“Because everyone else is?” she chuckled. “Who’s everyone else?”
“The fellas I run with, Otis, Axton, and Toad. Pretty much they’re all hooked up with Ol’ Ladies,” I said.
She turned, placed her beer bottle on the end table, and turned in my direction. Standing in front of me in cut-off sweat shorts, a Southwestern College tee shirt, and Converse sneakers, she looked adorable. As I studied her and attempted to guess her height, she tugged at the bottom of her tee shirt and twisted her hips slightly.
“So, has anyone sparked your interest lately?” she asked.
It bothered me having her stand over me and talk. One of the few things that irritated me - and something I couldn’t stand for more than a few seconds. I pulled the beer from between my legs, glanced to my right, and realized there was nowhere to place the bottle. Without responding, I stood, stepped past her, and leaned toward the end table sitting beside her.
I placed the bottle beside hers, straightened my posture, and inhaled a shallow breath. The smell of her perfume filled my nostrils and caused me to smile.
Couture La La.
I closed my eyes for a split second and inhaled through my nose lightly, and it was then that I remembered. It was the girl from the grocery store who eventually moved to Ohio. The only woman I spoke to regularly without ever trying to fuck. She wore the same scent, and I had asked her once what it was. Couture and a warm smile each time I went through the checkout line were her two signatures.
“Only you,” I responded as I opened my eyes.
She stood a mere two feet away from me fighting the urge to smile. “Good. I feel the same way. You know, I don’t buy into the entire love at first sight shit. Boy meets girl, and they say I knew the moment I met him…”
“I’m an acquired taste,” I said. “Nobody is going to meet me and say they love me. How’d we jump to love, anyway?
She shifted her eyes to the floor and held her gaze for a moment.
“I was just saying. But if you say I sparked your interest, and I say you sparked mine, why don’t we see if we can make something work between us?” she asked as she shifted her eyes from the floor.
I studied her for a moment. Her eyes were brown with little flecks in them. Her hair appeared to be a little more blonde than I remembered it being. Her skin was the golden brown color most women strive to achieve through the course of the summer. In summary, she was nothing short of beautiful. As I studied her for some type of imperfection, the response came to me.
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “You know, I spent fifteen years bein’ exposed to a man and a woman in a relationship that just didn’t work. She hated him, but was afraid to leave, and he hated everyone and settled for taking out his hatred on her. Hell, he couldn’t remember her birthday and vice versa. They didn’t really know one thing about each other. Not a fuckin’ one. But they stayed together because of me.”
“Your parents?” she asked.
I nodded my head. “Yep.”
“Do me a favor?” she asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Huh?”
She widened her eyes slightly. “Will you do me a favor?”
“Suppose so,” I responded.
“Turn around,” she said.
I cocked one eyebrow and reached for my beard. “Excuse me?”
“Humor me. Turn around,” she said as she pointed toward the floor and turned her index finger in a circle.
I turned around and shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans.
“Over your left eye there’s a scar. It’s small, but it separates your left eyebrow in to two almost identical halves. Your nose has a mole on it on the, oh shit, hold on. Left, it’s on the left side. It’s small too, about the size of a piece of sand. You’ve got a scar on your upper cheek that goes down and disappears into your beard. It looks like one that wasn’t professionally taken care of, because there aren’t any scars from the holes beside it where it would have been stitched.”
Amazed, I started to turn around.
“No, stay right there,” she demanded. “I’m not done.”
“Your tooth in the front, the incisor or whatever they call it, it’s got a line down the center. It looks like it was broken or fractured. And the knuckles on your right hand are so covered with scars that it’s hard to tell where they start and stop, but I think it’s weird that your left hand really doesn’t have any. Let me see, oh, and your tag on your bike is a personalized one, it says RFOF.”
I heard her exhale. “I guess that’s it, you can turn around now.”
