Free Flesh: A Romance Novel

by Daya Daniels

  “Only if you want to.”

  And before I know it her mouth is on me, eagerly taking me deep down her throat. Her hand slides along the shaft of my dick in a firm grip. Her hot mouth takes me in, causing my muscles all over to twitch and loud pleading moans to leave my mouth. My fingers wrap tighter in her hair, controlling the speed as she sucks me off. The sounds of her wet mouth. The sucking. The licking. And the gagging fills the room.

  I’m near to coming.

  I yank her away. She looks at me, heavy-lidded and surprised.

  I drop down to my knees. My hand clutches the base of her neck. I pull her into me and kiss her hard, taking her breath away, controlling her tongue with my own, tasting the sweet mint that lingers there. I’m desperately running my nose across her skin, breathing in the scent of her I’ve missed so much since I’ve last seen her days ago.

  She squeaks against my lips as I move the spaghetti straps of her dress off her shoulders, exposing her breasts. I dip my head down and take each nipple into my mouth, tormenting them until she’s writhing beneath me. She gasps and holds on to my shoulders tighter. Quickly, I lift the hem of her dress up and slide my hand up along the skin on her thighs I’m dying to get in between. She grimaces at the roughness.

  I take my hand away in a flash and shake my head. “You better take it off before I shred it into pieces,” I tell her.

  The last thing she needs, considering the circumstances, is to be going home wearing torn clothing. I help her to stand and assist her out of the dress. Then I shove my jeans and boxer briefs off. She pushes off her flats.

  We stand facing each other, saying nothing.

  Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers’ “The Waiting” plays on the tiny radio across the room.

  I’m completely naked. She’s wearing only her lace panties.

  Her brows knot as she looks at me and I don’t know what she sees. Honestly, I’m not sure if I want to know. Most people never see much when they look at a man like me. Women especially. Well, except for a hot body and a good face then the monster I’m packing in my briefs usually helps the appeal.

  But except for that, no woman has ever looked at me the way this one does. Not one has ever made me feel like this.

  Fuck if I know what it means.

  I attempt to control my breathing. Honestly, I’m ready to pounce and tackle her to the bed. My skin is hot and my dick throbs as it lies across my right thigh.

  Callie looks frightened. “I don’t like it when you look at me like that, Austen.”

  Me neither.

  I step closer and consume her mouth, before I ease her down to the bed and on her back. I spread her thighs open and look at her heaving chest while she stares at the ceiling. I brush my cheek along the inside of her thigh and stare down at her freshly waxed pussy and the wetness already dripping from her slit...for me.

  It’s the best one I swear I’ve ever fucking seen in my life.

  “Just fuck me,” she begs.

  I swallow thickly and think for a second. I’m losing control of this quickly like I’m in the middle of a bank robbery gone bad.

  Callie and I always fucked like this, face-to-face, missionary-style.

  And I fear fucking her like this all the time is making things like this.

  In a flash, I flip her onto her stomach, forcing a yelp from her mouth. She peers at me over her shoulder, as my hands find her round ass cheeks and squeeze. And I know it’s painful, but she doesn’t complain. This gentle bullshit with Callie is over.

  I massage the length of my dick as I ease onto the bed, kneeling over her, with my legs on each side of her big ass. I loop an arm around her waist and pull her up to her knees. Callie looks over her shoulder at me stunned, but I’m already inside of her, grunting like a fucking beast as I slam my hips into her.

  “Say my name, Callie,” I demand.

  She doesn’t.

  I fuck her hard, earning yelps and soft wails from her pretty mouth.

  “Say my name, Callie,” I coo.

  She only moans.

  Fine, have it your way.

  With each stroke, I vault her forward and the most entrancing sounds spill from her mouth. I keep my eyes focused on the slide of her pussy on my cock, swallowing me whole from root to tip.

  Greedy pussy.

  She’s wet, real wet, and soon I remain still, allowing her to fuck me as she eases back and forth on my cock, her fat ass slapping my skin and rippling with perfection from the motion.

