Someone for Me

by Addison Moore

  “Let’s make sure the upstairs is still intact.” Something tells me it’s not.

  I lead Kenny up the steps and give a hearty knock at the door of one of the rooms they’re “leasing.” Again we hear the sound of footsteps from inside, then nothing.

  “Crap.” I shake my head. I venture on down the hall to the next room I’ve foolishly given away and the door is cracked open, so I push it in a few inches with my finger. “Holy shit,” I whisper. Gone is the four-poster Victorian furniture my mother took pride in, and in its place is a steel rack with a giant leather swing, with stirrups attached on either side. The irony that this was once my grandparents’ bedroom is not lost on me. I’m sure my grandfather is looking down and shaking his head right about now. To say I’ve fucked up good this time would be letting me off easy.

  “Oh, this is going to be fun.” Kenny pulls me in and locks the door behind us.

  “We can’t use this.”

  “We can.” She strips down to nothing in less than twenty seconds, and it’s damn hard to argue, with her tits staring me in the face. “And we will.”

  “Hello, girls,” I whisper, giving them each a gentle squeeze. “But no, we can’t.”

  “Oh, Cruise.” She averts her eyes for a moment, pulling me in by the tie. “Imagine all the great stories that will come from this.” She picks up a riding crop off the table and swats me on the ass with it.

  “I hardly think these are stories we’ll want to pass down to the grandchildren one day.” My dick just voted that I shut the hell up and get with the ass-whipping program. Then again, my dick has never been one to think clearly under sexual duress.

  “Oh?” Her fingers run over my lips like a feather. “Our grandchildren. Who else?” She takes me by the hand and walks us over to the cagey-contraption. Kenny sits herself down and lifts a leg into one of the straps. That dark triangle at the base of her pelvis flirts with me as a sliver of pink exposes itself in this dim light.

  “Holy hell.” I tear off my clothes and help her other foot into the stirrup. There’s a bar up top, so I place her hands on it. “Hold on, sweetie, this is going to be one hell of a ride.”

  Kenny leans her head back and the ridges of her neck call my lips over with a private invitation. I lean in to kiss her, only to send her swaying in the opposite direction.

  “Oh, wow, this is fun.” Kenny giggles and brings a finger to her lips.

  My erection bolts out because the thing that amps me up ten times more than needed is Kenny playing hard to get—but in this instance she’s just plain hard to get a hold of. I brace her by the hips and carefully push into her, but she slips away and my dick ticks in the air as if asking, “What the fuck?”

  I know, dude, I want to say. I pull the metal chains toward me and try again, achieving that deep level of penetration I’ve waited all day for. I groan, enjoying the hell out of the warm, wet squeeze she offers. Kenny has a way of always being ready for me. Just as I’m about to initiate my first full thrust, she slips backward as the swing pushes out.

  “Tricky little fucker,” I say, inspiring Kenny to break out in a fit of giggles. I grab on to the chains again, albeit lower and with a much firmer grasp, and plunge into Kenny with a victory thrust. My foot slips, and I land over her and we both go flying back, only to rock gently forward again. “Are you okay?” This is actually kind of nice. I can’t quite see her because my face is buried in the top of her head at the moment, but I’m hoping somehow she’s enjoying it, too.

  “God, yes!” she bleats. “This is fantastic! It’s like we’re flying. We’re flying and having sex all at the same time.”

  “Hey, we’re giving a flying fuck,” I say, amused by my own little quip. I hike my knees on a pair of leather loops that dangle from the chains. “That must be what these are for,” I say, straddling her and thus freeing my hips to thrust on command. I glide in and out freely as we continue to swing back and forth.

  Kenny closes her eyes and moans. “This feels amazing! I think I want one of these for Christmas. It’s like a ride at an amusement park.”

  I start in a little quicker and the swing starts to gyrate, losing its once-smooth rhythm, replacing it with a jerking motion that has all of our loose parts jiggling out of control. I watch as Kenny’s tits bounce from her chin to her belly, and I can’t say that I’m not enjoying the hell out of it. Kenny expels a few choking sounds from her throat, and I can only assume she’s loving the shit out of it, too. Hell, maybe I will invest. Of course, I’ll need a dungeon to store equipment like this. It’s not the kind of thing you’d want your mother, sister, or, God forbid, future brother-in-law to stumble upon.

