What’s wrong? Fuck!”

Ice cold water blasted from the shower head, causing Jamie to shriek again. She crashed back into me, trying to get away from the freezing water, toppling us both to the ground, still being pelted with what felt like ice.

“I grabbed the handle when I was coming,” Jamie chattered, trying to scurry off me and out of the water. “It broke off and fell on my toe!” Sure enough, blood was streaking the tile floor.

We were both slippery as shit trying to get out of that tiny space, but finally, we smashed ourselves between the broken sink and toilet. Both our eyes took in our surroundings, then an enormous laugh erupted from us both.

This was from a fucking comedy skit. Water everywhere, broken fixtures, and two naked people with a fucked up back and bleeding toe.

I reached over my head to where the towels were hanging, throwing one at Jamie. We were still laughing uncontrollably.

Then a knock sounded on the bathroom door. “What the hell is going on in there?” Tyler asked. He was clearly irritated. Once I saw my wife was covered by the towel, and my legs, because let’s not forget, there was no fucking space for two people to sit on the floor in this shit hole, I responded through tears of laughter.

“You can open the door.”

Jamie laughed harder into her hands.

Tyler yanked open the door, his eyes widening as he searched the space, then landed on Jamie and me. I couldn’t read his expression, and I really didn’t give two shits what he was thinking because this was all just too hilarious.

“This is going on your credit card, NOT mine,” he said firmly, then closed the door.

Jamie and I laughed harder.

After the tears had subsided, Jamie climbed on my lap. I kissed her nose, “I think we just solidified that we are perfect for each other.”

“How’s that?”

“What other couple would go through that and still get off in the process?”

“I love you,” she giggled.

I kissed her again. “I love you too.”

The End

BROOKE PAGE IS a contemporary romance author who loves writing romantic suspense novels that will lead her readers through twists and turns with each page. She wants her readers to feel like they are a part of the thrill, making their hearts race from not only passion but also the intensity of the story. Brooke has a craft for weaving steam and mystery, giving her readers a story they won't want to put down. Find more from Brooke HERE.

ONE NIGHT OH GOD NO

CAREY HEYWOOD

“A nother,” I order, tapping the rim of my shot glass.

“Are you sure?” Heidi, my best friend asks with a raised brow.

See, she’s usually the wild one and I’m the voice of reason. I’ve talked her out of many a shot of tequila more times than I can count. Our roles being reversed, is a first for her.

Normally, I don’t drink and I don’t like feeling out of control. Tonight, I don’t want to feel anything.

At first, when I told her my plans for the evening she laughed. I don’t blame her.

She isn’t laughing now.

“Yep, then we’re going to find me a guy to fuck.”

She blinks at my use of the f word.

See, that isn’t something the old me would think, let alone say. That is of course until I found out my fiancé was cheating on me, with another man.

I, Sasha Elizabeth Haven, have been the unknowing beard to Paul Donovan Wilson for god knows how long.

Since our first date?

Did he know then?

Did he know when I gave him my virginity after two years of dating?

He was sweet and safe and treated me like a queen. How could I have been such an idiot? I can’t even say hindsight is twenty-twenty because I still don’t see him as anything other than the perfect boyfriend turned fiancé.

Sure, our passion was on the low side of the scale. At least from how lovemaking is described in books or what it looks like in movies.

Yes, he’s never given me an orgasm, but I read somewhere that lots of women can’t orgasm during sex.

And yes, half of the time we tried to make love he would go soft but I had convinced myself that was normal too. Why else would there be a ton of different pills out there just to help a guy keep it up?

That wasn’t the reason though, it was me. Paul hadn’t wanted me. He had no problems keeping it up while he rammed it into his personal trainer, Greg.

I watch, first horrified to find him cheating and then strangely fascinated to see him turned on in a way that he had never, not once been with me.

He was so powerful, so dominant, and so rough with Greg while also saying seriously sexy as heck things to him.

This did not appear to be their first rodeo. If an approaching hurricane hadn’t of caused my company to cancel their retreat I may have never caught him.

What would we have done then, gotten married, tried to have children?

A life together with him getting more than one daily workout with Greg?

I’m pissed and relieved all at the same time. Dating Paul had been a trap, a trap I wanted at the time but still. He asked me out the second week of our sophomore year of high school and the rest was history.

He was the perfect gentleman. My parents loved him, his parents loved me and we were standing hand in hand on a conveyor belt of destiny.

With Paul by my side I never had to worry about finding a date to a winter formal or Prom. He was handsome, so so handsome, and still is.

We both went to state and our parents didn’t bat an eyelash when we moved in together junior year.

Nope, the only person who ever expressed one peep of concern was Heidi, who dutifully refills my shot glass.

As soon as it is full I throw it back and stand, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as I try not to cough from the burn of alcohol sliding down my throat. “Do I look one-night-standable?”

She sets the bottle of tequila down and shakes her head but still says, “Yes Sasha, you look very sexy.”

I glance down; still surprised to see all the cleavage I was rocking. Lifting a hand to each of my breasts I squeeze them and lift them, bouncing them a bit while Heidi covers her eyes.

“This bra is like boob magic,” I whisper, still amazed by my own boobs.

It’s not like I didn’t have okay boobs, I did. They just weren’t crazy big or all cleavage-y normally.

“It’s a push up bra babe,” Heidi laughs and reaches to pull one of my arms down.

“A magical push up bra,” I agree.

She nods, still shaking her head. “We’re not going anywhere until you drink one giant glass of water.”

I frown, thinking of all of the times I’ve said those words to her. I don’t want water. I want to get drunk and have a guy do me like he means it.

“Fine,” I grumble.

She laughs as she walks to her kitchen. I’m crashing with her until I can find a new place. Paul can have the apartment; I’m never going back there.

She comes back with a gigantic cup of water.

“I’ll be peeing all night,” I groan, reaching for it.

She nods. “You’ll thank me for it tomorrow. Plus, if you’re hell bent on screwing a random tonight, you do not want to be sloppy drunk just happy buzzed.”

“Why can’t I be sloppy drunk?” I argue.

She frowns at me. “It’s one thing to have drunk sex with a guy you’re dating, it’s another thing altogether with a stranger. Any guy who’d have sex with a girl who was sloppy drunk is a jerk who might not listen if she gets sober and changes her mind.”

“Okay,” I murmur, her words sobering me more than the trough of water she brought me.

I’ve only ever made love, or what I thought was love with one guy. I don’t know how to be single.

She sees my expression and gives my hand a squeeze. “I have a finely tuned asshole radar. If you absolutely must have a one night stand I’ll make sure you end up with a decent guy.”

I squeeze her hand back. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Which is the only reason I’m going along with this.”

She’s the best friend a girl could have. I dutifully drink every drop of water while she watches. Once my cup is empty she takes it from me and sets it on the coffee table behind us.

“Lets go.”

The bar is packed when we get there and my nerves are starting to kick in. “Is it okay if I have a drink as long as it isn’t another shot?”

She nods and leans against the bar, giving the bartender a decent view of her rack. Heidi does not need any push up to help emphasize her boobs.

The bartender gets one look at her and hurries over to take our order. She gives him a wave and a grin before turning back to me and passing me a fruity drink.

I take one sip and then another. “Holy crap this is good.”

She lifts her index finger. “One glass of water for every one of these you drink.”

“Yes, mom,” I reply before taking another sip.

She takes my other hand and leads me toward the most crowded part of the bar, the section closest to the stage where a band plays.

There’s a grouping of high top tables and chairs off to the side, all of them taken. I try to tug on her arm. She looks back at me, and motions for me to keep following her, so I do.

She leads us right to one table where three guys are already sitting and watching the band. One of them stands when he sees her approach and pulls her into a hug once she’s close enough for him to reach.

She looks back at me, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks.

Interesting.

She introduces me to the hugger, “Nick, this is my friend Sasha.”

Shouting over the music, he introduces the both of us to his friends, Matt and Jason.

I know, in that moment, if he’s willing, which I hope he is, that I want to end up in bed with Matt tonight.

It’s the glasses. I don’t know what it is about them but he has this whole Clark Kent nerdy hot guy thing going on.

In fact the only thing throwing me off is the diamond stud in his ear.

I push in closer to him and set my drink on the table next to his. “What’s up with the earring?”

His hand reaches for it, and he turns the stud with his thumb and forefinger. Suddenly I have a vision of him doing that to my nipple and I have to press my legs together.

“Do you like it?” He laughs, his mouth opening to show me his pearly white teeth.

This is good. This is good. It’d be hard to want to kiss him if it looked like he didn’t take care of his teeth.

I shake my head and laugh as well. “It makes you look like a pirate.”

Jason laughs and smacks Nick’s shoulder. “She said Matt’s earring makes him look like a pirate.”

They both laugh while Heidi and I give them confused looks. Why was that so funny?

Matt leans in closer to explain. “I was a pirate for Halloween. They dared me to get the earring to go with the costume and then bet me I wouldn’t keep wearing it.”

“How long do you have to wear it to win the bet?” I ask.

“Till next Halloween,” he replies.

I move in closer and watch as his eyes flick to my boobs before moving back to my eyes. Yay magic bra.

“What do you get if you win?” I ask.

He shifts his glasses up his nose before replying, “bragging rights.”

My mouth drops. “That’s it?”

Jason leans in on my other side. “I would have taken it out after a day.”

My eyes move over Matt’s handsome face, taking in the strong cut of his jaw and his oh so kissable lips before moving back over to his ear.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s growing on me.”

When Matt and Jason get up to go grab all of us another round I pull Heidi close. “Find out if he’s single.”

She throws her arm around my shoulder and moves her mouth to my ear. “Already did and Nick said he thinks he’s interested in you because he keeps checking you out.”

I suppress my desire to squeal and ask, “Should I go for it, do you think he’s a good guy?”

She leans back waiting until my eyes are on hers to nod and say, “oh yeah. I’ve known Nick for awhile and he vouched for him.”

I bite my lip. “Okay, how do I make him want me?”

She leans in again and whispers, “find excuses to touch him. Put your hand on his thigh, his arm, and his chest and see what he does. Oh, and stand for a bit. That way when Jason and him come back there isn’t a chair for you and you can ask to sit in his lap.”

My mouth drops. She is a genius.

I slide off my chair once I see them coming back.

I laugh when I see Matt brought me a water and another fruity drink. Like a good girl I gulp down the water before I start my other drink.

After taking a sip, I rest my hand on his thigh and lean in close to him to thank him for getting it for me. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as I feel the heat from his muscular thigh warm my hand.

I want him.

Taking Heidi’s advice, I touch him every chance I get and am thrilled when he starts to return the favor. In fact, I don’t even have to ask to sit in his lap, after I causally ask if we should try to find another chair he tugs me into it.

One moment I was standing and now I’m sitting on him. I don’t want to act like an animal in heat but it’s taking everything I have not to wiggle my ass against him.

I lean against him, my eyes settling on that ridiculous diamond stud in his ear. I can’t help it; I giggle which makes him turn his face to look at me.

We’re nose to nose. “What’s so funny?”

I gulp. “I never thought a guy wearing an earring would turn me on.”

His legs shift under me, his arms moving to circle me in a tight band around my waist. “Oh yeah?”

Instead of answering him, I kiss him, hard. There’s a moment of hesitation on his part, enough for me to panic before he kisses me back, just as hard.

My mouth opens under his and his tongue slides in. He tastes like whiskey and want.

My hands move into his thick dark hair. It’s full and soft with a hint of a curl. I imagine my hands in his hair as he does things to me with his tongue.

That has me breaking our kiss and panting as I say, “I’ve only had sex with one man my whole life and it turns out he was gay. Will you please have sex with me?”

He blinks at me, his eyes searching my face before he says, “Let’s go.”

I grin and he leans in to kiss me again. This time I taste nothing but his desire. Still, I break it; I want to do a whole lot more than kiss him.

I slide off his lap and grab my purse before leaning into Heidi and saying, “we’re leaving.”

She kisses my cheek and whispers, “go get him tiger.”

He takes my hand and pulls me from the bar, leading us in the opposite direction of the parking lot.

I point back towards the cars and he replies, “I walked. My place is just up around the corner from here.”

His place. Where he is going to have sex with me.

My hand squeezes his and he slows his pace until he stops, turning to face me, his hands moving into my hair. “We don’t have to do anything. We can just hang out.”

I wet my lips and say, “I’ve never had an orgasm I didn’t give myself.”

His fingers tighten in my hair and he lowers his face to mine, taking my mouth in a brutal kiss that leaves me certain of his passion before saying, “that’s changing tonight.”

We practically run to his apartment. Once we reach his door, he presses me up against the wall next to it, his erection grinding against me. “I’m going to make you come so hard you scream.”

Yes. Oh God Yes.

As soon as his door is open we’re a tangle of hands and mouths, stripping each other as we kiss. I’m so turned on I could burst, or, or I could just burst.

Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap.

All that water made me really have to pee. “Where’s your bathroom?”

He blinks down at me. His jeans are unbuttoned, his hoodie off, his t-shirt is still half on through one arm, and his glasses sit crookedly on his nose.

My shirt is off and his large hands are cupping my, still bra wearing, breasts. Yes, this is a bizarre moment to stop and ask where the bathroom is.

He lifts one of his hands from my breast to gesture toward an open door down a hall. “It’s there.”

“I’ll be right back. I just drank a lot of water and am about to pee myself,” I explain, half running to the bathroom.

After I go, and go, and go some more, holy crap I had to go, I flush. Then, as I wash my hands I stare at my reflection. My first thought, geez this bra makes my boobs look awesome, my second; I cannot wait to let Matt make me come so hard I scream.

I dry my hands and go in search of him.

“In here,” I hear and head that way.

He’s in his bedroom. His shoes, socks and t-shirt are now off but his jeans are still on.

I waste no time in joining him on his bed.

“Feel better?” He asks.

I straddle him, and his hands move to unhook my bra.

As it comes undone I panic and press my hands to my chest, holding my bra to me. “I should warn you. It was the bra that made my boobs look so good.”

He grins, pushing my hands away. “Let me be the judge of that.”

I gulp, letting the bra fall away from my body. He sits up, still keeping me straddling him and wiggles his glasses.

Slowly, so slowly every inch of my skin is tense with anticipation, his hands move back to my breasts. He cups them, squeezing them before running his thumbs across my nipples until they tighten into firm buds before his eyes.

“I have to say, these may be the most gorgeous tits I’ve ever seen in my life,” he murmurs before dipping his head.

He pinches one nipple while running his tongue over the tip of the other. I gasp, my hands moving to his head, holding him to me. If I thought I was turned on before that was nothing to now.

I ache for him, a throb radiating from the core of me.

I shift my hips against his, my skirt riding up so my wet panties press against his hard length.

I might make myself come just from this alone. He stops me though, pushing me backward until my shoulders hit his comforter. Then his hands roam, moving across my skin intent to drive me wild. They move over my breasts, my ribs, my neck, and my belly. Then, down to my thighs and under my skirt.

He pushes at it, uncovering me, his gaze coming to rest on my panties.

With one finger he pushes the fabric to the side and begins to play with my clit. Gasping, my hips buck.

“I could come just looking at you,” he groans, easing that finger inside of me.

My mouth drops open, I can’t take my eyes off of him. He’s so sexy with his now messy dark hair, his superman glasses and that silly diamond winking at me.

I could come just looking at him, his firm shoulders, his solid chest and abdomen. He doesn’t have the six-pack Paul had and I rejoice in it. No, there is something so sexy about Matt’s body in a rugged way Paul never was.

His hands move to my panties and I shift my legs, helping him pull them off of me. Then, my back still to his bed, he lifts me to his mouth, pausing only to throw my legs over his shoulders. Then he goes down on me like licking my pussy was what he was born to do.

“Holy crap,” I gasp.

His hands cup my ass, holding me to him. Even though his mouth was doing unreal things to me, what was even sexier was the way he locks eyes with me while he does it.

This is hot as hell, and I have no doubt in my mind that this is exactly where he wanted to be. This incredibly sexy man, wanted me, and he wanted me bad.

He was right.

I came so hard I screamed.

I’m still catching my breath as he eases my legs back down to his bed. Then he crawls up my body and kisses me.

I’ve never tasted myself; Paul never wanted to have oral sex. It was so unexpected to taste my pussy on Matt’s lips. It felt dirty and sexy and so amazingly passionate I get turned on all over again.

“Do you have condoms?” I ask, my hands pushing into his pants.

He breaks our kiss, pulling away to rifle around in the drawer of his bedside table. It’s weird, but I like that he has to look for them, like grabbing one was not a nightly occurrence for him.

Because, even though I was using Matt for sex tonight, I already liked him. And, to be honest, I could get used to him going down on me like that.

Once he has the condom, I pluck it from his hands and push him onto his back. I know I originally thought I wanted him to do me but I decided, I wanted to be the one in control.

While I tear open the condom wrapper, he loses his pants and boxers, leaving his log of a dick resting hard on his belly. Well hello big boy. I’m going to be sore tomorrow but it’ll be worth it after riding him.

I waste no time getting the condom onto him. Before I hop on, I unzip and slide off my skirt so we’ll be skin to skin. Any nerves I felt before his mouth went to town on me are gone. In fact, I feel freer than I’ve felt in a long time.

His hands settle on my hips as I move to straddle him again. Reaching between us, I grab his cock, lifting him up and lining him up to me.

There’s a delicious stretch as I slide down his cock. Once he’s rooted I take a moment to do nothing else but enjoy our connection, to glory in the way he fills me.

One of his hands coasts up my torso, between my breasts to the back of my neck where he grips me, pulling my mouth down to his. Our kiss is a crash, two birds in flight joined together mating on the wind.

I was wrong if I thought I’d be the one riding him. With his hand gripping my neck, my hair falling all around him, his hips piston upward. All I can do is hang on as both his mouth and his cock take me.

It’s fast, it’s hard, it’s rough, it’s everything I dreamed and so much more I didn’t even know to want.

It is also loud, the slap of our flesh bouncing off the walls of his bedroom. The angle at which he drives in, and my already primed sex have me stunned to feel something building inside of me.

He is going to make me come again. Holy crap and the way it is building, he is going to make me come even harder than he had before.

“Yes,” I groan. “Don’t stop Matt.”

If possible, he goes even harder. “I’ll never stop. God, never felt this good.”

I move my lips to his neck, only in an attempt to try and catch my breath. My entire body feels pulled tight but curled up in a ball at the same time. His hips, they just continue to pound against me. It’s too much. It’s too much. The building pressure, it’s so intense, it’s so big.

I stiffen and then break, coming with a sob. He does not stop, the thrust of his cock into my throbbing pussy only making my orgasm longer, never ending, something I didn’t even know was possible.

Then, as I continue to cling to him, my breaths coming in pants, he groans as he finds his release.

I’ve never heard a sexier sound.

His hands are vice grips on my hips, holding me down as he presses upward, his body shaking slightly.

I’m boneless, a glob of my former self laid out across him.

This is the sexiest, most insanely perfect night of my life. This handsome man has not only rocked my body but my world as well. I know in the moment that I don’t want this to be our only night together.

Be cool Sasha, seductive and cool.

As feeling creeps back into my muscles, I shift against him and press open mouth kisses to his neck.

“That was amazing,” I purr.

His hands loosen on my hips and start to caress my back, his cock twitching inside me.

Holy crap, maybe this guy was superman.

I push up on my elbows, and swing my head to the side, expecting my hair to follow so I could flick it over my shoulder all sexy like.

But no, my hair does not follow and instead, it catches on something and Matt hollers in pain.

“Matt? What happened? My hair is caught…”

I look down at him, my eyes widening.

Somehow, while riding him, my hair all over the place, some of it got caught and tangled with the back of his earring.

And, when I tried to be all sexy and throw my hair over my shoulder the force of it pulled his earring into his ear.

His eyes are pinched shut. His formerly re-hardening cock softens at light speed and starts to slide out of me. All I can do is stare at the earring wedged halfway through his ear lobe.

Then my stomach rolls and I look away, which only makes my hair tug on his earring again. He groans out, this time not sounding sexy at all but in total pain. His hands move to his earring, doing something to the back as he tries to untangle my hair from it.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry,” I whisper.

“It’s okay, just, please don’t move your head again,” he pleads.

That’s when I do it. That’s when I make a horrible mistake. I open my eyes to see what progress he’s made and see it, a drop of blood coming from his earring.

My eyes bug and I reach up to cover my mouth with my hands.

He watches my movement, his eyes widening. He shakes his head, crying out again as it must shift his earring. Another drop of blood appears and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

I throw up on him.

Then, embarrassed, I start crying.

Somehow, even with his chest and neck covered in my puke, he manages to free my hair from his earring. He doesn’t even pause to enjoy that victory, no; he scoops me up and carries me to his bathroom.

I’m still crying and apologizing as he turns on the water. Then with a grunt, he pulls the stud straight through, and out the back of his ear. He drops it in the sink and turns back to me. I watch as he removes the condom, wrapping it in a tissue before tossing it in his trash.

There’s more blood now and I heave but luckily nothing else comes up. His eyes are soft and full of concern as he guides me into his shower.

With tears of embarrassment still streaming down my face he washes himself and then me. Once there’s no sign of my vomit anywhere he surprises me by kissing me.

I pull away but he only pulls me closer, his lips moving to my cheek and then my forehead as his arms band around me. “Don’t worry about it.”

I tuck my face into his chest, my hands coming up to rest on his hips. “I’m so sorry. I’m not good with blood.”

He chuckles, his chest shaking with it. “I can tell.”

I groan, “your bed.”

He shushes me and reaches back to turn off the water. “I can throw the comforter into the wash.”

“I’ll do it.” I offer.

He shakes his head and helps me step out of his shower before wrapping me in a towel. “Okay, close your eyes.”

I don’t question him. I just do it. I hear paper ripping but don’t peek.

“Okay, you can open them.”

He has a towel wrapped around his waist but it’s his ear that makes me laugh. He’s put two small Band-Aids on it, one on either side.

“In case it bleeds more,” he explains.

He makes me wait in the bathroom while he puts his comforter in his washing machine. Then, I cringe as I hear an aerosol can spray. Crap, his room must smell like puke sex.

Gross.

He then comes back into the bathroom, offering me a t-shirt to change into.

“If you want I can go,” I offer knowing he has to want me gone.

I mean, I injured him and then threw up on him. Why wouldn’t he want me gone?

“No way. If you leave now you’ll avoid me because you think I care that you threw up.”

He reaches into the cabinet below his sink and pulls out a toothbrush, still in its plastic wrapper. “I don’t. I like you and I want you to stay. Just think,” he passes me the toothbrush, “If this works out we’ll have a great story,” he lifts his hand to his mouth and whispers, “minus the hot sex,” then lowers his hand, “to tell the grandkids.”

He then leans down and kisses the top of my head before leaving. I turn and face the mirror, unwrapping my toothbrush, smiling so big my face hurts.

I injured him, and then threw up on him and he still wants me.

Yep, he’s a keeper.

The End

About the Author

CAREY HEYWOOD IS a New York Times and USA Today bestselling romance author. To date, she has published thirteen full-length contemporary romance novels. To learn more about her books, head over to www.careyheywood.com

#MYBIGFATSTUPIDHOOKUP

CHRISTINE ZOLENDZ

“Shit, come on. We’re going to be late,” Julia says, yanking me down the hallway by the elbow toward the conference room.

I stumble on my heels and laugh. “We have five minutes. It’s not going to take five minutes to get down to the end of the hallway,” I say, thumbing a tweet about the dangers of stilettos and being late. The hallway smells strangely like a tuna sandwich—one that had been left out over night—in the heat.

“Just hurry up. Gail is going through pitches and I need to get the interview with that hockey player and his sex tape.”

I stagger into the conference room and dig my heels in to the rug, “What?” I ask under my breath, watching everyone’s eyes lift in our direction. “You don’t even like hockey.”

“I like him and I know all about sex and tape,” she whispers, giving me a wink and pushing me through the doorway. “And I’m dying to talk to him about how he pucks.”

I can’t help but laugh. That’s so Julia. I’d bet she’ll be pucking him twenty minutes after the interview ends. There would definitely be a video and plenty use of tape or rope or whatever crazy, kinky thing she could come up with. The poor guy won’t be able to sit for days after.

“So nice of you to join us,” Gail chirps from her seat at the head of the conference table. I give her a curt nod and take my regular seat. There’s no need to rush. We’re not late, and seriously, I know exactly the article I’m getting stuck with. Either the one about the sexiest eye shadow trends this month or the hottest novels to jill off too.

I’m barely focusing on the meeting, tapping out another quick tweet about people in the workplace who bring tuna for lunch and how they should be fired on the spot, when Gail’s bird-like nose whistles in a deep inhale. “How to not get caught cheating. Gavin you take this. You seem a champ at it. Great ways to enhance blowjobs. Nice pitch, but let’s take it from a guy’s point of view. Zeke, you write it.”

Zeke’s face reddens and I slap my hand over my mouth to stop myself from laughing. Of course, Gail catches it and offers up her best smirk to me, “Jane, I want you doing the front piece on one-night stands.”

Wait, what?

“That was my pitch,” Zeke cut in, leaning forward. “I’m a much better—”

“And you’re a man,” Gail snaps, standing up and slapping her palms down on the table. “The opposite view from a lonely, shy, frumpy girl in her mid thirties would be a fuck of a lot funnier. Kind of like My Big Fat Greek Hook Up.”

Mid thirties? I’m only twenty-seven.

I swallow the knot in my throat and speak up, “How am I supposed to get research?”

Gail blinks rapidly in my direction. “You want to write articles for this magazine right?” I didn’t think it was possible, but her eyes blinked faster. “You want to be part of this team, right?”

I numbly shake my head and try not to vomit.

“Good girl. Oh, and how many followers do you have on Twitter right this moment?” she asks, smirking.

“A little over half a million,” I whisper.

“Good. The one night stand…I want it tweeted live,” she says, smiling wide.

Holy shit.

TWEET: The epic saga of The One Night Stand begins in 3, 2, 1 #HeLooksDifferentThanHisProfilePicture #LikeHeHadHair

“Wow,” he says as he reaches the table where we agreed to meet. “Aren’t you…cute.”

Aren’t you…bald…and possibly ten years older than you promised? I slap a smile on my face so wide it actually hurts. “Well, thank you. I guess.”

And over a candle lit table at this shitty chain restaurant with its cheery, perky wait staff, I explain the article to him. He does what any other man in the universe would do: yank my chair closer to his and jams his tongue down my throat. Jonathan Theodore Titan Gaster Junior is his name, but everyone just calls him Jon he said…Jon-boy.

There is no way in Hades I’m calling a grown-assed man anything that ended with boy. Not without laughing hysterically in his face, anyway.

After reclaiming my tongue, Jon…boy asks the waitress for the check, snapping his fingers wildly in the poor girl’s face.

I sip at my drink and choke as I swallow. “But we didn’t even order dinner…”

“Let’s get right to this article you have to write. It’ll save time and money and you’ll get your research done. It seems fair.”

Tweet: First rule of a one-night stand: Never begin with it being a one-night stand. Especially if you’re hungry. #CheapAss #ProtitutesGetPaidMore

“Hold on, Jon, wait,” I say as he tugs me down the street quickly. My legs can’t keep up with his, and just to match his pace, I’m jogging alongside him.

“Jon-boy,” he corrects me, pulling me close and wrapping his arms around me. His lips collide into mine again and my back presses against the outside wall of a building down the street of the restaurant. His tongue is insane, pushing into my mouth, devouring the entirety of it and moaning softly into it. “I live just down the block,” he whispers, dragging his hands across my backside and squeezing a handful of my bottom.

It makes me feel a bit wanton. I’d never done anything like this before. It’s shameless and dirty. His hands lift up and pinch lightly at my nipples. The sensation makes me kiss him back; giving in fully to the deplorable dirty things I want to have done to me. He could take me up against this wall right now and we could be done with it. I’d never have to see him again—just this once taking what I needed—and walking away without any care. It feels powerful.

I bite my lip as he grabs onto my hands and pulls me farther down the street. There’s a big old Victorian house at the end. A beautiful wrap around porch hangs off the front, but that’s all I see because his hands yank down the cups of my bra and his lips and tongue are sliding down my neck.

We’re at a side door of the house and my shoulders shove up against it as something rock hard just under his zipper rocks into me. Somewhere inside the house, a dog yaps continuously.

His hands fumble with the keys. His fingers are shaky, he’s out of breath, and I feel powerful that it’s because of me. I’m doing this to his body.

We stumble awkwardly through the door, slamming up against a wall. He kicks at the door, trying to close it, but doesn’t reach. Cursing underneath his breath, he backs away from me and shuts the door behind me.

Next to me, a wet nose nuzzles into my hand.

“That’s Mr. Fluffy Pants,” he whispers against my neck, grabbing the hem of my shirt and lifting it over my head.

His dog lifts up his head and watches. My shirt lands on his floppy ears.

Our clothes fall everywhere as he walks me, kissing and groping, through a long hallway and into a dark room. The dog’s claws scratch along the floor with us. I freeze in the doorway.

Mr. Fluffy Pants licks the back of my hand.

But that’s not what gives me pause. Nope. What gives me pause you ask? Well, that would be the smell.

Jon…boy flicks the lights on and I swallow back a gasp. “Is this your little brother’s room or something?” I ask, holding a hand over my nose. It reeks of sweat and cologne and sweat, then multiply that times fifty and pour in some more sweat.

I swear the dog is whining because he has sympathy for me. He jumps on the bed and sniffs then growls out another whine. “Jon,” I croak behind my hand.

“Jon-BOY,” he corrects, again.

“It stinks in here.” I cough.

His eyes get round and he holds up a finger. “My bad. Laundry day isn’t until tomorrow. Hold on,” he rummages through a huge pile of clothing that I swear have those wafting cartoon smell lines waving above it, pulls out a bottle of generic air freshener, and starts spraying down everything.

When the room is saturated with the smells of a beach, he points to the small bed. “Hop on.” His eyebrows wiggle.

I totally lost the mood. And honestly, I think there’s probably a weight limit to the single-sized bed he’s pointing to, and Mr. Fluffy Pants is already taking up most of the space.

“I’m not sure about this…” I stutter as I watch him pull Mr. Fluffy Pants off the bed by his collar.

“I promise you a night you will never forget.”

That’s not enticing if it ends with me wanting to forget about it. But I follow him down and squash in next to him. I don’t know why I do. My stomach is rumbling. There’s a dog watching my every move, and I’m about to have sex with a complete stranger. My giant ass hangs off the bed.

His elbow leans on my hair and I’m pinned to the bed awkwardly. He doesn’t notice. He just yanks down his boxers and pulls out his penis.

And I’m saying the word penis in the nicest way.

He shifts himself up on the narrow bed, making me tumble onto the floor. He sits up chuckling and helps pull me up, cock level.

And now I’m looking Jon right in the dick.

“Oh, Jon,” I say it with heavy pity.

“Jon-boy,” he whispers, running his fingers along the length of it.

I smile up at him, no longer having the inclination of leaving out the boy part.

It’s the strangest dick I’ve ever seen. I was at once entranced and horrified. He didn’t seem a big fan of manscaping. The main attraction was quite thin, having the same girth as say, my thumb, with a crooked mushroom top that looked more like a top hat on a frail old man. If the before mentioned old man wore it on, say, his ear.

“Oh, lemme get some condoms and lube,” he mumbles to himself, reaching over me and opening up a drawer.

I blink up and freeze in abject horror and absurdity. As he twists his body, right there on his left ass cheek was a tattooed rose that said Mom.

I sit back on the bed and try to figure out a way out of this mess.