I turned around slowly and removed my hands from my pockets. I was truly impressed with not only her attention to detail, but the fact she had made a mental note of all of the things she recited about me. As I studied her in disbelief, a strange feeling of comfort washed over me. After a short minute of uncomfortable silence, I crossed my arms and glared.
She was grinning from ear to ear.
“There’s only three types of people I let get close enough to me to touch me,” I said flatly.
“Huh?” she asked.
“My license plate. RFOF. Ride Fuck Or Fight. The fellas I ride with, whoever I’m fuckin’, or the person who I’m beatin’ the shit out of. Those are the three who get close enough to me to touch me,” I explained.
She pressed her hands to her hips. “Well, I don’t ride.”
I grinned and shook my head.
“Wanna fight?” she asked as she raised her clenched fists.
I shook my head. “Sorry, don’t fight women.”
“Well, that only leaves one thing,” she said as she lowered her hands.
“Damn the luck,” I responded as I uncrossed my arms.
“Yeah,” she breathed as she lowered her chin slightly.
Her hair fell into her face. As she gazed down at the floor in obvious thought, I reached for the strands that dangled from the sides of her head.
“About that question earlier,” I said as I brushed her hair behind her ear.
She glanced up and blinked her eyes. “Yeah?”
“Let’s give that a try. Let’s get to know each other a little better and see what happens,” I said, “That’s about all I can promise.”
“Enough for me,” she said.
As much as I hated to admit it, it was all I could offer her.
But for me, it was a huge step.
And more than likely, all I would be able to handle.
At least for a while.
KAT
In the two weeks following our discussion about attempting to make something work between us, we had seen each other every day. Although we didn’t have sex on every single day, we came close. I found it rather reassuring that I no longer felt a need to have sex, only a desire. My problem seemed to be the same as Biscuit’s. My desire was overwhelming, leaving our sexual downtime as the only opportunity to truly get to know one another.
“I think it’s funny you never asked what my name is.”
The low rumble of his voice prevented me from falling asleep totally. I was probably a few seconds away from it, floating in the almost dream-like state that always seemed to precede my passing out. I blinked my eyes, confused on where I was and what was going on. The warm sun against my skin and the sight of him beside me reminded me of where we were and what was happening.
I opened my eyes and began to fumble along the side of the lounge for my sunglasses. He rolled to his side and laid his head flat against the cushions of the chair. After finding my glasses and shading my tired eyes, I responded.
“I uhhm. I never really…I don’t know. It’s not that it didn’t matter, but it didn’t matter. I figured when you were ready to tell me you would. I guess I didn’t want to pry. I know from talking to Avery that you’re a private bunch of men, I was just being respectful, I guess,” I said.
“Dalton,” he said as he turned his head toward the sun.
I nodded my head and grinned. “I like it.”
�
��Ain’t got a middle name. They never gave me one. Last name’s Biskette. It’s where Biscuit came from, but that ain’t too difficult to figure out,” he said as he sat up in the chair.
He wiped the sweat from his brow as he stood. “I’m gonna hop in. It’s hotter’n grits on a motherfuckin’ griddle out here.”
His speech patterns, funny sayings, and the slang he used led me to believe he grew up elsewhere. Not wanting to insult him, but curious about his upbringing, I stood from my lounge and tossed my glasses against the towel beside my chair.
“Where did you grow up again?” I asked as I followed him across the concrete deck.
“Alabama,” he said as he dove into the pool.
He was an extremely graceful man in many respects. To watch him walk was nothing short of entertaining. There was a certain gate to his walk, not what most called swagger, but a small pattern. It was almost as if he had a bad hip or knee, but I knew he didn’t. With each step of his right foot, his right hip would dip forward. Not only did it make his walk interesting, but there was a certain grace to his walk, almost like watching a ballerina. Seeing him dive into the pool made me believe he had at least taken diving lessons at one point in time. His body entered the water in a manner that produced virtually no splash, and made me quite envious.
