Spare Parts (Dark Romance) (Parts of Me Book 1)

by J A Wynters

  “Rita,” I raked my hands through her hair, wanting to pull her off. “I’m going to come.”

  She pulled against me, increasing her pace, sucking harder. Like an electric bolt of pleasure, I found release in her mouth; a convulsing spasm as ecstasy washed over me. I groaned as my body jerked for a final time, and Rita drew every last drop from me, milking me till she was sated.

  When I had settled, she withdrew and ran her thumb along her bottom lip.

  I watched her face, in awe. I was spent and nervous and completely elated. Not even in my greatest imaginings, not once, did I think a woman could make me feel so different to the pleasure my hand did.

  I reached over to pull my pants back up.

  “Don’t.” She didn’t shout it, but damn if she didn’t command it. My ass fell back into the seat.

  “Rita… I…”

  “Start the car we need to get a move on.”

  I started the car, my limp dick exposed, my mouth spread in a goofy smile and heat searing my face. I wanted to cover up, to put myself away. But, like before, she surprised me. Her hand back on my shaft squeezing, releasing, taking, wanting, growing, swelling.

  “Did you like that, Gabriel?” I nodded, my body a storm of emotions and sensations, none of which I had words for.

  By the time we got to her Mustang, I was hard again. The pain and need back; the want of her mouth on me. Insatiable. I wanted her to take me again; I wanted those pink lips clamped around me.

  My knuckles were white on the steering wheel when I finally pulled up next to her car. She had run it off the road. The passenger side kissed a tree and was dented, the metal twisted and angry. I felt a sudden pang when I saw that stunning body smashed up.

  “We’re here.” She stated the obvious.

  “Yup.” I waited, knowing my fate was in her hand.

  Literally.

  “Turn the engine off.”

  I did as I was told. Honey-coloured light saturated the car from the dim street light up ahead. It lit up Rita’s face and she smiled at me, her tongue trailing her top lip ever so slowly. I followed the movement with my eyes wanting that tongue on me, in me. I sucked in a long, desperate breath, and Rita released me. My cock stood to attention, awaiting its next command.

  Rita grabbed the hem of her sweater and pulled it off, showing off her perky, beautiful breasts. Her pink nipples were hard and tight, and my fingers itched to touch her. Her skin cinnamon in the light. She reached back and undid the zip of her skirt. She pushed it down allowing the fabric to slide down her long, silky legs. My breath caught in my throat.

  Her black G-string was all that was left. Rita jumped up and climbed between the seats landing in the middle of the back seat. Her legs spread open, her body somewhere between lying down and sitting up against the leather.

  “Do you like what you see, Gabriel?” I swallowed hard. My throat raw and dry.

  “Mmmm,” it was a choked sound. My mouth a desert only Rita could quench.

  Rita let out a soft moan and I almost lost myself. “Would you like to join me, Gabriel?”

  I nodded but didn’t move. Maybe I needed permission.

  “Come here.”

  I fought against my pants, wanting to pull them up and down at the same time—wanting to be near her, on her, in her.

  I wormed my way to the back seat and sat next to her, she moaned again and my cock jolted.

  “Kiss me, Gabriel.”

  When my mouth tasted hers, my brain stopped working and my body took over. Thousands of years of instinct and mating unfolded inside me, like an ancient familiar map showing my body exactly what it needed to do. All of my fear, shame and hesitation fell away in an instant.

  My mouth slammed into hers. It wasn’t gentle or beautiful, but deep and bruising. Her wet tongue danced around mine in a mad battle. My body smothered hers as I pushed her down onto the seat. My hand found her naked breast, closing around it, cupping the hot flesh. My thumb flicked over a nipple, and she moaned into my mouth, sending my body into a frenzy. I swiped again at the hardening nub and Rita arched her back, pressing her breast into my hand. I was unravelling in her wonder.

  My mouth unlatched from hers and kissed her neck, the scent of lilies, sweet and dizzying. I found her collar bone, settling kisses along her skin until I tasted that pink nipple—sweet and delicate flesh. I sucked and licked it, as she moaned and groaned, her body covered in a thin layer of perspiration.

