Something Real (Atlanta Outlaws)

by Aja Cole

  Before I can talk myself out of it, I shed my clothes and put on the one silky robe that I brought with me, tying it tightly around my waist.

  I can do this. So what if he rejects me? I put myself out there, and that's what matters. I didn't just wait for him to come to me.

  I'm not going to wait for him to come to me.

  Marching down the hall, I raise my hand to knock at his door, hesitating.

  Just because I want to sleep with him...that doesn't mean I should.

  Turning on my heel, I turn myself in circles until I stop and take a deep breath.

  I'm a grown ass woman and if I want to fuck a hot man silly, well dammit, I'm going to fuck him silly!

  Knocking, I straighten my back and prepare for potential rejection.

  The world won't end. It'll be okay.

  "Dylan, I--,"

  I don't get another word out before he drags me into his arms and slams the door shut behind us.

  9

  Dylan

  “Please tell me that you were coming to tell me we can drop this charade,” I pull back from kissing her, gliding my hands down over her body under the barely-there robe. I feel like a kid in a candy store, and I need to know if I can let myself loose.

  “Less talking, more fucking,” she breathes, and I scoop her up in my arms, ignoring her laughter and stalking to the bed. I set her down and tug at the tie holding her robe closed, catching my breath when the material falls open to reveal her curves.

  “Dreams do come true.” I mutter, exhaling hard. “Shit, I might not last.”

  “Why are your clothes still on?” She fake pouts, moving backwards on the bed until she’s reclining on my pillows, the picture of temptation.

  Pulling my shirt off over my head, I get rid of it and my pants quicker than I ever have. Rounding the bed, I yank open my nightstand drawer and toss the box of condoms on the bed within reach.

  “A whole box? I’m going to be sore tomorrow.” She jokes, and I wrap a hand around her ankle, yanking her firmly towards me as she yelps. The laughter fades from her face when she’s under me and I drink her in with my eyes, captivated.

  I've seen this moment in my fantasies a thousand times since being with her, and I'm still not prepared for the arousal that slams into me like a train.

  Brushing my lips across her forehead, down her cheek, over the bridge of her nose and finally, over her mouth - I feel like a teenager who's seeing a girl naked for the first time.

  I'm excited, I'm nervous, I'm all things that I don't even think I felt when I did see my first girl. So, what makes Shayla any different?

  Her small hands slide over my abs and up over my shoulders, her nails teasing my skin. I brace my forearms on the bed, deepening our kiss and settling my cock into the cradle of her hips. As good as she tastes, my mouth has been missing something else.

  Dropping down to her chest, I plump her breasts in my hands, testing their weight and pushing her nipples closer together for me. I lick and suck to my heart's content, her small moans and squirming spurring me on. Biting the tender tips as I pull back, I lick my way down her stomach and press my face into her pussy, the musky smell of her arousal turning my cock into hard steel.

  "No," she says softly, and I feel a pang of disappointment. Did she not really enjoy it last time? "I want to taste you, first."

  My hands flex on her thighs instantly, a vision of her with my dick filling her mouth floating in front of my mind. I tend to do more giving than taking, and I didn't let her give me a blowjob the night we met, so I don't know what it's like to feel her mouth on me. I hesitate because as much as I want her tongue on me, I want to take a deep dive into her taste, too.

  Silently, she pulls away from me and slides off the bed, walking to the end and gracefully dropping to her knees with a devious glint in her eye.

  "Tick tock, Mr. Hunter."

  10

  Shayla

  Dylan was molded by the hands of a great sculptor, I'm convinced of it. He's power and strength, passion and precision; and his body is a testament to that. I can't believe that he's all mine to touch and lick, and I intend to do as much of those two things as I can. As much as I want his mouth on me, I want to drive him crazy even more. I watch him move to the end of the bed, bracing his legs on the floor and inviting me between his thighs.