Across the room, sticking straight out of the wall is a very furry, life sized horse head. I’m paralyzed with the craziness of it all, and I barely feel him sliding my panties down my legs. The only thought I have is I hate the fact that I wasted a good waxing for this.

I take a deep breath but before I could let it out, his head is between my thighs. Jon-boy is touching his tongue to my clit and violently shaking his head, trying to turn his entire face into a vibrator. I tap a tweet: Men Stop believing in the myth. Just move the tongue. Women as a whole do not appreciate the whole motorboat thing between our legs. Thanks. #WorstThirtySecondsOfMyLife

Immediately after starting, he pulls his head up triumphantly and smiles, “Nice, right?”

“Can I…um…use your bathroom?” I say, jumping up.

He rolls his eyes and waves to the door, “Two doors down on the right. Don’t go up the stairs.” He looks at me hard, “Stay. Down. Here. Okay?”

What’s he hiding? His last date chopped up into tiny bite-size pieces or pureed and frozen in little ice cube trays?

Just focus. A one-night stand should not be this hard. I close myself in the tiniest bathroom on earth and look at myself in the mirror. My face has a look of mild panic across it. I run cold water over my hands and dab my cheeks softly with them. I sneak a peek through his medicine cabinet, looking for any medications for sexually transmitted diseases. I find a lot of bottles of antacid. And a mysterious bottle of something neon blue. I clutch my cell phone to my chest and read through my tweets. My one-night stand is trending. So is #HorseHeadFucking.

If he puts that horse head on, that would lead to a whole new level of awkwardness.

Tweet: I can feel myself shifting from the: I’m a young sexy single woman phase to a fresh new get me the fuck outta here panic mode.

Some wonderful follower on social media has made a poll about this whole debacle—fifteen percent of my followers believe I’m too much of a chicken to go through with this—eighty-five percent of the people thought I was an eighty-year-old woman.

Fuck this. Sex with motor-boating Jon-boy should last no more than five minutes. How much worse could it get? I walk out and try standing in the doorway seductively. It takes him a few minutes to realize I’m back. He was busy…petting the horse head.

“I love to get a little freaky in bed, do you?” he asks, those stupid eyebrows bouncing up and down.

I eye the horse head. “No. No, not really.”

He eyes the horse head as well and frowns. “I have these plastic handcuffs I could…”

“No thanks, really.” I slowly sit next to him.

He shrugs and pops open a bottle of lube with his teeth and squeezes out a handful. That’s right, a handful into his palm. Then he slathers my nether regions with it. I gasp out fifty shades of put that shit away. I don’t think he heard.

There has to be a blurry spot in my memory, because the next thing I know, Jon-boy is humping the inside of my leg with complete wild abandon. There’s so much lube down there he thinks the cavernous gap of my thighs is my vagina. I have found the loophole to this disaster. There’s seriously no penetration going on. He better hurry or this shit is going to get real sticky.

“Hey, can you put in the article how big I am?” he pants, slamming his pint-sized penis into my thigh.

“Um, yeah sure.”

“Say it,” he says, gasping and heaving.

“You’re um, big.”

I swear the horse head is staring at me.

“Again,” he says, pumping into my leg faster.

“You are so big,” I say, pulling my phone close and thumbing out another Tweet: Lube is your friend. #GelatinousGlobsOfGoodness

He abruptly stops when a huge queef bubbles up from the middle of my thighs and echoes throughout the room. “Was that you?”

“Me? Um, well there’s a lot of lube…”

“That’s quite okay. I like it. It’s dirty.” Oh my God, he’s breathing in deeply. Is he trying to smell it?

He pulls back and slides his cock over my feet. What in the actual fuck?

“Oh, Mommy,” he murmurs.

Wait, what? That’s…that’s just not right. That’s just too much to unpack right there.

I’m mortified. This man-boy is having sex. With my foot.

“Are you close?” he asks, jamming himself along the webbing between my toes.

“Close to what?” I ask, amazed at his sheer stupidity. Does he think girls can have an orgasm this way?

“Are you close?” he moans out again.

“Oh, oh I’m good. You…you just go ahead.”

A guttural groan rips out of his mouth as he pumps two more times against my foot.

His body collapses on the tiny bed next to mine and he smiles lazily at me. “Give me five minutes and we’ll do it again.”

I may have started to weep.

I seriously consider it a gift from God himself when I hear a woman in the hallway calling his name. I don’t care if it’s a wife or a girlfriend; I just want an excuse to not be here any longer.

“Joooooon-Boy!” the voice calls as the door swings open.

There in the doorway stands an elderly woman holding an empty laundry basket. Her gray hair is tied back in a red kerchief and a kiss the cook apron is wrapped around her waist.

“Who is that?” she stares at me through narrow slits. I am suddenly aware of how very naked I am in her presence. “You didn’t have to pay for this one did you, dear?”

Tweet: Time to vacate the premises. His mommy is here! #IThinkTheHorseHeadIsHers.

I find every piece of clothing except of course, for my pants. But I don’t care. It’s a sacrifice I will have to make to get the hell out of here as soon as humanly possible.

Tweet: So if you see a girl running down Main Street with no pants on, you know why. #MyBigFatStupidHookUp

The End

CHRISTINE ZOLENDZ RESIDES in New York City with her favorite NYPD detective and their two beautiful daughters. She loves reading, writing, wine, and caramel lattes. Get to know her better by visiting her Website, Facebook Page, or signing up for her Newsletter.

DEFINITELY A J NAME (STARRING EMILY, FROM CITY BEAUTIFUL)

CM FOSS

There comes a time in every woman’s life to celebrate. Sure, most people celebrate happy occasions, but sometimes you celebrate shitty stuff to make you happy. That’s what led me to dragging my friend, Ivy, away from her new husband and all their wedded bliss to help get me happily wasted.

“To motherfuckers!” I raised my shot glass high above our bar table and clinked it against Ivy’s.

She rolled her eyes and slung back her drink, grimacing as she swallowed.

“I refuse to toast that motherfucker.” She wrinkled up her nose and twirled her glass around. “This is horrible. Why aren’t we drinking your grandpa’s moonshine?”

“Oh!” I leaned over in my chair to rifle around my purse, and pulled out a mason jar, glancing around as I slid it across the table. “We just had to get the first shot out of the way.”

Ivy squealed and clapped her hands. “Now this is what the doctor ordered.”

I eyed the jar. “I don’t know if a doctor would approve of what I plan to do tonight. But I’m glad you do.” I smiled at my friend, thankful she was celebrating a shitty occasion with me, and that her husband didn’t mind.

“No really. Patrick actually said, ‘Get Emily drunk on moonshine.’”

I let out a loud bark of laughter. Her husband was a doctor, and while he could be a little stiff at times, he was one of my favorite people.

“He should have come out with us.”

Ivy shook her head, her blonde waves shimmering around her. “Not a chance. He said he didn’t want to see you in action.”

I frowned. “That’s not fair. I look good in action.” I poured us both a shot of moonshine and tipped my glass back, immediately refilling it before tucking the jar back into my purse to hide it. “And that’s the thing.” I raised my voice and threw my hands into the air, wincing as the chronic twinge in my shoulder spasmed. “I’m good in bed. Better than good. I’m fucking great. Before I hurt my shoulder, I could do this thing where—”

“Ah ah ah.” She held up a hand. “This is why Patrick didn’t wanna come. I don’t need every detail. And don’t explain that to your physical therapist tomorrow. I’ll never be able to go back there.”

“I’m just saying, there was no reason to cheat on me.”

“Technically, he wasn’t cheating on you. He was cheating on his fiancé. With you.”

I groaned and let my face fall into my hands. “How did that happen? I’m just a nice, normal girl from the country. I pay my bills and taxes. I serve people alcohol, but I always cut them off when they’ve had too much. I even drive drunken people home from bars!” I cried out.

Ivy pursed her lips and nodded. “I know. That’s how you met the douchebag, remember?”

I glared at her, ignoring the fact that my vision was getting a tad fuzzy. “Well tonight, I’m the one getting drunk. I’m gonna be the douchebag for once.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re well on your way.”

I took another shot of moonshine and looked around the bar for a willing participant. “Where is everyone?”

“It’s 7 PM. You have a solid hour to get blazing drunk before you have a chance of anyone coming in that you can make bad choices with.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Maybe I need some beer to chase these with?”

“Maybe water?”

“Sally!” I ignored Ivy’s suggestion to call out to the bartender. “Can I get two beers?” I held up my fingers.

“Only if you put away that shine!” she hollered back.

I rolled my eyes, as the beers were sat on the bar in front of me, and pulled the moonshine from my bag, then took a huge gulp directly from the jar. “Not a chance.” One a mission, I picked up and downed almost half of the first bottle, before chasing down more moonshine, then winked at Sally to offer my gratitude.

MY BACK WAS SLAMMED into the door as … so-and-so fumbled to open it. Name, name, name. His name was … Jason? Maybe? I could probably figure out how to just not use it. I was certain it started with a J.

“Oh, Emily. Fuck me, you’re hot.” Shit, he used my name! But then I stopped caring about what he called me or I called him as his lips attacked my neck, and his teeth nipped and scraped, filling my inebriated body with sensations. He kept speaking, almost to himself. Hopefully to himself. “I’m gonna insert my Obturator Externus inside your Obturator Internus. I’m gonna thrust so hard that the grey matter in our Sacral Plexi bang together, sending sciatic radiculopathy down to the neuroma’s between our toes.” His words were mumbled and slurred together so quickly as he spoke under his breath that I couldn’t entirely make them out. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to. It sounded medical. Sterile, and … drying.

Fortunately, between strange phrasings, he put his lips to good use, which canceled out the weirdness of his words. I panted and gasped at each lightning strike that zinged down my spine. I felt like we were floating, flying, falling.

We hit the ground with a thud, but thankfully, Josh braced himself from landing his weight on top of me. I still lost my breath slightly on impact, but didn’t feel a thing, which was strange considering my neck routinely had muscle spasms and twinges of pain.

Josh? Hmmm. That was close. I was almost sure.

A sharp tug on my hair jolted my mind from its wanderings at the same time I felt a tongue glide along the bottom of my foot. I frowned for a moment, first wondering where my shoes went, and then wondering how he licked my foot when his hand was in my hair. I ignored the question of why he would lick my foot in the first place. I would never judge someone on his tastes.

But when I felt something furry and warm gyrate on my leg, I popped my head up, knocking foreheads with Joe.

“Shit.” I pressed my palm to my head and gave a little shake to clear my vision. It didn’t help with seeing, but it helped with the pain.

John was looking at me through narrowed eyes. They were dark and sexy. I was sure I hadn’t gone home with a coyote ugly, so that was good. I just wanted to get lost in getting laid, and at least pretend I was doing it with someone infinitely hotter than my ex was. Through my haze, I had a thought that, just maybe, it was reality. Then again, I didn’t want to know if it wasn’t. All I really knew what that something furry was humping my foot, and as much as my head hurt and was spinning, there was … something furry humping my foot.

“What the fuck?” I hissed.

Dude jumped to his feet in a squat position, hands out as if he was warding off an attack. I snorted aloud when I saw his position, and then squealed when a sharp set of teeth sank into the sensitive arch of my foot. Out of instinct, I scurried back in a crab walk, but my arms weren’t quite stable, and I wound up landing, once again, in a heap on my left shoulder. This time, it fucking hurt. It felt like shards of glass shot along the side of my spine and then twisted in, one by one.

I sucked in a breath as spots danced behind my eyes. Fuzzy spots, but still.

“Peanut, no!” Jeremy hissed at the small, brown mutt that scurried away. “Are you okay?” he whispered, clumsily pushing the hair off my forehead. At least he was definitely as drunk as I was.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.” And I was. The pain ebbed as the heaviness of the alcohol’s effects blanketed me once again.

His hands tangled in my hair and his lips crashed against mine, our tongues tangled and stroked, and then the little furry fucker was back on my leg, this time higher up. I squealed and jerked my knee up as teeth scraped my sensitive flesh—straight into Joel’s nut sack. Seriously, I could feel the texture of his nuts pressed under the corner of my knee. There’s a texture, and it made me cringe.

“I’m so sorry. Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.”

I slid my hands between us and covered my face, pressing my fingers tight against my skin. It took a moment for me to realize he wasn’t speaking, or moving. Or possibly breathing. I peeked between my fingers to see his face pinched and eyes squinted. I placed my hands on his chest and gave a little nudge.

“Jeff,” I whispered. His eyes opened and he looked at me in confusion. “Are you okay?”

He cocked his head and took a breath, then crashed his lips back to mine. I guess that was a yes. His hands traveled down to my hips and he gripped me as he ground into me. I lost my breath at the sensation of pressure and friction that rocketed up my core. I started to forget our last several awkward moments and gave myself over to the lust and inebriation that hung in a cloud over my body.

His fingers pressed into my flesh, almost painfully, as I writhed against him. “God, Emily. Your hips are so tight.”

What? “Oh, yeah,” I gasped. I wasn’t sure if that was the appropriate response, but I guess I thought tight hips seemed like a good thing.

“Fuck.” He growled as I hitched my knees higher up his waist, my body heated by the gruffness in his curse. “So tight.”

“So tight,” I whispered against his mouth. Oh my gosh, I hated small talk. It was killing my buzz.

“No, really.” He squeezed again. “How do you move?”

“What? I can move.” I proved my point with a thrust.

He laughed in short, winded breaths that scattered across my neck and raised my flesh. “Point taken.”

He pushed away and staggered to his feet, then extended his hand. I stared at it for a long while before I could figure out which one in my vision was real. Then, I grasped hold and allowed him to pull me to my feet. I had to balance against his chest while I got my bearings.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” he whispered, brushing his lips across my cheekbone.

He led me out of the foyer and down the hall, into a darkened room. I couldn’t make out any distinguishing features except the large bed. We reached it, and crawled to the center. He snaked an arm around my waist and pulled me flush against his hips. I tilted my head to reach his lips, ready for another onslaught, but was met with deep, even breaths of slumber. He feel asleep.

Are you fucking kidding me?

“Jim?” I tapped his shoulder.

Nothing. Not a twitch.

His arm was heavy over top of me. I couldn’t move. His leg swung over me, making me his human body pillow. The good thing? At least his weight stopped my world from spinning. I’m not only talking about from the alcohol, either. Getting cheated on is one thing. Having someone fall asleep on you during sex is a whole other situation. Not wanting to consider either, I eventually released a long sigh, along with the awkwardness, and passed out with whathisname was snoring in my ear.

Ivy: Call me

Ivy: Wake up

Ivy: I need details

Ivy: Are you alive?

Ivy: Was his penis bigger than whatshisface’s?

Ivy: WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING?

Ivy: Are we fighting?

Ivy: Are you dead?

Ivy: Did you die happily of orgasms?

Ivy: You so had UVT last night

Ivy: I had UVT just watching you. Unintentional Vaginal Twerking was strong.

Ivy: Are you still going to your physical therapy appt?

Me: Holy crap you’re chatty this morning.

Ivy: YOU’RE ALIVE!!

Me: You seemed very concerned.

Ivy: Hey, I take my responsibilities very seriously. I knew you were in good hands.

Me: Huh? How?

Ivy: What do you mean how?

Me: I’m so confused.

Ivy: How drunk were you last night?

Me: Pretty sure very. I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU WERE RESPONSIBLE!

Ivy: To be fair, drunk you is very similar to real you. It’s tricky. Still, you were safe.

Me: Well that’s a relief.

Ivy: So?? Good night?

Me: Noooo. Or… I don’t know.

Ivy: Tell me.

Me: We didn’t have sex. He passed out.

Ivy: Oh. Well, that’s awkward.

Me: That’s the least of it.

Ivy: Dang. I would have thought better of him.

Me: You know him?

Ivy: EMILY! I introduced you.

Me: Huh. Well then, what was his name?

Ivy: You don’t remember his name?

Me: I know it starts with a J.

Ivy: You don’t remember any of this?

Me: No!

Ivy: Are you still going to your therapy appt?

Me: Yeah, I’m in the parking lot. Why?

Ivy: Call me after.

Ivy: No! Come see me. Come see me straight away.

Me: Why?

Ivy: Gotta go! Have fun

Me: Ivy!!!

AND SHE WAS GONE. No little dots blinked and signaled she was typing or waiting. I was so confused. So hungover. I had snuck out at dark o’clock this morning, while he was still snoozing away. I didn’t get the greatest look at him in the lack of light, but I could see the definition in his arms and back, and the scruff on his face that begged me to trace the line of his jaw. He was sexy. That was a relief, I guess. And I could remember the fact that he was a good kisser, so there’s that. But, he stayed asleep as I crept away. Another relief. I’d arrived home with enough time to shower and guzzle half a pot of strong coffee, right before I left again. Ivy’s magical physical therapist and acupuncturist could fix me, right? Needless to say, I didn’t look great. As instructed, I wore a pair of shorts I could work out in, a sports bra, and a tank top. I hadn’t bothered with makeup and my curls were wildly piled on the top of my head. If this man made me actually exercise at any point, I was sure I’d vomit.

With tunnel vision, I shuffled into the gym where Ivy’s dude was awaiting. It had only taken her six months to convince me to come and get my neck and shoulder sorted out, and as much as I wanted to cancel this morning and go back to bed—my own bed—I knew she’d kill me. Or just drag me here herself. To hear Ivy tell it, the man had magical hands and was the only person who could fix me.

A rush of cold air hit me as I stepped in the front door. A young woman, probably in her early twenties, stood behind the counter and smiled as I approached and introduced herself. She led me to a back room where I sat on a massage table to wait for Michael. Something fleeting crossed my mind as I thought of his name, but it was gone when a knock sounded. The door opened and my jaw hung wide dropped.

Him.

“Hi, Emily,” said dude from last night, his face a tad flushed, which made me feel better about my on fire cheeks. He had short, dark hair and his jaw was scruffy. I wondered if it was always that way, or if he’d felt as rough this morning as I did.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. I was going to kill Ivy. Kill. Dead. Smother.

“I’m Michael.”

I blinked three times. Not a ‘J’. The damn dog ran in and jumped up on the table beside me. I stared at it stupidly before looking back at … Michael. He was wearing a soft looking grey T-shirt that hugged his broad chest and did nothing to hide the definition in the muscles underneath it. I couldn’t stop myself from a quick perusal of his body. I remembered those abs. I remembered those arms. Funny how I could remember all of that, but not his name.

“Not Jjj…”

“No.” He laughed. “No J.”

My mouth formed an “O.”

“Listen, Emily, I am … completely embarrassed about last night. And I’d love to talk with you about it”—I never wanted to talk about it—“but—”

The door swung open and the young girl from the front desk entered. Michael cleared his throat and adjusted his posture. His dark eyes, playful and searching a moment ago, went strictly professional in one blink.

“You met Lindsey? She’s interning for the summer, so if you don’t mind, she’ll stay in here during the evaluation.”

I smiled at her. “Of course.”

“Okay,” he said, pulling out a tablet and tapping away on it. “I’m going to ask a few questions about your history, and then we’ll watch some of your movements. After that, we’ll get to work.”

I nodded, trying to slow my whirling mind. The circumstances were really sharpening my mind and bringing me out of the hangover. Speaking of that, how in the fuck was he so chipper?

The evaluation was painless, for the most part, except when I had to walk around while Michael clearly studied my ass. He said he was assessing my hips, but from my perspective, it was my ass. I was having a hard time remaining in professional mode. When he put his hands on me, I tried to hide the quick intakes of breath his touch elicited, despite the worst non-sex of my life. I comforted myself with the knowledge that he had to be ridiculously humiliated. No really. It made me feel better. He went on and on about my hips being the root of all my problems, but he struggled to get the words Obturator Internus or Externus or whatever the fuck it was that I heard him mutter the night before. Those words could kill libido faster than a dog humping your leg. Finally, he stepped away from his scrutiny and gave me some breathing space.

“Alright, Lindsey, I’ll finish up with Emily. Can you go walk Mrs. Delroy through her exercises?”

Lindsey left with a nod, and our buffer was gone. I was sitting on the edge of the table, legs swinging, feet bare, staring at my toes. He stepped up to my knees and placed his hands on them, pushing my thighs apart so he could sidle up between them. I looked up with wide eyes. He glided his hands up my legs, around my hips, and up the sides of my body to tangle his fingers among the wild curls of my hair. My heart skipped a beat and my lips parted when he gazed intently down at me.

“Can we forget last night ever happened, and start over?” he asked.

I shook my head slowly.

“No to forgetting or no to starting over?”

My lips curved into a smile. “What if it was both?”

He leaned closer, and I stopped breathing. “That wasn’t an option.”

His fingers tugged at my scalp and our lips crashed together. His tongue stroked mine without so much as a tease. Our teeth clashed, and I’m sure our gasps could be heard outside. I didn’t care. I wrapped my legs around him, and he grabbed my ass to hitch me closer. Michael’s lips left my mouth and travelled down my neck to nip sharply at my collarbone, and then he rested his forehead on my shoulder, panting heavily.

“Okay. Therapy.”

I wriggled in his arms. “I thought this was therapy.”

He snorted softly. “We’ll get to that.” He drew back, looking in my eyes. “Will you go on a date with me?”

I raised my eyebrows. “A date? Like a real date?”

He smiled, transforming his intense features into something lighter, more playful. “Like the kind where I get to be a gentleman. Where after a nice dinner, you get properly seduced; I take you home and ravish you, sober. Then ask you out again”—he bent and kissed my shoulder where his head had been resting—“and again”—he feathered his lips against the side of my neck—“and again.” He pressed a final kiss to my lips, lingering a moment as he felt me sigh. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Jeremiah.”

Oh hell … What’s in a name anyway? I’ve never been one for labels.

THE END

CM FOSS LIVES in Virginia with her beautiful family and a shit-ton of goats. Her current titles include Shiver, Swoon, City Beautiful, Jock, and Falling with Style. Keep an eye out for Salt for Sweet, coming this summer. She also drinks wine. Lots of wine.

www.cmfoss.com

AFTER THE TREEHOUSE

DINA LITTNER

The events that follow may or may not have happened on a hot summer night a few hours after fifteen year-old Jillian Ross got her first kisses.

WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TONIGHT?

Less than an hour ago my entire world shifted. And now Caden and James are hanging out on the diving board like nothing happened while I’m hiding in their family’s bathroom like a wuss.

I peek through the curtains and Caden must notice the movement because he nudges his brother’s shoulder and nods toward the house. Toward me.

James raises his arms in a not-so-smooth fake stretch and waves at me. Then he slaps his brother on the back in that universal sign of bro-hood.

This is going to be a long night.

Knock-knock.

“Jillian. Are you in there? Everything alright honey? I need to use the...”

Mom. Ugh.

“Yeah, Mom.” I flush, then turn the faucet on. “Just washing my hands. But, umm, you may not want to use this bathroom right now, if you know what I mean.”

I haven’t opened the toilet lid since I’ve been in here, but this is my best strategy to get rid of her. She hates unpleasant smells and I really don’t want her to see me with my shaky hands and flushed face. She’ll know something’s up and then she’ll make me tell her why I’m a mess.

This secret needs to stay between me and the guys.

“Okay, honey. But if you don’t feel well go home and lie down.”

“I’m fine, Mom. I just need a minute.”

The sound of her sandals flopping down the hallway means I dodged the interrogation bullet. Whew.

Okay, Jillian. It’s game time. Go out there and show the guys that nothing’s changed between us, even if the reality is that everything’s different now.

Earlier tonight in the treehouse… Caden kissed me…and then I kissed James.

Holy shit.

WHERE’S THE WEIRD? There isn’t any. Or at least not yet.

Thank God. Because I couldn’t live next door to the guys and not be best friends anymore. I’d have to move.

We’ve spent some part of every day together for the past ten years. Other people have Best Friends Forever—BFFs. Well, we are Best Frucking Friend BFFs, which is what James named us a few years ago when he knew it was wrong to say “fucking” but he wanted to use something cooler than “freaking.” Dork.

Still, I wish I could shake the feeling that the other shoe will not only drop, but will kick me in the head for having risked our friendship. I kissed both of them. Brothers. My best friends. What a disaster.

We’ve been lounging on the pool floats pool for the past ten minutes not saying much. It’s not unusual for us to be quiet together, but tonight it’s given me too much time to worry about what might or might not happen.

Screw that.

I push Caden and James’ floats toward the shallow end of the pool and yell, “Last one to the board runs a five-miler with me tomorrow morning at six!” Then I dive off and swim full out toward the deep end.

James passes me with no effort and then Caden glides ahead to win by at least a foot. I’m so dumb to try and compete with these guys—one swims like Aquaman and the other is strong like the Hulk. I lose—Every. Single. Time.

I can’t help myself, though…maybe, just maybe I’ll win one day.

The guys are already hanging from the diving board by the time I arrive. I stretch my arms to grab on and James laughs, “What do we get for winning, Jills? Another kiss? I’m ready for more action.”

Did he just—?

I let go of the board and sink all the way to the bottom of the pool. Oooh, it’s nice down here. I think I’ll stay a while and listen to the high-pitched warning voice in the back of my head screaming, “You wanted weird, Jillian? Well, here it is.” For the record, I did not want weird. It was inevitable.

There’s a commotion above-water. It looks like Caden might be trying to smack James upside the head, but things are blurry down here.

I stay under for as long as I can but, of course, I need to resurface to breathe, since dying from embarrassment is still probably a better death than drowning.

As soon as my head pops up, Caden asks, “You okay, Jill?” He studies me with such intensity I consider taking permanent residence in my new under water haven. I could make it work. I think there’s a snorkel set around here somewhere.

James answers his brother’s question. “She’s more than okay. Look at Jills in that bikini. Smokin’ hot.”

“James!” I whisper-shout so our parents won’t hear us from the deck. “What the hell?”

He was so sweet in the treehouse. But now? Now he’s back to being the normal jerk teen-guy he is every other day.

Oh. Back to normal. That’s good. The fact that he has new ammunition? Well, that’s not good at all.

Just because we shared a moment together doesn’t mean he can treat me like a sex object. I mean, a kiss isn’t sex.

But… James has never said anything like that about me before. And if I’m honest? I’m not really mad that James thinks I’m hot because, hello-there, James thinks I’m hot.

“Show some respect, will you, James? Tonight was a big deal.” Caden tweaks James’ nipple in an odd demonstration of older-brother dominance.

James grips the diving board tighter and pulls into a chin-up, avoiding our eyes. All I can see are his biceps, chest and shoulders. Talk about hot.

When he lowers down, his face is set in a sad puppy expression. “Sorry, Jills.”

I’m about to accept his apology when he smirks and grabs at me with one arm, “Can I rub my body against yours in a hug to show you how sorry I am?”

Arrrgh!

“Stay right there.” My stop-sign hand is so close to his chest I could actually feel him up or twist his nipple like Caden did. “Hands off or I won’t forgive you for being rude, you big dork.”

You big hot dork.

I answer Caden’s earlier question before I do something stupid like rub my body against James’ or ask him to do another pull-up. “I’m okay. Just a little nervous about us, you know?” Then I kick water at James. “BD here isn’t exactly helping.”

The guys exchange a confused look and it’s my turn to laugh. “Big Dork.” They should know this already. BD times two. Geez.

Caden laughs at James’ scowl. “We’ll be fine, Jill. Little bro here is just excited about getting his first kiss.

“If you say so.” I shrug before dropping my hands to splash in the water. “Hey, I’m going to bed. I’ve got a long run by myself tomorrow morning. Byes.”

As I swim away, James says, “She’s so hot, man.”

And Caden surprises me with his response. “Yeah, she is.”

And the weird is back.

I CAN’T SLEEP.

Tonight’s kisses run on replay.

Caden’s mouth was on mine before I finished saying the word “Yes” to his offer to be my first kiss. Caden’s kiss was hungry. Not slow or soft or gentle despite my kissing-virgin status. His kiss was mature and unexpected and nothing like the awkward first kisses stories my friends have shared.

My kiss with James was different. He was definitely excited by watching Caden and me together. But when I climbed onto his lap to give him his first kiss? He was nervous and and so un-James-like that his reaction gave me the confidence to take the lead. While James’ kiss was sweet and affectionate, it was sexy in its own way.

Oh God. What have I done? How am I going to spend time with the guys and not think about kissing them again? Not wanting to kiss them. Not wanting them to kiss me.

The thing is… I want them to kiss me again and I want to kiss them.

My crazy thoughts affect more than my racing mind, because my body is acting strange, too. Every move I make is exaggerated, like I’m on drugs or something. Not that I’ve ever done drugs. Even still. I tingle everywhere. But especially, and this is so weird, between my legs. There’s this unfamiliar pulse that I only felt one other time—in the treehouse tonight.

Turned on. That’s what Caden called this feeling after we kissed. I’m turned on. But what the hell am I supposed to do about it? There has to be something, because I need to get some sleep before my run in the morning.

I spread my legs wide and then close them a few times like I’m making a snow angel. Slow, slow, slow then fastfastfast. Slow again. Fast. I’m ridiculous. But all of this action makes the ache between my legs grow bigger like puffs into a balloon. Bigger. Bigger. Bigger.

Think.

What did I learn in health class? The teacher showed us diagrams of the reproductive system and a movie about teen pregnancy. She most definitely did not cover this feeling when she talked about human sexuality, and she most definitely did not show any videos like the ones I watched at Erika’s house when I slept over a few weeks ago.

Erika and I were clicking random links on her computer and found a porn website. I was shocked at some of the stuff we saw, because my computer still has parental controls set up. The nakedness and horrible acting were mesmerizing. I mean, aside from all the penis videos, there was one that showed a woman touching her vagina and screaming, “Ooooh. Aaaah. Yes. Yes. Yes!”

Totally fake.

Right? Wrong.

When I mentioned how stupid the scene looked to Erika, she put on her superior “you-idiot” face and said, “Clearly, you haven’t done that before. You are such a prude, Jillian Ross.”

What? Of course I’ve never done that.

When I told her I hadn’t ever touched myself like that woman, she squealed, “Jill, you are missing out! It’s the best! I touch myself every night before I go to bed! You should try it!”

What what? And why did she have to yell about her self-sex life like a banshee?

That was when I tried to leave the room, but she grabbed my arm so I couldn’t go and… She. Kept. Talking. Erika went waywaywaaaay over the best-girlfriend TMI limit by telling me about rubbing her “clit-o-ris” until her body would get all shaky and she “blissed out” then fell asleep.

Clit-o-ris. Drama queen. It’s clitoris. Even I know that.

“Every time, Jillian. It feels sooooo good. I think I’m horny all the time now.”

Eww. Why am I even thinking about Erika’s horny-times?

Seriously.

Wait. Ohmygod. No way.

I’m horny. I’m honest-to-goodness horny right now.

Holy shit. I went from first kisses to sexy mistress in one night.

This feeling? The one between my legs? It’s more intense now that I gave it a name. I’m not pulsing any longer—I’m throbbing. I can’t fall asleep now. Not when I’m horny.

Maybe I need to do it. Touch myself.

I never considered it before, but Erika did say it felt good and helped her sleep. If I touched myself, would I like it?

My body is freaking out so bad I need to do something or I won’t sleep at all tonight.

I hold both hands in the air and consider them. Which one do I use?

It has to be Mr. Right.

BEDROOM DOOR LOCKED. Lights out. Fan on.

I lie completely still, letting the air swirl over me. When I close my eyes, I imagine feathers swirling on my sensitive skin, but I’m not getting the tickles and I definitely don’t feel like laughing. When I work up the nerve to put my hand over my underwear, my hips push up in such a slight movement I might not have noticed if I weren’t hyper-focused on my body.

