Wild Nights

by Shayne Ford

  I’m soaking wet, and the more he runs his tongue over my clit, the wetter I get. I wave and moan while Braxton curses and growls with frustration.

  The car slows down.

  He pushes his sunglasses down his nose again, and gazes at us with lustful eyes, his gaze hardly on the road.

  “Drive for fuck’s sake,” Jagger barks.

  The car picks up speed as Jagger lifts his hips, slides his shorts down his thighs, and lets his hard, thick cock spring free. I lower myself to his lap, and he slowly fills me up.

  He’s hot as hell, and I’m wet like the sea.

  “No more moaning, please,” Braxton begs.

  Narrowing his eyes, Jagger presses the back of his head against the headrest while I sensually grind against him.

  The wind rolls over me as my heart screams and cheers, ecstatic.

  The night becomes a blur as the music courses through us, loud, arousing, flogging our senses.

  The writhing bodies follow the hypnotic rhythm, the venue looking like a temple of lust.

  Heat pours in our blood.

  We start to dance in a dark corner, not far from the stage where Jagger mans the decks, mixing the music.

  Braxton moves with ease, oozing confidence, breathing the lust he has for me, and it doesn’t take long before we start grinding against each other, the air crackling with electricity, the chemistry between us intoxicating.

  His lips arch into a sensual smile as he loops his arm around my waist and slides his hand down my back to grab my butt.

  Beads of sweat trickle on my neck, the short, tight dress feeling damp against my body.

  He brings the other hand to my shoulder, his fingers sweeping my collarbone, and neck, and then my chest.

  We lock eyes, our bodies moving in perfect synch with each other while he slips his hand inside my cleavage and cups a bare breast.

  I gasp and part my lips, my body churning fire like a furnace.

  “Fuck Braxton…” I mumble, completely lost.

  His grip gets tense, his cock twitching, hard, his eyes flooded with lust.

  Gazes still locked, we roll our hips together, my hand slipping to his ass, hungrily pulling him against me.

  Waving his body, he grinds his full erection into me as if he’s fucking me.

  I scale up as if he does.

  My hand slides inside his shirt and runs up his bare back, his skin and shifting muscles burning beneath my fingertips.

  Pushing his leg between my knees, he smoothly parts my thighs, his hand kneading my butt, snagging my dress up.

  Heat spins a storm between my legs. I’m hot and throbbing while he’s full and hard, both losing control quickly.

  Tilting his head down, he slips his tongue into my mouth while I desperately grab his cock and stroke him.

  His hand goes up my skirt, his fingers brushing my inner thighs.

  “Braxton...” I mutter in his mouth as we crash against the wall.

  He slips his hand under my dress all the way up, pushes my panties to the side and slips two fingers inside me.

  My center throbs and clenches, sucking on his fingers. He slides them in and out, the fresh scent of him and my arousal getting me drunk.

  My fingers iron grip his neck, my eyes locked with his, his gaze slicing me, intense and feral.

  “Come, baby...” he purrs, and hell breaks loose inside me.

  “Fuck...” I say quietly, my body stiff as I let the orgasm run through me, without a scream or squirming, only the aching pulsations in my core.

  Panting, I slacken in his arms.

  Grinning, he brings his hand to my face, my wetness on his fingers, when a group of men bumps into us, separating us.

  One rams into Braxton, the other caging me in.

  “Are you done with him?” one of them slurs, the alcohol flashing in his eyes. “How much for the three of us?”

  Braxton’s back hits a wall as the biggest one of all gives him a shove.

  “Braxton!” I scream, the thundering music drowning my voice.

  Another man comes to my side, and I want to sneak out of their lock when one of them braces his arm against me, pinning me against the wall.

  Braxton regains his balance, pushes the man who charged at him to the side, and swings his arm, the back of his fist clocking that guy, throwing him to the ground.

  The second man lunges at him, and he grabs the guy’s shirt and knocks him out with a head-butt.