  The picture he makes, good god. His cock is beautifully formed and delicious, the thick vein running up the underside calling to my mouth as much as the pronounced mushroom cap that I can't wait to run my tongue around. He strokes a hand up and down it, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, and I almost melt into the ground at the desire on his face.

  I feel...wanted. More wanted than I think I ever have been, all because there's not a single thing that he's hiding from me. It's all right there in his expression, in the tightness of his body, and in the way he brushed his lips over my face like he had all the time in the world.

  I want to make sure he feels the same way.

  Running my hands up the inside his calves, over his thighs and trailing my fingers lightly over the heavy sack of his balls; I take my time feeling him. It's not every day that your sex dreams come to life, you know.

  "You're killing me, baby." He sighs.

  "Don't die on me yet, I'm just getting started." I punctuate my words by shuffling closer on my knees until I'm right up against his skin. I press lingering kisses onto one thigh, skipping over his cock when I get to the middle and pressing kisses on the other. His fingers curl into the sheets and I know he's fighting taking the control. I appreciate that he's letting me take my time, even if it's torturous for him.

  But I decide to put us both out of our misery, and I flatten my tongue and run it up the vein that's been calling my name, smiling at the pained groan from Dylan.

  I haven't given many blowjobs in my life. I wouldn't even say that I particularly like or enjoy them...but I do enjoy knowing that Dylan might feel even a little bit of what he makes me feel when he's touching me. Even when he's simply looking at me.

  Covering the tip of him with my mouth, I rise on my knees and start to suck, taking as much of him into my mouth as I can. His hand moves to my face, over my cheek, into my hair; like he can't decide what to do with himself. Hallowing out my cheeks, I let his cock fill my mouth until I can't take him any deeper, and I feel my gag reflex trying to work against me.

  "Easy, baby. " He whispers, his hands settling for gripping my hair lightly. Pulling back, I let spit drip down his cock and I meet his eyes to make sure he sees it. The flush of color on his cheeks is high and his jaw is taut, those pretty green eyes filled with flames. "Fuck, Shay. Do that again, baby. Just one more time for me, goddamn."

  So, I do.

  And then I do it one more time for good measure because seeing the need flare in his face is more addictive than anything I've encountered so far. Wrapping my hand around the base of his dick, I start to pump him, letting my hand do the work on what I can't yet fit my lips over. Circling my tongue around him, I let my mouth and hands work in tandem, the curses, and encouragement dropping from his lips making me want to set up camp down here and never stop.

  "Wanna come inside you, baby. Please." He grits out, using his grip in my hair to control me for the first time, pulling me away from my new favorite plaything. He tumbles me into his lap, clutching me in his arms with his full strength and sealing his lips to mine. We tangle our tongues together in outright war, me scrambling to straddle him and him settling my hips where he wants them.

  He falls backward and gropes for the condom box and I toss the robe away that was just barely hanging onto my body. I watch him roll protection over his thick length, thinking that I'm about to get exactly what I've been dreaming of for weeks.

  But Dylan is nothing if not persistent, and he drags me up his body easily like I'm not a full-grown woman.

  "I think you missed my stop." My voice is shaky because I know exactly where this train is going instead, and looking down at his ha
ndsome face poised to give me what I already know will be an explosive orgasm is a total mind-fuck. His mouth is too damn talented for my sanity, and he knows it.

  "Right where you belong." He urges me up and over his mouth and I give up on talking anymore. Even as he uses his tongue to make me forget my name, he doesn't neglect the rest of my body. His hands roam and appreciate wherever they're able to. My breasts, my ass, my lower back. There's not an inch of my skin that he hasn't put his mark on, and I'm a puddle of lust by the time I'm bracing my hands on the bed and riding his tongue to the edge of the world. I don't even have energy left and he slides me off his face gently, turning on his side and pulling me down so that we line up in all the right places. He hesitates with his cock poised to enter me, meeting my eyes and nuzzling his nose with mine.