It’s go-time, even though I have no idea what I’m doing. I use the deep-breathing techniques I learned in the yoga class my softball coaches made the team take over the winter. I try to stretch my mind to the possibilities of peace-and-tranquility-and-blahblahblah, which sounded like bullshit in class, but might actually be useful to relax me now.

Then my fingers twitch. Oh.

I’m pretty sure they moved by some brain impulse, because I didn’t do it on purpose.

There they go again. Ohhh.

I press down with the heel of my hand. Intentionally this time. The combined actions of my fingers and my palm draw a low moan from the back of my throat.

Whoa. Hey. Hi there.

What else can I discover about this body I’ve had for fifteen years and “Clearly,” to quote Erika, “haven’t done” to it?

I drag my fingers all over, teasing and caressing myself down there. This isn’t so bad. In fact, it feels pretty darn good. I’m not sure if I’m doing “this” the right way or not, but honestly? I don’t care. I am not going to get caught up in my head like I usually do. So back into yogi-mode I go, to let my mind wander.

What would it feel like if Caden or James were touching me this way?

Oh boy. That was quick. Thanks, mind.

My fingers move more confidently over my underwear and my brain whispers, “It might feel like this if one of the guys touched you here. You’d like it. You’d want more.”

My brain is a freak.

I go with it and let my inner-freak take over.

My hips move in a rhythm to match my hand and somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder what would it be like if I took off my underwear and really touched myself. Huh.

I slide my old-lady cotton panties down until they reach my feet and kick them across the room.

Here we go.

I HESITATE. It’s so stupid since I want to do this, but other than washing in the shower, I’ve never intentionally touched myself there. Here.

I use Mr. Lucky Left Hand this time.

Using a light touch, I feel the hair between my legs—it’s longer and coarser than I expected. I poke my finger around and find… What is it called? The labia majora. That’s what our health teacher called the area, but the term seems so awkward and academic. What I’m doing right now is not textbook material. This is something completely different.

I push through my lips and find the entire area wet.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

When I spread myself apart with both hands, the fan’s air “touches” my delicate skin in the same pattern as the fan blade spins. My whole bottom region clenches in preparation, then I reach a finger out to explore.

Tap. Tap. Swish. Tap. Tap. Slide. What I feel is unexpected. Slick. Sensitive. Strange.

I reach farther down to find my opening.

Ready, Jill? One. Two. Three. Before I lose my nerve, I jam a finger inside up to my second knuckle. Ouch.

Do penises really fit in there? No way one of those will ever fit inside me. At least, not the gigantic ones I saw in the porn videos. Nope. Maybe a skinny one, though. Like pencil-sized. Or not.

I withdraw my finger until just the tip is inside and move it in a slow wiggle. Then I start a small rhythmic pulse—in and out. Yeah, this works. I’m more careful when I push my whole finger back in and swirl it around. Hey, it’s spongy in there. Who knew?

With my right hand still exploring all the inner parts, I skim the left one up my stomach making swirly designs with my fingertips. Goosebumps pucker my skin and I take one sweep higher than the others to graze my nipple. It’s hard and I poke at it with a finger over my tank top.

Poke poke poke.

Eh.

Swipe. Swipe. Rub.

Ahh.

The teasing massage on my nipple combined with the sensation caused by my other probing hand brings my body to an entirely new level of excitement. And…there’s one more part of my body I need to find—my clit-o-ris. Hahaha. My clitoris. It’s where Erika said the magic happens, right?

My finger is sticky when I pull it out of my body, but I don’t waste time worrying about what that goo is on my hand. I’m on a mission to see what will happen when I touch my magic clitoris. I mean, what will happen?

My fingers explore and then brush against some new part of my anatomy that feels better than anything else in the area.

There she is.

I’m beyond delicate examination. I dive in with the press and rub technique. It seems to work, so I do it again. And again. Until I’m lost in this unusually good feeling. When I let my mind go, again, it goes right to Caden and James, again.

My freak brain pictures the guys touching my breasts, kissing my neck, rubbing their-gasp!-penises against me, using a finger to touch me right where I’m, oh, ohh, rocking hard against my own hand as I rub out a unique rhythm in tune with my needs.

The throbbing heat between my legs reaches to a new level. My legs shake like when I’m doing sixty-second wall squats and my butt squeezes like I’m—

Wait. Wait. Wait! This is crazy. What the hell am I doing?

I freeze. Then, very slowly, I pull my hands away from their respective places on my body.

The ache is so much worse than before I started touching myself, but I can’t do this…thing. It’s too weird. And after the night I’ve had, I’m not sure I can handle anything else on the weird-scale.

I FIND my phone on the nightstand and call James. Maybe he can distract me from this insanity. Besides, we talk most nights before going to bed, so calling him will keep things “normal” between us.

The line picks up before the first ring finishes, but James doesn’t say hello. Instead, he just breathes in a rushed, choppy way like he’s working out hard. Or maybe like a creeper.

“Hey, James.”

“Jillsssss,” he exhales. Definitely creeper-like.

“Yep. It’s me, dork-boy.”

He doesn’t respond directly, but he starts to pant. At least I think he’s panting. Maybe he really is exercising, but why so late at night?

“James? Hey. What are you—?”

“Ohhh, fuck. Fuck. Jillsssss…”

I’ve never heard him say my name that way before—low and guttural—like he’s in pain. Maybe he needs help.

“James. JAMES! Are you okay?” I say in a loud whisper so I don’t wake my parents up.

“Jills? Huh? Where are you?”

There’s a clunking noise like the phone dropped. Then James’ voice comes in clear through the speaker. “Jills, are you really there? Ohmygod.”

“Of course it’s me. What—“

Click.

BEFORE CADEN CAN SAY HELLO, I start talking.

“Go find James. The jerk just hung up on me.”

“Seriously? Do you know what time it is, Jill?”

I whine, “Do it, please,” until Caden reluctantly agrees to check on his brother.

“Let me find a shirt first.”

Shirtless, Caden. Oh my.

I hear him moving around the room, muttering under his breath until he returns to the phone with an, “All right. Let’s go.”

A few moments later, I hear knocking and the squeak of James’ door hinge—the same squeak that’s never been fixed the whole time we’ve been friends.

Caden must cover the phone with his hand because there’s a long minute of muffled voices. Then he says, “Stay dry in your dreams, bro,” in sing-song voice before laughing at his own private joke.

“Jill, hold on. Just heading back to my room.”

Fine. Ugh. He knows I hate to wait.

“Okay. You there?”

“Uh, yeah. What’s going on? Why did James hang up on me? Is he mad because I yelled at him in the pool?” I’m in full ramble mode. “Is it because of what happened tonight? Because I kissed you— Him— We—?”

“Whoa, Jill, slow down. Breathe.”

He said the same thing to me in the treehouse.

Caden exhales so deep I nearly feel it brush my ear through the phone. Then he mutters, “Fuck. I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Caden?” What is going on?

“Fuck,” he repeats.

“Do what? Just tell me. Wait, is James okay?”

Caden’s laugh surprises me given his distress a few seconds ago. “Yeah, he’s fine. And he’s sorry he hung up on you. He just got, well, startled when you called.”

“What do you mean he got startled?”

Caden doesn’t respond and it pisses me off. “What’s the deal, Caden?”

“I’ll tell you,” he says, “but only if you promise not to interrupt. Think you can handle that, Jill?”

Caden knows I don’t listen very well, but if he’s asking me to do it, there’s a reason. “Yes. C’mon.”

“So you remember in the treehouse when we kissed and you felt me, I mean, you felt my penis get—? Then you saw James pop a tent in his shorts. Shit. This is hard, Jill.”

I almost spit out, that’s what he said, but somehow hold my snarky comment through some miracle act of willpower.

“Jill, it was awesome that you let me be your first kiss. What I didn’t expect was how hot it would be. You were— You are so innocent and, God, it’s a total turn-on.”

Turn on. That phrase again.

“I’m not sure you have any idea, Jill.”

Oh, I do know how hot our kiss was because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about his lips and his hands on me. And, oh yeah, that throb between my legs for the past hour? Yeah, I know turn-on, too.

“It was even hot when you kissed James. I had no idea it would be, but… Hey, are you still there?”

I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. “Yes, Caden. You asked me not to interrupt, remember?”

“Yeah, right. Okay. So you know firsthand when guys experience something or someone so hot, our dicks get, well, hard. Kissing you got me hard and…apparently our kiss got to James, too.” His chuckle is nothing short of sexy. “You were so cute when you realized what was happening.” Then he adds with a sigh, “I’m sorry the whole thing freaked you out.”

I was surprised to feel Caden’s erection after I’d kissed him for only a few minutes, but it was James’ “tented shorts” from watching us that freaked me out. I mean, penises. Everywhere.

“It was weird, but I’m over it now.”

“I know, Jillian.”

His use of my full name so often in one night confirms that something’s changed between us, but maybe in a way I didn’t anticipate. I mean, we’ve never talked like this before about such intimate things. And, if I’m honest, I don’t want Caden to stop talking about how he got turned on by kissing me.

“When we were hanging out in the pool with you afterwards, Jill?” He takes an audible breath. “I was hard again seeing you in that pink bikini with your wet hair and…your boobs…and nipples. Oh, jeez, Jillian. You are fucking perfection.”

I glance at my fingers playing lazily over my “perfect boobs.” That hand must have a mind of its own because I wasn’t even aware I was feeling myself up. And, yep, there are my hard nipples standing at attention while my fingers swirl over and around them.

This sudden awareness stirs my body’s earlier arousal. Throbthrobthrob. The pattern pulses stronger than before and I slide my other hand to the spot between my legs. My fingers repeat the movements they learned earlier. Ahh.

Caden’s still talking, “I’m pretty sure James was going crazy for you, too. I mean, he was an ass, as usual, but…Well, anyway, you heard what he thought about you and it must have carried over to his, umm, bedtime activities. When you called, he was…”

“Don’t stop, Caden.” With one finger buried deep inside of me and my thumb pressed on my clitoris, I’m desperate to hear what Caden has to say next.

“Are you sure you want to know, Jillian?”

“Yes. Please.”

“When you called James, he was taking care of things. Jerking off. Masturbating. And when he heard your voice on the phone he got confused. He thought you were in his head. I mean, in the fantasy in his head, and so he, umm, finished. James ejaculated.”

Jerking off. My voice. Ejaculated.

Wow.

“Do you mean he was thinking about me when he—”

“Yes.”

“He told you that?”

“Yeah.”

I try to picture James jerking off. I mean I don’t know what his penis looks like, well, outside of the bulge in his shorts tonight, but I saw the penises in those porn videos. And, bingo, there it is. The image of James jerking off, right there in my head. Hot as hell.

My fingers move a little faster.

“CADEN?” I ask.

“Yeah, Jill?”

“What’s it like?”

After a few false starts he asks, “You want to know what it’s like to jerk off? Jesus, Jill. Really?”

“You’ve done it, right?”

Caden is quiet, but I know he’s there because I can still hear him breathing. It’s raspier than usual and I like the sound on him. A lot.

“Is that too personal?” I ask.

“After tonight, Jill?” He gives me that sexy laugh again. “I don’t think anything is too personal between us. I’m just trying to figure out how to explain it.”

“Do you…” I chicken out from asking him about the image in my mind.

“First, I use something to lube up my dick. Usually lotion.”

Holy shit. He’s really telling me.

“I stroke my dick down and up, again and again.” Caden takes a sharp inhale, then says, “Fuck, Jill. This conversation is so fucked up.” His voice is broken and conflicted, like he doesn’t know whether to finish what he started.

“I don’t care. I want to know.” I whisper, my voice filled with hope and an urgency I need him to understand. Then I wait.

When Caden continues, the calm confidence I’m used to hearing from him is back. “I usually start off slow. So it will feel good for as long as possible, you know?”

The place between my legs knows.

“But, at some point, I change the pace and go faster.” So does Caden’s breathing pattern. “Sometimes it’s a memory or a picture or a video that gets me going.”

My hand speed increases yet again as I listen to him describe how he jerks off in detail. So like Caden. Self-assured and thorough.

“I’ll grip myself tighter…” he gasps, “and move my hand faster.”

Caden stops talking and I listen to his breaths grow harsher.

The intense feeling of power that’s been growing in me hits its peak. This time, when the tightening feeling that frightened me before comes back, I don’t stop the momentum.

I let my own gasp loose and somehow manage to say, “Caden, what’s it called when”—I gulp—“a girl…touches…I’ve been—”

“Oh. My. God. Jillian. Are you— I’m— Ahhh, Jill.”

His voice triggers an unfamiliar and welcome reaction. All of the tension that’s built up tonight…lets go… And while I register Caden moaning my name along with other sounds, “Jillian. Jill. Ohhh. Ahhh.” I’m mostly focused on the wave of sensation stemming from the one spot that I thought was bringing me trouble all night, but in reality was getting me ready for this most wonderful relief.

When Caden speaks again, he says, “It’s called masturbation.”

“Huh?” What’s he talking about?

“Your question. Girls masturbate just like guys, but they can’t exactly jerk off, you know? Anyway, if you do it right, you have an orgasm.”

“Did you—” we say at the same time.

“I think I did, Caden.”

I did. I totally did. HOLY SHIT I HAD AN ORGASM! And I sounded way hotter than that awful porn-star lady.

“So did I,” Caden says.

“Wow. I can’t believe we—” Wait, no. No. No. No. No. I had an orgasm with Caden. We had an orgasm at the same time. Like phone sex. We had phone sex. And I thought a kiss would change things? This is so bad.

“Jillian?”

“Yeah?” I whimper, sure he’s already realized how much I screwed things up by letting something crazy happen between us. Again.

“Have you ever done that before?”

“Umm, no.”

He doesn’t sound upset.

“I’m glad your first time was with me.”

Maybe we will be okay.

First friends. First kisses. First orgasm.

What’s next?

The End

CURIOUS ABOUT WHAT happened in the treehouse? You can read Jillian, Caden and James’ debut short story, First Kisses. Available on limited retail outlets.

Dina Littner is a new romance author. Her stories tend to be awkward and they’re sometimes about sex, so this anthology was a natural fit.

Dina’s first full-length novel ~ Through an Open Door (Impossible Choices Series Book 1) ~ will release in late 2016. What happens when a happy marriage falls apart through an open door leading to Room 2 of the River Point Spa? Lin Buchanan has a plan, and it includes protecting Caden and James, her college age sons from their father’s indiscretion.

Dina gets excited when readers, bloggers, other authors, and well, basically anyone, reaches out to make friends. She’s all over social media, so find her, follow her and friend her. She’s wicked cool. And corny. Yeah.

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DREW AND KIERA FILM LOVE SCENE

HEATHER C. LEIGH

Drew Forrester couldn’t help but smile as he dressed in his wardrobe for the day’s scene. He had a great fucking morning. After sparring with his best friend and trainer, Damien, he had a hot round of mind-blowing sex with his girl Sydney. Drew smiled to himself. He purposely skipped a shower this morning before heading to the studio for today’s filming.

Nice and nasty and ripe as a pile of garbage.

Serves that bitch Kiera Radcliff right if I reek like sex and sweat and filthy sparring pads for this awkward as fuck sex scene we’re filming today. I know she’s the one that’s been leaking lies to the tabloids and pushing the studio to put a fake relationship with her into my publicity contract.

Drew thought about Sydney and how much he loved her. No way would he ever agree to a pretend relationship with Kiera to promote the film, even if was fake. Just the fact that it was Kiera—something about the stunning blonde actress made him think she wasn’t right in the head. There was something off about her, nothing obvious, but she made Drew incredibly uncomfortable.

Plus, Kiera fucked with Sydney at an important club opening in March and Drew almost lost her. That alone made it almost unbearable for him to work with Kiera on a daily basis without wanting to shout in her self-righteous fucking face.

There was a quick knock on Drew’s dressing room door before his assistant, Jane, poked her head in. “Just about ready?”

Drew lifted his hand to drag it through his hair. At the last second he remembered he already sat in makeup for an hour and his hair was styled for the shoot. Frustrated, he dropped it back into his lap.

With a pained sigh, Drew answered. “No I’m not ready. Shit, Jane. I don’t want to do this.”

The small, older woman shuffled in and closed the door behind her. She dropped onto the couch next to Drew and rubbed his back. “Nervous?”

“Ha!” Drew laughed sarcastically, “Hardly. I just…” he exhaled loudly. “I don’t want to do this. The thought of having to touch her,” He shuddered. “She’s a bitch and she freaks me out.”

“Well, it is your job,” Jane said matter of factly. “And,” she leaned in, sniffed loudly, and her face contorted in revulsion. “Kiera won’t want to be anywhere near you. You might be one of the best looking men I’ve ever seen, but Drew, you stink.”

Drew grinned, looked Jane in the eye, and winked. “That’s the point.”

Jane threw her head back and laughed along with Drew.

“You are so bad!” She pushed his shoulder playfully.

The light moment gave Drew the minimum amount of strength needed to get up, leave his dressing room, and head for the set.

By the time Drew reached the makeshift bedroom and laid eyes on the rumpled bed where he was supposed to ‘make love’ to Kiera’s character, nausea burned a hole in his insides. Drew wiped his slick palms on his pants, praying the sweat didn’t leave stains on the fabric.

Wardrobe will kill me if I mess my costume up before we’ve even started filming.

Shit, Drew wished he could see Sydney right now. He desperately wanted her here to keep him calm, but it was beyond selfish to ask his girlfriend to be on set while he filmed a love scene with a woman who had made Sydney’s life miserable.

Besides, if I had to watch Sydney mess around with another guy, fuck, I’d lose my goddamn mind.

A hand gripped Drew’s arm and he flinched, twisting around to see who laid their hands him. Of course. Drew rolled his eyes and took a steadying breath.

“Kiera,” he said coldly. Drew had told her dozens of times that he didn’t like to be touched, yet she continued to ignore him, forcing herself into his personal space again and again. Her advances were really beginning to piss him off.

Drew reached down and plucked Kiera’s hand from his arm. Carelessly, he pushed it to her side. Kiera sneered in anger, her pretty face twisting into a hideous grimace for a blink and you missed it moment before her phony smile was back in place.

The woman all but purred and rubbed against me like a cat in heat. “Andrew, if you won’t let me touch you, how are we going to get through this scene?”

Copious amounts of alcohol?

Drew suppressed what he really wanted to say. No matter how he felt, he would have to do his best to remain professional. Well, except for smelling like chum that sat in the hot sun for half a day. Drew bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t laugh in her face.

“That’s for work, Kiera. You know I don’t like to be randomly touched.” Drew gnashed his teeth in annoyance.

“By fans, Andrew. I thought you didn’t like being touched by fans. I’m… well, I’m me. Surely you don’t mind me touching you.” She fluttered her eyelashes. How she thought anything she said or did would change his mind, Drew didn’t know. The woman was delusional.

“No Kiera, I don’t want to be touched by anyone who doesn’t have permission… from me.” He gave Kiera a stern look. She smirked so Drew spun on his heel and stalked away before he said something stupid. “Dan!” Drew called out to the director. “What’s our schedule? Are we starting soon or what?”

I need to get this shit over with and shower off the filth, and I don’t mean the sweat and sex.

“Yes, get ready okay? It should only be another five,” Dan said. The director adjusted something on his screen and turned to chat with the assistant director.

Frustrated, Drew unbuttoned the shirt that he threw on over his microscopic wardrobe and tossed it aside. The only things he was wearing were loose tan cargo pants and the ridiculously uncomfortable modesty patch, aka ‘cock sock’, underneath.

“Clear the set! Places!” the AD called out.

Drew inhaled, cracked his neck, and put on his Andrew Forrester acting mask. He refused to let the entire crew see how miserable the thought of touching Kiera made him.

I’m a professional fucking actor. I can do this. I’ve done dozens of love scenes.

He went to the side of the bed and waited while most of the crew vacated the set. In his head, Drew went over the different shots and angles they had to get along with his lines.

Out of nowhere, Kiera sauntered up next to Drew. She already shed her robe and was only wearing a tiny satin nightie. The crew made sure to crank down the a/c on days they filmed love scene since it got incredibly hot under the lights. Because of the cold temperature on set, it was clearly obvious that Kiera wasn’t wearing her required pasties.

Jesus, it literally never ends with this psycho.

“Dan!” Drew called out and waved the director over.

He hustled to the set. Dan wouldn’t want to waste time, but he knew that my happiness was paramount to getting his all of his shots in without any delays.

“Yes Andrew?” Dan asked. He gave me a placating smile that made me want to punch him upside the head.

Drew stabbed my thumb in Kiera’s direction. He refused to give her the satisfaction of looking at her.

“Dammit, Dan. She’s not in full wardrobe. There are no nude breast shots in the scene, so why aren’t her patches on? Is this not a professional movie set or are we doing porn?”

Dan’s mouth dropped open and his eyes flicked over to Kiera’s chest. Her protruding nipples proved my point to the director.

He squirmed uncomfortably. “Ummmm, uh, Kiera, you can’t expect us to… ummmm.”

Fuck professionalism.

A Hollywood director with as many films under his belt as Dan should be able to control any situation.

“Jesus Dan, I’ll say it.” Drew spun to face the crazy actress. He was getting more and more pissed by the minute. “Go back to your dressing room and get wardrobe to put your goddamn pasties on, Kiera. This isn’t a porno and I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”

Kiera gave Drew a knowing smile. Her mouth pulled up on one side, as if mocking him.

“Dan, remember? We spoke about this. I’m allergic to adhesive. It’s in my contract.” Kiera shot Drew a cocky look, one eyebrow arched, and satisfaction clearly written all over her smug face.

If my face is as red as I think it is, it’ll be another hour before I calm down enough to appear on camera.

“You manipulative bitch,” Drew began. His hands curled into fists at his sides.

Dan stepped between the two actors and pushed Drew back with a hand to Drew’s chest.

“Andrew, she’s right. It’s in her contract.”

“And no one thought I needed to be aware of that?” he roared. He didn’t give two shits who heard him at this point. Dan shrugged, it wasn’t his problem that Drew didn’t like it and the director knew it. Drew was trapped. Everyone on the set was waiting to begin and not wanting to be in contact with a beautiful woman’s tits wasn’t going to be a good enough excuse to hold up production.

“Fuck!” Drew shouted. He spun away from Kiera to calm down.

Dan came up behind him and gave his back a manly slap.

“Dude, it’s going to be fine. They’re just breasts, right?” Drew heard Dan sniff. “And by the way, you need a fucking shower, you reek.”

Dan jogged back to his place behind the screens and cameras. “Places!” The A.D. called out.

Drew turned to face Kiera. He gave her his own evil grin.

“Ready to get up close and personal with the real Andrew Forrester?” Drew jogged in place, then dropped to the floor and did twenty push-ups to work up a nice sheen of sweat. When he was done, the rank smell wafted up, surrounding him… and man, it wasn’t pretty.

He edged up to Kiera’s side and angled his body until the actress was nice and close to his underarms, where the smell was the worst. Drew could tell the second his stink hit her. Her nose wrinkled in disgust and she took a step back.

Leaning down, Drew whispered in the conniving bitch’s ear, “You’re not the only one with tricks up your sleeve, Kiera. Enjoy.”

The horror on her face made everything we were about to do worth it.

Let the games begin.

“Action!”

Drew recited his lines and crossed the room. He pulled Kiera into his arms and almost broke character when her nostrils flared. She looked like she was choking down a gag.

Good.

“I’ve missed you so much, baby. Please. It’s my last night in town. I need you.” Drew ran his hands down the sides of Kiera’s satin nightgown.

“I-I…” Kiera inhaled and Drew nearly burst out laughing when her eyes bulged.

Oh yeah, get a good whiff. You wanted me? You got me.

“Cut!”

Dan stalked over and pulled Kiera to the side. Drew turned his back to them and chuckled. The woman could barely get her lines out he smelled so bad.

“No Kiera, we can’t do this tomorrow. We have two hours to finish this scene.” Dan backed up to speak to both of them. “I expect professionalism from my actors. Enough of the petty crap. Deal with your shit and do your goddamn jobs.” The director stomped back to his seat.

Drew smirked at Kiera’s put out look. When she finally managed to spit out her lines, Drew grabbed the hem of her lingerie and pulled it over her head, making sure his armpit was nice and close to her nose. He caught her swallowing down another gag and internally cheered.

“Oh god, baby. You feel so good.” Drew kissed her, struggling not to gag himself.

He pushed her down on the bed and unbuttoned his pants. They dropped to the floor. Kiera stared up at him from the bed and licked her lips. They were both naked except for his cock-sock and her nearly transparent panties. Kiera licked her lips and recited her lines, but Drew knew she was checking him out.

Easy to do when I’m too far to smell, sweetheart.

He crawled onto the bed and laid his body on top of hers. Drew braced his elbows on either side of Kiera’s head as written in the scene. She was completely surrounded by his body odor.

“Oh god!” Kiera shouted, and it wasn’t in pleasure.

She shoved him off with a hand to his chest and leapt from the bed, retching.

“Kiera, is there a problem?” Dan dropped his headset and glared at my co-star.

Eyes wide, Kiera looked from Dan to the few other people in the room. When she realized no one was going to help her out or give her any sympathy, she fixed her expression and stood tall.

“I’m fine, Dan.”

“Good. Start from your last line, Drew.”

Kiera climbed back into the bed. Drew could feel her trembling beneath him. She was struggling to control her gag reflex. Drew grinned down at her and she shot him a furious look. He leaned down and whispered in her ear low enough that the boom mike wouldn’t pick it up.

“You wanted this, Kiera. I hope you enjoy every fucking minute of it, because I plan on using the entire two hours to torture you.”

“I hate you,” she hissed.

Drew smiled. “Now I have everything I ever could have wanted.”

She was still glaring when Dan called out.

“Action!”

The End

About Heather

I LIKE TO WRITE ANGSTY, dark stories with a side of humanity. When I’m not spinning tales of the tortured and famous, I’m a full time procrastinator. I love chocolate, dogs with squished in faces, and the Boston Red Sox.

Heathercleighauthor.com

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JESUS

HJ BELLUS

“Want to go to dinner with us?” Olivia tosses her purse over her shoulder.

“No, I’m good.”

“Scout, you can’t live on Hot Pockets and cheese sticks forever.”

Oren steps up behind her, planting a soft kiss to her temple, and pulling her back into his chest.

“I have plans.” I blow my ratty hair from my face.

“And Chuck Norris has a vagina.”

“He might,” Officer Lady Boner adds.

“I do. So screw off.”

“What are they then?” She pops her hip and places her hand on it like a real badass. Ever since that girl has had active cock in her life you’d think she was fucking Rambo.

“I’m going to church.” I stick my tongue out at her as I stand up.

“You better wear flame retardant clothing then, Scout,” Oren says between his laughter.

A love-scorned chick like me should despise these two, but I don’t. In a sick and twisted way, Olivia and Oren are my only forms of comfort these days besides tormenting Pedro.

“For real, whore, what are you doing?”

“If I’m lucky, I’ll be doing Paxton McNeal.”

Olivia’s face lights up like a child on Christmas morning. “Paxton McNeal. As in the Paxton McNeal from high school?”

“Yeah.” I pick at the raveled hem of my t-shirt.

“Oh my god, Scout, is he back in town?”

“Just for the holiday and we’ve been chatting on Facebook.”

“So, let me get this straight you’re meeting up with The Paxton McNeal, the hottest guy to ever walk the halls of our high school.”

“Settle down, tiger.” Oren tugs on Olivia’s shoulder. “You’re hurting my manly ego here.”

Olivia turns to Oren, taking the heat off of me for the time being. “Sorry, baby. You’re still the hottest on the block and my lady boner.”

“We were suppose to have dinner, but he canceled so later on I’m going over for Netflix and chill.”

That gets Olivia’s ripe old attention. “Seriously?”

“God, Olivia, you’re so easy.” I chug back a glass of water. “I’m going over there in a couple hours.”

“To Mr. McNeal’s house?”

I nod.

“Won’t it be awkward since you work with him?”

“Wait, you guys work with a hot guy?” Oren asks.

“No, we work with his dad. He’s the PE teacher.”

“Thank God, thought I had some competition.”

“Oh no.” I pat his shoulder as I stroll by him. “This gem is all yours and only yours.”

“Text the details, Scout. We’re going over to Dad’s afterwards to stuff Easter eggs for the community hunt in the morning.”

“You got it.”

The slamming of the front door comforts me. Pedro scratches at my feet so I snag him up and curl him under my arms. I’m going to die when Olivia and Oren get married and get their own house. I love this damn dog. I’ll never admit it, but I love the little dry humping machine.

I may have lied a bit to Olivia about tonight, but it won’t hurt a thing. Paxton’s parents are out of town tonight and tomorrow. We’ve been full on sexting and getting down via Snapchat over the last few months.

Dating has been dismal since Taylor and truth be told my heart still remains in shattered pieces. I may or may not obsessively stalk him and his new fiancé on every single social media platform. I’ve promised myself that if I ever find myself with night vision binoculars hidden in a bush then I have a serious problem and not until then.

I grab my phone from the counter and text Paxton.

Me: We still on for 8

Paxton: Damn straight we are

Me: See you then

Paxton: Wear that purple lace lingerie you always tease me with.

The reflection in the mirror screams extreme whore makeover. There’s no quick up-do or another layer of make-up that will fix any of this hot mess. Most weekends I look this way unless there’s a family function or Olivia drags me out.

“Go get your bone, Pedro.” I turn on the shower and wait for the water to heat up to a scalding temperature. I grab the purple panties and bra Paxton requested along with a pack of razors and wait.

“FKAT,” I mumble and then draw the letters on the top of my thigh.

“FFAT.” I repeat the same action.

First kiss after Taylor and first fuck after Taylor may possibly be going down tonight with Paxton McNeal. The high school football all-star who went on to play in college, and is now playing in the pro league might be getting into my panties tonight. It was all a crazy ass mistake of how we even started talking.

I had to show his dad how to use Facebook and Skype to keep up with his famous son. Mr. McNeal is the elementary PE teacher and fits the stereotype to a T from the whistle to the scary as hell scowl. My spine stiffens when I pass him in the hall and I always fear he’s going to yell, “Scout, give me fifty.”

One night, I messaged Paxton letting him know his father’s usernames and stuff and that there was a very slim chance that he’d ever figure out how to work it and we just started chatting. Paxton’s into the game as in eats, breathes, and sleeps the game and all the shit that comes with it not leaving him much lady time.

So our sexting and very inappropriate conversations flowed easily and rapidly to the point he took my breath away from his naughty pictures and promises. He only comes home a couple times a year and promised me a visit. Goosebumps prickle all over my skin just thinking about what the man could do to me in his bed and then I smile, finally thinking life is good.

“The perfect FFAT.”

I climb into the shower and begin lathering myself from head to toe with my cherry blossom scented shaving gel. My fingers grow nervous with each swipe and I wonder where the foul-mouthed and over confident Scout drifted to. I shave like there’s no tomorrow and then when I think I’m finished, I lather up again and repeat the shaving motion.

By the time I head for my car, I could compete in a hairless competition with those ugly ass cats some people love. The drive is nerve wracking and I’m not sure if it’s because of the possibility of the FFAT or the fact I’m going to see Paxton McNeal, the hometown-fucking hero.

My luck, a world-class case of the sharts will strike mid-humping. That’s all I need is a shit fart combo to plague my night. My phone dings in my purse and I ignore knowing it’s Olivia going ape shit crazy over the fact I’m about to meet up with the stud of all studs.

My butthole puckers when I pass mine and Olivia’s childhood homes. Paxton lives two blocks down and three over. And even though he was an under classmate, Olivia and I use to spy on him in the summers, willing him to take his shirt off. One time he caught us ogling him and asked if we needed help. We both shook our heads and told him we were walking our dog. He pointed to a leash with no dog on it. Olivia’s bastard dog had escaped and we hadn’t even noticed it.