  “Oh, Cruise,” Kenny moans.

  The flash of red and blue lights from the mirror in front of me catches my attention, and I wonder if we’ve alerted the sexual trespassing response squad—but I’m just about to have the most electric orgasm of my life, so I don’t analyze the situation too deeply.

  “Cruise!” Kenny shouts with abandon so I speed up my efforts. This might be one way to bring us both to a climax without any extra effort on my part. “Oh, Cruise, oh no . . .” She lets out a moan just as I hit my limit and tremble into her.

  The door bursts open.

  “Police!” A red-faced officer whips out his weapon and points it right at my bare ass.

  Kenny lets out an ear-piercing belch and the distinct sound of vomit splatters to my left. I pull out and carefully ease Kenny from the contraption.

  “Sorry.” She sits up, covering her mouth. “Motion sickness. It gets me every time.” She shrugs.

  The officer hands me my Levis before replacing his weapon.

  “You’re both under arrest.”

  6

  SWEET RELEASE

  Kendall

  400 downloads!

  I glance at Lauren’s text while Cruise speaks to the officer at the midtown branch of the Carrington Police Department. It took two hours for Cruise to prove he’s the owner of the bed-and-breakfast, and that we were simply making sure the new tenant hadn’t broken anything.

  As soon as the officer takes a full—highly detailed and, might I add, embarrassing—report, he informs us we’re free to leave.

  “You might want to lawyer up,” he suggests to Cruise as we’re about to head down the long hall to freedom. “Breaking and entering is a serious offense.”

  Cruise gets that swirly look in his eyes like he does sometimes with Cal or Molly. “Again”—his voice is tight—“it’s my property.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head. “Tenants have just as much rights as landlords do these days. Probably more.”

  “So you’re saying you can’t help me get rid of them?”

  “It’s a civil matter,” the officer says with a shrug. “Bring it to the courts.”

  “Crap.” Cruise presses his hand into the small of my back and speeds us along. I’m sure the last thing he wants to think about is legal fees.

  Cruise called Molly, of all people, to pick us up, and now I’m assuming we’re bound to have yet another interesting conversation with his sister this evening. I tried to get him to call Morgan but he wouldn’t hear of it. He said Morgan would have his balls if he knew what happened, and he’s probably right. “They can’t sue,” he points out with a twinge of doubt in his voice. “We didn’t break anything.”

  “And”—I wrap an arm around his waist—“I cleaned up the mess before we left.” Cleaning up my own vomit after sex is an act I pray I will never relive. I doubt I’ll be including that little tidbit in next week’s installment of The Naughty Professor. Penny and Cruz’s little twirl-till-you-hurl routine will be kept under wraps for now and, well, forever—at least the hurling portion.

  I pull out my phone and hold it low while I text Lauren back. 400 downloads? Fantastic!

  Cruise’s phone buzzes and I’m half-afraid I sent him the text instead. “Molly’s here,” he says.

  “Oh, right.” We step out into the cool of the evening
. Cruise has his T-shirt on backward and I’ve lost an earring in the debacle, but who the hell cares. I’ve got great material for the next chapter in Penny and Cruz’s steamy adventure. And trust me, there was enough heat in that room to steam any sorority girl’s glasses.

  Lauren texts back. No, my friend, it’s fan-fucking-tastic.

  I give a little laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Cruise sighs as he pulls me in. It’s hard to see him down like this. This whole thing with Cal’s cousin has really been stressing him out. Clearly he could use some cheering up right now, and I have to bite my lip to keep from telling him how great the book is going. I mean, I will tell him—eventually. The last thing I want is for us to start our marriage off with secrets—and with a sexual exposé of our love life, of all things. God, he’s going to think I’m all kinds of twisted if he ever finds out on his own. He’ll think I’ve been using him this whole time for entertainment purposes, or worse, to turn a profit on the side. A part of me thinks he might be amused and another, far more logical, part believes he’ll put the kibosh on the entire thing, and I’ll be back to my denim-disaster wedding at the courthouse. Not that I wouldn’t be happy to marry Cruise in blue jeans—it’s just that the tiny Vera sitting on my shoulder disapproves harshly, and I happen to agree with her.