As I dove into the pool, I wondered what my splash looked like.
“Have you taken swimming lessons? And diving lessons?” I asked as I cleared the surface of the water.
He wiped the water from his beard as he nodded his head. “At the Y. Figured when I bought the house I’d need to know how to swim and stuff, so I took lessons for a few years. You’ll find out I don’t do anything I can’t do properly. Ain’t nothin’ worse than someone tryin’ to do something and lookin’ like a fuckin’ idiot doin’ it.”
“Do I look like an idiot when I dive in?” I asked.
“No,” he chuckled.
“You lying?”
“Maybe a little,” he said as he swung his hand over the top of the water’s surface, splashing it into my face.
“You fucker,” I howled as I attempted to do the same.
Now in a heated splashing fight, we both swung our arms violently, splashing and screaming like children.
Being with Biscuit was so much different than being with Kyle. With Kyle, I was always on edge and wondering what his next complaint was going to be, and how he was going to treat me as a result of it. The tension between Kyle and I was thick, and I remained nervous throughout the entire relationship. At the time, I was convinced it was simply part of being with a man and the differences between men and women.
Actually being accepted by a man and not having to worry about being criticized for every mistake I made was a pleasant change, and certainly something I would have to get used to. I found myself waiting for the axe to fall with Biscuit, and it never did. Oftentimes I would do or say something I fully realized Kyle would explode about, and wait for Biscuit to do the same.
But the anger never came.
Truly grateful to have met him and pleased at our ability to be ourselves in each other’s presence, I swung my arms like a flailing fool. Eventually we both stopped. Declaring a winner would have been impossible; he had better precision, but I possessed more determination.
“Now I’m exhausted,” I said. “I’m glad it’s Saturday.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” he asked as he tossed his hair out of his eyes.
“Well, not everyone works on their own schedule. I’ve got the day off and no school, so I’m pretty happy. I get to relax,” I said as I waded across the pool away from him.
“Relax?” he said as he splashed water at me.
I turned to face him as I pulled myself from the pool. As he gazed up at me, I pulled my bikini top down as if to resituate it. Intentionally, I pulled it a little too far, but acted surprised as my boobs popped free of the material.
“Yep,” I said as I glanced down at my breasts.
“Shit, they popped out, didn’t they,” I said with a laugh. “It’s tough to keep these big fuckers in here.”
“You tease,” he said as he splashed water at me.
“Tease?” I laughed as I pulled my top out and over my boobs. “I don’t think so.”
He nodded his head and stuck out his tongue.
“That’s teasing,” I said.
“Not if I’m willin’ to use it,” he responded.
I glanced around the deck. The entire pool area was protected from the neighbor’s view by a very tall privacy fence in every direction. I reached back, untied my top, and pulled my top over my head. As I reached for my bottom, he waded toward the side of the pool. While he was pulling himself from the pool, I relaxed onto the soft cushions of the lounge.
“I hate tan lines,” I said as I reached for my glasses.
“Damn shame,” he said. “I’m gonna lick that little pussy till you got a tan line of my head on your inner thighs.”
“Promises, promises,” I said as I put on my sunglasses.
As I felt his wet beard between my legs, I inhaled a deep breath and held it. Although I knew what was next, there was never anything I could do to prepare myself for it. No one could. The equivalent of riding a rollercoaster, jumping off a cliff, and witnessing a miracle all at the same time, having him lick my pussy was an entirely different kind of pleasure.
As his tongue slowly penetrated me, I exhaled and reached for his head. I lightly gripped it in my hands as he raised his chin and smiled.
“Fuck yeah, grab my head, Kat. Grab it and fuck my tongue,” he said through his teeth.
Being caught off guard by his unexpected request, I stared down at him through my sunglasses without responding.
I held his head loosely in my hands as he lowered his chin and began to lick me softly. As his tongue began to press against my lips, I felt myself open up like a flower, inviting him into my warm, wet folds.