I kill the engine in front of his house and strum the steering wheel, feeling like that silly teenager with a massive crush on the star quarterback.

“What in the hell are you thinking, Scout? Abort mission. Abort FFAT, stat. You are not a qualified quarterback humper.”

In a rush, I fumble for my keys, but Paxton McNeal hollers my name before I can find them. When I look up, he takes my breath away standing on his front porch in lose blue jeans, a dark V-neck t-shirt, and messy blonde hair. My ovaries do a somersault taking in the gorgeous man.

I offer a weak wave before realizing I’m practically licking my fucking window. He effortlessly jogs down the few steps and his long sidewalk and opens the door for me.

“Hey, you remember.” His blue eyes dazzle in the sunlight and white teeth sparkle.

I shrug and try to find my voice. “I told you that we stalked you like rabid dogs in high school.”

Paxton blushes and tucks both of his hands in his pockets. “I don’t think I even knew there were girls in high school. It was all football.”

“Still seems the case.”

He extends his hand to me. I take it like any lady would and let him help me from the car.

“Did you bring your sleepover bag?” he asks, lightening the mood.

“You didn’t tell me it was a slumber party.” I laugh.

The enormous and very intricate wood carving above their front door catches my attention and immediately reminds me of Mr. McNeal, Paxton’s father. I will never be able to look at him the same after tonight, even if we do chill.

“Did you eat, Scout?” Paxton asks, leading me into their massive kitchen.

The counters are a gorgeous slate gray marble with dark cabinets adorning the walls and intricate tiling on every single surface.

“Fancy digs.” I run my palms over the smooth marble.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh yes, I ate.” I pry my stare away from admiring all the tiny details and look up to Paxton. “You eat?”

“Yeah, that’s why I had to delay our date because I had to attend a baby cousin’s birthday party.”

I nod my head, running head first into an awkward as hell conversation point. What do I say now? Ready to go fuck? Want to get down and dirty? No what what in the butt butt.

“Face Time and Snapchat don’t do you justice.”

“Uh?” I ask.

“You’re gorgeous, Scout.”

I blush from his compliment and don’t even know how to proceed.

“You can say thank you now.” Paxton leans back on the counter, crossing his feet at the ankles.

“Thank you now.”

“You’re even a smartass in real life.”

“Yep, that is one thing I am.”

He snags my wrist and pulls me into his chest until my front is smooshed up against his. He feels just as rock hard as he looks. My forehead comes up to his chin; his arms easily wrap around me, pulling me in even closer.

“Mmmm, you smell amazing too.” He nuzzles his nose in the crook of my neck.

“You smell like sex.”

What in the fuck, Scout? Really?

“Got something on your mind?”

“Maybe.” I’m barely able to respond when his tongue lazily traces circles on the side of my neck. My nipples grow rock hard with need and want. And just like that I’m hornier than a teenage boy flipping through his dad’s nude magazines.

“You have too many clothes on.” Paxton lifts the bottom of my shirt and slowly drags it over my head. “You listened.”

He takes time to appreciatively take in my purple bra and ample supply of cleavage before unzipping my jeans and wiggling them down. Paxton whirls us around in one quick movement and then lifts me to sit on the countertop. The marble chills my ass through my thin panties.

I mimic his action and peel off his shirt, taking my time to soak in his god like body. Perfect abs and a dangerous v that peeks out of the top of his jeans riding low on his hips; my fingers unbutton his jeans and he shimmies them the rest of the way down.

“No strings, Scout; I’ll be out of town in three days.”

“No strings, Paxton; I’ll be teaching fifth grade in three days and won’t have time for stars like you.” I roll my eyes for a dramatic effect.

“Jesus, if I could have a girl like you while playing.” He lets out a sexy low groan. “My world would be complete.”

I wrap my arms around the back of his neck, letting my fingers run through his perfect hair. My lady parts instantly overheat and I’m more than ready for the all-star, even if it’s for one night.

“Sorry, Paxton, I have the minds of fifth graders to educate.”

“Then we have tonight.”

His lips crash onto mine and take control of the situation. His taste is dangerous and addicting. I let Paxton run his tongue over the inside of my mouth and moan. When he bites down on my lower lip, I lose all sense of control and match his punishing kiss with my lips. My hand drifts down between us until my hand covers his harden cock.

“Oh shit, Scout,” he breathes into my mouth and freezes.

My fingers sink below the elastic waist of his boxers until I have his hardened cock in my hand. I run my fingernails over the length of his shaft before I grip him and slowly begin pumping him from base to tip. Paxton takes a step back and I hop from the counter. I pull down his tight fitting boxers until they hit the tile floor.

If I thought his body and looks were spot on, then his dick is officially crowned the champion. Perfect length and width fills my palm as I continue to stroke him until a bead of cum appears on the tip of it. Slowly, I sink to my knees and lick my lips before I rub them against the head of his cock.

“Scout,” Paxton warns in harsh hiss.

I know he’s going to tell me to slow down, but not even Satan could stop me now. My lips part and my vision goes up to Paxton, who’s staring down at me with a hungry look covering his face. I dart my tongue out to meet the head of his cock, taking my time to swirl around it before I take him fully in my mouth.

My hands wrap around to clutch his tight ass as my teeth glide along his cock until I reach the base and then slowly drag back. I play it cool when my gag reflex protests the massive cock trying to bob down the back of my throat. Paxton begins moving his hips to quicken the pace. I work him over for several minutes before he grabs my shoulders and pops my mouth from him.

The echoing sound of the pop circulates around the kitchen. Paxton has me standing and up in his arms before I can process anything. My ankles wrap around his waist and arms clutched around his neck. His mouth is on mine mingling both of his tastes, forming a tornado of emotion and want.

I kiss him back, biting at his bottom lip, and shoving my tongue as far into his mouth as I could. When I’m time warped back to my junior high years and my kissing ability, I try to cool my tempo. I want Paxton McNeal more than a crack whore needs their next fix.

My ass feels another cool surface below and then Paxton lets go of me and that’s when I notice I’m seated on the edge of the light maple dining room table.

“Lay back, Scout.” Paxton unclips the back of my bra and slowly drags it off with his eyes glazed over with passion.

I lay back slowly, feeling every single inch of the cool surface meet the skin on my back, causing goose bumps to race all over me. Paxton dips his thumbs under my panties on each side of my thighs and drags them down until I’m buck-naked spread out on his dining room table.

“I feel like a feast here.” I prop myself up on my elbows and smile down at him.

“You look fucking delicious.” He leans forward, taking a nipple into his mouth while rolling the other one between the pad of his thumb and finger. His teeth slowly sink down around my nipple, causing a rippling effect to shoot through my body. My hips buck up to meet some sort of release but find none.

“Lay down, Scout. It’s my turn to taste you.”

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. He’s going downtown. I slowly relax back until my back is pressed against the table. Paxton spreads my legs, places my feet on top of the table, and dips low until I feel his breathing on my opening. His growls and sexy grunts turn me on and also give me confidence to not stop him. His tongue hits my clit and then delves deeper into me. Paxton combines his teeth and a sucking motion until I’m crying out for Jesus and bucking up to him. His fingers join the movement, opening me further for him.

“Paxton, I’m going to…”

Before I finish my last thought, he buries two fingers in me, and curls his fingers until he has me buzzing out of control and screaming his name.

“Holy fuck, Scout.” Paxton joins me on the table, covering my body. “That was fucking hot.”

“Thank you, Jesus.”

“You’re so welcome. You were so sweet and ready.” Paxton kisses each corner of my mouth until his lips are covering mine and making love to my mouth.

I don’t have the courage to tell him that there’s been no live cock action in my life for the last several months, but just crumby porn and a dildo. There’s been no dinner, Netflix, or a slight chill between us up until this moment, but intense sexting and now carnal acts.

I push up on his shoulders and admire his swollen and wet lips. “Cock in me now.”

Paxton immediately leaves me and I swivel my head to watch his movements. He picks up his jeans from the floor and digs around in his pockets until he pulls out a foil package. We make eye contact and both smile. Hell, I don’t even remember him taking his pants off after the heated induced passion.

He grabs my wrist until I’m in a sitting position and pulls me from the table and places me back down on a low countertop. He slides the condom on like it’s a natural action for him. My face heats up as I watch him handle his cock. It may be the hottest thing I’ve ever watched; Paxton McNeal holding his cock, readying it for me.

I curl both of my lips in, biting down on them to control the naughty things I want to scream, like fuck me now. Paxton nudges me back on the counter and wraps one free arm low around my waist to steady me. The head of his cock nudges my entrance and I’ve lost all my damn patience with this fast paced make-out/fuck session.

I lunge forward until he’s fully seated in me and then let my wild screams go. My hand goes between us and begins to rub my clit. I can’t stand another moment without Paxton fucking me. My heel kicks his ass and Paxton finally comes to the party. He moves slow and precise at first until I pick up the speed of my hand. Paxton begins pounding into me and it only takes a few seconds of it before I fall over the cliff into a blissful orgasm.

I go limp back on the counter, relishing the lingering feel of my orgasm as Paxton pounds harder and harder into me.

“Fuck, Scout.” Paxton wraps both arms around my back and picks me up again, pushing my back against a wall.

My arms wrap tight around his neck, holding on for dear life. Paxton never stops his delicious rhythm with me up in the air. My mouth covers his and I kiss the hell out of him to mask my screams as the next orgasm hits me hard.

Paxton finally pulls back. “I’m not going to last much longer, babe.”

Babe. Did he just call me babe? Oh fuck, my ovaries just melted.

He pulls me from the wall with my legs still securely wrapped around his hips until he lays me back down on the table. The table instantly cools my sweaty back. Paxton covers my body in one quick movement. I roll my head to the side and thank God for this amazing night.

Paxton starts out slow, rolling his hips in a sexy movement. I lay back and relax enjoying each one of his movements until he has my body wound up once again and ready to implode. He dips his head and begins nipping on the sensitive skin on my neck. Paxton sucks a bit too hard and I know he’ll leave behind a mark, but I don’t have the willpower to stop him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I buck my hips up to his, trying to grind on him. “I’m going to go again, Paxton.”

My fingers dig into the top of his shoulders as I feel the impending orgasm lingering.

“Go, baby, go. I’m so close.” Paxton picks up his pace until he throws me into a screaming puddle of goo below him.

Every single one of my muscles relax and feel satisfied as Paxton never slows his pace and growls out his pleasure. My hands tangle in his damp blonde locks.

BAM.

Paxton freezes.

“What was that?” I ask.

“Oh, shit.” Paxton leaps from the table and then everything else is a complete fucking cluster fuck.

I watch Paxton dart down a hallway and vanish. I try to perch up on my elbows and slide around a bit on the sweat-slicked table and that’s when I come face to face with Mr. McNeal as in the Mr. McNeal that is Paxton’s dad as in Mr. McNeal my co-worker and elementary PE teacher at Ontario Elementary. His face is perfectly framed between my bent and very spread legs.

Fucking Paxton darted and threw me to the wolves. Where in the hell did he go?

“Scout?” Mr. McNeal’s deep voice fills the kitchen.

Wave? Play deaf? Pretend a seizure? For the love of fuck, what do I do? Close my legs should be first on the agenda and then cover up the girls.

“I told you to grab it before we left. It’s Jackson’s first Easter, dammit.” Paxton’s mom pushes past his dad. “Oh, dear.”

Kill me now, God, I’m begging you. Zap me to hell now and let me burn.

As lady like as possible I close my legs, slowly sit up, and then cover my girls with my arm and grab the Easter basket to place over my beaver. My damp freshly fucked blonde hair falls around my shoulders and the deer in headlights look remains plastered on my face, not knowing what to do or say.

I need an Easter miracle here, Jesus. I’ll even send you a birthday card.

“We forgot our grandson’s Easter basket.” Paxton’s dad points to the basket now covering my coochie.

Could things get any worse? Oh, they can get so much worse! The basket has seen better days, with the handle broken off and my boob imprint smooshed into a chocolate rabbit. The basket looks like the ol’ Easter Bunny had one too many shots of Vodka before delivering it.

“Here.” I hold out the basket with shaky hands and exposed lady bits.

I’m going to cut Paxton’s balls off and hang them from my mirror if he doesn’t get down here and save me.

Mr. McNeal tries to conceal a smile and Paxton’s mom is less than amused as she rips the shredded basket from my hands and turns on her heels. She vanishes down the same hallway as Paxton did. Mr. McNeal remains in place with his hands tucked in his pockets. He does his best job to stare up at the ceiling and I sit fucking naked on his dining room table twiddling my thumbs.

My clothes are scattered all over the kitchen. I could leap off the table and gather them then run like hell, but I’d be giving him so many more shots of parts I don’t want to even see.

“George, get your ass in here,” Paxton’s mom’s voice streams loud and clear from the hallway she vanished to.

I let out a long pent up breath of air when he hustles down the magic vanishing hallway like his asshole son did.

I leap off the table like my ass is on fire and jump into my panties and the rest of my clothes. Their conversation isn’t very subtle at all.

“I’m twenty-four, Mom.”

“I don’t care how old you are and how much sex you’re having, but I’d rather you not hump on your nephew’s Easter basket and my damn dining room table.”

Oh, god. Oh, god. I’m changing my name, zip code, and moving to a far off island.

By the time I slip into my sandals, I freeze when I hear my name being hollered.

“Scout.”

It’s his mom. Fuck, if it was his dad or the jackass himself, I’d bolt without a guilty conscious. My hand’s on the back door when all three of them come around the corner and I feel naked all over again with my pussy greeting them into their own home.

“We’re leaving. You two can pick up where you left off. Please just limit the dirty deed to his bed.” She brushes past me like she’s never seen my pussy up close and personal. Mr. McNeal is on her heels, now fighting back laughter.

“Oh, and Scout, you need to get that mole on your left boob checked out,” Paxton’s mom says as she walks out the door with her trashed Easter basket in hand.

The door slams and the amazing disappearing Paxton steps up to me.

“Don’t.” I raise my hand to him and walk through the large home until I find the door I entered through.

“Scout, I’m so sorry.”

“You should be sorry since your father just got an up close shot of my lady locker.”

“I thought they were going to be gone until Monday morning.”

“Karma’s a bitch, Paxton.” I throw open the door. “But thanks for the amazing three orgasms.” I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.

Wednesday Morning at Ontario Elementary

“Are you serious?” Olivia’s olive skin turns pale as I finish up my Easter humping tale.

“Dead serious. Now do you know why I’ll babysit your little rat first graders if you walk my class to PE? And I’ll even throw in packing our lunches for a month.”

Olivia’s only response is her hyena uncontrollable laughter drawing everyone’s attention to us. Everyone in the staff room now has their eyes on us. The tears stream down Olivia’s cheeks.

“Naked,” she barely gets out.

I kick her under the table because she has no clue we have a full house audience and I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t give a shit since it’s usually her in these mortifying situations. Her laughter finally calms down and everyone else goes back to their heated up left over meals and newspapers. Being the youngest on the staff has some perks.

“So?” I ask her.

Olivia begins to open her mouth and then her eyes grow to the size of golf balls. Swiveling in my seat, I turn to see what has her attention. Mr. fucking McNeal.

“Hello, ladies. Just need to warm up my fish.” He waggles his eyebrows and bites down on the longest and biggest dill pickle I’ve ever seen; looks just like his son’s…

The End

DEAR READER,

I hope you enjoyed Chapter 1 of “I Shaved My Legs For This?” Scout’s story is shaping up to be just as hilarious as Olivia’s in “The Big O”. And don’t you worry, you’ll get plenty of Olivia, Officer Lady Boner, and Pedro in Scout’s Story.

Love,

HJB

FOLLOW ALL THINGS HJB on authorhjb.com

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HOT HANDS

K. LANGSTON

When is the last time you fucked your wife?

That shouldn’t even be a question for a man like me. A man who loves his wife as much as I do.

Know how long it’s been for me?

Months.

Nearly two to be exact.

But it feels like fucking years at this point. If it’s not the kids cock-blocking me, it’s our friends, her parents, her job.

The goddamn dog.

Don’t get me wrong, we have sex.

Lots of sex.

But it’s the quiet kind.

The sneaky kind.

The kind where you just can’t…

Let go.

Scratch.

Scream.

Spank.

Tear at each other like animals. I know that sounds barbaric as fuck, but I don’t care.

I need to fuck my wife.

And I don’t mean lay her down in a bed and fuck her, I mean…

Fuck. Her.

On every surface.

Climb every wall.

The boys have gone to my in-laws for the night, and I’ve planned a romantic dinner at home.

Alone.

Rubbing my ever-present hard-on, I groan. I just hope I can hold out

for dessert.

I’ve even gone as far as soliciting the help of her best friend Katy. Though, she didn’t have to do much convincing in order to drag Maddie away from work for a spa day. I’m glad she gave in. The woman needs time to herself every now and then. This new case she’s working on has been hard, and my baby has been stressed.

I look down at my straining cock.

It’s been hard on all of us.

Tonight, I’m going to take her mind off of that and everything else going on in our crazy little perfect life.

Shut out the world and just be…

Us.

I’m expecting her home any minute. The dining room table is set.

Strategically placed candles offer a romantic glow, something I know she will appreciate, and will have her slipping those pretty pink panties off faster than I can smack that ass.

Tonight…

She’s mine.

I’M GREETED by the smell of dinner when I walk through the garage door and into the house. I smile, recognizing the meal right away.

My favorite.

The lack of chattering from two unruly boys immediately garners my attention. All I hear is Stapleton crooning “Tennessee Whiskey” and that’s enough to make me smile even bigger, excitement fluttering in my belly.

I make my way into the kitchen and Holden spots me immediately, quickly taking me into his arms. Before I can draw in the air needed to speak, his lips claim mine and my back kisses a wall.

His tongue is a force of nature.

Demanding.

Controlling.

So fucking hot.

When his blue eyes meet mine, they glimmer with heat and a whole lot of need. “I really want to feed you first, babe.” He massages my neck with his hand. “I really fucking do. But I’m not sure I can sit across from you long enough to consume food and not eat you instead. What do you say I fuck you now and we eat later?”

Is it possible to love this man more than I already do?

I smirk, thinking of all the naughty little things he’s got planned for me. He may be a simple man but there’s no lack of imagination on his part whatsoever.

“Where are the boys?” I ask, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Your parents’.”

“Whatcha cookin’?”

“Grilled chicken tacos with some of that hot salsa you love so much.”

I groan, making a big show of it. “I don’t know. I think I wanna eat first. I’m so hungry.” My mouth is on his neck now, licking.

Tasting.

His grin is exceptionally wicked as he bends at the waist, hands moving to my knees to inch my skirt up. He could have easily unzipped it, but it’s clear…

My man means business.

“Don’t tease me. That will get you bent over the table before you can dip your first chip.”

Our table has seen a lot of miles. It’s his favorite surface in the whole damn house. Something about it being the perfect height and just the right kind of wobble.

One hand dips between my legs, long fingers seeking.

Eager.

Pulling my panties aside, they glide easily through my wet flesh and I moan, the sound cutting through my throat desperately as I lose myself in the heat of his touch.

It grows hotter.

And hotter.

Until…

“Owwwwwwwwww… Holy fuck!”

“Fuck yes, baby. Scream for me.”

“Holy fucking hell!”

Holden stiffens as I cry out again, realizing my screams aren’t born of pleasure but ungodly pain. I push him away, scrambling to close my legs.

“What is it, babe?”

“My vagina! It’s on fire!”

“On fire?”

“Burning. Jesus Christ. I’m dying!” I look around, searching for relief, but my eyes land on a bundle of peppers instead. “Holden, did you wash your hands?”

“Well yeah, but…” He trails off, his face stricken with guilt. “Aw fuck!”

“What?”

“Shit! I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinkin’. I shoulda wore gloves. But all I could think about was makin’ you scream.”

“Well, you succeeded in that.” I can see the remorse heavy in his eyes, and I howl in frustration once more.

I don’t care how sorry he is right now, this shit burns like a motherfucker, and I want him to die!

“I know you didn’t mean to do it,” I breathe through the pain. “Just figure out a way to help make it stop.” I cup my vagina and cross my legs. “Hurry up! My vagina is falling off, Holden. My vagina should not be falling off!”

“Your vagina better not fall the fuck off,” he says, looking around the room. For what? I have no fucking clue, but he better find it.

“It feels like there’s a million paper cuts between my legs and some demon of Satan is pouring lime juice all over them.”

This is a special kind of pain. The kind of pain you never forget.

Like childbirth.

Or an unexpected dick in the ass.

“Guess that gives a whole new meaning to fire down below, huh?” He smirks.

Narrowing my eyes, I silently plot his imminent death.

That puts his ass in gear.

“Okay, okay. Lemme think.”

He rushes over to the fridge, staring blankly inside before finally pulling out a jug of milk like it’s the answer to everything.

“Are you kidding me?” I shriek.

He shrugs. “Or we can stuff it full of bread?”

“I swear, if I wasn’t in so much pain I would kick you in the nuts!”

He fishes his phone from the pocket of his jeans. “Stay calm. No need for violence. Google will know what to do. Surely, I’m not the only idiot who has fingered his wife after handling Serrano peppers.”

Lord, I hate to think of the many women who have suffered this same fate. I take a couple of deep breaths, trying to breathe past the pain, but it only seems to get worse by the second.

“Yep, I am not alone. Tim from Tampa says to try yogurt.”

“Holden, I’m not putting food in my vagina. Fuck Google, fuck Tim, and fuck you!”

“But it’ll be so much fun to clean up.”

“I really hate you right now. I’m never giving you another blow job as long as I live.”

“Okay, now that’s just crazy talk.”

“Holden, please,” I beg.

“Wait…here’s one where they took a milk bath. Says it works pretty fast. The casein in milk binds with the oil in the peppers and washes it away.”

“Then you better haul ass to the store and buy all the milk they have, damn it. Before I die.”

He snatches the keys from the counter, kissing me on his way out the door. “I’ll make this up to ya, babe. I swear.”

“You better.”

IT’S BEEN a week since the incident. That’s what we’re calling it anyway. Thankfully, the milk worked. The burning subsided rather quickly and surprisingly, it does amazing things for your skin. I’d been hesitant to let him touch me intimately ever since. It’s hard not to associate my husband’s fingers with indescribable pain. And he does a lot with those fingers.

Crazy, sexy, hot, wonderful things.

I need to move past it.

Enough is enough.

This morning had been the final straw, watching him get the boys ready for school. He walked around the house with his shirt off the entire time, taunting me. Those damn low-hanging jeans made my mouth water, accenting those divots I love to worship. If I didn’t have to be in court so early, I would have jumped his bones when he got back from dropping off the boys, but as usual, work got in the way.

This has been the longest we’ve ever gone without having sex since the boys were born, and it’s killing me. I’ve grown accustomed to dirty little quickies in the pantry and being bent over the couch when the boys are at school or playing outside.

It doesn’t have to be rainbows and butterflies all the time. Don’t get me wrong, I need him to make love to me sometimes. I think we all need the gentleness of a lover between hot, dirty fucks, whether it be a kiss or a touch. Something as simple as a whisper can provide such a deep level of intimacy between a couple, but it’s the delicate border of pleasure and pain that really exposes us, that allows us to open up to one another on the most basic, primal level.

Like when Holden is slapping my ass and pulling my hair, whispering words of adoration and degradation in my ear.

The man can build a fire inside of me like no one else.

Shifting my legs beneath the table, I sigh.

“How’s your steak?” he asks.

Shoving the plate away, I frown. “Not as good as yours.”

We agreed on supper out this time. Safer this way. Especially if I was going to let him touch me tonight.

“We can go to the Dip if you want.”

“Well, why didn’t you suggest that before?”

“Because I wanted to sit down and have a nice, quiet meal with my wife without having to play referee to the boys.”

He’s so full of shit.

“You’re trying to get laid tonight, aren’t you?”

He shifts in his seat, adjusting himself with a pained expression on his face. “I’m fuckin’ dyin’, babe.”

I lean forward on a harsh whisper. “Will you keep your voice down?”

“Will you take your panties off?”

Of course, our server chose that exact moment to return to our table. That shit-eating grin on his face told me he’d heard what Holden said.

So fucking awkward.

The man has no shame.

“Can I interest y’all in any dessert?” he asks.

“Oh, I’m gonna have dessert all right.”

I kick Holden’s leg under the table, handing the server my half-eaten steak. “Check please.”

“Of course, ma’am.” He smirks, skipping off.

I kick Holden again but he doesn’t even flinch. “You ass.”

“What?”

“You’re so not getting laid tonight.”

“Oh yes, I am.”

I smile sweetly. “We’ll see.”

I PAY THE BILL, leaving dude one hell of a tip, and I’m pretty sure one

hell of a mental picture, then I lead my wife to the truck. I don’t say a word on the way home, allowing the tension to build even further. She’s all talk.

The woman cannot say no to me. Not when she knows I’m going to eat her alive.

The second her feet cross the threshold of the house, she’s mine.

My growl is predatory, downright feral as I push her against the wall, last year’s family photo crashing to the ground next to us.

I waste zero time, falling straight to my knees then pushing the thin fabric of her dress up her tan thighs. “I’m ready for my dessert.” I nearly weep at her feet when I find her completely bare underneath. My tongue darts out to taste her, teasing with a few long swipes before I can’t control myself any longer. I lap her up like a starving dog.

One that hasn’t eaten in a little over a week.

I latch on to her clit, suckling the small bud in my mouth before letting it go with a loud smack.

“Oh God!”

“He can’t save you now, baby.” I smirk, pushing her legs further apart. “Wider.” She obeys without hesitation as my tongue dips lower, seeking the dark place I know and love.

“Holden,” she breathes, threading her fingers through my hair, scraping those sharp nails into my scalp.

My dick grows harder.

If that’s even fucking possible.

I add two fingers to the mix, pumping them in and out until her sweet cum squirts down the palm of my hand. “That’s my girl,” I praise, looking up at her, her face all red and flustered.

Composure shattered.

I love watching her go from proper attorney to my slutty wife.

Rising to my feet, I move her to the side arm of the couch, bending her over. I lift her dress once more, exposing that sweet little ass. “I’m about to burn this pussy up, baby.”

“As long as you aren’t bringing the fingers of hell with you, by all means, fire away.”

I slam into her hot and hard, burying myself deep enough to earn a needy moan. She pushes her hips back, seeking more.

My baby always wants more.

Thrusting in and out, I increase my pace; fucking her so hard the couch begins to scoot across the floor.

“Oh God!” she screams before clamping down on me, that hungry pussy of hers begging me not to leave as she comes all over my cock.

The palm of my hand lands on her ass with a loud smack, adding to the erotic sound of skin slapping skin. But when she pulls one leg up, propping her foot up on the couch, I nearly lose my goddamn mind.

I reach around, rubbing her clit. “I love fucking you.” Wrapping my fingers around the base of her throat, I give her a gentle squeeze.

“Harder,” she demands with a wicked smile, twisting her head.

I comply.

Showing no mercy.

No restraint.

Barbaric as fuck.

Hot and dirty.

Just the way we like it.

The End

YOU CAN FIND Maddie and Holden’s story in book one of the MINE series, Because You’re Mine available on all platforms.

K. LANGSTON IS a small town country girl who writes with true passion and heart about what she knows.

Love, romance, and all things southern.

Authorklangston.com

COCKBLOCKED~FEATURING DEAN GOLDSMITH & GRACE YEATES CHARACTERS FROM UNTIL NOW, THE NOT YET SERIES BOOK #2

LAURA WARD

“Y ou need to rub one out. Tiny Tim needs some action. Research studies show that if you’re backed up with jizz, your equilibrium will be off. Could be the reason you’re throwing like a pussy,” Jon laughed into the phone.

I stopped at a red light and closed my eyes.

The fuck? Tiny Tim?

Breathe in—he’s been your best friend for eighteen years—breathe out.

Breathe in—he thinks he’s funny—breathe out.

Fuck, he’s probably right.

The Hummer behind me honked, and I opened my eyes. I pressed down on the accelerator of my Range Rover. A California King and this ride were my first purchases after the engagement ring. Gotta love a good signing bonus.

“Grace and I have a date tonight. That’s what I really need. Time with her.” Grace Yeates was my fiancé and the best person I knew. She’d trusted me with both her heart and her son’s. Nothing, not even getting drafted to the Chicago Bears football team, had ever felt so good.

Jon snorted. “You don’t need dinner, man. You need Otis Deepthroatis sucked. Man up and tell Grace what you need.”

After an obligatory fuck you in response, I ended our call. He was coming to the next home game, so I’d get a chance to bust his balls in return then.

Jon was a pig, but he had a point. At the ripe age of twenty-three, I was the starting quarterback for the Bears, and so far, my season had been shitty. My agent and members of the press kept repeating that this was a rebuilding year and to give it time. Ask any professional sports player to be patient during a sucky season and you’re likely to get nut-punched. Patience and athlete don’t play well together.

Our loss yesterday was embarrassing. The Green Bay Packers were our biggest rivals. I had to walk out of Lambeau Field to heckling from a bunch of dorks wearing Styrofoam cheese wedges on their heads. Really, who was the bigger loser?

Driving home today after our team meeting, I was tense. I needed a release. Big D stirred to life at the thought.

Grace and Finn had moved into my condo on Lake Shore Drive this past summer, and my life felt complete. There wasn’t anything I would change. Well, maybe there was one thing.

Privacy.

I didn’t need space from Grace, I need uninterrupted time and space to do Grace. Finn was four years old, and he was the happiest kid I had ever met. He just never left us alone.

Sure, we tried to wait him out, but as the kid got older, he seemed to need less sleep. We’d check on him when we were ready for bed, and there he’d lie, eyes wide open, ready to shoot the shit.

I loved him. I loved that little dude, but I also loved his mom. And I needed some lovin’ from his mom. Times were getting desperate. I was at the point of listening to… Jon. Sex might help my game. At this rate, it sure as fuck couldn’t make it worse.

“RED, you look amazing.” Grace walked out of our bedroom in a green mini-dress with floral stilettos. I took her hand in mine, pulling her close to me. Her lips were shiny with a light coating of gloss and I kissed them.

Grace grinned and used her thumb to wipe off my lips. “All you need is the press catching you wearing my makeup. They’d have a field day with that.”

My eyes widened at the thought. The press hadn’t been too kind to me after the last two losses. I couldn’t give them any fuel for the fire.

“Take me to dinner, football God. I’m starving.” Grace smacked my ass, and I straightened, eyebrows raised.

Playful Grace rocked. Naughty Grace rocked. Okay, all parts that made up Grace rocked, but tonight I was horny. Or, hornier than normal. So playful and naughty were especially welcome.

“Me too! I’m starvin’. Where’re we going?” Finn ran out of his room wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and a clip-on tie. He had amassed a huge collection of clip-on ties this year. The kid had a wicked good imagination, and he loved playing dress up.

Problem was, tonight he was dressed up for dinner. Shit.

Grace knelt in front of Finn. “Super-Finn, I told you earlier. Bethany is babysitting tonight. Dean and I need some alone time.” She tugged on his tie and it released.

Finn’s lips turned down. “I thought it was the three of us now. We’re like the superheroes on that PJ Masks show. Mom, you’re Owlette, cause she’s the girl. Dean, you’re Catboy cause you’re wearing a blue shirt, and I’m Gecko, cause I’m speedy and can leap off the couch like this.” Finn jumped onto the leather sectional and then surged off, landing on his feet with his arms curled to show his biceps.