  “Oh . . .” I shake the tiny Vera out of my head. “Nothing’s funny. Lauren’s just texting me details about her wedding.”

  “That’s nice. Hey, Molly just texted that she’s here, but I don’t see her car anywhere. Do you?”

  Technically, Molly doesn’t have a set of wheels to call her own. She’s borrowing her mother’s car while she’s away.

  A horn goes off, and one of those tiny hybrid vehicles pulls up beside us with Molly waving from the passenger’s seat.

  “Hop in!” She motions to the back.

  “What the—?” Cruise opens the door for me, and I gasp when I see who’s at the helm of this green nonluxury ride. Gah! It’s Professor Curl-Your-Toes himself.

  “Hi, Kendall.” He gives a light wave. He’s wearing his gold-rimmed glasses, and he’s got his button-down sweater with a pink dress shirt peeking out from underneath, his signature khakis completing the look.

  “Cruise Elton.” Cruise extends his hand from the backseat and Kurt is quick to accommodate him with a handshake.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Kurt,” he says, then turning his attention back to the road. “Molly says nothing but nice things about you.” He glides back into traffic and good thing he has to focus on the road. I’m pretty sure one wrong word and Cruise will introduce an entirely not-so-nice side of himself.

  “So”—Molly spins to face us—“what the hell’d you two get arrested for?”

  Cruise swallows hard. “We didn’t get ‘arrested,’ Molly. It was simply a misunderstanding. We were just looking for the people I rented the property to. Nothing more.”

  “And they hauled you all the way to the station just for that?” Kurt glances back at us through the rearview mirror. “There’s a perfect example of how the Carrington PD is wasting taxpayers’ hard-earned money. We should take this to the media. I’ve never heard of someone being arrested in their own home.”

  “So how’d you and Molly meet?” Cruise is quick to take the focus off media attention. I’m a little impressed. He did it with such finesse and dexterity, he should really consider politics.

  “I teach creative writing over at Garrison. Molly and Kendall are actually both my students.”

  Crap. The next thing you know he’ll be commending me on my exceptional erotica skills. Then, of course, I’ll have to shove my fist down his throat, and he’ll lose control of the wheel and we’ll all die in a fiery crash. It’s safe to say I have no problem taking this secret to the grave—and not just my grave.

  Cruise tips his head, suddenly a bit more interested in the date his sister has scored for the evening.

  “So what’s going on?” He looks more than mildly alarmed. “Did Molly leave something important in class and you were driving by to drop it off?” Cruise is hopeful that a missing purse is at the end of this scholastic rainbow.

  “Nope.” His attention never leaves the road. Kurt doesn’t seem the least bit concerned that the granola bits in his tighty-whities are in peril. “Just thought we’d catch a quick bite.”

  A deafening silence fills the car as Kurt drives us closer to the spot where Cruise is about to bury his body.

  “First date?” Cruise glares over at him.

  “Oh, no, Molly and I’ve been out a couple times around campus—nothing that qualifies as dating. I simply like to go above and beyond with my students.” He chuckles softly to himself as if reliving a private memory. Crap. I can practically see an entire movie reel of all the private times Cruise and I shared back at Garrison spinning through my poor fiancé’s eyes. God knows Cruise Elton is well aware of what can be done and where at that not-so-sacred institution. “It’s weird”—Kurt goes on to seal his fate—“every time I turn around, she seems to be standing there. It’s just one of those kismet things, I guess.”

  Or stalker things, but I keep the commentary to myself. I wouldn’t put it past Molly to have staked out his comings and goings with the finesse of an upper-echelon PI.

  “Anyway”—he continues to walk farther down the plank—“I thought, why not? She was after me to take her off campus, and it is Friday night.” He tweaks her knee, and I can feel Cruise’s entire body tense up at the sight of this bona fide faculty member molesting his not-so-sweet baby sister. “Hey, you guys hungry? Want to join us?”