  "You sure?" He asks quietly, and in answer, I reach down and guide him into me, both of us gasping at the feeling of the first inch sliding inside. It's a good burn, a perfect stretch and with each inch that fills me, it only gets better. When he's seated as deeply inside me as possible with my leg thrown over his hip and him holding me against his chest, we don't even move immediately. His lips find mine and I drink from him reverently, this kiss so much different than our previous ones.

  And when his hips begin to move, spurring mine to match his pace and meet his every stroke, we fall into madness together.

  It's everything that it was that first night, if not more. It's everything that's haunted me many a sleepless night, and I never want it to end. The sounds of his sweet whispers in my ear, the heavy heat of the room and his body against mine...I sink my teeth into his chest when my orgasm slams into me unexpectedly, much like he's come into my life. Dylan shudders against me and even through the condom, I feel him swell and release when he finishes quickly after me. I don't examine the pang of longing I have, that wishes that I could feel him come inside my body with nothing between us.

  I'm learning that despite his size and the way he slams into men on the ice in the videos I watched of him, he's a very tender lover. After he gets rid of the condom, he comes back to bed and pulls me into his arms, dropping kisses on my body and face again. I didn't realize he was so affectionate, even in private.

  It's really sweet...and endearing.

  "Well, that was easier than I thought it would be." He grins, clearly not realizing that his words just sent embarrassment and ice water through me. I nod mutely, feeling hot tears come to my eyes that I hide by dropping my face to the bed as if I'm simply tired. "I'll be right back." He caresses a hand down my side as he gets out of bed and I hear the bathroom door close.

  That's when I make my escape, practically running to my room and locking the door behind me. Sinking to the floor, I berate myself for being so stupid.

  I let myself get caught up in the night and forgot what this was about, like an idiot. I keep making the same mistake when it comes to him, forgetting that this is just an arrangement that's not going anywhere.

  Easy

  Easy

  Easy

  The word keeps repeating over and over in my mind and I hate that I made the mistake of sleeping with him again, if that's how he sees me now. I'm no better than another notch on his bedpost, and he's probably congratulating himself now that I didn't hold out for as long as he thought I would.

  Stalking to the closet, I shrug on an oversized hoodie, panties and slide my feet into sneakers. Grabbing my wallet, phone and keys, I hightail it downstairs and out the door, cranking up my car. My phone starts to ring, but I switch it to silent, not even bothering to look at the display.

  I need some space, and there's no way I can get that by sleeping in the same house at him tonight. I feel like the rug got pulled out from under me tonight, and like an idiot, I stood there while it happened. I encouraged it. I did exactly what he probably expected me to do after piling on all that charm and relatability.

  I walked right into his arms. I was so damn predictable and him mentioning that it was easier than he thought proved that.

  It's good to see my little home, and I park my car in the driveway and let myself inside, wanting nothing more than to fall into my bed and pretend tonight never happened.

  Only I can't.

  Because I can feel his mouth on my skin.

  I can feel his cock inside me like it's still there.

  I can hear his whispered words of appreciation in my mind.

  So, despite being in the comfort of my bed, I toss and turn the same way that I do at his place.

  Only this time, there's no one to blame but myself.

  11

  Dylan

  It's been a week since Shayla and I slept together again, and she hasn't talked to me since.

  It feels like shit.

  When I went back into the room, I thought maybe she'd just gone to get her pillow or something from her room and she'd be back. I laid there waiting for her, looking forward to holding her again...fucking her again. When five minutes turned into ten, I started to get the feeling that maybe something else was up.

  That's when I heard the downstairs door shut and I raced down there, but Shayla was already gone when I got outside. I tried to call her, but she wouldn't pick up.

  Now we're here, and it's killing me that she won't even give me a chance to apologize. I ran over everything that happened multiple times in my head and realized that she probably took what I said the wrong way.

  I wasn't thinking, I was just...talking out loud.

