by Warren, Rie
“Sometimes I just like giving a hand job. Cock feels so good. Especially yours. I might have to prep to get all of you in my mouth.” JB continued in a conversational tone while she continued to blow my mind. “But I always swallow. I love the taste of come.”
Jesus Christ.
Tackling her beneath me, I propped up on my fists. “Oh yeah? Know what I like doing? Eating hot wet pussy.”
“Then I think I’ve got what you’re looking for.”
“No doubt.” Slipping off her, I sat against the headboard. “Give me your tits first.”
Sitting astride me in nothing but the thin panties and mind-destroying gold waist chain, she fed me her breasts. I couldn’t get enough of her. The tight nipples, the little freckles, the way her hair fell over her face when she looked down to watch.
She grinded on top of my cock as I feasted on her breasts. I felt her getting wetter by the second.
Squeezing the lush mounds together, I bit at the peaks, pulling them between my teeth. She squealed when I sucked as far as her tits would allow, drawing her deep into my mouth.
A burst of liquid drenched her panties, and I knew she’d come. She trembled in my arms, collapsed on my chest.
I wasn’t done though.
Slipping her from my body and onto the bed, I delved down her tummy, circled her tiny belly button then I hit right between her legs. The visual of sheer fabric with a wet patch between her cunt lips was way too good to pass up. I enveloped her in my mouth, sucking the slippery wet panties. Her clit—proud and pronounced—butted against the material. I pulled it with my teeth, and her back arched off the bed.
Arms thrown wide, head tilted back, thighs spread and breasts heaving, JB filled every single one of my senses and made me feel more alive than I had in years.
Sucking on her slippery wet panties, I developing a new fetish every second I spent between her firm white thighs. Skin so soft and smooth. Pussy so sleek and open. I eased her panties down her legs and off.
She was bare. Glistening. A pink shell I licked until her inner lips opened to my tongue. Her moans came faster. Her heels drilled into my shoulders. I held her wide, clamping my hands around her ankles. I lapped my tongue in and out of her cunt, twirling inside. I made out with her pussy, groaning against the sleek flesh. Tonguing her slit, I swirled my fingers around her clit. When I slipped two fingers inside—jolting against her g-spot—she rode out the waves of her orgasm on my tongue.
I lay against her, rubbing my cock against her slit.
Kissing me, she ran her fingers through my hair. “Thought you said you were coming at me hard and fast.”
“Getting to that. Right now.” I flipped her onto her stomach and straddled her.
She laughed but not for long. My rigid shaft between her ass cheeks quieted her amusement. I teased her long enough her back arched—kitten who wants the cream.
I lifted her to her knees, and told her to lay her head on the mattress.
That time she complied, no questions asked.
I slid on a condom before sawing my cock up and down her swollen sex.
“Now’s the time for hard and fast. You ready?”
“Yes!” came her muffled shout.
I entered her from behind, plunging to the base. My balls slapped against her. My pubes rasped her ass. My cock split her open.
JB threw her head up with a moan.
The gold chain dripped off her ass, the other end slipping between her legs. I pulled back and grasped the fragile links in one hand, riding back into her, more forceful than the last time.
Getting dirty, getting into it, I pulled out slowly and hammered into her fast and hard. Groaning her name, I reached around to tug and twist her nipples. She screamed into the pillow, coming with fierce internal contractions.
I buried my face in her neck, the pressure inside her intense and hot and wetter than ever. Riding her more slowly, I turned her head, tasted her lips.
“Kiss me. Kiss me and come again. Come with me.”
“Hunter!” Her hungry lips sought mine.
My body seized and jerked. I tried to keep my lips on hers. With a broken yell and a hoarse shout, I doubled over her back. I lost myself inside her. Time stopped for that searing instant until I found myself again and remembered to breathe.
“Holy fuck.” I rolled off her and fell to my back.
She stretched out on her tummy beside me, her head turned in my direction. Her eyes were shut, long sooty eyelashes dusting the freckles on her cheeks. The cascade of curls spread down her back, a contrast with her ivory skin. The curve of her bottom was high and full, a little red from my rough handling. My handprints marked the skin of her hips.
