My Number One: Kasha & Knox

by Ross, Janice

  “I know, but—”

  “We’re adults, right?”

  She nodded in response. Her hair danced forward to shield what embarrassment she must’ve been feeling.

  “Enough then.” I could take only so much talking, especially with how I’d grown inside of these loosened khakis again. Erika tried in earnest to mumble and continue with words that got lost before they could register with me. I was more concerned with unzipping the slacks and unleashing my throbbing member. I massaged the flesh while running my right palm in a circular motion from tip to root, and back down again. A dim light that had settled on the dashboard gave just the right amount needed for Erika to get involved.

  “I don’t have another condom,” she whispered then blew out a steady breeze. The car was uncomfortably warm.

  Neither of us were able to settle our breathing, so the atmosphere only appeared to tighten and contract around us. I knew how well my lengthy piece was enticing her, so when she gasped, I took that as the perfect opportunity to twist in hopes of giving her a better view.

  “Ummm.”

  “You want it, don’t you?” I growled.

  Erika bobbed her head in slow motion, as if moving too quickly might’ve twisted her fate.

  “Shiiit,” I spat out, even as my teeth locked and jaw clenched. I loved her obedience, especially the willingness to please me. I didn’t need to pressure her; not that I would. It all just fell into a natural procession. I closed my eyes, as my mind raced with images of how enticing her red lips might’ve looked gliding up and down my shaft. She moaned a slight tease, only to giggle against me. Bit by glorious bit, I was being broken down in a way that I’d never before experienced.

  “Yeah, baby . . .” Erika widened her lips to call out, but then took me in full-on and deep. Not a single area of my erection was left unattended.

  For a chick that had just finished defending her purity, she proved the exact opposite. Anyone could damn well say anything, as long as it sounded good. The only thing worth hearing in that exact moment of pleasure, however, was the popping from Erika’s mouth as she sucked and let go. And since I’d already released, I didn’t believe that cuming was in my immediate forecast, though my company’s performance was persistent.

  She took to the task with vicious resolve, determined to drain every ounce of juice that had been resting during my sexual hiatus. I held back, held on, and grasped her hair. The motion grew swifter, deeper too, if that were possible. My pelvis pumped forward then backward. I started to stiffen; severe blood rushed along the muscles of my legs. I ran my palms down my face. My groin pulsated and sparked like a burning inferno.

  I reached down, taking hold of her hair that had been spread across my lap. Thrusting forward while pumping into her mouth, she didn’t flinch.

  “Fuuuck!” I called out from the bottom of my gut. Energy rushed over my body from head to toe and back up again. I went from maintaining my cool, to just gripping onto what sanity remained, to fierce pulsations. Women were capable of breaking down the biggest, baddest men around. The space thickened. Erika filled the air with throaty moans that reached beyond mine, barely controlled shouts of excruciating pleasure.

  But then . . .

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  Just as I got ready to release, a loud thud on the window shattered our world. It snatched my orgasm, throwing it to shit.

  “What the hell?” I reacted by rushing for my pants. I was ready to blast the bastard that would not only rush up against my ride, but also cut off the explosive release. It wasn’t until the second set of knocking that Erika reluctantly stopped, though her palm stayed securely wrapped around my stiffness. Gazing up and toward the heavy knocking, Erika instantly sprawled backwards against the door.

  “Bitch . . . trick!” just barely traveled inside of the car. It wasn’t that the yelling wasn’t loud or anything. The stomping on the ride was worse than any words, even my insides bubbled up with each assault.

  “Oh shit . . . shit . . . shit,” Erika cried out. “Don’t open the door, please!” She fought to tidy off and to look more presentable.

  “What’s going on?” I quizzed, staring at the way she shivered. My right hand found her thigh, not looking to reclaim the moment or anything, but she had been damn near cowering away from me. Her head flashed around like she was trying to feel out the threat. I was in unfamiliar territory, held up with a stranger. I was in my ride, and hadn’t foreseen a threat. My best bet would’ve been to get my ass out of there, then all this bullshit would be dead to me. It wasn’t that I was a coward or anything, but when you were a guy with a past, or one that practically had to learn to control his anger, you knew what you knew. Whoever felt the need to taunt the lion might want to think twice and regroup. But then the pounding started again.

