Claiming His Labor Day

by Pratt, Lulu

  Every hair on my body was standing up from his sheer proximity. I wanted to get down on my knees and rip his hands away so I could stare at his gigantic cock, then take it slowly, firmly into my mouth…

  What had gotten into me? We’d just shared a kiss. Sure, he was hot, there was no denying that, but a kiss meant nothing. I’d kissed plenty of guys. Why should Jagger be any different?

  I had to fight fire with fire.

  “Of course I’m attracted to you,” I allowed, giving him just a little bit of ground. “You’re attractive. Anybody with eyes can see that. For fuck’s sake, you look like something off an old Playgirl cover.”

  The overhead fluorescents gleamed off his white teeth.

  “Why, thank you. You’re not half bad yourself.”

  Summoning up all my inner strength, I continued, “But… my reasoning still stands. You may be hot, but you’re still Jolie’s twin brother.”

  “She doesn’t need to know. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

  I hesitated. He wasn’t wrong, per se. We could keep a secret. The secret may well kill me, but that was beside the point. I was frantically grasping for some way, any way, I could justify fucking Jagger.

  “I won’t tell,” he insisted, and I couldn’t help but notice that his hands were slowly peeling back to reveal more and more of his cock. “And Fiona…”

  “Yeah?” I was hanging on his every word, like a damn idiot.

  “We deserve this, you and I.” His blue eyes shone with intensity. “Can’t we finally let ourselves just give in, and do what feels right? No more worrying about family, about what this tiny town will think. What if this is our only chance?”

  That struck a chord with me. Not that I was going to tell Jagger he was more accurate than he could even knew. What if I went the rest of my life without tasting his flesh? Oh, what a pointless, tiny existence.

  Enough. I had to have him. I’d tried and tried to be a good girl.

  Now, I was ready to be positively bad.

  I gave Jagger the smallest of nods, just a little bob of my head.

  He grinned.

  CHAPTER 6

  Jagger

  BEFORE I COULD rationalize the situation any further, I was slamming Fiona up against a row of lockers, matting my fingers in her hair and kissing her deeply.

  All pretense of hesitation had dropped — she pulled me in, grasping at my naked skin for some kind of purchase, desperately trying to lash us as tightly together as possible.

  My cock stiffened and I pressed myself between her legs. With the open neediness of an animal, she ground down on my already hard cock, pulsing my nine inches against her mound.

  “You want this?” I asked in between kisses, breathless, knowing the answer.

  “God, yes. Jagger, yes.”

  I got my hands beneath her shirt, roaming up her stomach until I at last reached those glorious, heaving breasts, squeezing them hard enough to make Fiona moan with pleasure.

  At her thrilled urging, I yanked down her lacy little bra — hardly enough to cover such huge tits, no wonder they’d been bouncing all morning, making me salivate as I tried to focus on her pleasure. Her hard nipples grazed my hands and I rubbed them with the pads of my thumbs.

  Fiona’s head tipped back and banged against the locker, her neck bared as though waiting for Dracula’s bite.

  I needed to see her — touch was wonderful, but I wanted to drink in the whole picture.

  She wore a simple tank top, but for all I tried to tug it up and above her breasts, it kept getting stuck on the band of her bra. Caught in the frenzy of the moment, I tore off her shirt, ripping it with my bare hands, watching it fall in tatters on the floor.

  “Shit,” I began, ready to apologize. “I can buy you a new—”

  But her mouth was on mine once more, and though my eyes were closed, I could feel her reach around to unclasp her bra, felt the light fabric as it dropped between us.

  I took a step back and looked down.

  Fiona blushed, pressing her arms up against her tits as though embarrassed by their sheer size. But in doing so, she only pushed them together more, creating such boundless cleavage that my cock throbbed once again. As calmly as possible, I reminded myself that it was too early to come, no matter how much I might want to.

  “Fiona, you’re so fucking gorgeous,” I murmured, stretching my hand to pinch her pink nipple, watching as it turned red at my touch.