Propped up on an elbow, I asked, “You okay?”
“Unless you fucked me to death.” Her lips spread in a smile.
I ran my hand down the center of her spine—following the bold designs of her butterfly tats—then I swatted her lightly on the ass.
She yelped, her eyes flashing open.
“Still alive, I see.” I kissed the little frown off her mouth.
JB tackled me to my back, her hair a gorgeous curtain surrounding us. Her kiss was longer, deeper, lingering.
She drew back. “Remember you asked if I was hungry earlier?”
“You are now?”
She nodded.
“For what?” I asked, hopeful because I could definitely rise to the occasion a few more times tonight, especially if she said she was hungry for my cock and wanted to give me head.
“Food, you crazy fool.” She tapped my nose.
I stretched my body beneath hers, slowly shifting my hips against her—yep, definitely on the rise again. “Sure about that?”
“Food . . . first.”
Well, that lit a fire under my ass. I nearly tossed her off me as I hustled out of bed. I pulled on my jeans, buttoning just enough to keep them on my hips.
She watched my every move. “Eager.”
“Understatement.”
Her husky laugh did something wicked to me, sending hot shockwaves through my body.
“So, what you want? Warmed-up pizza? I could order something in? Sandwiches and beer?” I ticked the items off on my fingers.
“Sandwich and a beer sounds perfect.” She started to get out of bed. “I’ll help.”
“Oh no you won’t. You’re not leaving my bed.”
“Okay.” JB reclined, showing off her curvy, flushed, just-fucked body. Her nipples were dark and hard again. “Off you go now.”
“Right.” I rubbed a hand across my mouth, backing to the door. “Right.”
In the kitchen, I crashed around the cupboards and fridge, in a hurry to get back before she even had a chance to think about getting dressed. Sandwiches were one thing I could do blindfolded. Beer? I had that shit practically on tap.
Returning upstairs, I found JB as I’d left her: spread out on my bed and mine for taking, once I fed her.
She pulled the covers up over her amazing tits while she ate her sandwich and took sips of her beer. I ate both of my sandwiches in the time it took her to finish one. I slammed the beer almost as fast, too.
The plates stacked on the bedside table, I gave her enough time to finish her drink before getting up to kick off my jeans. There was almost an entire pack of condoms waiting, and I didn’t want to waste another minute.
Her gaze drifted to my rigid cock then back to my face. “You were hungrier than me.”
“Big appetite. For everything.” Lifting the blankets at the end of the bed, I crawled beneath and settled between her legs to demonstrate just how greedy I was.
Later, when I’d had my fill of her sleek cunt in my mouth, I spooned against her. I scooped her tits in my hands, and slowly fucked each hot, heavy inch of my cock into her.
“Fuck, JB. You’ve got one hell of a body.”
She gasped, rolling her hips against me. I took her deep and slow, my lips pressed to her neck or ear or shoulder. Her face entranced me when she
came, lips parted, eyes closed, soft moans slipping out.
“Oh fuck yes, Hunter. Unhhh. Keep going, keep . . .”
Her intense orgasm conjured mine. I sucked in a last breath then let loose with a full-body ripple ending in a rush of heat blasting from my cockhead. The pulsing sensation drew me deeper into her, my hips jerking, my arms squeezing her against me.
“Holy fuck,” she whispered.
Turning her to me, I kissed her cheeks and her lowered eyelids. I placed my lips against the hard-beating pulse in her throat. “You’re still alive.”
“Mmm. You’re good.” She stretched from head to toe.
“So are you.” And she felt damn good in my arms. I combed my fingers through her tumbling locks, easing out the snarls caused by our sex-fest.
She rubbed her palm against my chest, teasing my nipples, playing with the hair. “You’re hot.”
“So are you.”
She slipped her leg over my thigh and caressed the sole of her foot up and down my calf. The action brought the heat of her pussy against my newly interested cock.