  I gazed back over at Erika before wiping at the window. I’d previously only seen a big blob. She must have seen more, or even knew a hell of a lot more than me when this all started. Things got clear. There was a big-ass man stomping away at the driver’s side door.

  Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

  But then he suddenly stopped and just as quickly moved away. Silence once again. I hustled forward, draping my arms around the wheel. I moved to start up the Camaro, but only then realized that I didn’t secure it when we were on top of the hood. So my key fob was more than likely on the ground, underneath the ride.

  I zipped up my pants while side-eyeing Erika. Her eyes averted my glare. Her shoulders rounded as she leaned forward, lightly sobbing and repeating the same phrase: “Shit . . . shit . . . shit.”

  “Cut it out!” I wrapped my fingers around her elbow. “Who the hell is that?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m dead,” she announced. Her voice faded, disappearing into the night. And as quickly as they first appeared, the tears ceased. She gulped as if she’d somehow decided to accept whatever faith awaited her. Judgment loomed?

  I was not a fan of surprises. I’d had my share in the past. The past was something I’d only wished to remain as such, even though the mistakes I constantly tried to live beyond revisited me. While the inside temperature grew, sweat collected on my forehead. My hands swiped across my face, then my palms lingered at the sides. I took a deep breath. I couldn’t help but wonder—if I’d continued to live a rigid life, I wouldn’t currently have been stuck in the damn car with a cynical girl. Sure I’d enjoyed the screw; but was it really worth the hassle, the disrespect toward the Camaro? Would it be worth it to the unlucky bastard that thought it was okay to step up to a stranger with a past? I didn’t give a damn if he was there for the chick or not. And damn, the sorry-ass punk would certainly fathom what was in store for him if he didn’t mellow out.

  “We can’t just sit in here, Erika. I think my key might be on the ground.”

  “No, don’t open the door!” She lunged to the steering wheel, fighting to keep the door shut.

  What the hell was up with this chick? “I don’t know who the hell this guy is and what he’s about. Plus, I don’t know if he’s strapped or any of that bullshit.”

  Then she begged, “Please, let’s wait a few minutes.”

  I was not one for this type of drama. I contemplated going outside and facing whatever the hell was lurking. Or just putting her out and saying fuck it because she wasn’t my concern. Or a third option might’ve worked. I could’ve maneuvered outside and collected the starter. My desire turned to getting as far away from this night as possible. I didn’t care to see the area or that club ever again in life.

  The ultimate decision came all at once when the passenger-side glass shattered, and speckles torpedoed inside of the Camaro. I raised my arms to shield myself from the fragments, and fortunately didn’t feel the remnants. From the corner of my eyes, I examined Erika.

  “Ahhhhhh!” Erika screamed. Blotches of red formed across her skin. Rather than try to shelter herself, she’d been focused on seeking out the intruder. The minute the breaking had begun, she should have turned away an
d avoided ruining her face. The screams were chilling, as if she had insight into what hung in the balance. Then a bulky fist entered through the jagged edges of the window, grabbing onto her hair. The bastard tugged, pulling her with such a passion that he almost knocked the wind out of her.

  Her arms flew out and wide. But Erika fought to remain in her seat, or even inside of the vehicle. I gripped for her body. This attempt was actually more damaging because she ended up dragging on the glass, since the bastard on the other end made sure to tug her downward.

  “Bitch!” the owner of the filthy paw bellowed out. He was literally throwing a grown-man fit. And then the bastard kicked my ride. This time the force was so much that it rocked.

  My mind scattered. Kick my damn ride? He’s looking to get shut down. I held my breath, said a prayer, a Hail Mary . . . Absolutely anything that would shift my focus away from kicking open the car door and bashing it on top of the dude’s head. These desires were no longer mine . . . Not the new and improved Knox Jackson. They should no longer be my desires. The urges should have left me ages ago. I was a new person; free to live amongst civilization, so to speak. I’d learned a long time ago to keep myself under wraps. In doing so, I had a habit of allowing things to get tucked inside of me. I was typically good at making predictions on how things would play out, though it had been years. This present circumstance, this was no longer my life and this drama should not have been mine to defend.