  A shiver runs up my spine and ends up in the tip of my dick. I dig into her ass cheek with my fingers and groan out her name, but she’s lost. She doesn’t hear it. My eyes remain focused on that mole—the tiny chocolate one above her right hip.

  She whimpers when I slip out of her and kiss it, nibbling on her skin there.

  I wrap my hands in her hair, yanking her head back, leaning over her. I put my lips to the shell of her ear. “Say Austen,” I command.

  “Why are you making me do this?” she asks, her blue eyes shiny with unshed tears.

  My fingers find her clit and massage, then dip into the wetness slicking the inside of her thighs. When my fingers find her asshole, a tiny gasp escapes her mouth. Her eyes flicker around wildly, behind her, ahead of her, up at the ceiling.

  She’s stunned, surprised, and I almost want to laugh at her response that’s driving me wild with the need to be inside of her once more.

  Her lips part when the head of my dick pushes against the tight muscle.

  A deep groan rumbles my chest.

  “Austen.” She stiffens and her fingers curl into the sheets as she tries to slip away from me, leaning forward. She instantly breaks out in a sweat and looks nauseous for a split second, but she doesn’t tell me to stop.

  I ease her back to me and start again. I gather her hair up and let it fall over her shoulder, exposing the sweaty pale skin on her back. I place my palm on her, pressing down, forcing her back to bow. I admire these curves of hers. They’re perfect, womanly.

  I tease the ring of her asshole, until my cock slips in, earning an ugly grunt from her.

  “Hmmm,” I moan out, as a sharp exhale leaves my nose.

  I settle into a firm stroke, unable to close my mouth.

  Callie slips a hand down between her thighs, massaging her clit.

  I part her ass cheeks, digging my fingers into each one of them, giving myself an obscene view of my thick dick disappearing inside of her hole.

  I pick up speed.

  “Oh God,” she wails.

  Austen.

  “Oh God. Oh God. Hmmm,” she whimpers.

  Austen.

  She murmurs something, an obscenity I think, then her mouth falls open as she looks back at me—a haunting expression passes over her features.

  “Say my fucking name, Callie,” I snarl, picking up speed. “Open up for me.”

  Callie

  ADULTERESS. LIAR. HARLOT.

  Dirty

  filthy

  whore.

  Do you hate me yet? If you don’t, don’t worry, because I hate myself...

  I bite down on my bottom lip. My panting mixes with the whimpers leaving me. My fingers tear into the sheets as I search for air, keeping my eyes focused on the sheets beneath me as they move and ruffle with Austen’s shifting behind me.

  The feeling of his cock filling my asshole is incredible.

  I don’t know whether to scream in pleasure or cry from pain.

  Right now, I’m doing both. It’s a symphony of fucked-up noises that leave me, but I’m not embarrassed.

  He’s still talking, but my thoughts are all over the place.

  I’m dizzy and my skin prickles all over, causing me to sweat even more. My breaths are shaky as I massage my swollen clit. Austen’s heavy weight rocks me forward. His fingers are curled possessively around my neck, holding me still, as if he’s afraid I’m going to run away from him.

  He stops. His breathing is loud and sounds more like an animal panting than t
he sounds that should come from a man. He’s still fucking me, lost somewhere, demanding I say his name, commanding I open up for him.

  He’s fucking me in my ass...

  I don’t know how much more exposed he needs me to be.

  I want to wish he’s Trav, but I know he isn’t. Austen smells differently. His touch is different. The sound of his voice is different. His weight settled behind me even feels differently from Trav, from what I can remember. It’s been so long since I’ve been with Trav. Sex with my husband was wonderful. It had always been from the time we’d started dating. Trav made me come every single time. We’d even done this once or twice before and loved every bit of it.

  It never escapes me I’m fucking someone else—a man who’s not my husband. And I feel disgusting for it. I feel horrible for it. But I need it.