  She giggled. “You’re just saying that.”

  I reached out and pulled down her pants and underwear until they pooled at her ankles.

  Now, she was completely exposed, and for fuck’s sake, she looked like a statue you’d see in a world-class museum, crowded by visitors with hungry cameras, desperate to catch a look.

  “I’m not,” I growled back as I took in every inch of her creamy body — its dips and curves, its mountains and valleys. “You’re beautiful.”

  I stepped back in closer. Fiona sighed and, in contrast to the softness of that sound, I could feel her body stiffen with excitement.

  My hands traveled down her waist, past her hips, until I was just above her obscured pubis.

  “May I?”

  She bit her lip and nodded.

  With a quick, practiced movement, I slipped my fingers between her lips, feeling the wetness that drenched them, pausing briefly to rub her clit before at last plunging inside her.

  “Oh Jagger,” she groaned, biting my shoulder to keep herself from screaming.

  “That’s it, Fiona. Let me make you feel good.”

  I curled my fingers, pressing into her G-spot, and her legs shivered against mine, her breasts quivering in pleasure. My hand was large enough that I could make come-hither motions inside her while my thumb moved in circles on her clit, forcing her deeper and deeper into feelings of ecstasy.

  Just as I thought I might be bringing her to orgasm, I was startled out of my focus by her hand wrapping around my dick.

  “Oh shit, that’s — that’s—” I broke off, unable to find words as she began to stroke me.

  “Yeah, you like that?” She grinned, evidently delighted with her tactics.

  “Please, Fiona, I can’t take it anymore. Let me fuck you.”

  She raised an eyebrow, her face shining. “Took you long enough.”

  Without another word, she spun around, pressing her breasts against the lockers and curving her spine so that her ass bobbed in the air, ripe and ready for me. She was making little noises of urgency, tiny squeals that only served to enlarge my erection.

  Normally I would spit in my hand, or grab some lube, but from my brief fingering, I knew that Fiona was so wet no other assistance would be necessary.

  I positioned myself behind her, grasping her hips and proceeded to plunge my cock inside her juicy center.

  “Fuck yes!” she cried, grasping the locker handles for support. “Oh, rail me, Jagger. Fuck me so hard.”

  Where did she learn phrases like that? I’d always taken her for such a sweet little girl. I mean, I knew she had a mouth, but damn — this was an entirely different beast. The thought of her getting so raunchy, and maybe just for me, turned me on. She really was a firecracker of a woman.

  “You want me to go hard, baby? I can fuck you real, real hard.”

  I wrapped her red hair around my hand like a rope, pulling her backwards and deepening the arch in her back. If she wanted hard, she’d get hard.

  My hips began to gyrate and buck against her ass, loving the visual of her cheeks clapping against my cock. She was so petite, but had plenty of junk in the trunk. The sight of it turned me on so much that I couldn’t help but give her a firm slap, leaving a red handprint on her pale skin.

  She moaned softly, her voice traveling through the ridges in the lockers and reverberating back out to me so they sounded like they were on an overhead speaker. The noises filled my ears, making me dizzy with glee.

  “You’re gonna make me come,” she spluttered in a high-pitched voice. “J
agger, I’m gonna come.”

  I reached around to flick her clit once more. “I’m ready to explode. Are you?”

  “Yeah, daddy.”

  Oh, daddy. I liked that. Naughty, dirty little girl. Bad, bad girl. Fuck, I was gonna cream any second.

  I thrust deeper and deeper inside her, knowing I only had a few more seconds of restraint in me.

  “Shit,” I murmured, “I’m gonna come.”

  “Fill me up,” she gasped. “I want all of you inside me.”

  Well, shit, that sounded nice, but I wasn’t wearing a condom. “No,” I commanded instead. “Turn around and take it on your face like the good little slut you are.”

  How had we slipped into these roles so quickly? Maybe it was because we’d been waiting to play them for so long.

  Apparently, Fiona felt the same, because she immediately tucked her ass in, gripping the lockers with a fervor.

