Cajun Fire

by Cheri Valmont

  Daniel let his head fall back against the sofa. Lizabeth’s mouth worked on his excited flesh. “Mmmm,” he moaned.

  After the excruciating journey of her mouth and hands on his dick, Daniel looked down to see her pull away from him. He was ready to blow and wanted her to continue, but then he saw she was pulling her lace shirt up over her head. Her high firm breasts were perfect, her platinum hair swishing as she pulled her shirt completely off. Daniel reached down to pump himself, enjoying the show. Once her shirt was gone, she set to pulling down her little skirt and her thong panties. When she was completely naked, he got a glimpse of her platinum pussy curls. Oh Christ, they were just as tempting as he suspected they would be.

  “Come here,” he commanded her.

  She walked toward him with all the confidence of an experienced hooker. He knew she wasn’t a virgin, he’d heard rumors from some of the guys. He’d also heard she was an awesome ride. And that was exactly what he was looking for. No attachments, just pure raw sex. Once she reached him, he grabbed her cunt with his free hand and pulled her the rest of the way.

  She gasped as he pulled her by the pussy hair. Watching her bite on her lower lip, Daniel pressed two fingers through her wet curls and up into her weeping cunt. He couldn’t believe his luck; she was one wet bitch. It would be his pleasure to make her scream. She was already grinding herself against his hand.

  “Mmmm, yeah, that’s it, big boy, pump those strong fingers into my cunt,” Lizabeth said, her eyes still closed.

  This chick was priceless. He hoped she liked dirty talk because he certainly did.

  “Come on, you little slut. Ride me like a stud. Pretend my dick is your saddle,” he encouraged her. Daniel removed his fingers from her dripping cleft.

  Lizabeth’s eyes widened as he threw caution to the wind and sucked his fingers, sopping wet with her pussy juice.

  “Oh yeah,” she said, hurrying to position herself over his stiff pole. “You’re so nasty.”

  “Yeah, you’re nasty too, Come on, I want you to slam down on my spike, you little cunt.”

  And she gave Daniel exactly what he asked for, taking his full length deep into her hole. His head jerked back at the sensation of her pounding onto him. When he saw her rubbing her firm breasts, he tore her hands away from them and replaced them with his own.

  He kneaded her tits and pinched at her nips at the same time. “Mmmm, oh yeah,” she moaned as she continued her bucking ride. And fuck, was it an awesome ride! Those guys were right. She was one prized piece. He would have to enjoy this ride as often as possible.

  “Ahhhh, fuck, I’m coming,” Daniel shouted, bucking harder into her. “Come on, you little whore, ride me harder.”

  And she complied, with the help of Daniel’s hands pulling her down hard by her jugs, jamming her down onto his cock.

  When Daniel began to slow his pace after he’d blown his load into Lizabeth’s hole, she slapped the shit out of him and said, “Don’t you stop yet, you mother fucker.”

  Wow, this little bitch was one surprise after another and he continued to buck up into her cunt until she shuddered, jerked, and groaned as she exploded on his spike.

  * * * *

  Lizabeth crept back to Sue’s house. It was five in the morning. She had to admit she was disappointed in Daniel Morrow. The dirty talk was nasty and he was a decent fuck, but after taking him for a ride six times, she’d given up hope that he would take control, making her submit to his will. That was her problem. She needed a man who would control her, mind and body.

  The guys around here really had no clue about being masterful. She needed a man who would make her his completely, until she had no will other than what he would allow her.

  Oh well, maybe she would have better luck in Lafayette, when she went to college.

  Chapter 3

  Jubal Horville downshifted on his Harley as he came into the tiny town of Harrisburg; he’d planned to make it here well before the Mardi Gras parade started. But for being so small, the town drew a big crowd for their celebration.

  Mardi Gras, French for Fat Tuesday, was the day before Ash Wednesday, which was the start of the Lenten season. The last big blow out before the people had to give up their favorite things for Lent.