  Austen’s deep voice filters through my thoughts, yanking me back to the present. “Callie,” he nearly shouts.

  “Yes!”

  “Say my fucking name!”

  “Austen,” I whimper. “Fuck me, Austen.”

  “That’s it.” He picks up speed and whatever the need was he needed me to satisfy by saying his name, my willingness to be obedient clearly has done the trick.

  Because he groans as he slows, letting out a savage noise, digging into my hips with his fingers.

  He comes.

  I tense at the feeling of his cock swelling deep inside of me. It jerks hard as he spills himself into me, filling me with hot, milky cum that dribbles down the inside of my thighs when he eases out of me.

  We break away from each other, panting. I drop to the bed on my side to stare up at Austen. He’s covered in sweat and breathing heavy. He looks down at his semi-hard dick, his brows knit tightly together as if he can’t believe what just happened.

  “I’m sorry, Callie. That wasn’t supposed to happen without you.” He eases down in between my thighs to put his mouth on me.

  And I don’t stop him.

  I let him lick every bare inch of me until a powerful orgasm makes me forget everything.

  ~

  I stir awake, unaware I’d fallen asleep.

  It’s quiet in here and judging by the faint light filtering into the motel room, it’s almost dark outside. I shift in the sheets feeling cool since my sweaty skin has dried off. Light breathing just behind my neck causes me to flinch. My eyes rove over the sheets and lower, lower, where I see Austen’s tanned arm that’s wrapped around me.

  I shift a little to meet his face. He looks peaceful asleep. I stare at him for a little while, melting in his embrace. His chest is against my back, our legs in perfect alignment with each other. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment and just breathe, allowing myself to remember how this felt once upon a time.

  I place an open palm on the sheet and caress its softness—pretty good sheets for a place like this. I scan the room and stop when I spot a large flat box on the table.

  “I left here to pick up a pizza,” Austen speaks into my hair, surprising me that he’s awake.

  I don’t move to face him. “Thanks,” I whisper.

  He pulls me deeper into him.

  “I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep,” I tell him.

  “Yeah, you seemed a bit out of it after you came. You kind of passed out.” He chuckles and eases me to lie on my back. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I just let you sleep.” He props his head up on his elbow and hovers over me.

  We stare at each other.

  I reach up and run my fingers through his hair a few times.

  “Are you opposed to sharing pizza with me?” he asks. “Maybe we could watch a bit of TV.”

  “Okay.”

  He smiles and gets out of the bed. His perfect form moves around the room in his white boxer briefs—muscular thighs, hard ass, toned calves, and every muscle in his back is defined. He’s gorgeous. He snatches the box of pizza and the two soda cans off the table and brings everything back to the bed, placing it in the center.

  I shift to sit up straight, keeping the sheets wrapped around me.

  He reaches for the remote and clicks the television on, and suddenly an old episode of Saturday Night Live is on the screen. I open the box and eyeball the pizza—half cheese and half pepperoni, just the way I like it.

  How could he have known that?

  He gives me a long look as if he’s waiting for my approval. And right now, he looks so young, much too young for me.

  I should leave now, I really should. But instead I say, “This looks good,” and snatch up a slice.

  He does the same and sits next to me. We eat in silence for a bit, laughing every now and again at the TV show. When I’m done, I take a deep breath and lay my head on the pillow next to me, still sitting slightly upright.

  “Do you eat pizza with the other women you fuck?” I blurt out.

  He freezes with the pizza still in his mouth and keeps his gaze on me. Then, he shakes his head from side to side without speaking.

  “Oh.” I feel sleepy. According to the clock, it’s just getting up to seven. I could stay a little longer if I wanted to. I could go back to sleep with the feeling of this man wrapped around me.

  Austen finishes his food, then scoots close to me, staring at me like he thinks I’m the most adorable person in the world...the way Trav used to look at me...the way Trav still looks at me when he’s not having a bad day.

  “How old are you?” I ask, finishing my pizza.

  “Thirty.”