  “No!” It roars out of me without meaning to. “I mean . . .” I glance to Cruise for help. Surely he doesn’t want to endure more of Professor Curl-Your-Sister’s-Toes.

  “Yes,” Cruise says with much more force than my “no.” He nods at me so I shrug in agreement.

  “Good.” Kurt’s eyes widen for a moment as he looks back at Cruise in the rearview mirror. I think he’s finally catching on that Cruise isn’t all that impressed with how willing he is to go above and beyond for his students. “We’re headed to Della Argento, but if you’d rather go somewhere else, I can turn this ship around.” He laughs like he’s trying to add levity to the situation. God knows, this Tinkertoy qualifies as more of a rowboat—a paper boat to be exact.

  “Della Argento sounds perfect.” Cruise gives him a hard look. “Perfect,” indeed. Cruise knows exactly what goes on at the Della Argento. We may or may not have partaken in some bodily desserts the past few times we were there. Poor Kurt might as well have said “Motel Six,” the way Cruise is digging his fingers into his pockets to keep from breaking his neck.

  Thank God Kurt hasn’t said a single word about—

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your book, Kendall!” A toothy grin takes over his face as he gives a quick glance back. “That’s one wild kitten you’re writing about!”

  Shit.

  “Book?” Cruise is suddenly interested.

  “Just some silly class assignment.” It speeds out of me as we turn into the restaurant parking lot. “It’s about kittens and how crazy in love they can fall with one another—sort of an animal-bonding piece.”

  Animal-fucking-bonding piece? Way to stretch the truth to the man you’re about to marry.

  Kurt glances at me for a moment, and I take the opportunity to shoot him a look that says, Breathe another word and I’ll knife your balls off.

  “Oh look, valet parking! I’d hate for you to miss it.” I practically jump to the front seat as I help steer him to the right. The sooner we’re out of this tin can, the sooner I can inform him to zip his granola-loving lips when it comes to me and my kitten porn.

  “I, uh, wasn’t going to park in valet,” he stammers, but I nearly mow down an entire herd of people waiting for their cars and he’s forced to brake abruptly. “It’s six whole bucks and they expect a tip on top of that.”

  “It’s on me!” I sing as I evacuate the vehicle.


  Cruise comes around and helps me to the curb. “Are you feeling okay?”

  I’ll go with that. “No, come to think of it I feel terrible.” I touch my hand to my forehead.

  “We’ll be quick.”

  “What?” I thought for sure he’d whisk me back to the cabin without a second thought.

  “There’s no way in hell I’m letting this guy paw all over her at dinner. We’ll use you as an excuse and end the night early.” Cruise seems satisfied with his plan to shoot down his sister’s evening.

  “No, it’s fine. I suppose one quick meal won’t kill me.” I glance over at the marble statue of a naked woman covered in Christmas lights just outside the entry. “Besides, we’ve made a lot of nice memories here. Hey, maybe we should sit at a separate table. You know—give the lovebirds some privacy.”

  “Oh no.” He shakes his head, adamant. “We’re definitely sitting with them.”

  “Perfect.” It comes out weakly as we make our way inside. It’s only then I notice that Molly has on a pair of my leather FMs, my lace miniskirt, and my leather vest. “Hey”—I catch up to her and whisper—“what’s with the wardrobe heist?”

  “All my stuff is in boxes. It was sort of a last-minute thing, so I just helped myself. I figured since we’re practically sisters you wouldn’t mind.” She inverts her lips and looks up at me with those puppy dog eyes.

  Even though she’s a total buzzkill on my mojo, my heart melts at the idea of being “practically sisters” with Molly. That means I’m one step away from being Cruise Elton’s wife, and I cannot wait for that magical moment. It’ll be the best damn moment of my life.

  “You can borrow anything you want.” I give her a little hug as we enter the establishment. It’s breathtaking inside, dimly lit with candles quivering against the crimson wallpaper, the carpet rolling from the entry into the dining area like a red velvet tongue.

  The hostess seats us, and Kurt quietly excuses himself to use the restroom. Perfect. Here’s my chance.

  “I’ll be right back as well.” I press a quick kiss into Cruise. “I need to freshen up.”