“Stay tonight?” I struck while the iron was hot.
“Can’t. Early start tomorrow. In fact, I should probably get going.” She uncoiled from me and slid from bed.
As she searched for her clothes, I had the pleasure of watching her. Her delicate-looking body had mega-curves that overflowed my hands. The soft brown waves of her hair draped across her shoulders and tits. Every once in a while, a nipple peaked out.
“Oh yeah? The Monday grind?” I moved into her warm spot and got another dose of her perfume.
“Mm hmm.” She gave no further comment, firmly shutting off that line of conversation.
Maybe she didn’t want to get any more personally involved than I did. Maybe that was a good idea to hold onto.
I walked her out with her hand held in mine. At her Ducati—fire engine red unlike her lipstick, which was long gone by now—she tugged on a pair of riding gloves. Our breath formed little puffs of white clouds in the chilly November night.
Pinning her to me with an arm around her waist, I melted our lips together. I forgot all about the cold air with her warm mouth cushioning mine, her tongue darting inside. The goodnight kiss went on and on, heating me from the inside out.
She broke the kiss. “I need to go.”
“Yeah.” I swooped in, sucking her bottom lip between mine.
She whimpered before twisting her fingers in my hair, gripping me harder.
I pulled back with a groan. “You really have to leave?”
“Uh huh.” She nibbled on my neck, rasping her tongue on the dark stubble.
“Because I can wake you up for work.” My palms settled on her ass.
“Uh unh.” She plucked at my lips.
“So who’s gonna stop first?” I dove back inside her mouth, my tongue lunging inside.
“You are, because you’re a gentleMAN!” JB squealed the last part as my fingers maneuvered down the front of her jeans.
Pushing against her pussy, I gritted out, “Says who?”
“Ohhh.”
I circled my fingers against the top seam, aiming for her clit. “One more for the road, JB?”
She broke free with a low laugh, wobbling on her legs. “You play dirty.”
“You should know that by now.”
“I’m going.”
“Wanna make sure your legs can hold you up first?”
She flipped me two stiff middle fingers then straddled her bike. Throttling it to life, she buckled the helmet beneath her chin.
“Fucked you once. Fucked you twice. And can’t wait for a third shot.” I grinned, hooking my thumbs in my belt loops.
In reply, she revved up, making her rear tire spin out.
“Drive carefully, sweetheart,” I shouted above the roar.
“Always.”
Four
JB HAD LEFT WITH no promises issued from her and none forthcoming from me. That was usually how I liked my women—compartmentalized into neat little interludes never to be repeated, names never to be remembered.
JB wasn’t fitting into any box, and her sexy body, her sassy mouth, her dirty talk were engraved on my brain. Too bad her phone number wasn’t engraved there, too. I’d neglected to get her digits Sunday night, but I could remedy that easily enough through back channels or by calling in a favor. I figured I’d give her enough time to miss me first. Keeping her at arm’s length unless we were in bed seemed like the best strategy to avoid a messy entanglement.
Who was I kidding? I’d never follow through with that. She was on my mind first thing in the morning and last thing at night.
I’d give it ’til the weekend. Then I’d search her out if she didn’t show at Retribution Friday night. Monday and Tuesday passed quickly enough. I helped Brodie in the garage at Chrome and Steele. I talked to Jack Monday night and picked him up after school for a few hours Tuesday. I was still on probation with the police department—Chief Tilden wanted to make an example of me.
I could’ve made a few calls of my own and taken on other work, but I was going shiny-side up. I’d vowed to make a clean break from dark undercover. I wasn’t going back in, not even for Walker. He hadn’t contacted me again, but I listened for the burn phone to ring like a fucking junkie, wanting that hit yet hating what it made me do. Convincing myself I didn’t need the high to make life worthwhile.
Wednesday morning I drove over to Jack’s school, Cooper Hall Elementary. I didn’t wear a suit because I only did that when I had to meet top brass for a debriefing, aka ball-kicking. Neither did I wear my Retribution cut, leather pants, or mirrored aviators. Meet the teacher meant clean jeans, scuff-free boots, and fingers scrubbed of grease stains, as best I could.
