Poker can have this same effect on people, they'll say something like, 'one more hand' and then, 'one more round' and then...'oh, hell, it's dawn.'
Bad relationships can be the same. If you have a girlfriend who says something like, 'If he does that—one more time—then I'll leave,' please smack her on the head for me.
Self-control is one of humanity's biggest challenges. No wonder we like reading about witches, wizards, fairies, vampires, werewolves, aliens, and monsters: they help us cope with the fact that the one thing that fucks our lives up the most is looking back at us in the mirror. Our biggest demon is ourselves.
I heard a sound coming from outside while I was standing in front of the bookshelf.
Fuck...
I don't get afraid easily, I mean, I watch a lot of vampire and monster movies. I'm a grown woman. Most of the time. But I was in a strange house, alone, in a place I'd never been. I didn't know anyone. I had no cell or phone service, and I wasn't about to drive in the snow. At least the weather had cleared. The snow stopped, worst case I thought, I could leave tomorrow for Harrah's.
Where was Kirk?
I heard another creak. I wasn't happy about that.
Biker gang?
Wolves?
Hungry bears?
Pirates?
Okay, that thought was just silly, but when you're alone in the middle of the woods, strange shit goes through your head. I’m pretty sure there’s no pirates this far inland.
I looked out a window.
I could see stars, no moon, but the night sky was half clear, half overcast, I didn't know if that meant more snow or if it was blowing over. I did know I was feeling anxious.
I wanted a glass of wine, and some hugging, kissing and loving. And a good night's sleep.
A noise startled me. A banging sound from the outside. Very clear. Not natural. I mean, not like the wind. Maybe an animal, but it sounded like footsteps.
I went to the kitchen to look for a butcher’s knife and then realized I was acting stupid. Like I was going to defend myself with a knife...with pirates attacking...
Ha ha.
KNOCK. KNOCK. Knock!
Jesus Christ. It was probably a set of hillbilly twins here to welcome me to the neighborhood.
'We brought cookies,' they'd say when I opened the door. 'We'd like to meet your younger sister, but if you're alone, ya'll will do, now. Won't cha?'
I was going to be tied up, raped, and murdered in the woods by biker-gang pirates and their pet wolves. Nobody would find my body because after they finished with me, they'd feed me to their half-starved bears.
Where was Kirk anyway?
Shit!
"Jessica! Open up the fucking door. I'm freezing out here," a loud voice yelled from the cold.
Oh! Goddamn, I'd let my imagination get ahold of me, hadn't I?
I felt stupid when I opened the door. "I'm sorry. I was in the kitchen. I hope you've brought food because I was about to finish off the catsup."
"Oh, man it's cold," Kirk said. "I'm so sorry I'm late. There was an accident, and--"
I kissed him on the mouth to shut him up. I didn't care about why he was late; I was ecstatic to see him.
"Get in here," I said.
He set his bag down and told me he'd be right back.
He came back with a pizza box and a cooler.
"God, I hope that's not an empty left-over box."
"No, it's dinner. It was hot two hours ago."
I smiled, and said, "So was I."
He kissed me on the cheek. "I'll make it up to you."
I took the pizza and said, "I'll throw it in the oven."
He had brought wine, too. I was happy. We ate in front of the fire, hot cheese burning our fingers. He laughed about the shitty luck...the weather...how he'd tried to call. He'd put chains on his car and promised himself not leave me here alone all night.
"Another glass?" He was already refilling me as he asked.
"To pizza." I lifted my glass, and we toasted.
He winked at me.
I winked back.
THE FIRE WARMED my naked skin on the side facing the flames. Kirk found a large pillow and placed my ass on it, my shoulder blades rested on the thick furry rug in the center of the room, and my legs were open for business.
The blazing fire was the second hottest thing combusting in our little cabin in the snow.
Kirk was on his knees.
He held my legs up with his hands, which he'd placed on my knees. With each thrust of his body, I could feel his arms stretch out and spread my thighs, while his cock penetrated my sweet spot.
Damn, I needed to be fucked.
That ligor-man sex had me pre-fired and pre-lubed. The second after Kirk had kissed me after we'd finished eating the last bite of pizza, I was stripping off my clothes. That may not seem romantic, but sometimes a girl has worked up her libido so much that naked foreplay wasn't going to cut it. I needed action. I needed his dick, and he gave it to me.
I watched his face contort as he plunged himself into me. I felt safe and cared for, which is comforting when someone is fucking you like an animal in a mad display of lust.
So I shut my eyes.
"Play with your nipples for me," he said.
There was no way he could reach them. My legs had turned to rubber, and he was holding them up. His thrusting increased in speed, faster-faster-faster, and his penetration increased in depth, deeper-deeper-deeper. His grunts and moans became deeper, more earthy, primal, lustful.
Like a mad wolf.
I did as he asked, and both nipples responded to my touch. I opened my eyes again and looked at him. "You like that, baby?"
"Oh, yeah, Jess, fuck," he said. "I'm going to explode. I'm so close. I can't stand it anymore."
His balls slapped against my ass.