Too fuckin’ cute. But he wasn’t wearing me down. Not this time, anyway. Tonight Big D came first. Well not literally. My girl always came first.

I crouched down next to Grace. “We are a group of three. I promise we are. But your Mama and I need some adult time. We’ll be home soon and besides, you love Bethany.”

Bethany walked out of the kitchen holding a DVD and a bag of popcorn. “Movie night, Finn?”

Finn looked back and forth between Bethany and us. I held my breath. Please, little dude. Help a brother out. One day, many years from now you will understand. You don’t want me to remind you that you were once king of the cockblocks.

Finn shrugged. “Okay. You guys go eat boring food, and Bethany and I will have a movie party.”

Big D did a happy dance in my pants.

And ten minutes later we were on our way to dinner.

“OH MY GOD,” Grace moaned as she licked the warm chocolate off her spoon. “This is the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.” She smirked and bit her bottom lip. “Well, the second best.”

“Grace,” I bit out as I shifted in my chair. She had tortured me throughout this whole dinner. Resting her hand on my upper thigh. Moaning when she ate her meal. Running her fingertips up and down the stem of her wine glass. Breathing….

Man, I was all keyed up. Big D had pitched a tent in my pants after the salad course. We needed to get home. Like yesterday.

“You ready, Red? I need to bury myself in you tonight.” The need in my own voice was almost scary. I felt like a forty-year-old virgin, touched for the very first time.

Her signature blush appeared, and I groaned. I threw several hundred dollars on the table, and we walked quickly to the valet. Dinner at North Pond was worth every penny. Grace loved the farm to table food, and I loved how close it was to home. As soon as I heard the click from Grace’s seatbelt, I gunned the engine.

Grace linked her fingers with mine. “Dean, where are you going?”

Her voice was low and sexy, and my heart raced, veins pumping. Adrenaline coursed through me. “Home,” I growled and squeezed her hand. “Need you, baby.”

She leaned closer and kissed my cheek. “It’s too early. They’ll still be watching the movie.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I looked to the side and saw a tennis facility. The dark, empty parking lot brought me right back to high school. Back then we’d drive around the reservoir, looking for a secluded spot to hook up without our parent’s knowledge. Now, a grown-ass-man and all, I was right back to feeling like a teenager. I needed privacy so I could lose myself in Grace. If I could just take the edge off, I’d calm the fuck down.

I turned right and headed to the back of the lot. I cut the engine and shut off the lights. A low overhead street light was our only illumination. Leaning over, I cupped my hand around the back of Grace’s head and brought her mouth to mine.

My lips found hers and my tongue traced her lower lip. “If we can’t go home yet, then let’s have some fun here.” I kissed the corner of her mouth and along her jaw. “We’re all alone, and I’m so hard I could puncture metal right now.”

Grace giggled and pressed her hand down on my aching dick. “Poor baby. Let me take care of you.” She rubbed, and I closed my eyes. I was sure that whimpering sound, like a dog that had been kicked in the belly, did not come from me.

Grace undid my belt and released me from my pants and boxer briefs. The feel of myself in her hand was heaven. Nirvana. Perfection. I opened my eyes to watch. Her small hand gripped me tightly, and she moved up and down in a slow, teasing rhythm.

“Grace,” I begged. “More.”

She paused and leaned closer, kissing me hard. She sucked my lower lip into her mouth and then dragged it out between her teeth.

Holy fuck.

Releasing my lip, she brought her luscious mouth to my cock. She licked slowly, like I was her favorite flavored lollipop, never breaking eye contact. Hell yes. She was sex personified – the embodiment of every fantasy I had ever had.

And then she took all of me in her mouth, bobbing as she increased her suction. My head fell back on the seat rest and my hands balled into fists. Keep it together fuck face. Pretend you don’t feel like a pubescent teen around this woman.

Tap, tap, tap.

How was Grace tapping? What was she tapping?

Tap, tap, tap.

Grace stilled. Grace was not tapping. The tapping was coming from outside.

Balls. Shit. Motherfucker.

Grace moved off me, covering Big D with my dinner jacket. Her eyes were round with horror.

Mortifying as it was to admit, my first instinct was to scream. Weren’t serial killers stalking parks just like these in the movies? Weren’t they interrupting young lovers so they could bludgeon them with their long, jagged, knives? But then I remembered that I was a goddamned NFL football player, and got myself the fuck together. Pressing the button, I allowed the window to go down about one-third of the way. I was a quarterback, not a fool.

“Good evening folks,” a male voice spoke and then a badge was placed in our direct sight.

A police badge.

Christ almighty, I was blocked again.

I pushed the button, this time allowing it to roll all the way down.

“Hello, officer.” I straightened, thankful that Grace sat up as well, but kept her hand firmly planted on my jacket that covered my still hard, but rapidly becoming flaccid, dick.

“Good evening. You all okay out here? Car broke down? Someone ill?”

I shook my head. “No sir. I mean, yes, we are fine. No, we aren’t sick.”

The portly officer rocked back on his heels. “Well, I’m sure you’re aware that you’re on private property then, yes?”

I shook my head again. “No sir, I wasn’t aware.”

The officer scratched his chin. “You don’t say?”

Grace adjusted in her seat, leaning over me to look at the officer. “Officer….” She squinted, trying to read his badge. “Bilger. Officer Bilger, we were just trying to spend a few minutes in peace before we headed home. You see, I have a four-year-old son who loves Dean very much and won’t give us a moment to…well…for….I mean, you know what I mean.”

The officer chuckled. “I have two little ones at home, ma’am. I understand. But public nudity and fornication is illegal and punishable by,” as he spoke he peered into the car. “Well, I’ll be damned. Dean Goldsmith?”

I groaned, hoping only Grace heard it. “Yes, sir.”

“I’m a huge fan. Followed you since the draft. Rough couple of games. You gotta figure something out soon my man…” His voice trailed off and then he took a step back. “I see what you’re thinking here. Might help. But you gotta go somewhere else.”

I laughed this time. “I understand. Thank you, officer.”

Officer Bilger grinned. “Anything for my team. But, uh…” He took off his hat. “Can I get a picture with you before I go?”

Grace covered her mouth with her other hand to muffle her giggle.

“Sure, just give me one second.” I looked at Officer Bilger and then down at my lap.

He coughed and turned his back to us. I adjusted myself back in my pants, mock glaring at Grace as she snickered.

Five minutes later, Grace had taken three shots of us, and Officer Bilger and I had several selfies for his collection. He sent us off with a hearty, “Go Bears!”

As we pulled out of the parking lot, Grace leaned over and dragged her tongue along the shell of my ear. “Shame we got caught, but we’ll finish at home.” I shuddered, and she bit down on my lobe. “Oh, and go Bears!”

“Red,” I warned, but I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.

Dear God, let us be able to finish at home. The Bears and I were depending on it.

WE OVERPAID Bethany and hurried her out the door. Grace pointed to Finn’s room, and I nodded. Bethany said he was sound asleep, so as soon as Grace checked on him, we would be good to go.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I fished it out.

Jon: Did she ride the baloney pony yet?

The little dots on my screen indicated that the douchebag was still typing.

Jon: Is Just-in Beaver happy?

Seriously? My idiot friends had the maturity of a ten-year-old. I started to type a response when a new text came in. Landon? Aw, fuck. Jon had to start a group text to sufficiently harass my dick.

Landon: How’s the man in the pink helmet holding up? Time to Poka her hontas?

Me: Assholes. Fuck you all.

Ricky: Says the weapon of ass destruction himself.

Grace stepped in the room. She closed the door and took my phone from my hands. I watched her face as she read, her blush darkening and then a laugh burst from her sweet lips.

I looked over her shoulder as she typed a response.

Grace: This is Grace. We’re saying goodbye now. Good night boys.

She powered off my phone and then tossed it onto the floor. Turning her back to me, she peeked over her shoulder. “He’s asleep. Unzip me.”

Pulling the zipper down the back of her dress, it fell to her feet. She stepped out, still wearing her sexy-as-fuck heels. Turning to face me, she placed her hand on my chest and pushed me backward. I sat on the bed, a dopey grin on my stupid face.

Grace was wearing a green satin strapless bra that pushed her tits up high and close together. Hell to the yes. Her matching G-string sat on her hips, and I leaned forward, needing to feel the soft material on my fingers. Needing to feel her… everywhere.

“Uh, uh. First, we need to get you undressed. Shoes off. I’ll work on your shirt.”

Bossy Grace rocked.

Grace’s fingers flew over the buttons on my shirt, as I yanked off my shoes and socks. She peeled the shirt off my shoulders, tossing it aside. I stood, and she pulled off my belt before unhooking my pants and pushing them and my briefs down to the floor.

I stepped out, fully nude and totally erect. Grace licked her lips, her focus fully on my dick.

I wagged my finger back and forth. “Uh, uh. My turn.” I pulled her to me, kissing her mouth with desperation. One hand held her head while the other unhooked her bra strap, causing the green fabric to slide down to the floor. Her breasts pressed against my chest, and I moaned into her mouth. I had to slow down, calm down, or this would be over in a nanosecond. My tongue licked hers in languid strokes until her hands found my hair and she tugged, hard.

“Dean, please. I’m so ready,” Grace whispered as she placed light kisses on my lips.

“Me too, baby.” I took a step back and then knelt on the ground, kissing her on top of her panties.

“Oh, God,” Grace cried. Her legs shook until I stood up, sweeping her into my arms.

I laid her on the bed and tore off her panties. Then I climbed over her, my weight on my forearms. “I love you, Red. I’ve never been this happy before. Even when football sucks like it does now, having you in my life makes it all okay.”

Grace’s eyes shined. “I love you, too.” She tilted her chin up and kissed my lips, her sweet tongue pushing in and tangling with mine.

“Dean, do you have a gina too, or just a penis?” A voice that sounded just like Finn’s asked, very close to my ear and my naked body.

What. The. Fuck.

Grace squeaked, grabbing the sheet and pulling it around both of us. I rolled off the kid’s mom, immediately calculating how much money and years of therapy it would take to erase this image from his mind.

“Finn! What are you doing in here? Why aren’t you asleep? It’s so late!” Grace’s face was bright red, and her voice was high with panic.

“I had to pee-pee. I didn’t want to wet my bed and then have to wear pull-ups again.”

Grace looked at me sideways, mouthed “I’m sorry” and then closed her eyes.

“So do you, Dean? Do you have a gina like my mama?”

I stilled, but then I pictured the view he had when he surprised us. “No little dude, that’s my butt. Guys have penises and girls have vagina’s remember? And everybody has a butt.” Oh, if Jon and Landon could hear me now.

“Okay, that’s it.” Grace grabbed her robe from the drawer next to her. She swung her legs out of bed, tightening the robe before standing up. “Say goodnight, Finn.”

“Good night Finn!” Finn giggled and blew me a kiss.

I managed a crooked smile back and fell back on the pillow.

Cockblocked. Again.

Fifteen minutes later Grace walked back in the room and locked the door behind her. “He’s asleep. I even whispered in his ear about Superman being here to double check. This,” she pointed her thumb toward the door knob, “needs to be locked anytime we’re naked. From now on.” Then she shuddered. “That sucked balls.”

Mmmm Grace sucking my balls…Big D got a second wind.

Grace’s eyes widened as the sheet rose in front of me. “Well, I’m glad there was no permanent damage to your manhood after that jarring incident,” she giggled as she untied her robe.

There was no more giggling. My entire body jumped into ready mode at the sight of Grace’s curvy naked figure walking toward me. Grace pulled back the sheet and straddled me.

“No more talking,” she said as she placed a finger over my lips. I nodded, catching her finger and giving it a quick bite. Grace moved onto her knees and took my cock in her hand, using it to rub back and forth over her opening.

My back arched. “Yes, baby.”

Grace held me in her hand and then slammed down on me, fast and hard. She covered my mouth with hers at the same time, allowing us to swallow each other’s groans and screams of pleasure.

And then Grace rode me. She rode the hell out of me.

Grace on top totally rocked.

Grace moved up and down, slamming onto me over and over again, as I pushed up to meet her. When she touched her tits, her eyes wild and dazed, I almost lost control. But I held on, and she came hard, clenching me and pulling me into her deeper.

I came with a shout and moved her hips back and forth slowly until I had milked out every second of my release.

Grace fell onto my chest, kissing my nipples and then right over my heart. “I’m sorry about Finn.”

Her face was pinched with worry and my heart melted. “Grace, I knew you had a son before we started dating. Now that we’re getting married, we have a son. One day I hope we’ll have a bunch more little Goldsmith’s trying to sneak into the bedroom. It’s a part of life.” I sat up, cradling her on my lap. “As long as we stay focused on what’s important, we’ll be fine.”

She cupped my jaw with hand, her fingers caressing my stubbly cheek. “And what’s that?”

“Always lock the door, and make sure the little cockblockers are sound asleep before we bump uglies.”

Grace scrunched her nose at me, and I kissed it in return.

“Deal?” I asked as we lay down.

“Deal,” she responded with a sigh.

Grace fell asleep in my arms, but I stayed awake for a while. I used the bathroom, unlocked the door, and checked on Finn.

I loved my family, cockblockers and all.

Fact was, Big D ended the night happy. And my team ended up winning Sunday’s game.

Go Bears.

The End

LAURA WARD IS the author of Not Yet, Until Now, and Past Heaven, as well as the co-author of The Pledge. She lives in Maryland with her loud and very loving three children and husband. Laura married her college sweetheart and is endlessly grateful for the support he has given her through all their years together, and especially toward her goal of writing books. When not picking up toy trucks, driving to lacrosse practice, or checking spelling homework, Laura is writing or reading romance novels.

Laurawardauthor.com

MY KIND OF GIRL

LEX MARTIN

C lementine, you can do this.

These people probably think I’m crazy, sitting here with my lips tugged over my teeth like I’m pretending to be someone’s granny who lost her falsies.

The sounds of the student union rush around me as I try to visualize what I’m going to do to my boyfriend tonight.

Because I need to visualize.

I so need to visualize.

Which sounds stupid. Any nimrod with a mouth can give a blow job.

Except I want this to be good for Gavin.

Really good.

Like I’m studying for a final, I mentally review the suggestions my roommate Jenna gave me this morning. Lick the tip because it’s sensitive. Provide some suction. Get my hands into the action. Use spit to lube it up.

I try to shake off the heebie jeebies I get from the idea of spitting on him. I mean, I’m putting the man’s jungle rod in my mouth. I suppose I can live with a little spit.

And Jenna said that no matter what, I cannot nick his dick with my teeth.

“That’s the number one rule of blow jobs,” she emphasized. “NO TEETH.”

Taking a deep breath, I bundle up in my down coat, gather my things and head to his dorm. I can do this. It doesn’t matter that I’ve never had a penis in my mouth before. I know Gavin doesn’t care that I’m inexperienced.

Truthfully, I don’t think I do either… except that he’s damn good when he goes down on me, and I think I should reciprocate.

We’ve been dating since last semester, and despite our ups and downs and as scary as this sounds, I’m starting to think he’s The One.

Because he puts up with my crazy and doesn’t seem to mind that I’m kind of an asshole on a good day. And he’s sweet and loving and so fucking sexy. But more importantly, he’s my best friend.

So it doesn’t matter that the idea of coming eye to eye with his male anatomy freaks me out a smidge. I love him and want to get over myself.

Bubbles of nervous energy surge in my stomach as I ride up the elevator eighteen floors to his room. When I get there, I pass two freshmen boys who look me up and down like little creepers.

Ignoring them, I head to Gavin’s room. His door is open, and I take off my coat and wait for him to notice me.

The only light filtering in from the window casts him in shadow.

He’s sitting on his small bed, strumming his guitar, looking so damn handsome everything in me clenches. He’s wearing jeans and a Celtics t-shirt, no shoes or socks, and his dark hair hangs in his face, covering those magnetic eyes.

He’s built like a running back—tall, broad and fit. Graceful in a way that conveys his athleticism.

When he looks up, he shoots me one of those killer smiles that make me weak-kneed.

“Hey, darlin’.”

That never ever gets old.

Before I can say anything, he’s setting aside the guitar and stalking across his small room to sweep me off my feet.

Literally off my feet.

I giggle in his arms, tossing my bag and coat to the floor before I wrap my arms around his neck. A second later, he’s kicking the door shut and pushing me against it, but he does it so fast, my breath catches in my throat.

I stare up at him, feeling light-headed and off-balance.

Sometimes, I need to pinch myself when we’re together so I can appreciate that he’s real. And he’s here. With me.

And this gorgeous specimen of a man actually loves me, the unlovable.

Well, until recently, the unlovable. I’m working on having a better self-image. Thanks to Gavin.

His arms tighten around me, and like a ship to its moor, he rights me, straightening all of my twisted emotional parts until my anxiousness melts away.

Especially when those lips touch mine.

His stubble is rough against my skin, and I settle my palm on his cheek.

The kiss leaves me breathless.

Clearing my throat, I whisper, “I feel like a deviant for corrupting the resident advisor.”

“You are a deviant. I was such a good boy before you came along.”

Laughing, I run my fingers through his thick hair, but when our mouths connect again, my laughter stops.

Hot, wet sweeps of his tongue in my mouth have me eager to tumble into his bed with him.

Except it’s Friday night. In the dorms.

“Babe,” I murmur against his mouth. “Should we wait? What if those kids in that corner room get drunk again?” Last weekend, he had to rush another poor slob to the hospital with alcohol poisoning. I really can’t wait until we graduate in May.

“Nah, I’ve already warned them that if they interrupt me having sex with my hot girlfriend again, I would make their lives miserable.”

I smack his arm. “You did not say that.”

“I told them I was studying for a test.” His eyes gleam with humor. “You’re the subject, and I need lots and lots of practice. Gotta get this right. Don’t want my GPA to suffer.”

“We can’t have that.”

“Think you could tutor me? All night long?” Those dimples pop out, and my stupid little heart goes pitter-patter.

I smile back like an idiot.

Until I remember what I want to do tonight, and my stomach sinks. Because what if I do it wrong? What if I give him a bad blow job? Biting my bottom lip, I look away.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Concern tightens his brow.

I swallow and then nearly choke because I’m thinking about swallowing. Later.

Oh my God. Am I going to swallow? Clearly, I haven’t thought this through.

But spitting afterward seems so rude.

Except I might need to spit on him to lube it up in the first place?

Jesus Christ. This is giving me a headache.

As much as I’d like to forget all musings of the spit-and-dick combo, the issue gives me pause. It’s not like Gavin’s ever raced to the bathroom to rinse his mouth after he went down on me. Although, really, I wouldn’t object because I could see how—

“Clem, where’d you go?”

See, I always have to make things awkward. I can’t be sexy and smooth and get the man in bed and turn him on. No, that would be too easy.

I stare at his t-shirt and twist my finger in the neckline of the fabric. Here goes nothing. “Can I give you a blow job?”

His chest stills under my palm, which freaks me out because why isn’t he saying something? I just offered to put his member in my mouth.

There’s some alliteration. Member in my mouth. Say that ten times.

Ugh. I just cannot do sexy, can I?

My face burns like I’ve just been scorched under a Caribbean sun.

He squeezes me. “Hey.” His voice is deep and rough. Like how he sounds when we have sex. Chills break out on my arms.

He lifts my chin, and those green eyes search mine. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

“But that’s just it. I want to do this for you.” My chest is heaving because I’m screwing up everything so badly. “You… you’re always so giving in bed,” I whisper. Seriously, the man makes me come really hard. With his hands. His mouth. His monster-sized man muscle.

Except I don’t think a penis is an actual muscle. More like tissue. And nerves. A lot of big nerves.

But again, I digress.

His lips descend to mind for one brief, sweet kiss, and when he leans back, mirth dances behind his eyes.

“Baby, you can do whatever you want to me, whenever you want, with any body part you want. But don’t ever let this shit stress you out. What we do together should be fun and turn you on and make you relax. It should be about how much I love you and how good we are together. That’s it. Plain and simple.”

Honestly, could he be any sweeter?

I nod, still embarrassed but also really grateful to be dating such a great guy. And I want to show my gratitude.

“I love you too.” Saying those words doesn’t feel foreign anymore. Because, God, I do love him.

Leaning up on my tiptoes, I thread my fingers through his thick, wavy hair and nibble on his bottom lip. “So that’s a yes? I can go down on you? Even if I screw it up?”

“I’m at your mercy, woman. Do what you want.” He grins at me, and it pierces my heart in a bittersweet way that tells me I’ll only be this in love once, and I’m a lucky girl to be in love with Gavin Murphy. But I’m even luckier to have him return that love.

Surprisingly, I’m not totally terrified by our relationship anymore. And after being disappointed by so many people in my life, allowing myself to feel this much emotion seems monumental.

I let those feelings wash over me and stare at him, a shy smile on my lips.

“I want.”

Suddenly, the jokes are over, and he has me up against the door again with one hand in my hair and another on my leg that he hooks around his hip. His hard length strains against his jeans and presses across my belly.

Wow, so I guess he does like the idea of me heading south. His enthusiasm gives me courage.

I breathe him in, his crisp citrus body wash and the warmer scent of his skin. Gripping his jaw, I bring his mouth to mine but stop just before our lips connect. When I brush my nose against his, he tries to kiss me, but I pull back.

“Nuh-hu.” Slowly, I lick the seam of his lips, and he growls and tightens his hold on me until there’s no way I can fight him.

Laughing, I give up trying to tease.

He smirks and hoists me up until my legs wrap around his waist. He’s hot and hard everywhere.

His kiss is decadent. Long licks into my mouth punctuate the slow grind of his hips, and I’m desperate for more.

I tighten my thighs around him, searching for relief. Needing relief. My head lolls to the side, and his mouth goes to my neck and sucks my sensitive skin.

“Bed. Now,” I gasp. Because I still have my mission, and if I don’t take back some control, I’ll lose the courage to do this.

In a flash, he turns and tosses me on the bed like I’m a rag doll, and I laugh as I bounce around. I love that about our relationship. Sex is really hot, but fun. And that helps me step out of my comfort zone.

He shucks off his t-shirt, and I soak him in. So many muscles. So much hardness. Yum.

I kick off my shoes and slide off my t-shirt and jeans, knowing full well he’s watching me.

When I’m in my sheer bra and undies, his broad shoulders fill my vision as he moves to the side of the bed.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he whispers as he reaches behind my neck.

Funny, I was about to say the same thing about him.

Those brilliant green eyes stare at me through thick lashes. His dark hair is sticking out at odd angles, his lips are wet, and a devilish smile tilts his lips.

Returning the smile, I kneel on the bed and run my hands over his shoulders. Over his sculpted chest. Down his sexy stomach. Until I reach the big bulge in his jeans, which I rub slowly before I unbutton his fly.

His nose dips into my hair and his hands are on my breasts, but I tug him down to sit next to me. Then I slide to the floor and nestle between his legs where I unsnap my bra and let it drop down my arms.

Those green eyes widen as I push him onto the bed. Lightly, I scrape my nails down his chest as I kiss my way down his taut stomach.

He takes a deep breath as I nuzzle against his skin and pop open the last button.

My heart is thudding in my chest, but I ignore my nerves and scoot his jeans and boxers down. He angles his hips to help me, and then I’m eye to eye with Little Gavin.

Except he’s not so little.

And when I palm him, he swells in my hand. Hello, Big Boy.

I squint back at him.

He’s actually really pretty if dicks could be considered attractive. Thick and innately masculine. Tall and smooth and strong. Definitely sturdy.

Part of me wants to ask how Gavin likes it, but the other part fears saying something stupid and breaking the mood. He’s obviously turned on, so I decide to forge ahead. Besides, alluding to the fact that other girls have traversed this path before me makes me want to stab someone with a dull pencil, so I suppose it’s best to avoid the topic.

From what we’ve done together so far in the past, I know he likes a firm grip and a steady tempo. So I pull him in long strokes before I lean in closer. His body shifts, and I realize he's leaning up on one arm to watch.

And right now, with his eyes trained on me, his mouth slightly open, I can see how much he wants me. It's a heady feeling.

His hand thrusts into my hair as I dip down and swipe my tongue slowly over his crown.

"Fuuuuck," he groans, his grip tightening.

I rub him across my lips before I take him into my mouth. He tastes a little salty and smells like clean man. And... surprise of all surprises, I like how he feels against my tongue. The feminist in me doesn't even mind that I'm kneeling at his feet because he's done the same for me many times. And I want to return the favor. I want to make him feel as good as he makes me feel. I want to show him that I love him.

But also, I realize, I do this for me.

Sucking him in deeper, I moan, enjoying how turned on I'm getting from this. My nipples are hard, and my undies are a lost cause.

"That's it, baby. Suck a little harder."

My pulse races when I hear those words. I turn up my eyes up to him, my hand pumping in earnest.

His chest is rising quickly now. Everything about him is strung tight. I scrape my nails lightly down his thigh, and his eyes darken.

Yeah, I like this too.

I pull him out to explore him with my tongue. He glistens in my hand, and I take a long lick up the length of him. And there's a lot of ground to cover.

He watches, his eyes molten while he strains in my palm.

And then I lean close and take him down the back of my throat.

"Oh fuck." His words, not mine.

I come up with a gasp but before I can go down again, he's pulling me into his lap. His kiss is frantic, and I feel him reach for a condom.

Ten seconds later, I'm on my back.

"Why...why didn't you... Let me finish?" I pant as he seats himself between my thighs, pushes aside my thong and thrusts into me. I arch up and close my eyes, feeling so good and full when he sinks deeper. He bites my neck, making me shudder.

"Because I need to be inside you. Need to feel this. Wanna feel you come on me."

Oh god.

I wrap my legs around him while he reaches between us and rubs that spot.

My head tilts back, and my eyes close as he pumps harder, heightening the intensity.

The room is awash in our groans as he pushes us both to the edge. With one more thrust, everything in me tightens to that singular place between my thighs, and I come hard, digging my heels into his ass. My head thrashes, and I think I yell a few curse words.

A second later, he pulses and follows with his release, letting out a deep moan that sends shivers all over me.

Who knew it was so hot to hear a man come?

We stay twined together, panting and sweaty on his small dorm bed.

We're just barely catching our breath when he rolls us to the left. I figure he wants me on top, so I let him pull me along, except he keeps going. And going.

I let out a scream as we tumble to the floor. Still fully connected.

“Holy shit,” he groans beneath me. “Guess I overestimated the size of my bed.”

After a moment, I start to laugh. "Are you okay? Did I break your dick?" I laugh harder, and he squirms underneath me, his body quaking with laughter. Actually, everything quakes. "Honey, really, are you okay?"

"You don’t want kids, right?” he grunts out.

“Aww.” I slowly disengage from our locked and loaded position. My knees are scratched from the hideous low-pile carpet. But aside from that, I’m okay. At least I wasn’t chopped in two by his monster-sized mansicle.

Although… my girlie garden is definitely sore.

Once I’ve untangled myself from his limbs, I straddle his stomach but try to keep my weight off him. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“If I had to pick how I die, balls-deep in you is the way I’d go.”

I snort laugh. Apparently, falling off the bed has made him ultra honest. He pulls me down to him until we’re naked chest to naked chest again.

He clears his throat. “But, uh, you’re not planning on us having kids, right?”

Whoa. That’s some major “we’re definitely ending up together forever and ever and having a dog and a house and a family” kind of reference.

What’s crazy is I think I want that. But more shocking is the realization that it doesn’t scare the shit out of me.

I kiss him. Just a soft brush of my lips against his as I caress his jaw. “I don’t know.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I might want kids. If they have your eyes.”

He smiles, and it’s wide and brilliant and makes me forget we nearly died two minutes ago.

It’s my turn to clear my throat. “Plus, you know, I could always kiss it and make it better."

He laughs again. "Isn't that what preempted our near-death experience?”

I nuzzle against him and ignore the fact that we’re on his dorm room floor. “Like you said, it’s one hell of a way to go.”

That gets me a low rumble of satisfaction, which makes me smile.

With a few more groans, we peel ourselves off the floor and clean up in his en-suite bathroom—one of the small perks of being the RA—and get ready for bed.

Internally, I high-five myself for my newly acquired BJ skills. Gavin enjoyed himself, and I didn’t bite him or end up with something icky in my hair or eyes. Bonus.

And except for the death roll off his bed, it wasn’t terribly awkward. Even better, there weren’t any interruptions.

“Thank God it’s quiet on the floor tonight,” I whisper a few minutes later, once we’re curled up together in bed.

He’s quiet. “It’s Friday, right?”

I nod and snuggle closer.

He makes this noise in the back of his throat and sits up with a frown.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. Glancing at the clock, I realize it’s not that late. Only midnight.

“It’s too quiet.” He tosses on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and shuffles into his running shoes.

Even fully clothed, he makes my mouth water. Especially when he looks over at me with that disheveled mop on his head and woos me with those dimples.

Leaning down for a kiss, he mumbles, “Maybe everyone is out partying, but I should make the rounds to make sure no one is passed out, drowning in vomit.”

I shudder at the thought, but I love that he cares about the kids on his floor. Well, they’re not kids. They’re all eighteen or nineteen, but they seem like kids sometimes with the dumb things they do.

“I’ll come with you.” I reach for his flannel and throw it on sans bra. This is me living life on the edge. Then I slide on my jeans, forgoing my wet underwear because ew.

His hand is on the door while he waits for me. “Thanks, babe. I like when you keep me company.”

My silly heart sighs.

I’m busy staring up at him like a lovesick school girl when he wraps an arm around my shoulder and opens the door.

A round of applause has me stopping short and jerking back.

What. The. Fuck.

Four freshmen guys are sitting on the hallway floor, sporting shit-eating grins and snacking on popcorn. One by one, they proudly hold out a number on a sheet of paper. Ten. Ten. Ten. Nine point five.

The last douchewad smiles like a moron. “Thought you guys needed to work on that dismount.”

My face burns. Those little shits were listening to us having sex? And rating us?

That’s when I realize our mistake. We usually turn on music or the floor is so loud with TVs blaring that we’ve never had to worry about eavesdroppers.

I’m about to tell them to fuck the fuck off when Gavin laughs and pulls me closer to kiss my forehead.

Then he turns to them with a shrug. “We were studying. Really hard.” How he says this with a straight face, I’ll never know. The boys snicker, and Gavin continues nonchalantly. “Besides, I love Clementine, so how we study with the door closed is none of your damn business.”

Aww. I love hearing that he loves me.

His eyes slide to me briefly, and then back to the guys. “Okay, losers, go get a life. I’m pretty sure my girl is about this close from shanking the four of you, so if you value your manhood, I’d run.”

Those little dicks take one look at my expression and scuttle back into their rooms with nary a word.

I turn to Gavin with an evil grin. “You do know me well. Shanking would’ve been my punishment of choice.”

Leaning down, he kisses my lips and then winks. “My kind of girl.”

The End

HOW DID Gavin win Clementine’s heart and get the self-proclaimed ice queen to fall in love with him? Read Dearest Clementine to find out how it was all in the name of academics. http://bit.ly/23WDoOW

LEX MARTIN IS the USA Today bestselling author of Shameless and The Dearest Series. Subscribe to her newsletter to win signed paperbacks and swag, get sneak peeks at her upcoming projects, and receive bonus content. http://bit.ly/1R7JvZz

TOYTASTROPHE

LIV MORRIS

“What time does your plane land at Logan?” my wife, Marilee, asks. “We have dinner reservations at seven.”

“Earlier than normal,” I say as my wife sighs into the phone. One of relief versus frustration, I hope. “I get in just before three. I should make it home in plenty of time to feed the kids and take them over to your folks.”

“That would be perfect. Thanks so much, Jon.” Another sigh makes its way over the phone line. This one sounds different. “This week has been exhausting.”