  My mouth devoured her, wanted her, and I let myself roam every inch of her torso. My fingers feeling where my mouth could not, playing a game of follow the leader.

  She was magnificent. Exquisite really. Like watching a flower bloom or a volcano erupt. A natural phenomenon—violent, beautiful, vital.

  I could smell the musk of her sex, an unfamiliar odour that fed my rigid hardness and fuelled my desire. My body ached for her. My erection painful, needing release, craving a warm, tight place.

  “Slow down, Gabriel.” she purred at me and pushed at my chest, lifting me from her.

  “Take off your shirt.” She lifted herself on an elbow and watched as I yanked my shirt from my body, eager and desperate. She let out a murmur of approval and a whisper of a smile flitted at her lips. “Not a boy anymore.”

  I pulled at my jeans; they had slid to my ankles, restricting my movement, caging me, driving me almost as insane as she was. I was fighting with the fabric when I stilled. My eyes glued to Rita’s hands as they slid down to her G-string and in a single flexible movement, she lay naked before me.

  I stared at the thin line of blonde hair that led to her wet lips. My mind reeled at the sight; my breath coming in short sharp gasps, anxiety and nervousness set in. I felt as if I had plummeted underwater and forget how to breathe. I knew where to find air, how to gasp at the surface, I just had to reach. I needed air to survive. My entire focus centred on this one singular thing—breathing, surviving—nothing else mattered, nothing else existed. That was her pussy to my sixteen-year-old self. Air. Without it, I was drowning. But then she moaned again and the adrenalin surged through my veins, masking all my uncertainties and unfolding the familiar map in my brain.

  “Do you know how to put one of these on?” I have no idea where that condom came from, but she handed me the square foil packet.

  I snatched the silver packet from her hand, my lungs straining for air. I fumbled with the rubber, rolling and tugging at the condom. The sensation, tight and strange, but it confirmed that I was about to lose my virginity to Rita Cancio.

  She lay back onto the seat and invited me with a scorching a look, with her full lips and rounded hips.

  My body blanketed hers and all I could feel was the warmth of her entrance as I rested there. “Are you ready?” My voice was tight, wavering.

  “Yes.” She smiled at me.

  Rita lifted her hips to meet me as, ever so slowly, I buried myself in her.

  Time.

  Stood.

  Still.

  The squeeze of her pussy on my shaft mingled with her silky warmth, her mouth pouting in a near perfect ‘o’, letting the softest of moans escape. Her nipples hard against my chest, her blonde hair streaming down her back, the smell of musky lilies. It all etched itself into my memory. One I would relive in my mind in the months to come.

  She started moving below me, my hips responding to her movements. I pulled out till just my tip was still inside then slipped back in, slamming against her. My arousal building—burning, scorching.

  My hand shot to her breasts; I needed to hold her, suck her, fuck her.

  She lit in me an unexplored hunger. I was a traveller discovering new worlds, and what a wondrous world Rita was. I revered her, and she rewarded me with soft moans. The car fogged over with our desire, perspiration covered the windows, and the leather grabbed onto my legs in a sweaty embrace.

  Out of their own volition, my hips began to move, pounding against hers as she pushed herself against me, forcing me deeper. I wanted to sink right into her,
wanted to fill all of her. I was crazed and frenzied as my body took on a life of its own. My hips grinding and pumping, the need for release like a burning fever.

  I clutched her hips, trying to sink deeper, faster, harder. I pumped my hips furiously, her breasts bouncing, I licked her skin, needing all of her to be all over me.

  Faster.

  Harder.

  Stronger.

  Deeper.

  Deeper.

  Deeper.

  And then I breached the surface.

  I pushed her down as I jolted, clutching at her hips, sucking at her skin, and groaning a shuddering ecstatic release.

  And just as I thought the miracle was done, She snaked her hand between us her; her fingers rubbing and stroking her clit as she pushed herself against me, forcing me deeper. I was awe as her insides convulsed and squeezed, milking my shuddering cock, sending shivers of delight right through my core.