  His father, Herbert Horville, told him Harrisburg celebrated the holiday as they did in the old days; although the old man hadn’t returned for many years, he’d recently contacted some of his old friends. The riders went on horseback, going from farm to farm chasing down the one chicken or guinea picked out by the farm’s owner, which was either sent ahead or brought along for the huge gumbo that would be made for the town’s people. Not everyone kept chickens these days, so more than likely the farm’s owners would buy a chicken for the riders to chase. One person was designated Captain of the Mardi Gras riders, the person who kept everyone and everything running smoothly.

  All the locals with horses joined the fun, in addition to many people from the surrounding areas. Two, sometimes, three flatbed wagons were pulled by teams of horses. One pulled whatever French band was playing for the festival that year and the others pulled those people who didn’t own horses, but wanted to take part in the festivities anyway. It was supposed to last most of the day.

  He wasn’t sure what to expect, but had been fascinated by all the old stories his father told them about the way the holiday was celebrated in tiny Harrisburg. This was his first visit to the town his father called home as a child. He knew his father’s story. In his own words, he’d told Jubal he’d been no good as a young man. Drinking, carousing with the women, even after he married for the first time. He’d only had good things to say about the woman he’d left behind. Telling Jubal, he couldn’t see making her suffer the rest of her life because she’d been kind enough to believe he was salvageable as a man.

  But it was the son his father had left behind that brought Jubal here. Jonas. Knowing his first name was a start; but he hoped to God that he’d kept the Horville last name or Jubal could well have made a wasted trip. Did Jonas hate their father? Herbert Horville thought so. That’s why he’d never tried to locate his eldest son until now, when he was on his deathbed. Jubal’s mother, Verna Arceneaux, had pulled Herbert out of the gutter, cleaned him up, and encouraged him to be a man.

  Thank God, he’d still had some decency left in his soul, because he’d accomplished it. He went on to marry the willful Verna, and together they’d had a family. Jubal was the oldest, followed three years later by his brother, Luke, and then followed by the twins, Carrie, the only girl in the family, and Corey, two years after.

  Jubal was here on a mission: a mission to get his oldest half brother to agree to see their father before he died.

  As Jubal slowed his Harley to pull into the dirt-covered field where all the vehicles were parked, he saw a flash of platinum hair weaving through the cars in front of him. Wow, the little girl had her hair pulled up into a ponytail, but he could still tell it would reach her backside.

  The girl turned her head when she heard the rumble of Jubal’s Harley Davidson motorcycle. Damn, she was cute! Her eyes were blue. A deep blue-green. Jubal’s own eyes were silver blue, inherited from his mother, which was in sharp contrast to the black hair he’d inherited from his father.

  She stopped dead and watched without shame as Jubal brought his bike to a halt, cut the engine, and climbed off. Were motorcycles so uncommon in Harrisburg? The girl walked in his direction now, gazing with admiration at the intricate detailing, done by his brother Luke, on the shiny black finish of his bike.

  “Hello, there,” Jubal offered after he pulled off his helmet.

  “Hel...” the girl stopped. Her eyes widened as she looked directly into his eyes.

  What was up with her? She looked like she’d been struck speechless. Jubal turned to secure his helmet to his motorcycle and then turned back to the still speechless girl.

  “I’m new to these parts,” Jubal began, and hoped to encourage the girl to find her voice. “I was ho
ping to get a good seat for the parade, any suggestions?”

  “Sorry, yeah sure, follow me. My name’s Lizabeth,” the girl offered, turning her trim figure around, and walking toward a set of bleachers.

  Damn, she had a sweet backside, shown to perfection by her jean shorts. The creamy skin of her back was laid bare by a halter-top. Before she’d turned around, he’d also gotten a glimpse of her cleavage exposed by the halter.

  “My name’s Jubal. Middle name’s David, so if Jubal’s too hard to remember, you can call me Dave like my Army buddies did,” Jubal supplied for her. Shit, this girl had him running off at the mouth.

  She turned back to look at him. “Jubal,” she spoke as though the name was a caress, “no, I like Jubal. Are you still in the Army?” She gazed pointedly at his extremely short black hair.

  “Nah, been out a couple of months. I’m back for good now.”

  “You from close by?” she asked him, her tone hopeful.