  How could I have miscalculated the night this way? If I had remained in the frickin’ seat at the bar, buying rounds for the hell of it and ignoring the bullshit, I wouldn’t now be forced to do something, anything, to rectify the shitty aftermath of a wild screw. As much as I’d fought the inevitable, there was only one way to deal with this here issue. I damn well couldn’t remain inside the car any longer. Taking a deep breath, I held onto the door handle, yanked and swung my feet to rest on the ground.

  “Dude . . .” My voice trailed into the air, even above the fussing that had been going on, on the opposite side of the vehicle. The jackass damn near forgot about Erika and instead rushed over to me.

  The guy’s head barely reached beyond my shoulder. He had a mass of wild black hair that came alive the more he moved around. From several feet away, large lights flooded the lot, shining directly at us. Only moments earlier, it had been dark enough to screw on the hood of the Camaro, now the locale had suddenly become Fight Night Live. I made note of the wide, broadening pupils of the dude. Not that there was an ounce of fear, but rather pity. We tussled briefly; each pushing mightily before backing up to assess the other. My shoulders expanded. His chest puffed up. Though my body was not as wide as the shorter guy sizing me up, I ran different scenarios through my mind; ones that would use my height for the benefit.

  “Bitch!” the guy spat out, spraying saliva up into the air and onto my shirt.

  “The only bitch I see is your short ass,” I fed him, not even moving to pat off the spit. There was absolutely nothing that this punk was capable of doing to knock me off my game. The dude was too hype, too overeager, and too emotional. Those traits would have anyone behaving in an irrational way, and in this case, get his ass beat.

  “You ready for me?” Erika’s man roared. I refused to imagine that a random guy would go through all this trouble. The guy was a sight—a short, stocky goon with an ugly mug. He forced toughness, phony intimidation. He stretched out his neck, then expanded an arm to display a thick tattoo of a snake trailing from one end to the other. I shook my head over the insignificant move.

  The guy lunged for me. His fists tightened at his sides until, within a matter of seconds, he stood a mere two inches away. At this exact moment, a right body punch connected with my lower abdomen. I stumbled backwards and braced on the Camaro. There wasn’t enough time to build back up before another punch flew by my jaw. I felt the breeze more than the blow because of how I’d positioned myself on the metal; in the same spot I’d just taken this guy’s infatuation, Erika. And the entire time, the jackass kept grunting and pulling for air as he jabbed for me.

  “All this over what?” I taunted as the bastard tipped a tight fist against my chin. Taking a few punches was part of the game. I wasn’t the type that ever planned for a fight or drama—never did, but somehow I got sucked into things like this. But that was supposed to be a life of the past.

  “I’m gonna—”

  WHAM!

  I landed a fist dead in the guy’s mouth before he could get another word out. Not an assault, not a flurry. Just one calculated thump in his mouth. I was anything but a street fighter, at least not at this stage of my life. Sure I had done all types of shit when I was younger, but after a certain point in life, that bull had to come to an end. I tried to shake off the memories of a life that seemed to exist within another man. The person I was might’ve been far removed from the man I’d become.

  WHAM!

  This trip down memory lane afforded my opponent the chance to get a quick one in and knock me on my ass.

  “Get up and fight, you bastard!” the man’s gruff voice demanded. He paced from one leg to the other, resembling an Italian Mike Tyson in his heyday.

  “Tony!” Erika called out, finally exiting her end of the car. “Please, you’re gonna kill him.”

  “You get over there. I’ll deal with you later.” Tony paused to look her way.

  “I’m not yours to deal with, not anymore.” Her pleading died down as she neared him. Bloody spots surrounded her shoulders and the side of her face. Her clothes had become raggedy and torn. She was now barefoot. Certainly not what I’d expected when I’d spotted her over on the other side of the bar.

  Tony shifted his entire body, closing the distance between them. “All this after us?”