  I was spent and shattered and completely in awe.

  I collapsed above her, her chest rising and falling, hot and sweaty against my own.

  I never wanted to leave. I didn’t want the feeling to end, the ecstasy to evaporate, or the warmth to diminish. But as we caught our breath, she pushed me gently on my chest, and I pulled away from her; my limp cock fell away from her warmth and rested in its plastic cocoon.

  Rita kissed me on the cheek, her wild hair fell across her hardened nipples, her cheeks rosy and flushed. She looked beautiful.

  I was in a post coital haze—drifting on the surface of the water, gazing at a starry sky, taking long, delighted gulps of air.

  “Get dressed, Gabriel.” Her voice pierced my daydream.

  When I looked at her she was already mostly dressed, a finger tracing the outline of her mouth fixing her lipstick.

  I reached for my shirt and pulled it on then tugged up my pants. She was already in the driver seat.

  “Get out.”

  I opened the door, slid from the backseat and into the street. The electric window of the driver side came down in a soft whirr.

  Rita reached out the window, a twinkling batch of keys hung off the ends of her fingers. I took the keys and she grabbed my hand, “That was sweet, Gabriel. I really enjoyed it.”

  “Rita…”

  “It was fun, that’s all. Now, you better not take too long, or uncle Tony will come looking for you.” She snatched her hand away and winked at me. Her face broke into a smile, and she blew me a kiss. The car fell into gear and Rita raced off, leaving me rooted firmly back in reality.

  I slumped into the front seat of the twisted Mustang and backed away from the tree. The metal sang and moaned as I peeled it away and turned back onto the road. I drove with the window down letting the cool night air sweep at my flushed brow and heated thoughts. Rita had taken me completely by surprise and, despite the delicate joy that strung itself around me, I also felt an immense sense of relief. My body sang and drowned in liquid ecstasy and confusion as the street lights whipped by and the radio crooned. And the world, for a moment, felt perfect.

  Salvatore was waiting for me when I got back. We took inventory of the damaged car and made a list of the parts we’d need to order in the morning.

  Before he left, he looked at me long and hard, as if considering saying something. Eventually, he settled on, “you better shower before Tony sees you in the morning.”

  I nodded, willing my face not to break into an adolescent smile. I clamped hard on my jaw and tipped my head. Salvatore left the workshop, and I went to the back room for my shower.

  My body felt drained. Not tired, just empty—like I had run for miles. I stripped. I could smell evidence of Rita on my shirt, on my body.

  I stepped into the steaming shower, the deluge washing away my sins. As I scrubbed away her smell, and the memory of her from my skin, my mind became clearer. I could reflect on what had happened in the back of that car.

  The thing I learned that night was that, underneath her façade—underneath the makeup, and expensive clothes, and the perfume—Rita Cancio was just as dirty as me. My equal in humanity. She wasn’t gold beneath a pile of coal; she was just a lump of coal flaked with gold dust that, when removed, was just as ordinary.

  She was a great teacher but she would never be more than that. My mind flickered with guilt that was quickly put out by the water. The shower pelted at my back, and flashes of Rita played in my mind over and over like a movie. Those perky breasts and her sweet moans, the feel of her tight pussy squeezing around me. I was so hard. I stroked my shaft, pumping against my hand and spilling myself against the tiled wall. Rita may have taken my virginity but she didn’t make me a man. That was going to come later.

  I slunk to my bed tired and satisfied; and for the first time in months, I slept like a king.

  Popping my cherry only gave me an appetite for more. It wasn’t love, not with any of them. It was a means to an end—an urge, a need. Momentary relief. If a line of girls wanted to get down on their knees and suck me off behind the bleachers, I wasn’t going to stop them.

  Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so cold or so harsh with them. But they wanted more from me than just physical attention, and I wasn’t ready to give it. And, in truth, none of those polished-up turds really deserved it. All their money bought was pretty, little mouths with red hot lipstick that sucked down on my cock.