  He continued to follow her, and watched with interest as she climbed up toward the top of the bleachers. Her sweet cheeks peeked out of the edges of her shorts. Jubal started to feel uncomfortable in his jeans.

  She looked back at him expectantly as he remained silent. She smiled at him. Something in her eyes told him she suspected his discomfort.

  “Ah, I live about an hour away. I heard they do a great Mardi Gras here, so I thought I might check it out.” Jubal felt like he was babbling. The girl had him shaken up.

  “We sure do. They’re about to start. Here, have a seat.” Lizabeth patted the bleacher next to her, and her come-hither smile widened.

  Jubal climbed up next to her and sat down. When he felt her small hand right next to his thigh on the bleacher, he swallowed. How old was this girl anyway? He would certainly feel like an old horn dog if she turned out to be fifteen or sixteen to his twenty-seven.

  Together, they watched as the small floats began their short journey. Being such a small town, there was a central, dirt packed arena, created by several narrow roads, all-connecting around it. Everyone laughed and joked as the kids ran around, playing beneath the bleachers. Excitement and happiness was as palpable as a minor volt of electricity. Many people had their ice chests full of beer for the adults and soft drinks for the kids.

  Jubal gazed with interest as the bright colorful floats fluttered by, with the riders throwing out beads to the enthusiastic crowd who were eager for the treasure, followed by the mounted horse riders and flatbed wagons.

  After the parade ended, she asked, “You want to walk around?”

  With the sound of the Cajun French music continuing, Jubal followed Lizabeth as they climbed down and off the bleachers.

  “Yeah, sure,” he agreed. Maybe she knew something about his brother. He’d try to get her to give him some information.

  Walking side-by-side with Lizabeth, Jubal had the strongest urge to reach for her hand. As they walked through the milling people, kids screaming, laughing, and rushing pass them, Jubal found himself gazing into faces, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone who resembled his family. One boy bumped into Lizabeth, sending her crashing into Jubal. He grabbed her to him and held her securely until she got her balance back.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she apologized, and pressed her hands against Jubal’s chest. He couldn’t help it, his muscles contracted beneath her hands. An electric shock shot through his body.

  “No problem,” Jubal assured her.

  Once he released her, they continued their walk. The children were dressed in the usual Mardi Gras costumes of purple, green and gold colors. The amount of people thinned as they walked farther away, and Jubal continued to follow her as they trudged across the dirt-packed lot. Where was she taking him? He’d better watch it. What if she was only sixteen? He could get in a helleva lot of trouble.

  “Lizabeth?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Just a little out of the way of all the people,” she assured him, and looked over toward him with a sexual twinkle in her eyes.

  “How old are you, Lizabeth?” He might as well get the asking over with.

  “Eighteen,” she said calmly.

  Should he believe her? God, he wanted to. Before he could contemplate any longer, he noticed the abandoned building they were walking around.

  When they reached the side opposite the people, she looked around the area and said, “Shush.” She held a finger to her full lips, opened the creaking door and peered inside. “Come on.”

  “Don’t you think someone might come in here, too?”

  “They might, but we’re just going to talk, right?”

  Jubal swallowed his disappointment. He was actually hoping she had something a little dirtier in mind. Ah, well, he needed to ask her questions anyway.

  “Yeah, right, talk,” he agreed.

  As soon as the door closed, Lizabeth surprised Jubal when she slid into his arms. “Talk, hmmm?” he asked.

  “Mmmm, yeah,” Lizabeth said, and then sighed as he pulled her to him, pressing her sexy curves against his body.

  Jubal’s lips touched the delicate seam of her full lips as she opened to him. His instinct was to crowd the girl against the building wall, so he could have his way with her; but with the possibility of intrusion by other people, he kept a tight rein on himself. He did let himself get carried away with the kissing. Giving her a taste of what she could expect if she did give herself to him. He pushed his fingers into the silken sheen of her hair, held her fast as his kiss devoured her. Lizabeth moaned and rubbed herself against his hard length.

  As Jubal kissed the girl senseless, he pulled away a little so he could push his free hand into the front of her halter-top. What a sweet body she had. Man, there was no way in hell he would have known what was in store for him today. Jubal cupped one of her firm breasts. The small nipple was hard and pushing into his hand.

