Cocktales

by The Cocky Collective

  We stay like that for a few seconds. On our knees. One of my hands cupping her breast, the other wrapped around her hip. My dick in her ass. I refuse to move. This is Nirvana. Not just anal sex and the blow job.

  Though, let’s be honest. It gets no better than that.

  Our scents mingle in the air. Deep breaths heave our chests. I press my palm over her heart, feeling the hammer of it. This is peace. My wife in my arms. My kids asleep upstairs. I’ll have them with me on a tour I was dreading because I hated the thought of leaving them.

  “Thank you, Bris,” I whisper into her neck.

  “It was my pleasure,” she chuckles, turning to face me and frame my face between her hands. “And it had been too long.”

  “Not the blow job.” I meet her raised eyebrows head on. “Okay, yeah that, but before that. You bringing the kids on tour with me. Thank you for that.”

  The striking lines of her face relax.

  “Mrs. O’Malley was desperate for even a crumb from her husband now that he’s gone,” she says, looking into my eyes, showing me her love. “I have you. I have our kids. I have this life with you, and you’re right. There shouldn’t be a season when we miss each other. I’ll make it work.”

  “We’ll make it work,” I correct gently, brushing the hair back from her face. “I don’t expect you to make all the sacrifices. I just expect us both to want it more than anything. To want each other more than everything else.”

  I grimace at the demand of my words, at the mandate of my heart. I don’t know how to halfway want Bristol. How to halfway love her. I need to have everything and all the time. I have only one gear when it comes her.

  All.

  But that’s what I want to give her, too.

  All.

  She smiles up at me, face flushed, her hair a disorderly halo from my fingers and fists. In her eyes, I see it all. Our past and our future. I see us looking down from the top of the world, painfully young with reckless hearts. That was the start of us. Sometimes you don’t know you’re at the beginning when it’s happening. And even though Patrick had been sick for so long, the last time she saw him, Mrs. O’Malley had no idea that it was the end. That’s why we relish every moment. That’s why, even though I may seem selfish or chauvinistic or whatever someone looking in from the outside might call it, I will fight for every second I can get with this woman.

  I believe in all the things cynics despise. First kisses on Ferris wheels. Soul mates and once-in-a lifetime loves. I believe in fifty years and forever. I’m sure Neruda has a poem, a line, that would fit this moment perfectly, but I can’t think of it. I can’t think beyond the woman in front of me, and the word “still” tattooed on her ring finger and mine. I only hear the vows poured in cement over my heart.

  I said the words that day in a church on a snowcapped mountain, and I’ll say them every day for the rest of our lives.

  Always.

  Evermore.

  Even after.

  Still.

  And today, I add another word. The one that encircles and seals everything else.

  All.

  About the Author

  Kennedy Ryan is a Southern girl gone Southern California. A Top 40 Amazon Bestseller, Kennedy writes romance about remarkable women who thrive even in tough times, the love they find, and the men who cherish them. She is a wife and a mother to an extraordinary son. She has always leveraged her journalism background to write for charity and non-profit organizations, but enjoys writing to raise Autism awareness most. Kennedy's writings have appeared in Modern Mom Magazine, Chicken Soup for the Soul, USA Today and many others. The founder and executive director of a foundation serving Georgia families living with Autism, Kennedy has appeared on Headline News, Montel Williams, NPR and other media outlets as a voice for families living with autism.

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  Short Story with Mal and Anne from The Stage Dive Series

  Kylie Scott

  Once upon a time, Mal decided to go play with Anne at the book shop.

  Copyright © 2018 by Kylie Scott

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Short Story with Mal and Anne from The Stage Dive Series

  “I’ll be taking all of these, thank you, ma’am.”

  The redheaded fox behind the counter sized up my stack of books, a pen tapping against her pretty pink lips. “That’s a lot of books.”

  “I don’t like to do things by halves. Not my style.”

  “Mm.”

  “Read much yourself?” I asked, setting an elbow on the counter and leaning in. Just getting comfortable. Also, it gave me a great line of sight for checking out the curves beneath her staid black dress. Very nice. Then again, everything about her was.

  With a cute little line between her brows, the babe looked at our surroundings. “I work in a bookstore.”

  “Right. Sure.”

  “There seems to be a theme going on here.” She inspected my selection. “The Kama Sutra. The Joy of Sex. Sex: How to do Everything. The Good Vibrations Guide to Sex. Guide to Getting It On. The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Amazing Sex. Did you just empty out our sex section?”

  I grinned. “Yeah.”

  “In need of some help in certain areas, huh?”

  “No!” I scowled. Why the nerve of her. “Absolutely not. I’ll have you know, Miss, that I am very much experienced in the carnal secrets and delights of the bedroom. And various other rooms of the house, as required.”

  She delicately wrinkled her nose.

  “I am,” I insisted.

  “Whatever you say, Sir.”

  “Why, I’ll have you know a number of young ladies have informed me I should pen a book on the subject. One even insisted that I owed it to the world to do so.”