  I never thanked Rita. She wasn’t looking for thanks. She came to pick up her car a week later. I was at school. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I may have felt a momentary pang about the whole thing. But Rita was just another shiny thing on a shelf full of shiny things, and my hands were too dirty to touch any of them. Life moved on.

  I graduated top of my class—probably cause my head was clear. Nameless girls took care of my sexual frustrations, and I had no friends. The work at Tony’s gave me hands on experience, so I grasped mathematical concepts and writing skills better than some.

  Tony insisted that I invite Alice to graduation.

  I refused.

  And once again, he showed me that my life wasn’t my own and choice was a privilege I was not privy to. The walls of my cage got a little smaller.

  I wiped the sweat from my forehead as I walked down the park path. The park. I hated that place, probably because it was home for a while. But despite what you may think, the benches were never comfortable and the trees never offered any protection. At night the trees grew and distorted everything. They creaked and crept and didn’t hide the sounds. I batted the thoughts away trying to silence the memories. The screams. The hurt.

  I found her on the bench. Some time ago it became hers. It was just a known thing. I hated that fucking bench. But for whatever reason, I’m yet to burn it down.

  Alice was sitting with some man who had his hand uncomfortably high up her skirt. If she was enjoying it, I’d never know. Her eyes were rolling around their sockets like lost marbles, and her mouth hung open.

  “Get your fucking hands off her!” I didn’t mean to roar; I didn’t really care.

  The man jumped up pulling his hand away. He scowled down at Alice. She bolted up at the same moment he stood up.

  “Deal is off Alice,” the man turned to walk away.

  She jumped from the bench and ran after him, “No. No man, Derick, come back. Ignore this fucker, we can go somewhere else.”

  Derick snatched his hand from hers and stormed away. She stood for another few seconds calling his name.

  When she turned back in my direction, her face was marred in a deep scowl. She stomped towards me on stick legs, her head seeming too big for her body which looked to have shrunk—again.

  “What the fuck are you doing boy? You cost me a customer!”

  “I’m not a boy.”

  She slowed down and stopped right in front of me. At eighteen, I loomed over her. She reached up; her bony hands brushed my skin. “You’ll always be my boy.” The creases softened around her eyes.

  I jerked away from her hand. She let it drop and returned to her bench.
She plummeted into the seat and patted her oversized denim jacket. She found a pack of smokes and fished it out.

  “This is where you conduct business, Alice?”

  “That’s none of your concern.” She pulled out her long, white cancer stick and shoved it in her mouth. She slid the lighter out of the box and flicked it. The flame danced around and she sucked in a long breath, the end of her cigarette burning orange.

  The smoke blew from her mouth in perfect grey rings, and she looked at me through them as if they were a looking glass that gave her focus.

  “Well now you’re here, kiddo, let me look at you.” She patted the empty space next to her, and I fell down beside her.

  She smelt noxious, like sour piss and rusted metal. She grabbed my jaw, her scrawny fingers digging into my flesh as she turned my head left then right.

  “Looks like someone’s been feeding ya.” She let her hand drop. It wasn’t an apology. Alice never apologised for being a neglectful parent. It was her way of asking me for her cut, because I owed her.

  I pulled out a small parcel. The sauce leaked into the Glad wrap and coated the sandwich, which was sure to be soggy. Alice snatched it from me anyway. She scrapped the ember of her half-smoked cigarette on the sole of her shoe, pinched the end to ensure it was out, then tucked it behind her ear before unwrapping her soggy feast.

  The sauce streaked down her chin and coated her cracked lips. She looked like a kid, a street kid—dirty and scared, vulnerable and unkempt. The thought didn’t make me feel sorry for her, it just made me angry. This was my other future; the one I would be living now had Alice not sold me off to Tony. I know you still believe Tony took me in—gave me a chance, saw potential. But in truth, I was sold to the highest bidder. It would be years before I learned the cost and many more years after that wishing I didn’t.

  Alice slurped and swallowed her bite then looked at me, her eyes seeming clear and focused. “What do you want, kiddo? Why are you here?”