I closed my eyes. Somewhat lost in the feeling of his tongue, the warm sun, and my developing love for his being, his consistent moaning reminded me of his request.
You better fuck his face, Kat. You don’t want to make him mad.
I gripped his head in my hands lightly and slowly raised my hips.
He pressed his tongue deeper, held it, and curled the tip into my g-spot.
I lowered my hips slightly.
His pulled his tongue from inside of me and flicked the tip against my clit.
Holy hell. I could get used to this.
I raised my hips again.
He presses his tongue deep inside of me and curled the tip into my g-spot. I held my hips against his face. The g-spot licking continued until I was dizzy and lightheaded.
I lowered my hips.
He licked my clit.
Well, he did say fuck my tongue, didn’t he?
As Bill Wither’s Use Me began to play over the stereo, I grasped his head in my hands firmly and began grinding my hips to the sound of the music. After a few seconds, I was grinding my hips against his face like it was my last chance. Completely separated from all that surrounded me, I continued until I had an orgasm in his mouth.
I pulled his head back and inhaled sharply.
“You okay?’ I breathed.
He raised his hand and wiped his beard. “Be a lot better if you’d fuck my face for a while. I don’t do this ‘cause I think you like it. I do it ‘cause I love it.”
“Now fuck my tongue,” he demanded as he lowered his face into my lap.
And who was I to argue with a demand like that?
I pressed my hands into the edges of the lounge and raised my ass from the surface of the chair. I held myself in position and released the edge of the chair. Using every muscle in my stomach, I ground my crotch into his face as I pulled against the back of his head with both hands.
His tongue deep inside of me, I had no intention of allowing him to catch a breath until I was done. Right now, this was about me, and I was going to take a
dvantage of the situation fully. As I held his face against my swollen mound, he continued to curl his tongue against my g-spot. The tingling deep within me began and I held my eyes closed until I reached a heightened state of sexual sensation unlike anything I had ever experienced.
My breathing became choppy as I reached climax. I released the tension in my stomach and slowly collapsed into the chair, still holding his head tight against my pussy. As he worked his tongue in and out of me with great precision, I exhaled, relaxed every muscle in my body, and released his head.
A tingling sensation between my ass, crotch, and nipples began. I felt pressure building inside of me. I opened my eyes and gazed into the sky, uncertain of what was happening. As his tongue pressed deeper and flicked against my g-spot one last time, I reached for his head and held it in place. I had no idea what was happening, but I knew I didn’t want it to end.
As I reached the peak of climax, I felt as if something inside of me had burst. The feeling continued for what seemed like forever, but couldn’t have been any longer than a second. I released his head, flopped my and to the side, and heaved a sigh from the depths of my soul.
“What happened?” I asked blankly as I felt him release his weight from the chair.
“Fuck yes!” he growled as he stood.
I blinked my eyes and stared.
I shrugged my shoulders as I attempted to sit up slightly. “What?”
“You came in my mouth. Like a ton. You squirted,” he said. “That was fuckin’ hot.”
“I what?” I gasped.
“You squirted. You came in my mouth like a faucet,” he said as he wiped his hand along his beard.
“Seriously?” I said.
He released his beard and reached for his shorts. “Fuck yeah. We’re gonna have to practice that.”
“That was awesome by the way, I’m exhausted,” I said as he untied the drawstring in his shorts.
“What are you doing?”
He shrugged his shoulders and widened his eyes. “Well, I can’t fuck you with them on, now can I?”
I felt like I was still having an orgasm. My mind confused, and my body hypersensitive to everything, I sat and stared. The thought of sex wasn’t currently on the forefront of my desires. As he began to stroke his cock, my thoughts on the matter began to change. After a few seconds of watching him stroke his hand along the swollen shaft, I rolled onto my stomach, stuck my ass high in the air, and exhaled.
CHEAP SMUT: Four Erotic Romance Novels (Boxed Set) Page 35