But not for the reasons he was probably thinking.
He studied my face, reading the resolve written all over it, and nodded once. “Well, then. It sounds like you know what you want. I’ll honor that. But if you need me later, I’m there. I’ll likely be up late working on my project truck anyway. I have just a couple more months until Barrett Jackson in Vegas, and I’m almost where I want to be money wise. If you hear me, and you’re awake, come on over.”
I snorted. “I’d have to be drunk not to hear that, Coke. Then again, maybe drinking might make me actually forget that I’m on my own tonight…” I paused. “If you’re drunk, does that make you sleep better?”
“You’ve never been drunk before?” he asked incredulously.
I shook my head. “Hello? Psych problems already. Do you really think I’d add to those problems by drinking?”
He blinked. “I really don’t understand you.”
My brows rose to my hairline. “Why?”
“You say you’re not ‘right in the head.’ Well, let me tell you something, you’re more right in the head than any other woman I know. Sure, you might have an actual diagnosis, but seriously? You can’t go through life not doing things just because you think something is wrong with you. If everyone lived by that motto, this world would be a shitty place.”
“There is something wrong with me,” I pointed out.
He got up and headed to the kitchen, coming back moments later with a glass of something brown in both hands.
“Try it.”
I looked at him incredulously. “I should probably be at my own home if I intend to get drunk. I really do think I need to try to stand on my own two feet. It’s been a week…”
He shrugged, then dangled the drink in front of my face. “You can do that tomorrow. Tonight, we drink. Come on. Experience life.”
I took the glass and smelled it experimentally.
Then gagged. “It smells like rubbing alcohol.”
His smile widened. “Tastes kinda like it, too.”
I shook my head. “I’m only doing this because you’re making me.”
He raised both hands and shook them in mock fear. “I’m shaking in my boots.”
I looked down at his feet. “You’re only wearing one boot. So technically, you’d be shaking in your boot.”
He rolled his eyes, then bent down to get rid of his other boot.
When he’d walked in the door, I’d been examining the label on the Jack Daniels bottle. I’d had it up to my face, an idea in my mind on where I wanted to go with the project I was working on when he’d opened the door to his place.
Then he’d asked why I’d had the bottle up to my face, and I’d then had to explain. Which led us to now.
Him asking me if I thought about drinking it instead of studying it.
“To experience the fullness, I think you should drink it. You might learn why they did it like that.”
“You’re thinking the people who created the cover were drinking Jack at the time?” I asked.
He shrugged. “No better way to get to know something than to try the product itself.”
I just shook my head, then took another sniff.
“What can it hurt?”
Apparently, that was the wrong question to ask.
It could hurt a lot, in more ways than one, including making a grown man feel awful for taking advantage of a younger woman.
***
Hours later, we were well on our way to being sloshed and talking about stuff that I never, ever thought we’d be talking about.
“You’ve never had a blow job before?” I asked, eyes wide.
How had we gotten on this subject?
“No,” he admitted. “Beatrice didn’t do those.”
“But you’re…how old are you again?”
He grinned. “Thirty-five.”
“Holy shit, Coke! How have you never had one of those before? That’s like a staple in a sexual relationship. Even the women who don’t like giving them give it a go on birthdays and anniversaries. Oh, and that steak and a blow job day, too. At least, that’s what I’ve read. And you’ve never tried to get one from another girl after your divorce?”
He looked pained as he took the beer bottle from his lips.
It was his tenth…or maybe his eleventh. I wasn’t quite sure.
We’d been drinking for hours. Even though he gave me a glass of water for each drink I consumed, along with lots of food to soak up the alcohol, I was still well and truly drunk.
At this point, I wasn’t even sure if I was making sense when I spoke.
“I’ve had sex with a grand total of five women. Beatrice was my first. And there were four after our divorce. I don’t know if it’s because I didn’t trust them enough to do that to me or what, but I didn’t want those other women getting that close. I think Beatrice broke me.” He leaned his half-filled beer bottle against his temple and closed his eyes.
A sick thought occurred to me.
“All those years that you were with Beatrice…did she…did y’all…you know?”
He blinked his eyes open and grinned. “Yeah. A man has needs, and even if it was just another means for her to control me, I took it.”
That made my stomach sink.
“Beatrice sounds like a real bitch, and I really hate her. I didn’t think it was possible to hate someone so much, but I do. I hate, hate, hate her. I want to shove my foot down her throat. I can’t believe that you stayed married to someone that vile for so long. She manipulated you, held stuff over your head to force you to stay, and generally made your life a living hell for years. I just…I just can’t,” I admitted. “I’m so sorry.”
An idea started to form in my head. One that, once it started to take shape, I knew that I’d have to act on it.