  “I’m coming!” she exhaled, though she didn’t need to tell me — every part of it was evident in her movements.

  Though I was desperate to join her, I waited just long enough for her to take her last ounces of pleasure from my hardened cock, letting her use me like I was just a toy.

  At last, after a long, sustained orgasm, Fiona turned around and dropped to her knees in front of me, pressing her breasts together and opening her mouth, hungry for my cum.

  I’d held back for a heroically long amount of time. Now, I was bursting with cum.

  No sooner had she dropped to the ground and spread her mouth for me than I exploded, shooting ropes and ropes of my seed across her chest and down her throat, covering her with my mark.

  Following a drawn-out moment of sheer, perfect bliss, my eyes found hers.

  “Jagger,” she whispered, still painted with my cum.

  “Yes?”

  “What have we done?”

  CHAPTER 7

  Fiona

  JAGGER’S CUM was still warm on my skin when I realized that I had just colossally fucked up.

  How, how, how could I have screwed Jolie’s brother?!

  It broke every rule of friendship. Never mind that he was her brother — he was also her estranged brother. Oh my God, I was gonna be totally smote by a bolt of lightning from on high.

  I stood up, casting about for my shirt before remembering that Jagger had torn it up in the middle of lovemaking.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, not even bothering to cover himself.

  “I feel so guilty,” I admitted, unable to meet his probing gaze. “I shouldn’t have — I can’t believe I did that.”

  “We did that. Don’t you feel good, too?”

  “Well… yeah, of course, but it’s not—”

  “Shh,” he insisted, smirking as one finger came down on my lips and another tilted up my chin so that I was forced to look him square in the face. “We have nothing to feel bad about. This is natural, it’s human. And fuck, it was hot.”

  I gazed at his lips — already, I wanted them back on mine, or working between my legs. But no — one time was a mistake. Twice would be positively evil.

  With great effort, I tore myself away. “I don’t have a shirt,” I said aloud.

  “Here, take mine.” Jagger reached into his black duffel and tossed me a T-shirt.

  Even as I gratefully pulled it over my head, I couldn’t resist inhaling his smell, the pheromones going straight to my brain. Once I tugged it over my body, I shimmied into my sweats. That was better — all covered up was safer between us.

  I turned back to him, making sure to keep a decent distance between us. Should he come any closer, my willpower would crumble.

  “We can’t do this again,” I declared.

  Jagger grinned and I focused on staring at those white teeth, anything to keep my eyes from descending to his perfect biceps, down to his washboard abs, and then to—

  Ahem.

  “Whatever you say, Fiona. If you change your mind, you know where to find me — right here in this locker room.”

  That caught my attention. “Wait, what?”

  Realizing that there would be no further action, Jagger pulled his pants off the ground and dragged them up his muscular thighs. “Yeah, sorry, I need to stay in here until the game. If I go anywhere else in town, they’ll recognize me, obviously. I holed up near the freeway last night, but to be honest, I saw a whole caravan of cockroaches this morning and I’d prefer to hang in here.”

  “Oh, okay.” That made sense. “Well, you can stay here for the next few hours, provided you don’t get up to any funny business.”

  “Don’t worry, babe, I’ll play nice.” The expression on his face suggested that he had zero plans to do so, but I had no choice but to take him at his word.

  “Thank you.”

  I wanted to move to the threshold, to go take care of the million little things that require my attention today. But something kept drawing me back into this room, fastening my feet to the tile floor. After a moment of soul-searching, I understood that it was a fundamental question that prevented me from moving on.

  “Jagger,” I began, unsure I should even be bringing this up and knowing in the same breath that I couldn’t leave without asking. “Why don’t you speak to Jolie anymore? I mean, I know it was the divorce and everything, but is there more to it?”

  His face immediately darkened, as though I’d knocked on a shop window and the storekeeper had turned around the sign to read ‘closed.’ Of course it wasn’t my business, but I wanted to understand why they still weren’t talking after all these years — in other words, what was preventing me from feeling good about our arguably great sex.