  The hum of the central air-conditioning feels as though it’s lulling me off to sleep, along with the voices from the TV. I nod a few times. Austen’s older than I thought but still young.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me?”

  He gives me a funny look. “A real gentleman never asks a woman her age.”

  I laugh a little.

  He runs a hand over his beard. He crawls across the bed to me and lies on the same pillow. I’m tempted to back away since our noses and lips almost touch, but I remain still.

  “You’re different, Callie.”

  I exhale. “Different good or different bad?”

  He smiles that handsome smile of his. “Just different.”

  My eyes dance across the room where the money on the floor still remains. “So different that you won’t accept my money anymore?”

  “That’s righttt.”

  “So, what is this then?”

  “Can we be friends?” he asks, and I can tell by the look on his face he really is serious.

  My eyes narrow. “What do you mean, exactly?”

  “Well, we never talk.”

  I laugh. “We’re talking now.”

  His fingers crawl up my arm and slide around the back of my neck. He leans in and kisses me. “I don’t have a lot of friends, Callie—not the good type anyways. I thought maybe the two of us could be.”

  My eyebrows arch. “Yes, of course.”

  “So, talk to me then...”

  I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He massages the back of my neck with his hand, relaxing me, forcing me to be more comfortable, but right now all I feel is stiff.

  “I’m not always going to be the guy who fucks women for money.”

  “So, this is all some temporary thing then?”

  “Yes. I have plans, big ones. I needed quick money to make them happen.”

  “I figured you just like sex.”

  He laughs. “I do like sex, Callie, but I much prefer it to be with one woman, even though it’s never really been that way.”

  I lift a brow and an explosion of laughter threatens to leave me, but it doesn’t. Instead, I snort by mistake and almost choke at his words.

  Austen jerks his head back, offended.

  I’m still chuckling, thinking about his earlier statement about money. “Why not just get a loan from a bank then, Austen? That’s what those places are for.”

  “Banks don’t lend people like me money.”

  I search his face for more, but he doesn
’t give it to me.

  “Anyways, I decided two days ago that this week is the last week of me doing this bullshit.”

  A sense of loss I haven’t anticipated feeling floods through me.

  “When you came here today, I was going to send you away,” he says.

  “I don’t understand.”

  He drags his fingers over my lips. “I wasn’t going to fuck you,” he whispers.

  “But I was going to pay you.”

  He sighs. “I was going to beg you to consider just being friends with me. But it took all but five seconds for me to realize that was the dumbest thing a man like me could ever think he could be with a woman like you.”

  “So, you’re going to stop fucking other women?” I make a face.

  “Yes.” He holds my gaze.

  “Okay, then.”

  He pulls the sheet away from me and eases his weight on top of me, running a hand up my thigh, starting from my knee.

  The sensation is soothing. When he kisses my lips, my eyes fall shut. He dips his head down, dragging his lips near my ear. Then, he nibbles. Heat pools between my legs. My nipples harden into pebbles against his warm chest and I’m ready to go again...

  “If you tell me a secret, I’ll tell you one too.” His voice sounds like Satan’s whisper.

  My eyes fly open to stare into his beautiful ones. His face is impassive as he waits and waits, but I say nothing. I don’t know what he wants.

  “What do you mean, Austen?”

  “Exactly what I said... You once called me Trav.” His expression is stone.

  I tense.

  “I didn’t appreciate it at all.”

  “I’m sorry.” I grip his bicep, attempting to ease out from beneath him, but he pins me in place. His eyes search my face for something and my stomach flips over at the unspoken question lingering in the air between us.

  He drags the tip of his nose along the bridge of mine and his fingers through my hair. Then he kisses me once, twice on the tip of my nose. Taking my hand in his, he kisses my knuckles.

  I love the way this man makes me feel.

  So adored. So safe. So wanted.

  “If you tell me a secret, Callie, I’ll tell you one too and I’ve never had anyone to tell my secrets to, believe me.”

  “I don’t know what you want to know, Austen,” I snap.