“I’m sorry baby. I’m on my way to take care of the kids and my sexy wife.” I emphasize the word sexy.

“Right. If you could see me now.” She releases another sigh, which adds up to one worn out mother. “Though, I’ll spare you the details of my mommy clothes. Better run and see what the kids are doing. They’ve gone silent.”

“Marilee. I love you.” The conversation ends with her yelling in the air for the kids to come out of wherever they’re hiding. The likely spot is under the front stairs.

I’m checking out of work early this Friday because tomorrow is my thirtieth birthday, and Marilee has planned a weekend away from the kids. Her parents are watching them while we escape to a nice hotel, courtesy of my traveling points with Hilton.

I can’t remember the last time we had an entire weekend just to ourselves. I have only one thing on my mind, and that’s fucking my wife silly! See, my job takes me all over the country. I’m away almost every week, Monday through Friday, and it’s wreaked havoc on our marriage. Not the horrible marriage-ending kind of issues, but the too-busy-to-connect-like-we-should troubles.

In layman’s terms, I miss the shit out of my wife. We communicate via text during the weekdays. She calls me when she has two seconds, which is usually late at night after our four-year-old son, and two-year-old daughter are sound asleep.

At the end of the day, when we actually get on the phone, at times, she falls asleep while I’m talking to her. It breaks my heart that we both end up going to sleep alone.

My friends call me pussy-whipped and I don’t deny it. I handed my man card over to her the night we met at Boston College our freshman year. My sweet, sassy, southern-raised wife stood out amongst all the other eligible women.

I swear the men flocked to her like she was the reincarnation of Scarlett O’Hara. When her eyes landed on me, and she smiled that sexy way she does, I was hers or wanted to be hers in that instant. After a few days of begging her to go out on a date with me, she caved.

I was the total player brought to his knees by a one hundred and ten-pound spitfire, and I’ve never regretted making her mine.

I AM SITTING across from my wife at the fancy pants restaurant at our hotel. The kind that has white table cloths, and a guy who brushes crumbs off them. We’re both dressed in our swankiest clothes, but I would’ve preferred room service upstairs and being dressed in nothing right now. Not to mention being buried balls deep inside of her. All I could think about on the flight home was fucking her senseless. It’s been a long week and I didn’t get my fill of her last weekend. I don’t think I ever will.

Marilee fixed herself up while I dealt with the kids and got them to my in-laws. When I returned home from dropping off our brood, she’d transformed into this beautiful creature sitting across from me.

Her baby blue eyes dazzle me and her red lips make me lick mine. Her long brown hair curls in waves just touching the top of her breasts. Ones I wish I had in my hands and mouth. She’s wrapped herself in this daring red dress that shows off her glorious cleavage and makes me have to sit on my hands.

“So, I’ve been shopping online,” Marilee says as we finish our meal. “I’ve bought some toys,” she whispers that last part.

“Those kids have enough stuff lying around the house. Are you sure they need more?” I place my napkin on my plate and push it toward the table’s center.

“Well, I wasn’t shopping for the kids,” she says adding a sly smile. I tilt my head and squint one eye at her.

“Who were you shopping for then? One of the neighbor kids have a birthday coming up?”

“I was shopping for us.”

“Us?”

“Toys for us.” She gives me a half wink and another flirty smile.

“Well, fuck,” I say under my breath. I’m ready to jump out of the chair, throw her over my shoulder, and carry her up to our room. “Tell me you brought them with you.”

“Fully charged and sitting upstairs in my suitcase.”

I raise my hand and call over our server. “Check, please.”

MARILEE GOT a call from the kids as we rode up the elevator to our suite. They wanted to say goodnight before they went to bed. I was pissed when she took the call and stayed on the phone for over fifteen minutes. Don’t get me wrong. I love my kids. They’re the main reason I work so fucking hard, but I want to focus on Marilee this weekend. Get back to the reason we are a family and where it all started, and that’s with us as a couple.

Now I’m pacing outside the bathroom door while Marilee changes into something sexier. I tried to tell her wearing nothing at all is as sexy as can be, but she has something new to wear. I caved because it’s not worth fighting over and I want to make her happy.

“Coming, Jon,” she calls from inside the bathroom.

“You bet you will be,” I reply. I stop in front of the still closed bathroom door and place my hands on the top casing. I’ll be blocking her when she finally decides to appear.

“I hope so,” she says while opening the door. I smile down at her petite little body dressed in a black lacy number that I can see through. Her hard nipples are greeting me and my hard-on is greeting her too. I forgot to mention I have nothing on.

She bites her lip while glancing down at my dick, and then looks up at me with a night full of sexy promises in her eyes. I want to growl back at her. Instead, I scoop her up in my arms and toss her on our king-size bed.

I look down at her lying on the white cover of the bed, legs slightly spread and showing me what’s mine. I can’t take the build up need anymore, and I fucking lose control. I grab ahold of the lacy scraps of cloth covering her and rip them to shreds. I’m pretty sure the growl I hear is mine.

“Jon,” she pants my name as my hands roam over her now naked body. “What’s gotten into you? Not that I mind.”

“I think it was the word toys,” I answer while kissing my way down her stomach to the Promised Land.

“Suitcase,” she says between short breaths. “Top part.”

I side-eye the suitcase and wonder if I should wait for the second round to pull out the toys, but hell, I’m too curious to see what she bought.

I give her clit a few more licks for good measure and rise off the bed. I walk to the suitcase and fling it open. I unzip the top part and dig around in it. I feel a rubbery something with a round circle and a hard, long piece of plastic. I pull the two things out and see she really has taken the dive into the sexy toy pool.

A cock ring and a pink vibrating dildo are sitting in my hands. I shake my head at her with a teasing smile on my face.

“Look how naughty you are,” I scold her in fun while holding up the toys for her to see.

“I’m very naughty or want to be,” she replies.

“Just keep those legs spread for me and I’ll show you naughty.”

With lightning speed, she parts her legs and eases up on her elbows. Anticipation and desperate need are in her eyes. I plan to give her everything I can to turn her need into total bliss.

I switch on the vibrating dildo and find a medium speed. The thing also twirls on the end. Pretty damn clever. I sit it on the bed so I can examine the cock ring.

It’s rubber and bendable with a small vibrating attachment. Another clever device.

“I am liking the vibrations, baby,” I say with a wink.

“It’s supposed to prolong your pleasure.”

“I’ll need it tonight. I’m already on the edge.”

I pump myself a few times to get completely hard and begin to slip the ring around my dick. I’m a little above average in the length department, but extra-large around. My girth took Marilee some getting used to during our first few times together. After that, she fell in love with what it did to her.

I have to force the damn thing down my dick and it’s not feeling pleasant either, but once it’s settled on the base, I’m good to go. I flip on the vibrating switch and damn, it creates an awesome sensation on my balls.

“You ready?” I ask Marilee and she nods her head. “Good, my naughty girl.”

She lies back and I bring her hips to the edge of the bed. I finger her until she’s nice and wet. I take the still vibrating dildo and start inserting it inside of her. She moans as I do it and that’s all the encouragement I need.

I switch the vibrator to high and she raises her hips in response. “Like?” I ask.

“God, yes,” she whimpers. “Please don’t stop.”

“Never,” I say and I add my tongue to the mix.

“Oh, my God,” she screams as I draw her clit into my mouth and suck.

Her legs begin to shake and her hands claw through my hair. She’s so damn close. I twist the vibrating joystick inside her and she goes off.

“Fuckkkkkk,” she yells while arching her back. I continue to use my tongue until she pulls my head away, fully satisfied.

“Good?” I ask while standing up and tossing the dildo to the side on the bed.

“You have no idea,” she breathes.

“I hope to find out. Now.”

I position my cock-ringed dick at her entrance and push forward. I still once fully seated and we both let out a cry. Damn, she feels so good around me. She always is tighter after an orgasm.

The bed is the perfect height for me to stand and thrust into her. I place my hands under her sweet ass and hold on tight.

I begin a hard pace, and she meets each push of mine with a thrust of her own. I have to admit the damn cock ring and its vibrations are increasing the feelings like she said they would.

Her breasts are bouncing with each push, and I want and need them in my mouth. So I bend over and take a hard nipple between my lips and lightly graze it with my teeth. The entire time I’m still working close to an epic orgasm. I can just feel it’s going to be one for the record book.

She brings a hand to each breast and positions them perfectly for me. I go from side to side, licking and sucking until I’m getting so close I can’t take it and have to stand up.

When I do, she continues where I left off and twists at her nipples. I stare into her eyes and the look that passes between us sets me off. A wild sensation ripples through my lower back to my balls and I explode inside of her. I keep pushing and coming like I never have before. It’s a fucking epic fuck.

I’m still pulsing deep within her when I collapse down next to her on the bed. She wraps her legs and arms around me like a sexual blanket of love.

“I’ve never,” I spit out through puffs of breath.

“Me either,” she says while brushing the hair from my sweaty forehead. “The toy and your tongue. Jeez.”

“The same for the cock ring.” My breathing is still ragged.

I pull out of Marilee and roll over. I’m shocked to see that my dick is still full and hard.

What the hell?

Trying not to panic, I reach down and fiddle with the cock ring, but it doesn’t budge. In fact, my dick is swollen over the ring. Not a good sign at all.

“Marilee?” I ask turning toward her. “I need your help here.” I glance down at my dick.

“Oh no,” she says when she sees the cock ring isn’t going to come off naturally. “Let’s go into the bathroom. Wet it down.”

She’s gone into full mother mode and I’m okay with that, because I need this damn thing off before my dick falls off.

I walk into the bathroom with my throbbing, and not in a good way, dick in my hand. Marilee ushers me to the sink and turns the water on. Once it’s a comfortable temperature, she suds up her hands with some hotel soap and rubs them over me.

Her touch helps with the throbbing, but not with cock ring. The thing is cemented on me. I’m starting to sweat and worry.

“Why isn’t it going down?” she speaks to my dick and me.

“I don’t know, but it’s not a good sign. Maybe I’m too big for the ring?”

“I need a pair of scissors,” she states matter-of-factly.

“What?” I squeal like a twelve-year-old girl. “No!”

“Yes, I can’t get the damn thing off,” she says in frustration and walks away.

I follow her like a sick puppy still holding myself. She picks up the phone on the nightstand and hits zero. I sit down on the bed and wait to see what she says.

“Yes, I need a pair of scissors brought up to room 715, immediately. It’s an emergency.” She goes still while the other person responds.

“Well, there is something wrapped around a part of my husband and I can’t get it off.” She throws a hand on her hip as she speaks. Again she is quiet after talking.

“That’s better. I’ll meet the bellhop at the door.” A couple seconds pass.

“For Christ’s sake. Yes, we will be dressed.” She slams the phone down on the receiver.

“Idiots!” She shouts into the air. “They made me tell them why I needed the scissors and why it was an emergency. So I told them the truth, because I don’t want anything happening to our sweet baby maker.”

“Baby maker?” I can’t believe this. Now she’s bringing babies into this debacle. I’ve asked her if she wanted any more kids for a few months, because I’d like to try again.

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about that this weekend. I want one more too.” Her smile is weak at best, but it works.

“Hot damn. Then we better get this fucker off me a.s.a.p.” There’s a knock at the door a split-second after I said that.

“Oh shit. Clothes!”

“Bathrobe.”

“Right.” She scrambles to the bathroom and comes out wrapped in a plush white robe.

“You better hide.”

“Fine.” I scoff and shuffle to the bathroom, but leave the door cracked a smidge so I can hear what’s going on.

I hear her feet pad toward the door and a click as she opens it. “Hello,” she greets the deliverer of my hopeful relief.

“What do you mean he has to sign for them?”

What? I have nothing on. I scan the bathroom for another robe and see only towels perfectly placed on some shelving.

The place is too damn cheap for his and hers?

“Okay. But I’ll have to take the form to him.” She says in a pissed off tone.

The door flings open and she’s standing there with a sour face, and a white form in her hand along with a pen.

“Sign, please.” I take the paper and scribble something on it and pass it back to her.

She turns on her heels and heads back to the door. A few seconds later she’s back with scissors in hand. I’d like to say I am feeling hopeful, but the sharp edges and pointy ends make me queasy.

“Sit on the toilet,” she orders me and I do as she asks.

“Will it hurt?” I am sounding like a child now and feeling like one too.

“Close your eyes. I promise it will be fine.”

I close my eyes tight and cover my ears. I don’t want to see or hear a thing. Unfortunately, I can feel everything, though.

Her fingers pull on the cock ring and I want to scream to the roof, but I hold my tongue. I am thinking they should’ve brought up a shot or two of scotch along with a bullet to bite down on.

Cold metal touches my skin and I freeze in place. I might be saying a prayer to every known deity too.

I feel slight pressure and then relief. I remove my hands from my ears and open my eyes.

“Voila,” Marilee says. The remnants of the deadly cock ring in one hand and the scissors in the other. “The baby maker is saved.”

My swollen dick is starting to return back to normal. Thank fuck!

“You know what?” I ask

“What?”

“Even after all this crazy shit, that orgasm was worth it. Now, what are we going to do to make sure this thing is still working?”

I scoop her up in my arms and head toward the bed in the suite. This time the only ring I want to see is the one on her finger.

The End

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Raised in the Ozark Mountains of Missouri, Liv Morris now resides on St. Croix, USVI with her first and hopefully last husband. After relocating tweleve times during his corporate career, she qualifies as a professional mover. Learning to bloom where she's planted, Liv brings her moving and life experience to her writing.

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BLOWJOBS, BAKED BEANS, AND CABBAGE… OH, MY!

MEL BALLEW

F reya sprinted toward the rustic barn, tucking her sky blue shirt into her tan riding pants then straightening her belt.

“Freya?” A deep sexy baritone halted her in her tracks.

“Yes. Can I-?” She choked on the last of her words. As soon as she saw him, her breath hitched, and her cheeks heated. Holy hell! Tall and blond, his athletic build was enough to make her drool. He was gorgeous.

Freya walked toward him, noticing how his muscles protruded through his thin snug shirt, exposing more of his defined chest. At once, she noticed how confident he appeared in his stance. She forced a smile to hide the awkwardness and discreetly cleared her throat. “Sorry, can I help you?” she asked, leveling out her tone to mask her minor humiliation.

“Um, no. Not quite. But I believe I can help you.” He extended his hand. “Hi. I’m Cyrus. I’ll be your instructor today.”

“Sorry, what?” Confusion etched lines across Freya’s forehead, as her eyebrows rose in question.

His expression fell.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just – I wasn’t expecting anyone else but Magnolia. Is she not here?” She smiled, hoping to ease an awkward first introduction. All she could concentrate on was his aura glowing around him, presenting him to her. As she reveled in her immediate attraction for him, she considered how he appeared to be the epitome of the kind of hot sex her friends often spoke of… The kind she’d yet to find. And given the chance, she’d jump him. Why not? It’s not like she had a boyfriend anymore. She snickered, releasing the entertaining notion.

With a flirtatious glint in his eye, he looked down at a now nervous Freya. “Ah, I see. Well, darling, she’s otherwise preoccupied, so sorry to disappoint you.” His face relaxed as he rocked back on his heels, crossed both arms across his broad chest, and watched her as though he was eating her with his eyes.

He was flirting with her. And she liked it. Good Lord!

“No. You’re not. I mean, you didn’t. I was expecting Magnolia,” she said, fumbling over her words. Crimson red painted her cheeks. No man had ever made her stutter. The anxiety curled into Freya’s stomach, twisted into knots, and then had her choking on the words in her throat.

“Trust me, you do not disappoint.” Her gaze traveled the length of his body, from the bulge in his pants – Fuck – to his radiating smile. She squared her shoulders and seized the opportunity. “If you did, though, you’d be the first to know.” Her breathing calmed as she relaxed her stiff posture, and the sudden spell of sureness smothered any lingered anxiety. “Let’s just say you are a pleasant surprise.”

Cyrus walked closer to her, a grin settled on his firm lips. The sun beat down on her, and for a second, the way his eyes penetrated her, she swore she melted a little.

“So, what do you say, Cyrus, you ready to take me on that ride?” Freya winked on her way past him and headed straight inside the stables.

Cyrus grabbed her elbow, walked up beside her, and looked at her. “You bet, Chestnut. It’ll be the ride of your life.” Promise shined in his grin, emphasizing his dimples, and pure sex radiated from the glow in those baby blues matching her riding shirt. She was doomed.

Freya considered skipping today’s lesson and teaching him how a ride of her life should be, but preferably not on a horse. His stallion would be her preferred choice – behind closed stable doors rolling in the hay. She raised one corner of her mouth while arching a brow and snatched her elbow back. “Well then, seems we shouldn’t waste any more time. C’mon, cowboy, let’s see what you’ve got.”

They rode side-by-side until they passed into an even gait, making conversation easier. At first, Freya concentrated on the surrounding beauty, ignoring his eyes burning through her. After their earlier banter, if she paid any mind to Cyrus, she’d halt her horse and jump him now. Instead, she lost herself in the ride. The scenery reminded her why she took lessons in the first place – her recent break up with Trentyn Graham. And nothing was more therapeutic than nature, an exhilarating ride, and a hot riding partner.

After a few minutes, she cleared all thoughts of Trentyn and turned her head toward Cyrus. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? The freedom. The beauty.” Her attention went to the trees, creek beds, fields, and wildflowers. “The power and strength...” Her words waned as she leaned forward to pet the horse before she straightened and ogled Cyrus. She couldn’t help it. The power and strength of the horse she rode wasn't all she enjoyed.

She caught Cyrus staring at her. Tiny chill bumps covered her body as her temperature rose. Thousands of swarming baby butterflies flitted in her abdomen. That never happened to her – ever. A keen desire flowed between them. He made her heart rate increase, and she gripped the reins tighter in order not to fall off this dang horse.

The magnetic way he studied Freya gave her the impression he absorbed her as if he was branding her image into his mind. Crazy, she reflected, until Freya realized she’d never had a man do that before now. She gaped at him, as he examined her, and she simply basked in how the sunlight lightened his blues. He turned her on more than she expected.

Their intent stares held until their horses moved into a full-blown gallop. The summer sun warmed their skin and an inviting breeze provided comfort amid the heat. The terrain went from level and smooth, to rough and unsteady. Twice or so, they pulled back on their reins. “Whoa” drifted into the space between them. As they rode together, continual conversation became shared glances and laughter. So much was said, without a single word uttered.

Once they slowed at a small narrow creek, Cyrus took the reins from Freya, making her feel safe as they crossed the rocky bed. His hands brushed hers and pulsing throbs riveted her pussy.

“I’m fine,” she offered, not wanting to appear dependent or needy. She tried to dismiss the pulsations, placing more focus on the leathered straps, before peering at him through thick lashes.

“Yes, you certainly are,” he said, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. “And it’s my job to make sure you stay that way.” He flashed a mischievousness expression that had Freya’s body reacting.

Freya didn’t argue or break their captivated stare. He was more forward with his flirting efforts, but she didn’t mind. Not. At. All. She thought how truly nice it was having someone show an interest in her again. But she also couldn’t deny the intensity she felt with Cyrus, even if she tried.

And, she’d tried. Each time, she’d failed. Fuck!

They made their way up the hill and came to a rest on the ridge.

“So, I need to know something,” she said, caressing the horse’s mane.

“You can ask me anything. Shoot.”

“Okay. Not to be forward.” Freya paused, contemplating her words. “Actually, you know what? After breaking up with a guy who could never be honest, or direct, I will be straight with you.” She aligned herself in the saddle, wiped her sweaty palm against her pant leg, and glanced at Cyrus, whom she caught resembling a Cheshire Cat. “Do you flirt like this with all the female riding clients? Be honest.” After Trentyn’s cheating ways, she vowed she’d never have time for games. She kept her full attention on Cyrus as she waited for his reply.

Cyrus never skipped a beat. “Are you fucking kidding me, Freya?” Irritation etched his words.

Had Freya detected pain in his answer? He looked away first. His chest rose and fell while he scanned the open wilderness. For a hiccup in time, she almost felt bad for asking.

“Look, I’m sorry if I offended you. I need to know. I mean, whatever this is,” she moved her arm back and forth between them, “this attraction happening between us, won’t likely lead to anything. Well, except maybe ‘the ride of my life’, right? But I believe in honesty.” She paused, taking a deeper breath before she sighed. “Look, I have zero plans on getting caught in another player’s spider web of lies, cheating, and deceit. So, no, I’m not fucking kidding.” She hesitated, watching as Cyrus took a deep breath and let it out. When he turned to face her, Freya asked, “Do you?”

A deafening silence ensued between them. The only sounds came from nature. Birds chirped. Tiny pitter-patters of unseen wildlife scurried over fallen branches. Water rushed from somewhere close by. The brief awkwardness made her antsy, so Freya pulled her canteen out of her satchel and took a gulp. She was thirsty anyway, she reasoned. As soon as Freya returned the water to her bag, Cyrus addressed her.

“Look, I don’t know who fucked you over, Freya. And it’s not my business, but just know that I’m not him. Hell, for all accounts and purposes, Chestnut, you’ve already condemned me to Hell and branded me with a Scarlett letter of ‘C’, without even giving me a fucking chance. Not all guys are cheaters, you know.” He groaned. “I believe in honesty, too, Freya. So how ‘bout you riddle me this. Do you always do that to men you meet? Prejudge them?”

His words resonated with her. In the past two months, since Trentyn, she hadn’t realized she’d done what Cyrus accused. But he was right. She’d prejudged him. Hadn’t given him a real chance. Even though she’d been having fun with their mutual attraction and banter, she’d somewhat attacked him by accusing him of flirting with all female clients. Hell, she needed to amend the damage, and fast.

She flipped her dark ponytail over her shoulder. The only way to reverse what she said was to get this conversation back on track, and focus more on the rest of the afternoon’s lesson with Cyrus. The thought made her excited. She’d like nothing more than to get to know Cyrus. Even if it was only for a wild ride.

One breath, maybe two, passed through her lips before she answered him. “I’m sorry, Cyrus.” She offered a genuine smile before addressing the ‘elephant’. “He’s not worth the airspace. Trust me. You don’t need to know who he is, or was, I should say.”

His jawline tightened but the tension diminished almost as hastily, and the sudden variance had Freya second-guessing she’d even witnessed it. Freya blinked a few times. Then, Cyrus released a short snicker. “Good to know.”

“Yep. So, how ‘bout that ride you promised,” she teased, toying with him and lightening the mood.

The horses snorted. It seemed a tad ironic, considering, and they both laughed.

“See, even they agree,” Freya said, and her horse bobbed its head.

“Seems someone’s impatient and bored. So, let’s do that… Let’s get back to our ride, shall we?”

“After you.” Freya motioned for Cyrus to take the lead.

Their horses and the natural comfortableness between them resumed, and soon they slipped into regular banter.

“You’ve ridden before, haven’t you?” Cyrus asked.

Freya shook her head. “Some. I grew up around horses and have always had a love for them. Many of my friends have horses and a couple of aunts and uncles do, too. But my overprotective mother always coddled me while I grew up and didn’t allow me to ride much for fear I’d get hurt.” A transient frown displayed on her face with the recollection, but Freya quickly shrugged it off. “Anyhoo, that’s why I’m taking lessons. One, it is cheaper than therapy, and the best recourse for getting over a breakup. And two, my mother has no say in how much I ride now. I’m on my own.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “I could’ve sworn you rode in the past. Hmm, a natural, then.”

“Sure, I guess.” She beamed with pride over the thought. As much as she’d loved horses, she never imagined it’d come so easy for her, or that the horse would be so responsive to her. The feeling she got while riding didn’t compare to any other sport or hobby she’d ever experienced. The deep, sexy tone of his voice captured her whole attention.

“Well, I’ll have you know that I’m a natural at mending broken hearts.” His words were smooth like syrup and just as sweet. The mere consideration they could hold any truth had Freya almost melting, this time in her saddle.

Another breath caught in her lungs when he brought his horse nearer to hers and leaned mere inches from her face. Freya inched forward until they were even closer. Time seemed to stop. Sexual tension thickened the air. Cyrus took her hand and placed a sensual kiss on the back. Avid and fast, he pulled away, took a solemn breath, and hopped off his horse, motioning for Freya to stay where she was. He led her and the horses down the hill to a ravine and brought them to rest along a wide flowing creek beneath tall oaks that provided shade from the sun’s rays.

“Stay there,” he commanded.

Freya, drawn to his demanding tone and influenced by the affection he displayed by the kiss to her hand, froze in the saddle. The prospect of what he had planned had her pulse thumping even wilder.

With the horses secured around the tree, Cyrus stopped in front of Freya. Her heart leapt, beat by beat.

“Sidesaddle. Now.” He stepped between her legs, spreading her knees. The previews of how dominating he could be didn’t turn Freya off. It turned her on even more. Her hardening nipples ached for his touch. Her palms grew clammy. Their lust, prevalent all day, escalated with insurmountable speed.

“Planning to mend my broken heart?” she quipped, but with a quiet, serious expression.

One of her boots fell to the ground, and he unzipped and removed the other. Moving to her pants, nimble fingers unbuckled her belt, unfastened the button and zipper, and dragged them and her thin lace undies down, until they all pooled on the ground near the horses’ hooves. Each sensual touch of Cyrus’s hands had Freya’s fingers grasping tighter in his blond curls until a growl escaped his lips.

She inched forward, wanting, no, needing to get off this horse. Cyrus placed his hands on her hips to hold her in place as his eyes hinted of his intentions. The leather saddle nestled beneath her bare ass was foreign to her. For a brief minute, she wanted to resist, but obeyed, finding herself enraptured by this man.

Stepping in a stirrup, he lifted himself to her, kissing her with rising passion. Freya thought his lips, soft and thick, existed for hers. When he withdrew, little by little, Freya enjoyed how their bottom lips had time to resist the separation.

“Mending you isn’t all I have in store for you, Freya. First, I need to prove to you I’m not like him.”

He lowered toward the ground between her legs, trailing delicate, sensual kisses from her ankle to her knee, up the tender flesh of her inner thigh straight to her center. The anticipation almost killed Freya. Sensitized nerve endings shot sparks of pure adrenaline through her, and she gasped. His tongue entered her, flicking and tantalizing, dancing among her private pleats. She dug her nails into his scalp as she leaned back in the saddle.

The horse moved, making Freya fear she’d fall off, so she sat up and fisted his hair tighter as Cyrus gripped onto her hips, steadying her. Seconds later, she heard him snarl. And the wicked desire had Freya feeling like the most beautiful woman in the word to him, and she moaned with pure ecstasy, appreciating what he offered. His tongue probed deeper, satisfying her, and all thoughts of falling off the horse eluded her.

“You’re killing me, not mending me,” Freya whispered through panted breaths, besieged by pleasure. No sooner did the last word leave her mouth than her entire body warmed. The sensations flowed through her like hot lava. She exclaimed, “Oh my god, I’m going to come. Cyrus, look at me.” Her hands released his hair and gripped his shoulders right as their gazes locked. She bellowed, bursting with full orgasm. Her body quivered with the aftereffects as her mind confirmed what her body just discovered – this man was definitely not like him.

Cyrus gently lowered Freya to the ground then pulled her to him, kissing her with fervor. For several minutes, they remained captives to fiery kissing. Cyrus removed his boots and pants, which gathered around his ankles, and then Freya dropped to her knees.

“You don’t have to, Freya.”

“Oh yes, yes, I do.” Her words, stated with a direct assertion, declared her desires. She needed him to experience a similar pleasure. For an unknown reason, it mattered, though it had never mattered before with anyone else, until this man. She seized his hard cock and opened her mouth wide until the head met her lips, and she breathed. Hot air aroused his sensitive flesh.

Cyrus snapped his eyelids closed. Freya could see how she was affecting him. Reveling in the pleasure she gave him, Freya’s tongue glided up and down his stiff shaft, and then she took him deeper in her throat. A precise rhythm established, and Freya was in her groove, moving his dick in and out of her mouth. Every so often, she heard Cyrus moan. She’d never felt sexier or as shameless as she sucked, spit on, and fisted his hard cock.

A loud noise erupted that could have broken the windows of a city skyscraper. The most God-awful smell permeated the air. It was rancid. Worse than any odor she’d ever sniffed. Like fermented, rotting baked beans, and cooked cabbage. Rank.

What in the–

Silent, they glowered at each other dumbfounded and shocked at the unpleasantness. Freya gagged as she fought the impulse to puke. Then she noticed how Cyrus strangled a cough before he went limp. The mood collapsed.

Awkward.

“Destiny!” Cyrus bit out between choking and hacking.

Destiny?

Bamboozled by the pungent scent and his words, Freya stood, and then peered at him, shrugging her shoulders to express her confusion. Unable to speak from the horrendous stench burning the back of her throat and nose, Freya forced herself to swallow as she put her hand over her mouth, not wanting to retch. She then forced measured air into her lungs by breathing through the sleeve of her shirt. “Cyrus?”

He ignored her, at first. Then a huge grin, highlighting those dimples Freya wanted to lick, widened across his face. “Holy Hell. Was that you because you just blew me away.” He looked directly at her, and a sparkle shined in his glassy blues as he gave her an interesting sneer.

At once, they burst out laughing. This had to be a well-played joke, right? Were they unsuspectingly on a prank show?

Once their amusement subsided, their breathing regulated, and the awkwardness dissipated. Freya was thankful Cyrus diffused the inelegance of the horse’s flatulence that disturbed their intimate moment. She wasn’t certain whether she ever knew another man who would’ve been so clever or unpretentious during such an uncomfortable first time.

After redressing, they kissed once before mounting their horses. They talked the entire way back to the farm. This. That. Nothing. Everything. No longer official strangers, it was as though their risqué escapade brought them closer in a strange way. Every so often, one of them would erupt into laughter, causing the other to laugh, too.

The country estate with the huge ‘Magnolia Stables’ signage came into view. As they neared the stable yard, they pulled back on the reins to conclude their ride. Upon entering the barn and dismounting, they handed the horses over to the ranch hands and headed back outdoors.

“So, why’d you say Destiny earlier?” Freya asked, stopping a few feet from her car near the fence.

Cyrus loomed over her, pressing her back against the rails, caging her with his arms. “Destiny is the name of the horse you were riding today. She’s also the same horse who interrupted our intimacy, giving us another opportunity to properly finish what we started. So, in every way that matters, Freya, it is destiny.” Moving closer to her face, he regarded her then kissed her with the same intensity as earlier. When he pulled back, she was breathless. Freya stared into his eyes, but didn’t have the chance to say a word.

“Son, don’t heckle the clients.” An articulated female voice called from a nearby pen and broke their private moment. “Hi, Freya.”

Magnolia.

Chalk up awkward incident number two.

Freya sighed, then glimpsed back over at Magnolia. With a whip at her side and a lunge line in her hand, Magnolia glanced over at them at that exact moment and laughed. Visibly entertained. Realizing even a polished woman like Magnolia could appreciate the innocence of two young lovers; Freya calmed, despite her embarrassment.

She elbowed Cyrus. “Son? You’re Magnolia’s son?” She half-laughed, a mix between slight annoyance and disgrace, at this newly learned fact.

“You never asked.” Cyrus guffawed and then kissed her forehead before he offered her the most sympathetic puppy eyes as an informal apology.

“Hmm… Well, you never told me, either,” Freya said, dismissing his attempts, and elbowed him – again.

They chuckled until Cyrus grew more serious. A gleam of mischief remained while he regarded Freya. “Destiny. It’s all about destiny, Freya. So how ‘bout we finish what we started?”

Some destiny.