  Jagger jammed his hands into the pockets of his joggers, which pulled them down to his hips, exposing more skin. For a moment, I saw in his face what looked like an angry young boy, still confused and raw over a situation much bigger than him.

  “What did Jolie tell you?”

  “I never asked,” I replied. “The timing just never seemed right.”

  But finally, he sighed and said, “Back then, I took my father’s side in the divorce. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought that it was a son’s responsibility to stand with his dad, or some kind of macho bullshit like that. You know, like we were a team, or a squadron or something. When Jolie went with my mom, I lost it. How dare she side with our mother, who was so obviously evil and out to get my father. How could I ask my parents what happened when my mom would cry and my dad would go silent? People handle anger and guilt in similar ways.”

  He shook his head and looked askance, his skin still red from our contact. “What my mother didn’t tell me — what Jolie had apparently learned from just listening and watching, what I never picked up on — was that our dad had cheated. My mom was blindsided. I just figured it was something else. I guess Jolie thought I knew the truth. Or else, why wouldn’t she tell me? And I suppose she didn’t want to bring it up around Mom, to hurt her more.”

  “Anyhow, living there was terrible for the next few months, you know, of Separation Year. Half the class wasn’t talking to their parents, so I guess I just fell in with those guys, the ones who were angry. We made a terrible but tight crew. And then summer came, and then I went to the Marines… It all happened really fast.”

  “Eventually, I did learn that Dad was cheating.” His lips formed a tight, humorless smile. “Suppose everyone in town new, except me. I felt like a fucking fool. I’d ruined my relationship with my mother and Jolie, and all for this man who didn’t deserve my pity or my assistance. The other woman, to her credit, left my dad as soon as she learned that my dad hadn’t been as single as he’d pretended. But it’s too late to undo my mistake. Because though my dad turned out to be the cause of all this, the nasty things Jolie and I said to each other, those are still real. And we can’t go back and make them not happen.”

  He sat down on a bench, and spread his hands wide on his thighs, digging his nails in so hard I could see the indentions on hi
s joggers — his head bent over so that all I could see was the top of his head.

  I wanted to tell Jagger to go to Jolie, to apologize, to make it all right, but I knew that wasn’t my place. And, frankly, there was a pretty significant chance she wouldn’t take kindly to that. I was closer with Jolie than anyone, and though we didn’t talk about Jagger much, I was well-aware that she hated his guts, and wasn’t about to be persuaded to listen to reason. It was one of her lesser attributes — once she set her mind on something, it was hard to make her see another point of view.

  What more was there to say? The situation sucked — nobody deserved the shitty end of the stick they’d ended up with. My throat began to close up, panic sinking in. I didn’t want to be confronted by the uncomfortable epiphany that maybe Jagger wasn’t the bad guy here, contrary to what Jolie had implied all these years. Why had I stuck my nose in this in the first place? God, why couldn’t I just butt out?

  Scrambling for an excuse, desperate to escape before Jagger could see my anxiety, I practically shouted, “Um, sorry, I have to go, uh, do preparations for the game.”

  “Oh.” He tried manfully to conceal his disappointment, but it was still there, dragging down the corner of his lip. “No problem. I shouldn’t have unloaded on you like that.”

  “No big deal.” My voice was getting higher and higher. “I’ll see you later.”

  The last thing I saw as I exited the locker room was Jagger’s face, downturned and regretful.

  Why oh why couldn’t I stop ruining things?

  CHAPTER 8

  Jagger

  WELL, THAT was weird.

  No, more than weird.

  It was a total fucking bummer.

  I’d told Fiona the deepest, darkest thing about me, the only part of my otherwise — in my opinion — pretty upstanding life that really brought me shame, save for a few speeding tickets here and there. I had dedicated myself to the safety of the country — I liked to think I was the kind of guy who deserved to wear the Marines uniform. But if I’d sided with my no-good father, at the very moment when my mom and sister needed me most, who did that really make me? Was I any better than my father?