  She frowned at my collection. “So you’re surveying the existing literature to see what’s already out there?”

  “Exactly!” I nodded, pleased that she’d seen straightaway what was going on. “Great minds think alike, and it’s possible some of my less outrageous inventions might already have been stumbled upon by some sex aficionado from an earlier age. Unlikely, but possible.”

  She seemed to hiccup in response, as if clamping down on a cough.

  I detected a hint of skepticism. “Indeed, the fact is…”

  This time, her brows rose. Waiting.

  “I’m too much for most women.” I puffed out my chest with pride. All of those hours spent sweating my ass off in the gym ought to be good for something. “It’s sad really. A burden of mine.”

  “Are you talking about size?”

  I nodded. It was the plain God’s honest truth.

  “Ego, or…” She jerked her chin in the direction of my crotch.

  “Are you calling me arrogant?”

  “I don’t recall mentioning that word exactly.”

  I tilted my head. “Perhaps you think I’m lying?”

  “Perhaps I’m not thinking anything about you at all.”

  “Impossible.” I scoffed, flinging back my long blonde hair. Such golden waves of awesomeness combined with rugged good looks. Oh, she could pretend otherwise, but I know she got off on it care of the dilation of her pupils. Women loved me. Some dudes too. When you were this hot, it just couldn’t be helped. “Who could ignore all of this goodness?”

  She just blinked.

  I countered by batting my eyelashes at her. Some say my eyes are my best feature. Cerulean blue. Like a pristine lag
oon in the Pacific or something like that. I don’t know. It usually worked, but this chick was being difficult.

  “Did you just bat your eyelashes at me?” she asked, curious.

  “No.” I flexed a bicep. Thank fuck it’d been warm enough to wear a t-shirt. The cooler months in Portland made it hard to show off my wondrous body. And seriously, why go to all of the afore mentioned trouble (gym, sweating, pain, etcetera) if not to share it. Why, it’d just be selfish to keep this all to myself.

  She squinted. “Why is your arm doing that? Do you have a tic? You know, they probably have medication for that. There’s a chemist down–”

  “I don’t have a tic. I’m just very muscular.”

  “Right,” she soothed. “Okay. Got it.”

  Thank God the shop was empty. The woman was shredding me. And to think I’d been so sure this redhead in particular would fall for my wiles. No, that was quitter’s talk. Sooner or later, with her full enthusiastic consent of course, she would be mine. Probably. I mean…given my track record, the odds were quite good. People had always said that my self-belief was one of my defining attributes. I could not allow her to shake my faith in my delectability. Not happening.

  “So, you live around here?” I asked, giving her my best teasing hint of a smile.

  Her brows descended. They were so expressive. “Are you coming onto me?”

  “What? No.”

  “This is outrageous. I’m at work, sir!”

  “And I respect that totally. You look very authoritative standing behind that counter. Like a hot naughty librarian.” I grinned again. Only if anything, she looked even more pissed. “Wait, no…ma’am. I mean, like a wizard of words, sharing her bookish knowledge with the world. Yeah. That.”

  On a scale of appeased, she rated maybe a five-percent, at best. Shit.

  “Why I think that helping people find literature is a wonderful calling,” I continued. “Spreading wisdom far and wide, helping people to expand their minds. I respect you for it big time.”

  In lieu of answering, she started tallying up my purchase. Her long sensual fingers stabbing at the buttons as she added up the figures. Such violent motions made her breasts jiggle beneath her dress in a thoroughly beguiling manner. Had the girl not worn a bra? I bet she hadn’t. How awesome.

  “You’re ogling me,” my lovely one sniped. “Stop it, please. You’re making me feel uncomfortable.”

  “Like in a hot and flushed, turned on kind of way?”

  Her mouth formed a perfect o.

  “Will you at least tell me your name?”

  Her pert nose rose high up in the air. “No.”

  “Oh come on. I’ll tell you mine. It’s–”

  “Sir, I do not care to know your name.”

  “That’s so hot how you call me ‘Sir.’ Do you do that in the bedroom too?”

  She gasped.

  “Sorry. Just curious.” I tried to look apologetic. But honestly, it wasn’t an emotion I ascribed to in general.

  Eyes wide, she just stared. “Why, I’ve never met such an ill-behaved rogue in my entire life. You, sir, are cocky. That’s what you are. And I mean it as no compliment.”

  I got in closer. “Did you just say you wanted to see my cock?”

  “I bet it’s as small and insignificant as your manners.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “No,” she hissed. Then she suddenly seemed to change her mind, her pretty face returning to stern. So hot. “Actually, yes. If only to witness firsthand on behalf of all womankind how inadequate you truly are.”

  “Excellent!” I rubbed my hands together. This was exactly how I’d imagined her falling into my arms demanding sexual pleasure. Well, mostly it was.

  The woman tapped her foot loudly. “I’m waiting.”