“Don’t feel sorry for me. I got some. I didn’t like who I was getting it from, but even despite being married to Beatrice, I did have good things in my life. Frankie was my girl. I had a career that I loved. Then I moved on to the salvage yard. Sure, my sex life was shit, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t enjoy other parts of my life.” He sighed and downed the rest of his drink. “I’ll be back.”
He got up and left, disappearing into his bedroom to, my guess, use his bathroom.
I worried my lip as I thought about my next step, and I knew that I was going to do it.
I just had to get undrunk first.
Why?
Because Coke was just too good of a man to allow me to do this when I was drunk—he’d insist on that.
But it was okay.
I knew I’d be able to do it—drunk or not.
Tomorrow I was going to make Coke one happy man—and in the process, I’d give him something that both of us had been dying for.
***
Coke
I walked into my room after using the restroom and came to a stop next to my rumpled bed, eyebrows wrinkling in shock.
I knew for a fact that I hadn’t left it like that. I’d meticulously made it that morning and knew for a fact that there hadn’t been a single wrinkle.
Then I saw the foot that was poking out of the sheets and realized that on the opposite side of the bed, where I didn’t ever sleep, was Cora’s drunken form.
I smiled.
Then I got into the bed just drunk enough not to see the problem with this scenario.
Chapter 18
Grocery list: 1. Eggs. 2. Don’t run into your psycho ex-wife.
-Note from Cora to Coke
Coke
I groaned as I rolled over in bed.
Not because I was hungover, but because I was horny as fucking hell.
And it had everything to do with the damn woman that was now getting up and walking to the bathroom.
I opened my eyes and allowed my gaze to roam around the room.
My eyes hit the clock first and realized quickly that it was about an hour past when I normally go
t up.
The toilet flushed in the bathroom, and I turned my gaze to stare at the semi-closed door.
Moments later, I heard the sink running, and contemplated getting up.
But I couldn’t.
Not yet, anyway. Not with this erection that I was currently sporting.
I’d have to wait until she left the room before I did anything.
I looked down at my dick, which was tenting the sheets, and reached over to grab for the comforter just as the water shut off.
I momentarily forgot what I was doing when the door opened, and Cora stepped out in only my shirt.
The dick that I’d thought was just hard a few moments earlier was well and truly rigid now.
She had on a white ‘Coke Salvage’ shirt that hung off one shoulder.
The shirt hit her at about mid-thigh, and I mentally thanked God that I’d given her the smaller one that no longer fit me anymore.
If I’d given her the one that did fit, it would’ve been much longer on her.
Which would have been a shame since I wouldn’t have seen the brown mole on the inside of one of her thighs.
She walked straight to my side of the bed and stared down at me with something I couldn’t quite decipher on her face. “Are you awake?”
I found myself grinning. “Yeah.”
In the morning, my voice was always a lot rougher than it was at any other time during the day. It’s like my voice took a while to warm up or something, thanks to my vocal cord injury.
Her eyes warmed.
“Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?” she asked. “Last night to be specific?”
I thought back to everything that we talked about last night—which had been a lot.
“Yes,” I paused. “We talked about a lot of stuff, though. Mainly about you wanting to go home.”
“No,” she said. “After that.”
She gathered the hem of her shirt up with one fist, and my eyes were automatically drawn there.
That’s when I realized that I’d never actually covered my cock.
I looked down, and yep, it was still tenting the sheet.
There was no way that she’d missed it. None.
“Ummm,” I hesitated, once again reaching for the blanket.
“No.” She stopped me by reaching over and grabbing my wrist.
To do that, she’d had to partially straddle my thighs, and my cock rubbed deliciously along the inside of one of her shapely thighs.
I felt everything inside me stiffen.
“Cora…”
“You said you’d never had a blow job before.”
I felt everything inside of me still.
“Well…I’ve never given one.”
My heart started to pound.
“And I want to.”
Then she was gently tugging the sheet down, and I couldn’t find it in me to say a goddamn thing.
The arguments forming in my head were all jumbled. They kept coursing through my mind, though, ticking off each bad idea as if it was on a time lapse.
She was too young.
I was too old.
She had been kidnapped.
I’d said those things when I’d been drinking.
She was innocent—there was no doubt about that.
I had a young kid who was eight years younger than her.
She had problems—problems that I didn’t want to exacerbate.
But her mouth. And those eyes.
She tugged the sheet all the way down, and I made one last ditch effort to stop this.
Or would have had I not opened my mouth and looked in her eyes.
What I saw there was enough to cause me to snap my mouth shut.
She knew what she was doing. I knew what I was doing. We were both consenting adults, and we both wanted this.
Me maybe a whole lot more than her.
My dick was raging, my balls were high and tight, and she was staring at it like it was the Holy Grail.
Then she licked her lips.
I almost closed my eyes but thank God I didn’t since I would’ve missed the way she turned those eyes toward mine and showed me how much she wanted to be doing what she was about to do.