  I smack the third one in the chest. The man comes back at me and pushes me into the wall.

  Before Braxton has a chance to get to him, the guy’s head flicks from a blow, his body falling to the floor as Jagger swings his fist into his face.

  The bouncers rush to pick the men up while Jagger grips Braxton’s shoulder.

  “Take her home,” he barks at Braxton, his eyes blazing with fury.

  “Jagger?”

  “Go home,” he shouts at me, dark and tense.

  “It wasn’t his fault.”

  “I gotta go,” he says.

  Turning his back to me, he runs back to the stage.

  11

  JAGGER

  “Nothing happened, for fuck’s sake! Chill.”

  Morning light pushes through the sleepy summer clouds, laying a soft glow over the kitchen.

  Dark espresso drips into the cup, the rich aroma wafting through the air.

  My body stiffens with tension as I rub my eyes.

  “Stop saying that. You know it fucking did,” I growl quietly through clenched teeth.

  Braxton cuts frosted eyes at me from across the table. Shaking my head with disappointment, I look away.

  Annoyed, he kicks his chair back, pushes up to his feet, and parks himself next to the espresso machine.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he lets his gaze roam over my naked torso. His shirt is open top to bottom, barely clinging to his shoulders.

  A gust of wind rolls into the kitchen, sending a shiver down my spine.

  He turns off the espresso machine, takes a sip of coffee and places the cup on the kitchen counter before he shifts his gaze back to me.

  “I don’t understand why you are so worked up. They were drunk,” he says calmly.

  “He almost knocked you over, Braxton, and the other two pinned her against the wall. And the only reason they were after her was because you couldn’t wait to fuck her...” I voice my pent-up frustration in one long breath.

  Pissed, he shoots his eyebrows up.

  “I didn’t fuck her.”

  My fist hits the table.

  “Stop saying that, Braxton. Just because you didn’t put your dick in her, it doesn’t mean you didn’t fuck her. I was fucking there. I saw you.”

  He smirks. I clutch the edge of the table, fighting my impulse to charge at him.

  “Really? What the fuck did you see?” he sneers, and more anger rams through me.

  Registering my reaction, he pushes a taunting smile to his lips.

  My blood begins to boil.

  “What the fuck did I see?! You couldn’t keep your hands off her, motherfucker. Before you pushed her into that corner, there was a circle of bystanders gawking at your little rubbing, feeling-each-other session. You couldn’t see them because your cock was so hard it poked you in the eye. That’s how those suckers spotted her. That’s why they bumped into you and circled her.”

  He waves me off and looks away, his eyes filled with frustration.

  “I didn’t do anything differently than what you would’ve done. You fucked her in my car in broad daylight, and you didn’t have the slightest problem with that.”

  “It was your car for fuck’s sake. I didn’t do it in front of strangers,” I say, raising my voice, exasperated.

  “Whatever.”

  He takes a sip of coffee before he smoothly runs his tongue across his lips.

  “Nothing happened. I didn’t do it to put her in harm’s way. She was so hot and turned on, and I was hard as stone. I fought myself not t
o pull her outside and rail her behind the club.” He adjusts his cock. “Fuck. I should’ve fucking done it,” he says. “You can’t flip like that, Jagger. She’s not a teenager. I haven’t done anything she didn’t want me to do. Why can’t you just get it in your skull?”

  I lean back in my chair, my fingers running through my hair.

  “That’s not what I’m saying. She may be older, but she’s never been out. You were supposed to be the adult. You know more than she does. You know how things spin out of control. I don’t want to be on that fucking stage and watch men getting their hands on her and slamming you into the wall.”

  “I was fine. I’m not a fucking baby.”

  “I know... But she was not fine,” I bark.

  He ponders for a moment.

  “I think I know what this is. You’re fucking jealous,” he says, his silver-blue eyes slicing me brazenly.

  “Jealous?! What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Both hands go through my hair as I let out a nervous chuckle.