For a brief moment, Freya studied Magnolia as she trained and contemplated how Magnolia had always exhibited the epitome of grace. She’d admired that about her. Even now, as she worked the horse on the lunge line, Magnolia exhibited such control. A refined and elegant handler. If Magnolia, whom she respected, appeared to be okay with the tryst between she and Cyrus, why should Freya refuse it? The true prospect of destiny had Freya hopeful.

Freya eyed Cyrus. “Okay, St. Clair. Well, you still have a helluva lot of proving to do. And, you promised me the ‘best ride of my life,’ remember?” She resisted the rising cackle, and opted to offer him his last out. “You sure you want to do this?”

He nodded. “All in, Chestnut. Couldn’t beat me away with a crop. Well, you could beat me with a crop-” His words broke off with his short, arrogant laugh.

Freya stifled a snicker and ignored the innuendo. Lord help her if they ever got the crops out. Instead of a direct reply, at first, she played coy and gave him a deliberate wink. Then, she snaked her way out of his arm hold, and displayed a playful smirk. “Friday night, eight o’clock. Don’t be late.” She kissed him – hard – then pulled back. Teasing him more, she ran her tongue across her bottom lip before she walked away.

Freya headed to her car with Cyrus’s glare burning holes in the seat of her pants. Once there, she yelled back, “Oh! And get my number from your mother.” She added extra emphasis on that last word before she blew him a kiss. “See ya Friday, Cyrus.”

Right before Freya shut her car door, she heard the loudest catcall she’d ever heard. As her Jeep roared to life, robust laughter burst forth. Cyrus leaned against the fence, arms crossed, and smugly leered at her. A piece of straw hung from between his lips, and a wicked look shone on his face. Then, she noticed the crop by his side as he tapped it against his leg.

Bad, bad cowboy. Freya giggled.

Oh, this man had charmed her. She had met her match. His naughty repartee and sexiness intrigued her. Despite, or perhaps because of, the earlier blowjob, baked beans, and cabbage incident, Cyrus would be a force to reckon with. She couldn’t wait until Friday.

The End

Note From Mel:

Thanks so much for reading. It was an absolute honor and so much fun to participate with talented friends on this project. The characters in this short story will have their own novel, so stay tuned for more Freya and Cyrus.

MEL BALLEW IS an International bestselling author of Shattered Into Beautiful, A Surviving Soul Novel, and Shameless, Less is More series. She resides in rural Pennsylvania with her husband, two spoiled cats, and a rambunctious German shepherd puppy.

A hopeless romantic, Mel writes about love, inspired by her soulmate love with her husband. Whether reading or writing, she believes ‘Romance Is Magick’, and her preferred genre of choice is any realm of paranormal / urban fantasy where magic, mayhem, and lust between supernatural beings abound.

Aside from fur babies, an addiction to coffee, and her love of vampires, witches, angels, and shifters – oh my – copious amounts of sweet wine, an indulgence in anything chocolate and peanut butter, and her profound love of nature are necessities for Mel. For her, these make life Simply D’vine.

Connect With Mel Ballew:

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LOVE INTERRUPTED

R.E. HUNTER

“Wake up, beautiful.”

The raspy voice was accompanied by a warm hand slipping beneath Embry’s shirt, fingers splaying wide across her belly. Desire spread through her barely-awakened body as she felt the ghost of his lips brush the corner of her mouth.

She stirred, letting out a soft moan.

“Baby.” His hand traveled up her stomach and cupped her breast, fingers deftly working her hardened nipple and making her body come alive. “Your husband needs you.”

She let her eyes fall open, squinting into the sun-bright room.

Luke moved above her, and cobalt eyes filled her vision. A day’s worth of stubble coated his angular jaw, and all she could think of was how good it would feel scraping against the inside of her thighs.

“Hi.” She stretched beneath him, luxuriating in the feel of him.

“Hi, yourself.” His lips curved in a seductive smile, giving her all the signal she needed.

Just as he bent his head to kiss her, Embry jumped out of bed and ran straight into the master bath, Luke’s questioning voice trailing behind her.

Flinging open the mirrored cabinet, she shoved her toothbrush into her mouth while swiping on fresh deodorant and spritzing herself with body spray. She closed the cabinet and inspected herself in the mirror. Running a hand through her unruly waves, she squeezed a small amount of toothpaste onto her finger and ran back into the bedroom.

Luke stared at her, his face flooded with disbelief.

She climbed back into bed, throwing a megawatt grin at her husband. “I’m ready.”

“You’re—”

Embry shoved her toothpaste-covered finger straight into Luke’s mouth. “Here,” she said, interrupting him.

He gripped her wrist, pulling her finger away. “What the fuck?”

“Toothpaste,” she said.

“I can taste that, Bree. But what the hell are you doing?”

“Freshening up. Now, come on. We don’t have much time.”

Luke’s eyebrows rose toward the ceiling. “We don’t have—”

Embry pressed her minty-fresh finger against his lips, silencing him. Grabbing his face, she pulled it toward her, frantically kissing his lips as she reached for the hem of her shirt. She struggled against the tee, her arms tangling in the sleeves as she continued the assault on his mouth.

“Screw it.” She gave up her fight and left the shirt hanging around her neck, one arm in, one arm out. Instead she focused her attention on Luke’s boxer briefs. She reached down, pushing against the elastic waist, lifting up her legs and using her feet to help slide the material off his hips. “We’re wasting precious time,” she mumbled.

“Baby?” Luke leaned down just as Embry’s head snapped up, slamming into his chin. “Aw, fuck, Bree!”

She grinned awkwardly at him. “Sorry. You okay?”

He propped himself above her and rubbed at his bottom lip, wiping away a small spot of blood that dotted the surface. “I’m fine. But maybe we can slow this down a little, sweetheart?”

Embry wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back down to her. “I can’t,” she said against his lips.

He traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue and she opened for him, a shiver of need shooting up her spine as he deepened the kiss. She shimmied out of her own underwear and locked her legs around him. “We have to hurry.”

Luke paused, staring down at her in bewilderment.

“We’ve only got about five minutes, babe, but I might be able to finish in three if I’m on top.” She swung her weight into him, rolling them over so she was straddling him.

“Bree,” Luke let out a strangled grunt, “there’s a—” His words were quickly drowned out by a high-pitched whirring coming from beneath them.

“Where there’s smoke there’s fire. Ladder Company Four, we’re rollin’!”

Luke tossed Embry onto the bed before reaching beneath him and pulling out a big red fire truck, lights and sirens blaring.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, staring at their son’s toy with betrayal in his eyes.

Embry brought a hand to her mouth to stifle the giggle threatening to escape. His gaze flicked to hers and he held up the truck. “You think this is funny?”

She nodded shyly.

Luke tossed the toy to the floor and was on her before she could protest. He gripped her wrists, holding her arms above her head and pinned her body beneath him. “No more unwanted encounters with toys. No more rushing. We’re going to take our time. Okay, baby?”

“We are?” Embry stared up into pools of blue desire.

“We are.” He dipped his head, lips teasing the column of her neck. “There’s no four-alarm fire, no three-year-old about to barge into our room, leaving a trail of animal crackers and destruction in his wake. We’re good.”

Luke continued his journey south, dropping open-mouthed kisses across her chest.

“Wh-where’s Dylan?” she asked breathlessly as Luke’s tongue swirled around her pebbled nipple.

“At the beach with Cam and Mackayla.”

“He is?”

Luke nodded.

Embry let out a sigh, her body going boneless beneath him as he kissed his way down her stomach, mouth grazing over her ribs and causing her core to fill with warmth. “You seemed like you needed sleep,” he said against her too-warm skin, “so I took care of him this morning and got him up and out.”

“Oh.” She pushed up onto her elbows, inwardly cringing at the fact that she’d pretty much just sexually assaulted her own husband. “So we really do have time?”

Luke gripped her legs and pulled her down the bed, pinning her beneath him. “Yes, sweetheart, we have all the time in the world. Now,” he rasped, lips teasing the corner of her mouth, “if we’re finished with twenty questions, I’m trying to fuck my wife.”

He captured her mouth in a searing kiss; his tongue pushing past her lips and sweeping in to take ownership as his hard cock nudged her entrance. She was high on his drugging kisses and out of her mind with need.

“Thank you,” she sighed against his mouth as she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him in close.

He pushed inside of her, burying himself to the hilt. “I can think of a few things you can do to thank me.”

Embry wrapped her legs around him, matching him thrust for thrust as he took her higher. Her thoughts drifted, any worries she had slipping away as she lost herself in sensation.

“Fuck, baby,” Luke said, thrusting hard and deep before dragging himself slowly out. “You feel amaz—”

The door banged open, slamming against the wall. “Dad-eeeeeeeeee!”

Luke went stock-still and Embry stared up at him in wide-eyed horror.

“Daddy?” uncertainty filled their son’s voice.

Luke sprung into action, pulling the sheet from the bed and expertly wrapping it around his waist while Embry ducked under the covers like a child.

“Hey bud,” he knelt before Dylan. “What are you doing here?”

“Daddy, you got a flower on your butt?”

Embry would’ve laughed at her son’s description of Luke’s shamrock had she not been in full-blown panic mode.

Luke shrugged off the question. “Nope, no flower here, little man. Where’s Uncle Camden?”

“Oh. Well, Unka Cam…” Dylan hesitated, staring at Luke with brows furrowed. “Where’s mommy?”

Embry peeked out from the covers, smiling at their son. “I’m right here, Dyl.”

“Mommy, what you doin’? You okay under there?”

“Mommy’s fine,” Luke answered, his gaze shifting knowingly to Embry’s. “We were having a tickle fight.”

Dylan nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, it looked like you were winning, Dad.”

Luke’s lips curved into a sly smile as he shot Embry a wink. “I was.”

Dylan made a beeline for the bed, but Luke intercepted him, scooping him into his arms and blowing raspberries on their son’s exposed stomach. Dylan giggled and shouted, swatting at Luke.

Embry relaxed slightly, watching her two boys laugh together. She thanked God Dylan was young enough not to realize he’d just witnessed his father pile driving into his mother. But she wondered how much therapy Dylan would need in his adolescent years to recover from the unconscious mental scars they’d surely inflicted.

“Dylan?” Luke asked warily, pulling away from his son’s stomach with a scowl.

“Yes, Daddy? More, Daddy!”

Luke set him on the floor, looking down at his hands and then at Dylan’s stomach. “Why’s your belly wet, bud?”

“I tried to tell you, Daddy.” Dylan rubbed at a swollen, red splotch on his stomach.

“Tell me what?” Luke asked, his eyebrows pulling together in concern.

“Sorry I peed on your kid.” Luke’s brother appeared in the doorway, casually leaning on the doorjamb and assessing both Luke and Embry with a knowing smirk.

Embry’s jaw fell open as she saw realization dawn on her husband’s face.

Dylan giggled. “Unka Cam made a wee on me!”

Luke grimaced, swiping at his mouth, then faced his brother, a vein protruding from his forehead that Embry had never seen. “You did what to my son?”

“It was so cool!” Their niece Mackayla interjected, peering around her father. “There was this jellyfish and it swam right up on Dylan and ZAP! It stung him! And then dad—”

Mackayla’s words faded into the background as Embry flew into action. A million thoughts ran through her head, but not one of them had to do with the fact that she had dropped the comforter as she frantically raced toward her little boy.

She landed back on the bed with a thunk, Luke’s weight nearly knocking the air out of her. “Luke!” She struggled against him, flailing her legs and slapping at his chest. “What are you doing? Let me go!”

“Naked, baby,” he barked in her ear. “You. Are. Naked.”

Understanding dawned on Embry, her eyes widening to saucers at the same time as another weight plopped on top of them.

“Tickle fight!” Dylan yelled, bouncing on top of Luke.

“This isn’t happening,” Embry said, staring up at her husband who was shielding her naked body with his own as their son bounced on top of them. She screwed her eyes shut and shook her head, repeating the mantra over again. “This isn’t happening. This is not happening.”

“It’s happening, sweetheart,” Luke gritted out.

The bouncing stopped and Embry released the breath she’d been holding. “Mommy! Daddy!”

“Yeah, buddy?” They answered in unison from beneath him.

“You found my fuck!” He started bouncing again, rocking on top of them with glee. “My fuck, my fuck, my fuck!”

Camden leaned in, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Why don’t I take Dylan and his fuck and give you two a minute to…” His lips quivered as if fighting back laughter and he shook his head in disbelief. “I’ll just give y’all a minute.”

Luke nodded, his mouth forming a straight line. “If I wasn’t in this position right now…”

“Oh, but you are,” Camden sang. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”

“Fuck you.” Luke mumbled.

“What was that?”

“He said he wants to play with my fuck, Unka Cam!”

Dylan continued to whoop and holler, bouncing up and down and smacking Luke on the back as Embry stared at the ceiling wishing she could melt into the mattress.

“Why don’t we go put out some fires out with that thing, Dylan?” Camden suggested.

“I’m gonna put out some fires with my fire fuck!” their son yelled.

“Truck, Dyl! It’s a truck!” Embry corrected.

“That’s what I said, Mommy! My fuck!”

“Let’s go, little buddy.” Camden pulled his nephew from Luke’s back and Dylan dragged Luke’s sheet with him as he went.

“Look! Daddy! You do have a flower on your butt!”

Luke hid his face in Embry’s neck and groaned.

“Mackayla, close your eyes, sweet girl, you’ve seen enough,” Cam instructed his daughter. “And not a word of this to your mother. Dylan?”

“Yes, Unka Camdren?”

“Let’s grab your fire fuck and I’ll tell you all about that flower on your daddy’s ass.”

“Okay. But, Unka Cam, what’s a ass?”

Luke stared daggers at his brother as he walked out of the room. Embry didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Hey Mackayla,” she heard her son call after his cousin. “Wanna tickle fight?”

Before she could control it, Embry’s eyes welled with tears. The thought of her son being stung by a jellyfish and her not being there, her ridiculous antics with Luke, it all overwhelmed her until she could barely breathe.

“Hey,” Luke said, swiping at the moisture on her cheek. “Why are you crying?”

She rolled him off of her and sat up, pulling the comforter back around her body. “What if we’ve scarred our son for life? How did this happen?”

Luke sat next to her, hooking a finger beneath her chin and forcing her eyes to his. “Our son is perfect. You are perfect. Shit happens, baby.”

Her bottom lip quivered as the their disastrous morning played back in her head.

“If the worst that happens in his life is he sees his parents having sex and his uncle pees on him, then I’d say he’s pretty lucky.”

A smile snuck its way onto Embry’s face. “You think so?”

Luke grinned, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “I know so. He’ll be fine.” He leaned in, brushing her hair from her face. “Now, let’s go get cleaned up, sweetheart. I have every intention of finishing what we started.”

Embry nodded and Luke dipped his head, his lips inches from hers. She ached to kiss him, to lose herself in him and forget their terrible morning. But as much as it pained her to do so, she put up her hand, palming his face and stopping him in his tracks. “You’re not getting anywhere near me with those pee lips, mister.”

He groaned, cursing his brother under his breath. Before she could protest, Luke hefted Embry from the bed, swung her over his shoulder, and headed for the shower. “Let’s go, beautiful. If you’re good, I might even let you play with my fuck.”

Embry giggled and slapped Luke square on the shamrock. “Giddy up, my Southern sexy.”

The End

TO SEE MORE of Luke and Embry, check out The Disclosure Series, available on all platforms!

R.E. Hunter is the author of the bestselling Disclosure Series — Undone, Unbroken and Love in Motion. A native New Yorker, she lives in Florida with her husband, their crazy kitten, and terror of a puppy. Surviving solely on Starbucks Iced Chai and KIND bars, she spends her days writing angsty romance and chasing happily ever afters. When not writing, you can find her on the beach with a glass of wine and a book in her hand.

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SUNBURNED

STACY KESTWICK

“Damn, it’s hot.” I wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my forearm and glanced over at my best friend, Grady. He grunted a sound I took as an agreement as he struggled to throw the microwave-sized piece of granite over the ledge of the seawall.

It was close to one in the afternoon, and we’d been hoisting small boulders since just after breakfast.

Fucking Grady. He owed me for this. Big time.

After heaving the rock in the air to join the others, he turned back to face me, the scowl on his face directed at the shoulder-high pile of rocks we still had to tackle. “Look, West, I already told you I’m sorry. She said it was a small pile of rocks she needed placed — not a fucking mountain.”

I bit my tongue as I snagged a smaller rock and dropped it over the seawall, where it skipped like a Plinko chip until it nestled into its final resting place. He’s lucky I loved him like a brother. Well, and that I preferred this to the alternative of golfing with my dad and some company bigwigs.

Really, I’d prefer anything to that.

Even manual labor during a summer heat wave.

“And I told you I’d split the money with you.” His quiet grumble had me biting back any other complaint I’d been thinking of shooting his way. I didn’t need the cash. The brand new truck I’d gotten for my sixteenth birthday last month and the five-digit square footage of my grandparents’ house attested to that fact. But Grady wasn’t so lucky. When his parents died three years ago and he’d moved in with his uncle, his life had taken a drastic change. He had to earn every dollar and morsel of respect his uncle dished out, which Grady did without resentment.

His determination and single-minded focus on success would make any mogul proud, and he only rarely allowed himself to cut loose, usually when I’d badgered him into drinking from my dad’s stash of top-shelf alcohol with me.

I wouldn’t be taking my half of the earnings for today’s work, but I let his comment ride for now. Even as a teenager, I knew a thing or two about pride.

Missy — or Melissa, as she preferred to be called now that she was an adult and shit — used to babysit us back in the day. Now, she was the island’s top realtor with a showcase waterfront home in the most exclusive neighborhood on Reynold’s Island, the same one my grandparents’ house was in. She’d needed a load of granite added to her seawall and had hired Grady to handle the project. A project that was only supposed to take “a few hours, at most” he assured me on the phone last night, when he roped me into joining him.

The basketball-ball-sized chunks and smaller rocks weren’t a problem. It was the bigger ones mixed in that had my shoulders and biceps aching.

Not that I’d admit it.

Grady might only be one year older than me, but that extra fourteen months of working out was obvious. His muscles were starting to take on a bulkiness that most of our classmates didn’t have yet, and the girls had definitely noticed. While both of us sported six-packs, mine was more in the way of low body fat coupled with a high metabolism. Grady might’ve been an inch shorter than my own almost six-foot frame, but he outweighed me by a good twenty pounds of solid muscle, and I was trying to reduce that margin. Hence, the morning spent lifting rocks in the sauna-like weather of the South Carolina Lowcountry in July.

Grady closed his eyes and tipped his head back, stilling for a moment when a rare, cool breeze blew through, resignation heavy on his face. Squaring his shoulders, he tipped his head toward the cobblestone driveway where I’d parked. “I get it if you leave early. I can finish solo.”

I snorted and smacked him upside the head. “Whatever. Like I’d leave you to finish by yourself. Shut up and get back to work.”

With a wry grin of appreciation, he rolled his eyes before pulling his soaked cotton t-shirt over his head and tossing it aside on the perfectly-manicured Bermuda grass. “Shut your own mouth. I’m moving all the big rocks here.”

Bowing up at the challenge, I stripped off my own sweaty shirt and approached the never-ending pile of granite. “Bring it, G.”

I waited to see which rock he picked, then purposefully positioned myself in front of one that was larger. Squatting down, I manhandled the boulder into position and lifted with my legs, trying to hide how much I was shaking from the effort. Holding my breath, I shuffled to the edge of the seawall and dropped it more than I threw it.

Grady was right behind with an even bigger rock, which he tossed with ease.

Fucking show-off.

Turning back around, he flexed his pecs, making them jump. “Don’t be jealous,” he taunted. “Money can’t buy everything.” The laughter in his voice took any real sting out of his comment and he dodged the punch I aimed at his admittedly impressive bicep.

I went to hit him again when I realized he wasn’t even paying attention to me, stopping my fist at the last second before I actually landed the jab.

He was still, his eyes focused on something behind me, and as I continued to watch him, his jaw fell open. “But speaking of things money can buy,” he murmured, nodding imperceptibly toward the sprawling estate behind me.

Dropping to a crouch to play with the ends of my perfectly tied shoes, I glanced covertly over my shoulder.

And forgot to exhale.

The auburn-haired beauty walking around the corner of the infinity-edge pool was a driving hazard with all those dangerous curves threatening to escape from her tiny gold bikini. Her pale skin looked as cool and rich as fresh cream, but something about the angle of her cheekbones and the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose was still vaguely familiar from the teenage version of her I remembered from childhood.

The girls at school—the vapid cheerleaders with their exaggerated pouts and bony hips—had nothing on the ripeness of this woman’s figure and the confidence in her walk as she peered over the rim of her aviator sunglasses to where we huddled by the rocks, gawking at her as she approached a thickly padded lounge chair.

“Hey, boys!” She fluttered a towel in the air until it fell just so over the chaise. “It’s hot out, isn’t it? Why don’t y’all take a quick break? I made some sweet tea earlier. Y’all want some?”

“I’ll take fucking anything she has to offer,” Grady muttered, heading in her direction without pause.

I scrambled to my feet and trailed behind him, feeling awkward as fuck when I felt a stirring in my dick and remembered I was wearing some thin-ass gym shorts.

Turning and heading back to the house, she glanced over her shoulder at us and wiggled her fingers to indicate we were to follow her. My eyes locked onto the sway of her hips and the way her gold bikini bottom had edged up on the one side, exposing a heathy portion of her full ass.

“Dibs, man,” Grady whispered, slowing down until I was walking next to him. “I call fucking dibs.”

I snorted. “Like that’s ever gonna happen.”

“That a challenge?”

“Sure.” I rolled my eyes. “A hundred bucks says you’ll never tap that.”

Squaring his shoulders, Grady pushed past me. “Watch me.”

The blast of the air conditioner chilled my skin as we stepped into the kitchen, and, sweet Jesus, I wasn’t the only one feeling the cold. Melissa’s nipples were hardened points in her triangle top as she poured three tall glasses of tea, and it was all I could do to drag my eyes away. Blood rushed to my dick, and I hurried to stand next to the kitchen island, hiding my budding erection.

Grady drained his tea in one long gulp, keeping his eyes on her the whole time. She stood frozen, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, her own glass arrested halfway to her plump lips. Sighing in satisfaction, he pushed his empty glass her direction. “I’d love some more if it’s not too much trouble.” His voice was different, lower and husky sounding.

Fucking A, he was going for it.

Her wide eyes drifted down his bare torso before flicking back up to his face, and then glancing over at me. Not to be outdone, I chugged my own tea down, squaring my shoulders as I drank.

“Delicious,” I said, dropping my own voice half an octave. What the fuck am I doing?

She licked her lips and reached for the cut-glass pitcher. “Sure. I have plenty to go around.” Melissa scooted closer in our direction to pour, her elbow brushing first Grady’s arm and then my own as she moved around us.

The slide of her skin against mine already had me fully hard with that one tiny touch.

Leaving the tea on the counter, she headed back outside. “Have as much as you want. I’ll be by the pool.”

Grady waited until she had closed the door and then dumped his tea down the sink before hightailing it after her. Cursing under my breath, I followed his lead, taking one more quick swallow before emptying the rest and letting myself out, pausing briefly to readjust myself first.

Melissa was standing next to the chaise, one leg propped up on it, rubbing suntan lotion into her milky skin. I bit back a groan at the sight.

“—it’s taking so long,” she was saying as I got close enough to hear. “I didn’t realize it’d be so much.” Was it just me, or did she glance at Grady’s crotch when she said that last part?

“It’s no problem. We’re happy to help out, aren’t we, West?” He drawled the words lazily, shrugging one shoulder.

Giggling, she peered up at me from under impossibly long lashes. “West, do you remember me? I helped potty train you back way back when. It used to be all I could do to make you keep your pants on. You were so proud of your little weiner.”

I flushed at the mention of the word little used in reference to my junk. “I’d like to think I’ve grown up a bit since then.”

There was no mistaking it this time, the way her eyes traveled down my length, pausing to study the tent at the front of my shorts.

“Yes,” she murmured. “Yes, it sure looks like you have.”

“You look different now too,” I blurted out, wanting to swallow the words as soon as they’d escaped.

She stood up straight at my remark, dropping her glistening leg to the ground and glancing down at herself. She hesitated a moment, but then one corner of her mouth slid up slowly in a knowing grin and, if it was possible, she pushed her chest out further. “Better than you remember, I hope.”

Fuck, yes. I swallowed hard and then gave her the bold truth. “I used to have a crush on you back then.”

“And now?” Her soft whisper floated on the air between us, and she bit her lip.

“I’m pretty sure you’re still out of my league,” I admitted, my attention centered on those red lips.

Grady stepped between us, breaking the spell, and plucked the suntan lotion from Melissa’s hand. “Here, let me help you with your back. Wouldn’t want you getting burned because you can’t reach.”

Uncertainty flickered in her eyes so briefly, I might have imagined it, before pure heat replaced it, making her dark eyes glow. “That’s so thoughtful of you, Grady. Here, maybe it would be easier if I laid down first?”

She lowered herself to the chaise, kneeling on it briefly on all fours, and, I swear on all that’s holy, she shook her ass just a bit before she settled on her stomach. My cock leapt in my shorts, and I was lucky that her head was turned the opposite direction.

Grady poured some lotion in his hands, rubbing his palms together, bending over her back, and placing his hands on her shoulders. She jumped a little at the contact.

“Brrrr.” She shivered a bit under his touch. “That’s cold.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be feeling warm here in a minute.” Grady’s response was instantaneous, his tone light and teasing as his fingers moved over her skin.

Not to be left out, I scooped up the bottle and poured some lotion in my own hands, rubbing them together first to warm them up. “Here,” I said, moving to the bottom of the chaise. “Let me get that other leg for you.”

Starting at her ankle, I wrapped my fingers around her leg, running my palms up her smooth calf, her skin a hundred times softer than I expected. I coated her lower leg and stopped to run my hands back down to her foot, giving it an impromptu massage, letting my thumbs dig into the tender arch of her foot.

She shifted on the chair, her low moan taking my dick from mostly to fully hard.

Clearing his throat, Grady caught my attention. “Melissa, if you plan on just laying out for a while, do you want me to untie these strings for you? So you don’t get tan lines?” He nodded at me in encouragement.

I gave each toe some individual attention, loving the way she made a little noise each time I reached the end of one. When I couldn’t resist any longer, I got some more lotion and inched my way above her knee, easing my hands up the back of her toned thigh.

“You know,” she finally answered, “I probably shouldn’t, but the dress I’m wearing to the Gala next month is strapless, and tan lines would kind of ruin the look.”

“Well, problem solved.” Grady slowly pulled the end of the string in the middle of her back until the knot stretched… and released. He repeated the motion with the tie behind her neck until she was spread before us, all pale skin except for a scrap of gold fabric covering part of her ass.

My hands were halfway up her thigh now and I wasn’t sure how far to push my luck, but with the removal of her top, I grew bolder. I massaged upwards in short, steady strokes, until I reached the crease where the curve of her ass met her leg. Softly, I ran just my thumbs along that indentation, one slipping higher, and the other trailing down, following the edge of her bikini as it ran between her legs. She sucked in a sharp breath.

Grady wasn’t sitting idle. When I wasn’t watching my own fingers flirt with the very edge of her ass, I was following the way he was working his hands along her ribs, grazing her sides of her tits where they swelled out from under her. Her arms were resting above her head, and she made no move to cover herself on the first pass of his fingers over her exposed skin.

I moved one hand to her other leg, until I was sliding my hands along both thighs, my thumbs along her inner thighs. She stretched beneath us, her toes and her shoulders raising off the chair as her muscles flexed. When she relaxed, I’ll be damned if her legs weren’t a few inches farther apart than they had been beforehand and a bit more of her generous chest bared to our hungry eyes.

Grady’s shorts were tented as he adjusted his position, lowering down to sit on the edge of the chair near her hips. Starting at the strings keeping her tiny bottoms on, he eased his hands up her sides more firmly this time, no longer hesitant in the way his fingers rubbed over her boobs. He continued to follow the line of her body, leaning over her to run his palms up her arms until he reached her elbows, his chest almost pressed to her back in the process.

It looked like he might have brushed her ear with his lips, but I couldn’t be sure, and with her ass practically under my hands, I was a bit distracted. I couldn’t resist. I drifted higher in my own strokes, touching the parts of her butt exposed by her swimsuit, first with just sweeps of my thumb, but then with my whole hand. By the time I was cupping both sweet cheeks, any pretense of rubbing in sunscreen was gone and I was full-on fondling her, squeezing her generous flesh and letting it fill my palms.

I skimmed beneath the ties at her waist, gripping her hips and then brought my hands inward and down, touching the rest of her that was still hidden beneath the fabric, molding her curves.

She groaned, and I looked up to see Grady’s hands had slipped partly beneath her, no doubt hunting for her nipples, and his lips trailing down the back of her neck.

I barely held back my own sound when her ass pressed up into my hands and wiggled, silently begging for more.

I’d touched a girl before. Eaten a handful of pussies on chicks too shy to make a sound and too timid to tell me what they liked. What I hadn’t done yet was slide deep between a pair of thighs and hit a homerun. And, damn, if my thoughts weren’t racing there now, wondering what it’d be like to have these silky legs wrapped around my hips while I was plunging to the hilt inside of her.

Sparing a glance up, I saw Grady had left timid in the rearview mirror and was speeding ahead past innocence straight into downright dirty. His mouth covered hers and flashes of tongue peeked from beneath their hungry lips. She was balancing on her elbows and forearms now, her swollen tits pressed between them and captured in Grady’s roving hands.

Recognizing opportunity when it fell in my literal lap, I released the gold strings hiding the promised land from me and whipped Melissa’s bikini bottoms somewhere over my head.

Then, going for broke, I nudged Grady until he broke off the kiss with a barely concealed growl of annoyance and glared at me. Grabbing the curve of her hips, I started to twist her on the chaise, wanting her on her back. To see her in all her glory. Grady picked up on my plan, and within seconds, she was flipped, her small hands already reaching for his hair and pulling him back down and her legs spread wide for my inspection.

I stared, my heart beating so hard I was surprised it wasn’t audible, and let my eyes drink in the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in all my sixteen years.

Her bare pussy, already slick with arousal, bloomed before me, beckoning me closer, and I wasn’t sure which part of me to touch her with first—lips, tongue, or raging cock. But when I took a deep breath and her musky scent mixed with the salt air, I couldn’t wait any longer to steal a taste.

I dove with less grace than I cared to admit, running the flat of my tongue up her wet slit as I pulled her thighs over my shoulders. What I lacked in finesse I made up for in eagerness. Nuzzling apart her folds with my nose, I pulled her throbbing clit between my lips, teasing the hidden treasure with the tip of my tongue. Light, soft strokes at first that were rewarded with her hips pressing closer and grinding against my face. Taking the hint, I sucked harder and slipped a finger into her warm opening, gliding deep until I was knuckle deep.

A groan—not mine—filled the air and my cock was so hard, it could’ve hammered nails.

I wrangled with the waistband of my shorts, shoving the flimsy nylon over my narrow hips until they fell to the concrete patio beneath me.

Fisting my eager dick with one hand, I ate at her sweetness, prolonging the motions that made her buck and quickly moving past the ones that didn’t elicit a response. She liked short, fast strokes against her clit and long, slow licks up her center. She really liked it when I curled the finger I had inside of her, massaging that spot against her front wall.

My eyes were closed and every one of my senses was focused on the woman beneath me, making my every forbidden babysitter fantasy come true. The foot slapping against my face caught me off guard—tearing me roughly from my mission. And somehow, for one incredibly weird second, I had Grady’s toe caught in my mouth, where just a moment ago I’d been sucking Melissa’s sweet clit.