“Fuuuuck,” I groaned. “Stop torturing me. Pull my dick out of my underwear already.”
She smiled, then moved her hand that was resting on my left thigh, and drug it up to where my cock was doing a damn good impression of an upright in a tent.
I was wearing a tight pair of Under Armor second-skin boxers, and the material was meant to be tight to hold everything in place while adding support where it was needed and allowing air to circulate so the boys didn’t get overheated. Needless to say, they fit very snugly, and it wasn’t easy to get my underwear off at all—which was a testament to how much my dick liked the idea of her being anywhere near it.
She ran her finger along a horizontal line that would take her straight over my cock head and stopped right before she met the sensitive appendage.
Her eyes came up to meet mine, and she smiled.
That’s when I knew that I was in for a whole lot more than a few minutes of pleasure. She was going to torture me before this was all through.
“These underwear,” she murmured, finally allowing her finger to reach its destination. “They’re spectacular. I can see everything.”
She could.
I could make out every ridge and vein, from the round helmet at the tip of my cock to the long thick shaft. My balls were squeezed up tight and high between my legs, which just made my cock push out farther.
The moment her finger circled twice around the head, my abs started to hurt from clenching them. I wanted nothing more than to yank my underwear down and shove my cock straight down her throat.
Once it was nice and wet, I then wanted to pull out of her throat and roughly yank her to her knees before shoving my cock so far into her pink pussy that she felt me in her throat again.
But I stayed exactly where I was, and tried to regain control.
I closed my eyes, hoping that it would help me, but it only made it worse.
Because then I didn’t see the touches coming. One second, she was circling the head of my cock, and the next she was sneaking her hand up to the waistband of my underwear.
Moments later, she had my cock exposed to the room, and she was giving it a test lick.
I nearly came right then and there.
Me, Coke Solomon, a man who was feeling the delicate tongue and mouth of a woman for the first time, nearly lost it.
The only thing that kept me from going was locking every single muscle in my entire body and counting backward from one hundred.
By the time she’d thoroughly coated the head with her saliva, she pulled back. “Tell me what you always wanted to try,” she ordered.
As she waited for my reply, she started to tug my underwear down my thighs.
Once they were down around my ankles, I took over and kicked them off the bed, hearing them fall somewhere on the floor.
The disorderly behavior would kill me once this was over, but for now, I didn’t care that my sheets were in a tangle on the floor, and my underwear was there right next to them.
All I cared about was the way her hot breath was inches from my cock and the fact that she was driving me wild.
“Anything,” I told her hoarsely. “Goddamn, anything.”
She snickered. “Well, this should be okay then. All I want to do is everything.”
Then she started to do her version of everything. Licking. Sucking. Tasting.
She jacked my cock with one hand while she sucked on the tip with her mouth.
And after three more pumps of that, I knew that I wouldn’t last. There was not one single thing in the entire world that could stop me.
“Gonna come,” I hissed out between clenched teeth. “It feels too good. I just can’t hold onto it anymore.”
She moa
ned around my cock, and that was all she wrote.
I came. I came so hard that I felt my spine crack from the top of my tailbone all the way up to the base of my neck as my back bowed.
My thighs howled in agony as I practically forced them to stay still and in place, effectively stopping my hips from pumping upwards and forcing me down deeper into her throat.
The moment that my cum hit her tongue, she moaned.
And I swore to all that was holy that I would make this woman mine in every way that she possibly could be.
Chapter 19
Who named them Kegels and not puss pumps?
-Text from Janie to Cora
Cora
I couldn’t tell you what I expected sex to be like.
Nerve-wracking, yes. Exciting, maybe a little. Good? Not in a million years.
Not for my first time, anyway.
The moment I took one final lick of Coke’s cock, relishing in the last drop of his release, I sat back on my heels.
My gaze took him in, from his heaving chest as he tried to draw in oxygen to his still rock-hard cock.
Then my eyes met his, and I saw something there that I’d never thought I’d see on a man’s face.
Desire.
I just wasn’t a person who expected those kinds of things to be aimed her way. I was seriously out of my league.
But before I could allow myself to get too far into my own head, Coke was leaning forward and reaching for me.
“Don’t,” he ordered.
“Don’t?” I asked, surprised with the vehemence in his voice. Was something wrong?
“Don’t overthink this,” he answered. “Now lay down while I catch my breath and remember how to think straight.”
I found myself laying down without expressly informing my body to do so, and then I was in Coke’s arms as he breathed deeply next to me.
“I think,” he informed me. “That if I’d had you and that for my entire life, I might very well be dead by now. My heart stopped beating for a minute there.”
I licked my lips, still tasting him. “Then, it was…okay?”
His rumbled laughter started deep in my chest. “Let’s just say that I think you might be doing that a lot in the future…or at least I may be begging you to.”
The way he practically growled that last part had me shivering in his arms.
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