  “Yeah, yeah... I think you are. You’re tense like fuck over something that didn’t even happen,” he says.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Uh-huh. I’m fucking serious. What really pisses you off is that she was turned on out of her mind, and she was hot as hell, and got me so fucking stirred up. But isn’t this what it’s all about? Getting you painfully hard so you can ride high on that feeling every fucking time?” he throws at me, dark emotions spilling in his eyes.

  My heart falls from my chest.

  I freeze for a second before I fly over the table, his chair hitting the wall as I crash on him. He pushes me back, and I charge again, shoving him against the wall. My elbow presses on his chest, my breath jamming in my throat.

  His eyes slice through me, defiant, his hand clasped around my neck.

  We’re both panting, the air thick with the frustration that’s been building up between us for so long.

  “Don’t you ever say that again,” I growl.

  His lips curve into a slow smile.

  “You know I’m right, Jagger. You’re hooked on it. And so am I. At least I’m not a coward. I admit it’s like a drug...” he murmurs against my lips.

  Tilting his head back, he narrows his eyes and parts his lips, curving them into a teasing smile.

  He unabashedly drinks me in.

  My eyes, my mouth… My body.

  His grin telling me all the things I’ve always knew.

  Slowly rolling his lip beneath his teeth, he slides his hand down my neck, runs his fingers across my chest, and traces my abs before he dips his palm below my waist, and smoothly cups my cock.

  Hard, I twitch against his hand.

  “I fucking knew it,” he says softly against my lips.

  My grip slackens on him as he gives me a long stroke, his palm running smoothly along my erection, the tension rising so fast in my flesh, it hurts.

  He gives me one sensual stroke after another, the stare we share burning through my blood.

  Emotions swim in his eyes, the smile clinging to his lips telling me all the things he couldn’t find the words for. His hunger for me, and his affection.

  A sense of inevitability… that everything we fought so hard has finally caught up with us.

  My eyes get heavy, a slow exhale leaving my lips as I surrender to his touch.

  Planting my palms on the wall, on either side of him, I let him stroke me. Locking my eyes, he works my jeans open, wraps his fingers around my cock, and slides his fist up and down.

  A rush of tingles shoots up my spine.

  Stroking me deftly, he uses the right pace and pressure, taking me to that irresistible high. Running his thumb over the tip, he wipes a bead of pre-cum and brings it to my lips, gauging my reaction.

  Hard as stone, I let him smear my lips, his eyes quickly becoming unfocused with lust, emotion, and so much more if I’m bold enough to admit.

  His eyes dip before he tilts his head, my flesh sizzling as he smoothly claims my lips. A snapshot of his smile lodges in my brain, the last thing I see before I close my eyes and let him kiss me.

  There’s no breathing between us, only the touch and taste of our kiss. He slides his tongue over mine, my cock almost bursting in his hand.

  Lips locked, we start exploring each other, no hitch or hesitation in our touch. It feels so natural and perfect.

  Breathing heavily, he tears away.

  We stare into each other eyes before he charms me with a smile and locks my mouth again. Hungrily, our lips and tongues press together, my hand going in his hair, his arm flexing around my torso.

  I crash with him against the wall, the addictive pleasure flowing through our bodies. He keeps stroking my cock while he slips his free hand inside my jeans and grabs my bare ass.

  My hard shaft bounces in his hand, our lips getting swollen from our kiss. I pull his zipper down and push my hand down his pants.

  A growl explodes in his throat as I grab and stroke his cock.

  “Fuck, Jagger,” he breathes into my mouth.

  Gripping the back of his neck, I start stroking him hard, fucking his mouth with my tongue at the same time.

  Hot and tense, he starts melting in my arms.

  A shudder rams through him the moment I begin to grind against him. Panting, he breaks the kiss and drops to his knees.

  He looks up and I glance down as he gives my cock a few more strokes with his hand before he parts his lips, and rolls them on my hard crown.

  His tongue and lips slide smoothly, soft and wet, up and down and all around. And then, under my burning eyes, he pushes me down his throat.