  I texted her an apology, but she hasn't read it or she turned her read receipts off and is just ignoring me completely. As tempted as I am to corner her in the house, I don't want her to be uncomfortable here so I've respected her apparent desire to have no contact with me.

  I know she didn't come back home that night and I assume she stayed over at her house. Even though she's not talking to me, I'm glad that she came back.

  I like having her here and knowing she's right down the hall, even if she's back to not acknowledging presence.

  I've had practice this week, so I've been able to focus on something other than her, but she still finds her way into my thoughts pretty often.

  "How are things at home?" Ben asks from the table next to me. Trainers are working on both of us, just making sure our muscles stay loose. "I didn't think I'd ever be asking you that." He laughs, shaking his head.

  "She's mad at me right now," I mutter, throwing an arm over my face.

  "You're in luck, because I'm about to offer you a perfect solution."

  Peeking under my arm at him, I gesture with a hand for him to keep talking.

  "Come to New Orleans with us this weekend. Just a short trip before things pick up."

  "Us as in you and Whit?"

  "No, I'm bringing my other wife." He makes a face. "Yes, dumbass. Me and Whit."

  I shoot him the finger and sit up, considering the idea. I love New Orleans and I'm not sure if Shayla's been, but it's always a good time.

  My good time has been a little different than what hers will probably be, but still...I'm sure we can find some fun shit to get into that won't get me into any more trouble.

  I don't know how I'm going to convince her...but I'm warming up to the idea the more I think about it.

  "Whitney met Shayla, right?" I muse.

  "Yeah, that night at the club. She likes her, begged me to ask you two actually. I was trying to just have the weekend with my wife, but she begs so nicely." His mind looks like it's wandering to places I don't need him to go right now, and I snap my hand-towel at his neck, bringing him back from distraction. "Ouch, asshole."

  "I don't know if Shayla will go if I ask...think you can get Whit to call her, instead?"

  He shrugs big shoulders, swinging his legs off the table when the trainer moves back. "I don't see why not. I'll text her."

  "Thanks bro," I clap him on the back, my mind already thinking about the possibilities.

  I can get Shayla to talk to me, I hope. I can apologize, we can go back to b
eing good, and maybe she'll let her guard down just a little more with me.

  She calls to me like no woman has before, and there's no way I'm letting her get away from me just yet.

  This plan is backfiring.

  "Do you see anything wrong with this picture, Dylan?" Ben asks me, nursing a beer next to me.

  Feigning ignorance, I drink my own beer and shake my head. "Two dudes, enjoying their beers at a bar. Nothing wrong with that."

  I can feel him glaring a hole in my head and I can't help the smirk that curls on my mouth. How were we supposed to know that Whit and Shayla would get along so damn well that they would ditch us in lieu of "some girl time" and they'd let us know where to meet them later.

  It's been two hours and we haven't heard a peep other than a selfie from Whit of them with what looks like some women from a bachelorette party and a few half-naked men. I felt the jealousy like it had knocked me over the head with a brick, but I kept it to myself because I don't want Shayla to think that I want to stop her from having a good time. Ben just rolled his eyes and said something about peoples clothes always being off around Whitney.

  "I didn't tell them to go off and have a good time without us." I defend myself.

  "Why couldn't you have picked some airhead that my wife would hate on sight?" he grumbles, "Then she'd be spending time with me."

  "Oh good god, man, stop your fucking whining. You're making me want to divorce you."

  "You're not keeping the house and I'm not paying you any alimony." He shoots back, still pouting. It's a ridiculous look on a man that's damned near 6'5" and a Thor look-a-like.

  We haven't been alone for the whole night. It started off well enough. Shayla's never been here before so we went all over the French Quarter, and she loved seeing all the art on Decatur St. In typical behavior, we started drinking on Bourbon St. instead of some of the other little gems I know from being here so much, because it's practically like an initiation. She loosened up with me, we were laughing and talking and even though I haven't had a chance to get her alone and talk about what happened - I was optimistic.