  I inspected our surroundings. It was your usual hipster bookshop. Beyond the large plate glass windows, a steady stream of people passed by. Normal for this hour of the day in the Pearl District of Portland. Not exactly the place to whip your dick out unless you wanted the police to come calling.

  “I can hardly just get it out right here.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, if you must know, my penis is not only unusually large and beautiful. But I’m sort of famous.” I shrugged. “A rock star, actually. Thought you might have recognized me by now, but obviously not.”

  She yawned.

  “If I get my dick out right here, we’ll have a riot on our hands.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Doubt away, but it’s still the truth.” Hands on hips, I faced her down. “I’m sorry, miss. For your and my safety, along with the well-being of all the books in this fine establishment, we’re going to have to take this into the back room.”

  With a toss of her shiny red hair, she nodded. “Fine. Whatever.”

  “Glad you’re being sensible about this.”

  The woman strode out from behind the counter, crossing the shop floor, and flicking the lock on the door. Now we were getting somewhere. It was hard to keep the smirk off my face. I looked really good smirking. “Sure you don’t want to tell me your name?”

  “Nope and I don’t need to know yours either. This way…”

  I followed her out back to a storage room, mesmerized by the sway of her curvy ass beneath the skirt of her dress. She really was my perfect woman. If only she’d admit it. Though there was a certain delight to be had in a woman playing hard to get. So long as she enjoyed herself too.

  “I don’t expect this to take long,” she said, facing me with arms crossed in the crowded little room. Shelves lined the walls, full to overflowing with various tomes and shit. “Oh, wait, I didn’t think to bring a microscope. Am I even going to be able to see it unaided?”

  “Haha, madam.”

  She smirked. It’s quite possible she looked even better smirking than I did. Dammit.

  “Try not to faint or anything,” I said, tearing open the buttons of my jeans. “It’s a bitch to catch swooning women with your pants around your ankles.”

  The girl couldn’t have looked more bored. “I’ll do my best to hold it together.”

  “You say that now, but many have been overwhelmed by the sight of my naked genitals. Why, it happens so often I’ve basically been declared a hazard to heterosexual women everywhere.”

  “Do you always talk like this?”

  In answer, I pushed down my black boxer briefs, baring my splendor to the world. Or to her at least. And there hung my dick in all its glory. “See, I even did some trimming for you.”

  “That was considerate.” The corner of her lips crept up. “Stay in character. This won’t work if you don’t stay in character.”

  “I’m staying in character, you stay in character.”

  She giggled, then straightened her shoulders, taking a deep breath. “Oh. My. God.”

  “Right? My dick’s amazing, isn’t it?” I happy sighed. “Told you, but no…you wouldn’t believe me.”

  “I can’t believe you’d show a complete stranger your goods.”

  “Hey now, you act like I get it out for just anyone and that’s not true. You’re special to me. Whoever you are.”

  “This is so shocking. I’m shocked.”

  “But in a good way, right?” I asked.

  “It’s so…”

  My heart was beating harder. It wasn’t easy staying cool when she stared at me like that. Already I was half hard, my cock hardening and lengthening. My balls felt heavy, ready. I licked my lips. “It’s so what?”

  “Thick and ropey and meaty,” she said in a breathy voice, gaze still glued to me. “What turgid magnificence.”

  “Sure, sure. I’ve used those words often myself.”

  Now she turned coy, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Can I touch it? Please?”

  “You’ve been pretty mean to me. All this disbelief combined with the harsh vibes, I honestly don’t know if you deserve it.”

  At this she snorted.

  �
�Pumpkin, stay in character,” I hissed. “How are you going to win a sex Oscar if you can’t stay in character?”

  She bit back a smile and tossed her hair around once more. Some of it sort of whipped her in the eye which had to sting a little. But she carried on like a trooper. “How was I to know all of your aggressive male cockiness actually hid the cock of a god?”

  “Ooh, good line,” I said. “Anyway…I’ve shown you mine so now you have to show me yours. Obviously. Lift that skirt, lady.”

  Her hands covered the general area of her downstairs pink bits, her eyes wide with fake shock. “You want to see my pussy?”

  “I demand to see your pussy.”

  “Oh, no! But–”

  “Just drop the panties.”

  An actual real live blush hit her cheeks. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, you see, I’m not wearing any.” Timid like, she looked away. “I forgot to put them on this morning. It was a total accident. I was just in such a rush that I plain forgot.”

  “That is so awesome.” I swallowed hard, shuffling over to her. Pants around the ankles issues. With my dick sticking straight out, it wasn’t exactly easy getting to my knees. People think you can just wander around doing whatever with a hard-on, but I’m here to tell you, the whole swollen groin thing can really be tricky to manoeuvre. My bare knees hit the cool dusty concrete floor and I tsked. “You really need to sweep out here. This is bordering on unhygienic. Not that I care.”

  “I’ll tell Reece later.”

  “Good work.” I cleared my throat. “I won’t tell you again, Miss. Get that skirt up and widen your stance. Show me.”

  “Why, whatever are you going to do down there?” she asked, slowly, teasingly lifting up the dress.