Wet slurping noises accompanied his pumping, and I could feel his cock like a piston driving a train engine...bam...bam...bam. I'd never received such a hard-fast-primal pounding.
"Come on, baby," he growled. "I want to feel you, make me feel that tight pussy." He grunted like a bear tearing apart a honeycomb.
I twisted my nipples and clenched my pussy walls tight.
He screamed out. "Oh, damn. Damn, daaaaaaaamn! Fucking amazing."
He slowed his pace, worked me a few more strokes, and then stopped. I could still feel his spent cock inside me..
"Hey, I've got to come along too!" I protested.
He rolled to my side and kissed me deeply. His tongue searched my mouth for places he had not discovered yet, and while my body was revved back up, I felt his hand go to my pussy.
Sweet Lord Jesus.
He started slowly, but as I began to moan and pant, he worked up the pressure and the speed on my clit.
"Ohh!" I gasped.
Kirk placed his free hand under my neck, cradling it, he held me under his spell as if I was a fairy princess on her honeymoon. I was completely at his mercy. My mind floated out of my body, and I strained to concentrate on the pleasure being rained down on my swollen clit.
He finished a kiss and moved his tongue to my right nipple. Sucking gently at first, he gave me little love bites as I approached climax.
My pussy was so ready to explode.
"I need something inside me," I said. I was gasping, arching my back, and mentally willing the birth of a climax into existence.
He responded with two fingers while keeping light contact on my clit with his thumb. He moved to my other nipple, kissed, bit, kissed, licked, sucked, bit, licked, sucked, bit, licked, sucked, kissed, licked, and only stopped briefly to speak three quick words. "Help. With. Clit."
I didn't hesitate.
Arching my back, rotating my hips, and reaching down with my left hand, I joined Kirk in his massage of my hot-switch. I went higher into the pre-climax mode, crazy with lust, and so near the falls, I could feel empty-space open inside my mind.
I worked myself, unyielding, vigorously, and like lightning.
> I grabbed his hair and pulled as if I was falling off a cliff.
He clamped his mouth to my tit like a suction cup.
I pulled.
He sucked.
I worked my clit harder, pushing my fingers deep into the soft pink flesh like I was kneading bread.
He worked his thumb softly, like he holding a fragile piece of glass.
I arched my back and drove my shoulders into the fur rug.
He slid his fingers deep inside me and tickled the g-spot while I pushed down onto my clit with all my remaining strength, moving my fingers in a blur of speed and precision.
I knew the exact spot I needed to touch.
He released my nipple so he could speak. "Come, baby. Let it out. Come, hard."
I did.
I released with a loud gasp and shout.
The climax started somewhere deep and moved through my pussy into my clit. It shot into my brain like an exploding star. I experienced a supernova of an orgasm. I let out a guttural moan and collapsed.
I pulled Kirk's body into mine, held him tightly, and wept.
He put his arms around me, and as his breathing slowly returned to normal, he told me how beautiful I looked when I was coming.
"You were watching me?" I gasped out between breaths.
"Oh, God, yes."
WE MADE IT TO THE BEDROOM. Eventually.
It was very late, but we talked.
I'd been expecting him to fall asleep, but he seemed excited and child-like in his questioning of how my day had been. He wanted to know what I'd been up too while I waited for him.
I figured I'd leave out the fears of a biker gangbang, rogue bears, and wolves, or the pirate attack.
I told him all about the ligor-man sex, however.
"Really?" he asked.
"Not kidding."
"Bullshit."
"No serio."
"I don't believe it," Kirk said. "Go get the book and read me a page."
"It's too fucking cold. You go get it."
"If I go, you'll read?" he asked.
I'd never read a book out loud to a man before, well, certainly not an erotic fantasy book. But, okay, I figured, it might be kind of sexy.
It was.
He fell asleep immediately after our second round.
I remember him growling in my ear.
I remember we both climaxed around the same time.
And I remember that I fell asleep in his arms, warm, secure, satisfied.
He wasn't a shape-shifter, but he was a handsome stud.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
There is a perfection in everything that cannot be owned.
~ Anais Nin
Do not become a slave to yourself.
~ Jessica
I AM NOT SURE how I feel about morning sex.
I mean, it's morning. Morning. Not a time for intimacy, well, at least not until I'd brushed my teeth, washed my face, and took care of some business. A cup of coffee and breakfast sounded better than morning sex, most days.
But Kirk had changed my mind.
Not about visiting the bathroom first, but I decided I could wait for breakfast.
Might as well work up an appetite.
It felt like we were making sweet love. I know. I know. That's corny as hell, and we weren't anywhere near being in love.
I'm not even sure I believe in true love. I do, but I question it. Can a man truly be in love? I mean, really, really?
I had an intense crush, that was not in dispute.
Maybe pre-love? Is that a thing?
I didn't want to jinx anything about our relationship. And the fact of the matter was: I wasn't quitting on my journey. I'd already set up a coffee date (or two) for the week after I got back from playing at Harrah's, which was something I'd have to start getting into the right mindset for soon.
Poker took planning and discipline. So did dating and love.