Blinking against the pain in my cheekbone, I twisted my neck in time to see Grady straddle Melissa’s waist, his knees by her shoulders and his legs along her curvy sides. When his shorts dipped extra low and I caught a brief glimpse of my best friend’s asshole, I made a guess about what was happening in front of me and then immediately pushed the image from my mind.

Maybe it was wrong to pretend that Melissa only existed from the waist down, but that long stretch from her hips to her legs were the beginning and end of my world right then. And her gorgeous, pink pussy was the sun, searing me with its wet heat.

The kick in the face was the wake-up call I needed. This beautiful creature was going to snap back to reality—and probably soon—and my chances were limited.

Surging to my knees, I bent her legs and pressed them against Grady’s back, effectively pushing him deeper into her mouth if the curse he just shouted and the muffled squeal from beneath him was any indication.

Lining up the head of my cock with the junction of her thighs, I rubbed against her, coating myself with her slickness.

And then, too impatient to wait any longer, I pushed inside.

It was everything.

It was more.

I was a man, and I wanted to roar with the primitiveness that every male probably felt the first time he thrust deep into the soft welcome of a woman.

My hips bucked, no real rhyme of rhythm to their pattern, just a desire to feel every warm inch of her squeezing my cock tight. I wrapped her legs around my hips, and when her heels dug into the top of my ass, I felt strong enough to crush every rock in that pile to dust with my bare hands.

In front of me, Grady’s hips began to jackhammer, his breath a loud, uneven pant that signaled his race was nearing the finish line.

Spurred on by the sounds and my own desperation, I pumped harder, my balls slapping against her sweet ass with every downward pump.

Trying to remember that I was raised a gentleman, I slid a hand between us, my thumb finding her hot little button and pressing firmly in tight circles, giving her the friction I knew she needed to tumble over the edge and burn.

Grady roared.

She screamed.

I jerked back at the last second, some tiny thread of sanity reminding me that I was bareback, and fisted my angry cock, streams of my release shooting forward... and coating Grady’s back in milky stripes.

One, two, three, and then the last one just kind of dribbled over my own fingers and onto her thigh.

Shuddering with the intensity of my release, I sagged forward, my hand reflexively squeezing one warm ass cheek in appreciation.

I was no longer a virgin. And I’d never forget this moment—or her.

But, the sight of Grady climbing off of her, cock only half-softened and hanging between his thighs in the front, my spunk dripping down his ass in the back…

It was four days before the sunburn on the pale skin of my butt faded.

It was weeks before I could look him in the eye.

But it was the best afternoon of my sixteen-year-old life, the stuff legends were made of.

And we never, ever spoke of it again.

The End

***DISCLOSURE: Age of consent in South Carolina is 16. No teenagers were harmed in the writing of this story because they’re FICTIONAL. Want more of West and Grady? Check out the Water’s Edge series – blurbs and purchase links available at www.stacykestwick.com.

You can also find me at: Facebook Twitter Instagram Goodreads

KNOTTED UP

TIFFANY ALEMAN

Since the beginning, my relationship with Riley has been a whirlwind. When he first returned home from his deployment, things were different, but we’ve learned how to live with one another and memorized each other’s routines. Unfortunately, our sex life has begun to turn stagnant. Where we were once all heat and passion and fire, now, it’s a couple of grunts, some slight whimpers here and there, and ten minutes tops, a couple of nights a week.

If I’m lucky.

It’s boring.

Tonight, I’m changing things up a bit.

“Babe?” Riley shouts down the hallway.

“In here,” I answer, yelling back.

These changes have eroded our relationship and the way I view myself. Never before have I lacked confidence in how I look and feel in my own body. What I used to see in the mirror is gone because his actions in the bedroom have led me to wonder what it is he sees in me.

Am I still enough?

In his eyes, am I still gorgeous?

Do I do it for him?

Perspiration beads on the back of my neck as I lay here. My eyes scan the room, and I cringe at what I went through to get to where I am now. Light shines through a small hole in one of the curtain panels from where I lit a candle. A burnt smell mixes with the tropical air freshener I sprayed. My nose scrunches at the pungent aroma.

I’m nervous, so nervous. In fact, my stomach is doing flips. I feel like I might vomit. It doesn’t help that a crick is forming in the side of my neck. My upper back aches from trying to maintain this provocative pose, and my right arm has been numb for quite some time. I could change positions, but this one highlights the fullness of my breasts and the dip in my waist, and doesn’t showcase the extra ten pounds I’ve gained that I swear has gone straight to my ass and thighs.

Cosmopolitan Magazine lists this pose as one of the sexiest. I think they’re full of shit. Just like the woman at the lingerie boutique. How she talked me into this little red, see-through, lacey number is beyond me. The front is simple and straightforward, yet very sexy. The matching red G-string cuts into my crack because it’s one-size-doesn’t-fit-all. Strings stretch across my back, down my ribs, and around my ass cheeks in a pattern I can’t begin to describe. The tight, dainty material is so tight I’m sure there are indentions in the tops of my shoulders.

The thirty minutes it took me to get into it and a bruised hip from when I fell are the only reasons I’m still wearing the damn thing. I couldn’t be more uncomfortable. Because not only is sweat rolling down my neck and spine, my body is about to go into muscular failure.

Could I be any more self-conscience right now?

A gasp pulls me from my rambling thoughts. My eyes snap to the doorway of our bedroom.

The green flight suit, sleeves rolled to his elbows, aviators hanging on the front of his uniform, brings me right back to the first time I saw him. His blond hair is cropped close to his scalp on the side and back, and the top is just long enough to run my fingers through. I nibble the corner of my lip as my eyes lock onto his cerulean ones. My heart pounds a faster beat as desire fills his eyes. In this moment, I don’t think I have ever loved him so much.

“Hey there, stud,” I attempt to lower my voice, hoping to sound seductive as I quote one of our favorite movies, Grease. Instead, my voice cracks, and I croak out the words.

Riley’s jaw ticks, and one of his eyebrow’s arches. He’s trying not to smile. “Hey baby. What’s going on?” He nods at the candles and me sprawled on the bed.

“Nothing.” I hitch a shoulder in a shrug. “Can’t a woman surprise her man,” I grunt when I push with my numb arm. It gives way under my weight. I fall, face first into the comforter. The down bedding swallows the rest of my statement, muffling it, “by … dooin … som … speial.” Immediately, the numbness begins to dissipate. It tingles and burns, so I clench and unclench my fingers and shake away the irritating sensation. Using my other arm, I push myself up to repeat what I’ve just said. “By doing something special?” I huff.

Riley sighs and breaches the threshold to our room. I lift myself up to my knees only to sit back on my heels. He takes a seat on the bed. Gingerly, the back of his hand caresses my cheek.

“What’s really going on, babe?” he asks, softly.

I gnaw the inside of my cheek and avert my eyes from his penetrating stare. After a moment of silence, I glance back at him and pull his aviators free. I inch down the zipper of his flight suit, hoping he’ll get what I’m silently saying. With curious eyes, he watches me. When the zipper meets its end, my hands settle between the fabric and his shoulders. I push back the coarse, woven material. Riley helps me by shrugging out of it. I lift up onto my knees as he stands.

You can do this. I take a deep breath. “Tell me what you want?” I ask, my voice quiet and meek.

Down to his briefs and undershirt, he tilts his head to the side. For a second, he stares at me, and then a wicked smirk transforms his features. “Lie back on the bed. Keep your eyes on me while you do it.” The demand rolls off his tongue like he’s been waiting for this moment.

Sensually, I sit back and attempt to slide my feet out from under me. One gets stuck, and I kick it out. The top connects with Riley’s knee. Hard. I pull my foot back as heat races up my neck to my face. Embarrassment coats my skin with a thick layer of sweat. I curl in on myself. Before I have the chance to get off the bed and die in peace, Riley catches my chin.

“Lie. Back. On. The. Bed.”

My breath catches in my throat as he lays a soft encouraging kiss on my lips. I do as he says. My hopes of being sexy are long gone. With that knowledge, I decided to let him run the show from here on out.

“You are so fucking sexy, like this, laid out on our bed, waiting for me to come home.”

“Yeah?” I question.

He lifts his shirt over his head, tossing it across the room. His thumbs dip beneath the elastic of his briefs, and he glides them down his powerful, sculpted thighs. As my gaze travels his body, my mouth turns as dry as the Sahara Desert. His perfectly toned body makes me want to leap off the bed and have my wicked way with him. The love and adoration shining in his eyes keeps me rooted in place. He is enjoying this.

“Is this one of your fantasies?” The question rolls off my tongue before I think about what it is I’m saying.

“Babe, I have many fantasies, and you are the star in all of them.” He climbs on the bed and hovers over me.

“Is dominating me one of them?”

He shakes his head at my question. I lift my arms to wrap around his neck, but he pulls back and out of my reach.

“No. I like that you’re an active participant when it comes to us in the bed, but I have been wanting to try something.”

“What?” I bite down on the corner of my lip as I wait for him to answer.

“I want to watch you writhe in pleasure as I poor hot wax all over your beautiful body.”

“Wax?” I breathe out.

“What do you think? This is only something that will work if you trust me completely.”

“I trust you.”

“Good. Now with that said, as much as I love this,” the tips of his fingers skim over the lacey material, “it has got to go.” As the last word leaves his lips, a tearing sound causes me to gasp.

I look down at his hands and see the bottom half of my lingerie, – albeit uncomfortable lingerie, but lingerie nonetheless – fall to the sides of my body, torn completely in two. “Well, now it won’t strangle me while trying to get out of it.” Though I feel like I should be mad, I laugh.

Riley’s eyes narrow in confusion. I roll to the side to let him see the marks left by the devilish contraption. When I lay back down, a scandalous grin transforms his features.

“I could use this for rope play.”

A boisterous laugh escapes me. “One thing at a time babe.” I reach up and cup his cheek. “I love you, you know.”

He nods once before bringing his mouth down on mine. The kiss is slow and sensual, restrained.

“Don’t hold back on me. Not tonight,” I murmur around our fused lips.

As though something inside him snaps, his body falls on mine. My legs wrap around his waist. He grinds into me and I groan. His hands go to my breasts, kneading the soft tissue. Each time his grip gets stronger and stronger. The sting of pain turns to pleasure.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard,” he groans into my neck.

Goosebumps coat my sweat-slicked skin at his words. In the most unexpected move, he flips me to my stomach. My heartbeat soars. Adrenaline surges through me leaving trails of fire in its wake. I rock my hips backward. Riley grips my waist in an unyielding clasp.

“Do. Not. Move.” His voice sounds like his teeth are clenched and grounds out the words.

My eyes pop open and fear freezes me. “What’s happened?” I ask, breathless.

“For the love of God, babe, don’t move.” A twinge of panic laces his tone.

“What? Why?” I twist my head to look at him over my shoulder—

“Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Argh,” he squeaks. “Don’t fucking move, Kelsey!”

“Then tell me what in the hell is going on,” I shout.

He breathes out a labored grunt. “When I flipped you over, my shit got caught in the strings of your outfit.” His breaths sound like he’s been taking a Lamaze class.

As soon as his words register, my eyes widen, and I clamp down the urge to laugh. “How in the fuck did your dick get wrapped in the strings?”

“It’s not wrapped. It’s knotted up,” he growls out.

“What do you want me to do?” I whisper.

“Just hold still and let me figure this out.”

The strings and his fingers move against my skin, and a thought hits me.

“You know if you tore the straps over my shoulders, I could slip out from underneath you and then help release you.”

“Babe,” he huffs. “I don’t think you understand what I’m saying. Between the momentum that I used to thrust forward, slipping underneath your body, the friction against the bed, and flipping you over, my dick is literally knotted up in the material. My hands are fucking shaking while I try to undo what I’ve done.”

“What does it look like?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

“Are you serious?”

“You didn’t break it did you?” Fighting not to giggle is hard.

“Fuck no, I didn’t break my dick?” He groans.

My body vibrates with pent up amusement as I try to hold as still as possible.

“Are you laughing right now?” he growls.

“I was just thinking you can check ‘rope play’ off your list now.” My laugh grows louder and harder. A loud thwack echoes throughout our room. Stinging pain bites my ass cheek. The sensation causes me to lurch forward, and Riley groans and gasps.

“Baby,” he pleads.

“Then don’t smack my ass,” I retort.

“Baby, please don’t move.” He sounds like he’s going to hyperventilate.

“Do you need a paper bag?” I joke.

“Baaaabbbbyyyy, pleeeaaase. Don’t be a smartass,” he growls.

“I’m sorry tonight turned out like this.” I drop down to my elbows and let him work.

“Me too.”

“I just wanted to mix things up a bit. Since you’ve come home, I kind of feel like we’ve lost our spark.” My fingers skate back and forth across the duvet.

“Our spark?” he asks. “What we have is so much more than a spark.” His sigh of relief brushes my shoulder. Strong arms bind around my waist, pulling me back against his solid chest. “We have love, babe. I agree, we can and should spice things up, but I love making love to you. Never doubt that. I don’t need all of the kinky shit to have something spectacular. I just need you.”

My heart melts at his words.

“Are you okay?”

The friction of his day old stubble snags my hair as he nods. “I will be, but you should know if you ever buy anything with cordage again, I’ll cut it up.”

I chuckle. “Point taken.” I wiggle my ass against him and whisper, “Do you think you’re up to... well, you know.”

He groans in my ear. “Always. Wanna try anal?”

I laugh. I lean back against his shoulder and look up at him. “I think we’ve had enough awkwardness for the night. Let’s just make love.”

“Agreed.” He winks and smiles.

The End

RILEY AND KELSEY are from the SMOLDERING SERIES. If you want more from them, please check out my website for links to Amazon. Thank you so much for reading this, and I hope you enjoyed it.

Tiffany is an Army wife and mother of two with an obsession for the written word. Since she was a child, she has always dabbled in writing. One day Tiffany decided to put pen to paper and never looked back. Writing isn't something she does just for fun. It's something she lives and breathes. Smoldering was a book she wrote in 13 days. Everyone thought she was crazy, but since she’s published, it has made her an International Bestseller. When she’s not writing you can find her lost in the imaginary world of other authors’ books or outdoors with her family.

FOR NEWS about previous and future works and ways to contact me please visit my website.

www.authortiffanyaleman.com

IS THERE A BABY IN THIS CUP? AN EPIC HOLIDAY SHORT STORY

TRUDY STILES

Tristan

TUESDAY

5:00 AM

I’m the only person in the waiting room, and somehow this doesn’t surprise me. It’s fucking five o’clock in the fucking morning. It’s still dark out for God’s sake. I rub my hands on my sweats and kick my feet out in front of me. I remind myself that today is going to be a long day, and this is just ten minutes of my life. Ten short minutes where I can take care of what I need to, and then I’ll be by Kirsten’s side, holding her hand as she undergoes her procedure.

The door swings open, and another dude walks in. His head is hung low, and his hands are jammed into his jeans. He writes his name on the sign-in sheet and sits in the open chair directly across from me. We don’t make eye contact, and that’s a good thing. He takes out his cell phone and starts swiping. His thumb is incessantly scrolling, and I notice he isn’t even looking at it. I get it, this whole thing is awkward. Fucking awkward.

The interior door opens, and a small woman walks out. Her hair is in a tight bun and she’s wearing all white, from top to bottom. White blouse. White cardigan. White pants. White shoes. Even the horn-rimmed glasses she has perched on the edge of her nose are white.

She grabs the sign-in sheet and scans it, looking between me and Scrolling Dude.

“Mr. Lee,” she says and looks again. “Mr. Geddy Lee?”

You have got to be shitting me. Why the fuck didn’t I think of that? I wrote my real name down on the check-in sheet, and he just assumed the name of the most incredible bass player on this planet. Not to mention, he’s the amazing lead singer of Rush. He’s my fucking hero.

Geddy Lee stands up and nods at Ms. White. Then he makes eye contact with me. I nod at him as if to say Respect, Dude. Massive respect.

He follows Ms. White through the doors, and I’m alone again. Then it hits me. I was here first. What the fuck?

I jump up to look at the sign-in sheet. My name is still there, but Ms. White scribbled something next to it.

5:30 appt.

Geddy has 5:00 next to his name.

I’m a full half hour early. Crap.

Kirsten does this to me all the time. She knows I hate punching a clock, and she knows I hate following a timetable for anything. But she also knows how important it is for me to be on time today, so she lied and told me that my appointment was at five. Well played, babe. Well played.

The clock on the wall is ticking loudly. I didn’t even think they made clocks that tick like that anymore. Tic-tock-tic-tock-tic-tock–FUCK.

I left my phone in the console of my SUV because I thought I’d be in and out of here quickly. Now I wish I was able to mindlessly scroll like my man Geddy.

I pick up a magazine from the table next to me and open it up.

Seven Thirty-Minute Meal Ideas for the Busy Family

This should kill some time. I scroll through the article to see if there’s anything interesting, and my stomach starts to growl. The chicken fajitas look so amazing that I would literally kill for three of them right now. I turn the page and see avocado roll-ups. Now this is just cruel. I slam the magazine shut and drop it back onto the table, angry that I forgot to eat breakfast. Not that I had my wits about me at four-thirty this morning when my alarm went off.

I bend down to untie and re-tie my Chucks. I do this three times. If Ms. White has a camera watching me from what I can only imagine to be her stark, white room, she’s thinking I have a problem. I’m about to untie them again when the inner door opens, and Geddy struts through it. His chest is puffed out, and he looks seriously proud. I’m tempted to make a fist and hold it in the air for him to bump one out before he leaves, but I quickly change my mind. We make eye contact and nod, chins in the air.

He leaves, and I shake my head. My heart starts to pound in my chest when I realize I’m next. Ms. White is going to be coming for me any minute, and I realize I’m not ready. My hands begin to sweat, and I try to remain calm.

Think of Kirsten.

“Ahem,” Ms. White’s voice bellows throughout the empty waiting room. “Mr. George. Tristan George.”

Considering I’m the only one here now, I doubt it’s necessary to call my name like they would at a deli counter. I raise my hand. “Here,” I say, as if I’m in grammar school.

She nods and turns so I follow her through the door. The hallway is surprisingly not white, but beige and lined with fake plants for as far as the eye can see. Plastic ferns in giant pots. Now I feel itchy.

She leads me to the last door on the right and opens it up. I notice her hands are covered by plastic gloves, and I cringe. I guess I wouldn’t want to touch the doorknob either.

“Mr. George,” she says, her glasses still perched on the edge of her nose. “You’ll find the specimen container over there, by the sink.” She uses two fingers to point, and all I can think about is a flight attendant.

“You can make yourself comfortable in the chair over there,” she points to the corner. Then she opens up an entertainment center filled with videos and magazines and points to a remote control. “And if you need anything here, it’s at your disposal.”

She then points to the wall next to the sink. “Please read and follow these directions carefully.” And then she’s gone.

I glance at the wall to read a sign:

- Wash your hands with soap and water

- Refrain from using any lubricant, saliva, or anything that may contain spermicidal agents

- Ejaculate directly into the sterile sample cup – be sure to capture the first part of the ejaculate, and do not attempt to collect any spilled semen

- Place the cap on the container as soon as you’ve finished

- Make sure your name, time, and date of your sample is clearly printed on the cup

- Hand sample to nurse

I immediately complete step one and make a mental check as I dry my hands.

Complete–that was easy.

I can skip over step two because I don’t have any lube, nor will I need any.

Complete–I’m flying right along.

I freeze when I get to step three. I feel like they skipped over a few steps, and I panic. I find the chair in the corner and sit down. It’s a pleather recliner, and the handle on the side is covered in plastic. In fact, practically everything in this room is covered in plastic. I pull down the front of my sweats and say, “Let’s get this over with.” As I wrap my hand around my shaft, I realize the specimen cup is across the room on the sink. Fuck.

I jump up and waddle with my sweats below my ass, my junk hanging out and swipe the cup and a few paper towels. I plop back into the chair and use the paper towel to cover the plastic covered handle on the side of the recliner and slide the chair back. I’m laying mostly flat, and I’m surprised that I already have a boner. Score.

I close my eyes and begin to pump my hand up and down over my length. I see Kirsten’s smile and her long hair pulled back, exposing her shoulders. Her perky breasts inviting me to sample them. She’s bare and exposed for me, and I can’t wait another second. My hand is moving faster and faster and Kirsten’s mouth forms that perfect ‘O,’ and a light moan escapes her lips. I lose myself in her, and a fast, but satisfying orgasm rips through my body.

And that’s when I realize I didn’t ejaculate into the cup. In fact, I spooged all over myself, and the cup is lying, still closed, next to my hip.

Motherfucker.

Now what? I grab one of the clean paper towels, and before I clean it off of me, I wonder if I can scrape it into the specimen container. Step three seems to have neon lights pointing directly to it.

- Ejaculate directly into the sterile sample cup – be sure to capture the first part of the ejaculate and do not attempt to collect any spilled semen

Dammit.

I clean myself off, the rough paper towel feels like sandpaper against my stomach. I can’t believe I just fucked up the third step. Now what the hell am I supposed to do?

I look at the clock. It’s five-forty. I need to get another round in so I can get out of here fast. There’s bound to be another dude in the waiting room, and the longer I stay in here, the worse the walk of shame is going to be.

Okay, let’s get serious, Tristan.

I walk over to the entertainment center to see if there’s anything I can use for inspiration. The magazines are piled high, and the covers look wrinkled and torn. There’s no fucking way I’m touching those, the levels of DNA on them must be through the roof.

I scan the shelves for DVDs and only see VHS tapes. What the fuck? Is this nineteen-eighty?

The VHS tapes are a mess, most of them not even put back into their original sleeves. The titles alone make me laugh out loud. This isn’t going to work.

I switch on the television to see what may already be in the machine. Loud screeching comes blaring out of the speakers, and I immediately mute it. I picture Ms. White outside the door, shaking her head, judging my choice in eighties porn.

A brunette with giant tits is bouncing on some dude’s lap. Her tits are bouncing around wildly, and apparently, that’s where the loud screeching was coming from. The sound is still muted, so I have to use my imagination. Her dark hair is in pigtails with big pink bows tied around them, and she has way too much makeup on. The only thing she’s wearing are navy blue socks pulled all the way over her knees. This must be a student-teacher fantasy. Now, we’re getting somewhere.

I back up into the chair, taking the remote control with me, but I’m careful to keep the paper towel wrapped around it.

This time, I remove the cap from the specimen container first, so I don’t have the same issue as before. I lean back into the chair and push my sweats back down below my hips. I have to block it out of my mind that someone else’s bare ass touched exactly where I’m sitting because I don’t have time to line the chair with paper towels, too. In fact, I’m disgusted by the fact that there isn’t anything covering this chair at all, not even the paper that covers normal exam room tables. I need to stop thinking. Now.

I place the container on my stomach and begin to get myself ready. Since I just ejaculated a few minutes ago, this is going to be a challenge. I suddenly panic when I think I may have wasted all of my good sperm in that last load. They were very specific with us when they told us how to prepare. They stressed the importance of abstaining for two days before collecting this specimen. My heart pounds in my chest when I realize that I really fucked things up.

Shit.

I try to relax in the chair, watching the sexy student get pounded by her much older teacher. The faces she’s making are completely comical, and I realize there is no way I’m going to be able to get into this. I hit the power button on the remote control and switch off the television.

Now what?

I’m stressed out that I have nothing left in me worth capturing. And I’m worried about disappointing Kirsten. She’s already upstairs in the clinic, getting prepped for the IVF procedure. If I don’t give them something to work with, we’re going to have to wait another cycle for us to try again. I can’t do that to Kirsten. The needles, the drugs, the hormones are all too much.

I hear her voice in my head. “Tristan, you have one job to do. One. Job.”

She sounds angry, and that gets me hot. Okay, this is going to work now. I’m not going to fuck up.

I have one job to do.

I wrap my hand around myself again, and the sensation is back. Thank God.

My eyes are closed, and I see her again. This time, she’s stepping into a hot tub, completely naked. She sits down across from me and sinks into the water. Her tits bobbing up and down, teasing me, in and out of the water. Her perfect nipples are erect, and she covers herself up. I shake my head and tell her, “No, I want to see.”

She smiles slyly and slowly uncovers her breasts. God, she’s perfect.

She slowly raises one foot out of the water and slides her toes along my leg. Then the other. Her eyes are dark and seductive, and she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. Building me up slowly.

Out of nowhere, I hear music in my ears. It’s Rush’s Tom Sawyer.

Well, this fantasy is certainly heating up. Sex with Kirsten in a hot tub, and the most epic band on earth is the soundtrack. Perfect.

My eyes are still closed as Tom Sawyer blasts in my ears.

And then I see him. The fake Geddy Lee tearing it up in this room. I only see his back, his pale, white ass on display, and he’s rocking out with his cock out.

What in the ever loving fuck?

I open my eyes to end this nightmare. Why? Why did I need to see that? I stifle a gag as I try to get the image of the guy, who was in the room before me, out of my head. But he’s everywhere. I picture the smug and proud look on his face when he passed me in the waiting room. He silently spoke to me. “I got it done, dude.”

He was in and out in under ten minutes, and here I am struggling to get myself off for the second time, because I royally fucked up the first. I’ve been in here at least twenty minutes and feel like a complete failure. The fake Geddy Lee hosed me. He rocked it.

I take a deep breath, trying to get the wild thoughts out of my head. Trying to ignore the fact that Geddy’s DNA must be everywhere in this room. I think I’m going to throw up.

There’s a soft knock at the door.

“Mr. George. Everything okay?” Ms. White asks sternly.

For crying out loud! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“I’m good,” I say in the deepest voice I can muster. “Be out in five.”

Fuck. Will I?

I look down at myself, and I’m completely flaccid. Five minutes is going to be a fucking miracle.

Deep breaths.

Dammit, I have to get back to the hot tub. Now!

I close my eyes and hope that Kirsten’s still waiting for me. And ready.

She’s there, and she looks even hotter than before. Now, she’s completely soaking wet, her face emerging from the water right between my knees. Water dripping from her lush lips, her eyes seductive, her smile cunning. She’s up to something, and I can’t wait to find out what it is.

She kisses me softly, biting my lower lip and dragging it into her mouth. She leans back and gestures for me to move up and out of the water. Her hands remain on my knees as I scoot my ass to sit on the ledge.

Oh yes, this is exactly what I want.

She kisses my chest and my stomach, nipping and biting her way down. Lower. Lower.

Her eyes are wide as she looks up at me one last time before they roll back into her head, and she wraps her lips around my throbbing length. Her warm, wet lips slide slowly, up and down, and she opens her eyes again to make sure I’m watching her.

Then her soft hand slides up and down, directing my shaft into her mouth.

And I. Can’t. Take. It. Anymore.

I snap out of my fantasy, grab the small plastic cup, and direct my release into it.

Holy shit.

I twist the cap onto the cup tightly, making sure nothing spills out. I can’t risk losing any of this. I clean up faster than I ever have before and wash my hands again. I make sure I follow the rest of the instructions on the wall exactly. Ms. White must be hovering by now, and I need to get out of here.

As I walk to the door, I hold the cup in front of my face. My deposit is right before my eyes, and my mind wanders.

Is there a baby in this cup?

Is there a swimmer in here that’s going to be used to create what Kirsten and I want so desperately?

A strange feeling comes over me as I walk toward the door. I’m transporting what could be our future, and I need to be very careful. I open the door slowly and Ms. White is standing there, with her gloved hand outstretched.

“Did you label it?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Name, date, and time?”

“Yes.”

She nods and takes the cup from my hand, and I watch her walk away, tucking my boys into the pocket of her cardigan. I almost call out after her to tell her to be careful, but I stop. She does this every single day, she knows what she’s doing. My boys are going to be okay. They’ll make it upstairs just in time.

She disappears into the lab, and I’m alone in the hallway.

I inhale deeply as I begin the walk of shame.

When I reach the outer room, there are four guys waiting. They all look up at me, nervous. So I stick out my chest and walk through, proud like my buddy Geddy.

Yeah, that’s right. I silently say to them as I nod my head up and down.

I got it done.

Twice.

To be continued…

Epic Holiday by Trudy Stiles is coming this Winter 2017.

TRUDY STILES IS a New Adult Romance author, mom to two beautiful children, and married to the love of her life. She’s the author of the bestselling Forever Family series including Dear Emily, Dear Tabitha, and Dear Juliet. Epic Sins is the first book in the Epic Fail series and will continue with at least three more standalone novels. Epic Lies is scheduled to release in the Spring of 2016 with Epic Love and Epic Holiday to follow in the Fall and Winter of 2016. She plans to write many more stories about some of the characters you’ve already met, and maybe a few new ones. Emily will get her own story, Sincerely, Emily, to be released in 2017.

TRUDY IS a music junkie and you’ll know that she’s writing when you see her plugged into her laptop with her earbuds in. Her playlist is unique and is a must for her writing sprints.

When she’s not writing, she’s carting her children to their various activities while avoiding any kind of laundry or housework. She also loves to run along the boardwalk of the beautiful New Jersey shore.

She celebrates Wine Wednesday almost every day.

You can read more about Trudy at http://trudystiles.com.

CLICK here to purchase any of her books at your preferred retailer (Amazon, iBooks, Barnes & Noble, Kobo.)

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The idea of this anthology came to life one night when I was avoiding my current WIP and the sex scene that I was trying to write. I did what a lot of procrastinating authors do…I went to the time-suck known as Facebook for a little encouragement/distraction from my friends.

I might have mentioned how it would be easier to just write a really awkward sex scene rather than a serious one. I never expected so many of my author friends to agree, but by the end of the conversation and a few glasses of wine, we had decided to do an Awkward anthology for charity. I hope you enjoyed it

This was hands down, one of the best experiences I’ve had in a long time. I am so blessed to be a part of an amazingly talented group of women who listen, encourage, laugh, cry, congratulate and empower each other on a daily basis. Only around half of the women from this incredible group were a part of this anthology, due to other obligations, but the latter never stopped cheering us on along the way. It is truly a very special thing to have so many women in your life who lift you up.

So, I want to say thank you to my FTN girls, both the ones who contributed to this project and those who couldn’t. In the words of Kelly Clarkson, “My Life Would Suck Without You!”

A very special thank you to Sofie Hartley (She also writes under SK Hartley) for donating the incredible cover and teaser graphics for this book. She may or may not have enjoyed it way too much! Her talent has no boundaries. Make sure you check her out.

And to each of the readers who purchased this Very…Awkward…Anthology, I know I speak for each of the authors in this book when I say you seriously rock! Not only have you sat through some truly cringe-worthy stories, but you gave a little back too. We love you very much!

Stay Awkward!

XO Taryn Plendl

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Foreword

1. With This Ring…

2. Wicked Weekend ~ Featuring Colton “Bull” Lanier & Chaise Lanier~Characters from the Steele Security Series

3. Sex, Blue Balls, and a little Vatooing gone horribly wrong… A Reed & Ari Short Story

4. Side Tracked

5. A Night to Remember

6. It Started With a Drink

7. Ballcuzzi

8. Too Many of Us

9. One Night Oh God No

10. #MyBigFatStupidHookUp

11. Definitely a J Name (starring Emily, from City Beautiful)

12. After the Treehouse

13. Drew and Kiera Film Love Scene

14. Happy Birthday, Jesus

15. Hot Hands

16. Cockblocked~Featuring Dean Goldsmith & Grace Yeates characters from Until Now, the Not Yet series book #2

17. My Kind of Girl

18. Toytastrophe

19. Blowjobs, baked beans, and cabbage… Oh, my!

20. Love Interrupted

21. Sunburned

22. Knotted Up

23. Is There a Baby in This Cup? An Epic Holiday Short Story

Acknowledgments