  “Us? More than six months ago,” she meekly pointed out.

  “So you come out to a random club and turn a trick with some asshole?” Tony’s hollow voice rang out into the night, drawing attention from over on the opposite side of the street, well beyond the parking lot and all. But after he lashed out on Erika, he shifted back to me. “And you, you bastard, that’s how you treat a lady?”

  I cleared his throat, contemplating a response. I didn’t want to insult the girl, especially since I could still feel the remnants of her lips gliding up and down my piece. As much as I found it hard to remain calm and just reason through things, especially after looking at the damage the bastard had done to the Camaro. Sure I had his girl, or ex-girl or whatever the hell, but it was a consensual thing between adults. “I didn’t force myself on her. She gave it up willingly.”

  This time I miscalculated Tony’s attempt at a jab to the gut, and I doubled over.

  “Get up, asshole,” Tony touted, pacing sideways while ejecting air with each breath. He grunted and griped, believing that he was that important, that threatening. Tony felt his strength, like a wrestler at the top of his game.

  I hadn’t been prepared for a fight, but knew I needed to attack this head on and settle it for good. The only problem was that I wasn’t a bad boy like this guy. The punk was walking around with a short guy’s complex. Hadn’t been “bad” like that in quite some time. Not anymore. It just didn’t seem like anyone else had gotten the memo.

  Standing straight, I unfastened two more buttons of my shirt. I then moved swiftly into Tony’s space. But didn’t stop there. My opponent drew his fists behind his head, aiming for my jaw. That’s all the midget bastard could manage, since I dwarfed him. I had to give props where it was due. Tony had landed some punches, and for other opponents the guy might’ve been a potential threat. Taking a quick second to exhale all apprehension, I grew tired of playing around.

  Being one to think ahead, I deflected a blow by reaching in the opposite direction. My inches provided a slight advantage, plus the fact that I was thinner. Not skinny, just more slender and able to manipulate the setting better than this guy. And before I knew it, I managed to sidestep the bastard’s charge. I slammed an elbow into the upper
portion of Tony’s back, just below the neck and in the middle of the shoulder bone. Every inch of muscle, along with my 200-pound frame, went into the assault. Tony didn’t just stumble, he flew into a nearby truck that had been parked across from the Camaro. He was instantly winded, coughing and gasping for air.

  Erika screamed before racing in the opposite direction, only to cower behind another vehicle. Then out of nowhere another guy appeared, about equal size and length, racing like a bull. This guy’s boots created loud thuds as he pounded the parking lot pavement. The entire sprint consisted of him trash talking, even though he couldn’t finish a full sentence. I had already assessed one opponent and wasn’t mentally prepared for another. Not yet.

  The new guy’s brick-like body drew down on me. Rather than try to shut down the bum’s effect, he stood directly in the path, bracing for the inevitable. He bulldozed into me. We crashed into a nearby sports car. But I quickly leapt up from under the bearish grip. From the corner of my eyes, I could see Tony’s attempt to bum rush. Catching the overeager bastard off guard, I waited to the point where I was but a few footsteps away. Not only did I have the advantage of height, I carried a knack for cruelty. Perhaps something I’d buried along with the memories of my troubled childhood.

  The second man’s shadow blanketed the space, so there was no discretion. I sensed him nearing and swung around, crushing down with a solid jab to the fiend. “Know who you’re fucking with!” I screamed out as my fist landed in the bastard’s jaw.

  Though breathless and scattered, neither of the men gave up.

  “There’s two of us, asshole.”

  “We’re gonna murder your ass!”

  I wasn’t one to be thrown by idle threats. There was a point in life, when I’d barely reached my teenaged years, when I’d observed street brawls and near death battles. Hell, I’d done my part at screwing things up. For a time I wanted nothing more than to be caught up in this lifestyle. But that was in the past. Moreover, my break-out years had provided just enough knowledge, just enough bravery. It helped shape the cruelty. But I eventually came to live a normal life once again. Unfortunately, however, from time to time, the guy that had been left behind needed to reappear when no one gave a shit about respect, making a decent living, and doing what was right.