That may sound cold, but if you don't want to get fucked, I mean fucked as in fucked over, you have to learn to study the game and play it well. And I'm talking about romance here. Don't think for a minute it's not a game. Even among the most truly in-love couples on the planet, love is still strategy, compromise, stealth, manipulation, and dangerous.
Yes, it's a beautiful gift, too.
But you think it's all unconditional never-ending love? Even at its pinnacle?
Girl. You're a fool if you think that.
And why should it be this way?
Are you going to continue to love him if he steals your money, rapes your sister, and sells all your shoes on eBay? Honestly?
I hope you're not that weak.
You think he's going to love you no matter what?
Maybe. But I don't buy it.
I CAME FIRST.
We were in the missionary position.
I think that's why I got all melancholy about love. Fucking missionaries, why would someone want to go fuck up perfectly viable sexual positions like the reverse cowgirl, mini-vibrator-in-the-ass, position?
Seriously.
But Kirk made it sweet and compassionate.
When I opened my eyes, he was looking into them.
He reached, with both of his hands, underneath me, and clutched tightly to my ass cheeks. He squeezed and pulled them up as he thrust downward, driving his powerful rod into me, the harder he squeezed, the deeper I breathed, and I felt the onset of another peak.
He began to climax. I could tell because his head lifted and his eyes closed, and instead of a deep thrust, he pivoted his hips into me, rocking his cock like a lever, instead of like a piston.
"Come again," he said.
"I don't think I can."
"You can. Work your magic. Touch your clit. Look at me."
I followed his lead, massaging my bundle of nerves while staring into his eyes.
He rocked harder, and his body pushed my hand into my clit, setting me off again, while he cried out that he was coming. He brought his face down to mine while he came.
His nose touched mine. His eyes looked into my soul, I blinked, opened my eyes, and cried out. Sweet bliss. Home. Heaven. Awwwww...
A bead of sweat dripped off his face.
"You animal," I said.
"Just like a hungry wolf."
"No, be a jaguar."
"I kind of like the ligor-man."
"You might have to go to war with the vampires."
"Shit. I need a good breakfast in that case."
He got up and went to the shower. Fifteen minutes later, as I looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought, bundled up alone in the blankets, I smelt bacon.
Now, that's a good man right there.
KIRK AND I enjoyed each other's bodies and minds for two more days. Then, he went back to Hartford, and I went to Harrahs in Cherokee, checked into my room, and emailed Uncle Harry to see about setting up a phone session so I could get my mind back into poker-mode.
Man-mode is awesome, but I couldn't win at the tables if I was contemplating Kirk's dick. Or his sense of humor. Or his pancakes, eggs, and bacon breakfast making abilities.
He was thoughtful, kind, and handsome. He'd told me that he understood my quest.
That was the most important thing for me.
No judgments.
No pressure.
No attempts to undermine my plan.
I was going to play the field. I was going to follow my plan.
I wanted to believe in true love. I wanted to believe that passionate, faithful, and consuming love was real.
But I wasn't going to bet on something I hadn't completely tried to understand. And I didn't believe you could understand men and relationships if you got married to the first guy that gave you multiple orgasms, even if he brought you breakfast in bed afterward, no matter how good it looked on paper.
I ended up winning forty-five hundred and change (net) for the ten days I stayed in Cherokee. I didn't do as well in the bracelet tourneys as I'd hoped, but I picked up a few solid pots in the cash actio
n. Poker is a game that rewards those willing to patiently take small losses while knowing that a huge win will come eventually to those who are tigers. Those who stalk prey in the woods.
I'd find the right man, too. By playing the same way.
I was not a sheep, after all, but a tigress.
Powerful, beautiful, intelligent. And I was worthy of the hunt.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
What a strange thing!
to be alive
beneath cherry blossoms.
~Kobayashi Issa
Life is often sad
yet beautiful prose reminds
life's full of promise.
~Jessica
OLIVE greeted me at the door.
Puppy kisses. Puppy love.
Heaven and joy.
"Welcome home," Midori said. She took my bags. I hope I'm as strong when I'm her age. Maybe the woman is a vampire?
Haiku came to me immediately and ran his back along my leg, nearly tripping me, and then he turned, purred, and rubbed my other leg. Maybe I was gone too long this time?
I picked him up and made Olive jealous.
We found a spot in the living room where we could all snuggle together.
Midori brought green tea.
"I had a good time," I said.
"Tell me all about it."
She listened with her whole being, asking a question here and there, but mostly nodding, and saying things like continue, go on dear, and I understand.
I never talked about my sexual life with her, not graphically, at least. She knew (it was obvious) when I was in a good relationship, and things were going smoothly. And I'd cried in her arms several times. Broken hearts are hard, even when you're a grown woman. She was empathic and present, always.
If I believed in a loving and kind God, who cared for us, I'd ask him why he didn't make a Midori for every little girl to talk to, especially those of us with prematurely missing mothers. She was like honey in tea.
"So dear, you have more dates on your calendar?"
"Yes. I do."
"A quest."
"Yes."
Fifty-Two Pickup: Aces (Jessica Rogers Book 1) Page 13