  Jubal didn’t ask. He slipped the hand he had in her hair down and pulled the halter-top free, letting the edges fall away from her breasts. The high firm peaks looked so appetizing. He slid one arm behind her back to pull her upward so he could suck the hardened pebbles into his mouth. As she writhed in his arms, he sucked so hard on her nipples he practically sucked her entire tit into his mouth.

  “Ahhh, God, yessss,” Lizabeth moaned, and held his head to her breasts.

  Her legs rubbed against his heavy erection. Shit! Jubal knew he wouldn’t be getting off here, but he was definitely enjoying getting her off. He bit down on her nip. She jerked in response, groaned, and writhed in earnest. Oh, yeah, baby! She liked it rough. A woman after Jubal’s own heart. The sexual heat between them hot enough to scorch them both. But first...he slipped his one free hand down, journeyed inside her shorts, and between her luscious thighs. Slipping a finger into her wet bush, her sweet heat sucked his finger into her.

  Jubal fingered her with relish, slipping his finger in and out in simulation of fucking. He pulled out of her pussy and rubbed her clit until she screamed her climax into his smothering kiss.

  “Lizabeth?”

  She still panted and gasped from her climax. “Ye...ah?”

  “Get ready,” Jubal warned her.

  “What?”

  Even before she finished speaking, Jubal slammed her up against the building’s aluminum wall, and opened his fly at the same time. Lizabeth’s eyes flared wide as she watched him release his thick dick. She panted again. Jubal held her firmly against the wall, slipped his rod between her thighs, savoring the rough feel of the blue jean material against his throbbing member. It wouldn’t be long now, he thrust once, twice, a third time, and shot his wad against the building wall.

  “Christ!” was all Jubal could say. Shit that was awesome!

  “I’d say so too,” Lizabeth said.

  “What?”

  “You said it was awesome. I second that,” she informed him.

  He’d said that out loud? Well, it was true. Jubal planned to visit Harrisburg again, even after
he wrapped up his mission on his father’s behalf. He released his grip on Lizabeth. Damn, he hated to let her go. He looked down and noticed her nips were still pebble hard. If he had more time, without the worry that someone might intrude, he would continue a second assault on those sweet mounds. But even as he reached down to bring up her halter-top, he couldn’t resist; he pinched both peaks and twirled them with rough pressure. He watched the glazed look return to her eyes as he plucked and snapped the pink tips.

  “Oh, Jubal,” she moaned as she undulated, her arms rising above her head.

  She tempted him almost beyond his endurance. Jubal grabbed her hands with his left hand, keeping her prisoner without really keeping her prisoner, positioned her just so, and sent his right hand on a sensual journey. She moaned and writhed as he continued his torture of her breasts. When he knew she was on the verge of coming, he shot his hand into her shorts and panties and fingered her until she was screaming into his mouth again.

  When she continued to jerk with her orgasm, Jubal encouraged, “That’s it, baby, ride it out.”

  Jubal waited until her body no longer jerked and rubbed her clit again, which sent her directly into another climax.

  “Oh, God, you’re killing me,” Lizabeth gasped.

  “But what a way to die, eh?” Jubal couldn’t keep the Cajun twang out of his voice.

  Jubal kissed her until her spasms subsided. He pulled away, saying, “I wish we had more time and privacy.”

  “Are you going to be here long?”

  “Well, I’ll be coming back over for the next few days.”

  “Can I see you?”

  “I hope so. I’m looking forward to furthering our acquaintance,” Jubal informed her. “I want to fuck you in the worst way.”

  After feeling her excited shudder in response to his declaration, Jubal released her from his grip. He buttoned his jeans before turning to help Lizabeth with her halter-top. Turning her to face the wall, keeping his gaze down so he could savor the sight of her succulent breasts, he pushed her platinum tresses over her shoulders until her ponytail cascaded down, covering her left breast. She handed him the top sides of her halter, silently asking for his assistance in retying it behind her neck. Jubal gave one last covetous look at her right tit with the hard nipple and longed to continue. Pressed for time, though, he had to find out where his half brother lived.