On my way in, I inspected the school’s security system. It was updated, pretty advanced. I approved. Outside, cameras sat on every corner and every few feet down the length of the building. The playground was fenced off and locked down. At the front doors, I waited to be buzzed into the office. Inside, the reception was surrounded by bullet-proof plexi, and I underwent the whole identity check rigmarole. I nearly handed over my official unofficial credentials from MPPD but thought better of it. The name on my ID was Hunter Sexton, and that was not the last name on Jack’s birth certificate. I fished out my real license and slid it into the drop box.
At least they could scan that one without immediately alerting my former employers or any hit men who might have a price on my head.
I approved of the exacting protocol. Although this shit was scary considering when I was a kid, they barely performed background checks on teachers. Whatever, I was no worse for wear. But to keep Jack safe? I said do what you gotta do.
School-issued ID in place, I trekked the corridors until I found the right pod for Jack’s classroom. The door was open, colorful turkey nametags for all the kids tacked to it. I had to laugh at Jack’s. He’d put the feathers on the turkey’s head instead of on the rump. It looked like a Native American headdress.
I rapped my knuckles on door. “Hey. I’m here about Jack Angelo.”
“Mr. Angelo. Please come in and find Jack’s desk.”
Forget about searching for the tot-sized desk. My cock perked to awareness in my pants as I looked at Jack’s teacher. Jesus Christ. What was wrong with me? First with the instant attraction to JB and now for Hot Teach? Twice in as many fucking weeks?
It wasn’t my fault. I called foul play. With her back turned and her hair pinned up, she bent over her desk. The tight secretary skirt she wore accentuated a droolworthy ass, and the skirt’s small slit in the back showed amazing legs that ended in high heels.
Damn, back in the day my teachers had looked like old crones.
“So glad you could come in. I like to meet all the parents during the first half of the year.”
I looked for Jack’s desk and was halfway there when Miss Barnes turned around.
“Oh!” she gasped.
“Fuck.” I sank onto the near
est desk, nearly overturning it.
Miss Barnes—my kid’s kindergarten teacher—was none other than JB.
Not on a bike. Not in leathers. But in a thigh-skimming skirt, soft blue blouse, and with glasses perched on her freckled nose.
How is she even hotter like this?
“You’re Hunter. Jack’s dad, Hunter?” She paced back and forth, those sweet heels punctuating her rising irritation. She flicked off her glasses and sent them skidding across her desk. “You said you were Hunter Sexton. Jack’s records say Hunter Angelo.”
I was still in shock over seeing JB in an entirely ordinary setting, while she still managed to look nothing less than extraordinary.
“Well?” She stomped toward me.
I rose to my feet as she halted in front of me. “Uhhh.” I pulled my fingers along my jaw. “It’s complicated.”
“I’m not asking for your Facebook status.”
My eyebrows lifted. “I’m not on Facebook.”
She huffed in annoyance and marched back to the front of the room. “Answer the question.” She used a stern teacher voice on me. I dug it.
“I’m exactly who you think I am. The man you met, the one you slept with—”
Dropping her voice, she hissed, “The man I fucked, you mean. Hunter Sexton, Hunter Angelo . . . which one is it?”
“Officially on the job at Mt. Pleasant PD, Hunter Sexton. As Jack’s dad, Hunter Angelo.”
“Urg! You’re infuriating.” Her breasts swelled in the blue blouse with her ragged breaths.
Now probably was not the time mention I thought her Miss Barnes look was ridiculously sexy.
“Angelo. That’s my real last name, the one on the birth certificate, the one that keeps my other aliases, and potential enemies, worlds away from my family. I can’t say much more than that. And you should never mention it either—the lives of people I love would be endangered if you did.” I walked down the narrow aisle between the desks toward her. I felt like a frigging giant in this brightly colored classroom, towering above the miniature desks and chairs.
JB slid back to sit on the edge of her desk. “Oh really. That’s not just a line to get women off your back?”