  A groan almost splits my chest open.

  He feeds on my reaction, getting drunk on me as much as I get lost in him. I briefly close my eyes, indulging on that sensation as he takes me deeply this time and starts sucking me hard.

  I roll my hips, craving the warmth and pressure and moisture of his mouth.

  Hard, glistening and flushed with blood, his cock twitches in his hand as he constantly wipes the tip with his thumb. My mouth begins to water.

  Dazed, I watch him running his fist up and down on his erection while sucking me so fucking good. His gaze swings up to me.

  He fills his mouth with me over and over again while I pull his hair into my fist and thrust.

  Groans start coming from his throat, making my balls tighten.

  I can’t fucking believe it... and that’s my last thought, before I explode in his mouth, the pleasure ramming through me, shaking my body, ripping my lungs apart, making my lips bleed beneath my teeth.

  Moaning, he swallows every drop of cum, and as I glance down at him, I see his seed spilled on his lap.

  VIOLET

  I run a hand over the sheets. The bed is cold and empty.

  I flip my eyes open, roll from one side to the other, and glance around. One of the windows is wide open, the curtain puffing in the breeze. A patch of daylight stretches on the tiles.

  I push up to my elbows and listen. An eerie silence fills the rooms. Extending my arm, I scoop up my phone from the nightstand and check the time.

  Two o’clock?

  I push up to my feet, stroll to the bathroom, moments later, emerging from the shower dressed in a sheer maxi dress layered over my bikini swimsuit.

  The tiles feel cold beneath my feet as I saunter barefoot through the house.

  Lunch is set for me on the terrace sprawling around the open kitchen. A smell of grilled vegetables, fish, and citrusy vinaigrette wafts through the air. I fill half of a plate, take a seat at the table and begin to eat.

  The gardener notices me and waves at me.

  Smiling, I wave back at him.

  Shielding my eyes from the sun, I scan the shore, a strange restlessness growing inside me. I grab my phone and send a message.

  Jagger’s phone buzzes on the kitchen counter. I toss the napkin to the side, push the chair back and walk into the house.

  I snatch h
is phone from the counter when I spot another message.

  Braxton: Let’s talk.

  I call Braxton from Jagger’s phone.

  He picks up after the first ring as if he was waiting for Jagger’s call.

  “Hey,” he says, his voice sounding hoarse and different, tormented, filled with apprehension.

  “Braxton?!” I say, surprised.

  “Hey,” he says, cold this time, disappointment threading through his voice.

  I turn to stone. Confused.

  “Where are you?” I ask.

  “Um... In town,” he says, taking him too damn long to answer.

  “Are you?”

  “Yes,” he says, his voice firm this time.

  “What’s going on, Braxton?”

  “Nothing,” he says curtly. “Where’s Jagger?” he asks.

  “I don’t know. I just woke up.”

  “Have him call me,” he says flatly and hangs up on me.

  I stare at the phone, dumbstruck.

  I finish my lunch, for the most part having a hard time swallowing, and then I search the house again, looking for Jagger.

  His car is parked in the front. The man who trims the lawn points to the sea. I climb down the path leading to the beach and walk across a stretch of sand when I spot him emerging from the ocean.

  His body, a board of tight, lean muscles, sparkles in the sunlight, his skin glistening with beads of water.

  He locks my eyes as I erase the space between us.

  I stretch a towel on the ground, slip out of my dress and lower myself on it.

  Quiet, he lies down next to me and closes his eyes.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, propping myself up on my elbows.

  He runs his hand over his face and brushes his lips with his fingers.

  “Yeah...” he says softly.

  “Why is Braxton gone?”

  My gaze pulls to his mouth as he rolls his tongue over his lip, soothing a small cut.

  “He... We had an argument,” he says, somewhat distracted and the memory of California comes back to me.

  His voice sounds different as well.

  Like then, a wall rises between us, pushing us a world apart.

  Panic drips into my blood.

  “What happened to your lip?”