“What are you thinking?”
I blink, looking into Keith’s eyes as I snuggle up to him more, pressing against him gently. “I’m thinking that I wish we could just stay here like this, in this perfect little bubble, away from reality and responsibilities. Just sleep and hike and fuck, and then do it all again.”
He chuckles, tracing his thick thumb across my lips, and I pucker, kissing the pad and darting my tongue out for a quick taste of his skin. He presses into my mouth, and I suck his thumb like I’ve sucked his cock so many times already as he swirls across my tongue. “And when we run out of food?”
“There’s some old wisdom . . . country boys can survive?” I joke, licking his skin again. He tastes like sweat and sex, and I bite my teeth down gently, holding him there so I can circle my tongue around him. “Mmm.”
He groans, and I feel his cock jump, responding jealously and wanting my attention lower. Keith moves unexpectedly, pulling me beneath him and pressing my hands to the bed above me. "I think I like your plan,” he purrs, touching his forehead to mine. “I could stay inside your tight little body, your hot silky walls caressing me all day."
I smile, writhing against him, pressing my wrists against his restraint even though I don't want him to let me go. I just want to test him, make him press against me harder, force him to dominate me a bit rougher because we both know I can take it.
It’s a new awakening for me. I’ve never really experienced anything like it before. But in giving in to Keith, I’ve found my body responding more to every touch, every stroke of his fingers on my skin. He drives me wild, and I feel like a different woman from when we first met . . . stronger and more satisfied than I’ve ever been.
He leans down, kissing me fiercely before biting at my lower lip, hard enough to make me whimper. "There's just one thing. I promised you pancakes on the way home, and if we stay for another round, I'm gonna wear you out so much that we'll have to go straight home so I can be there when Carsen gets home from school."
I pout, puffing out my bitten lip. "I don't want pancakes. I want you. One more time before the real world intrudes?"
But even as I curl my hips, searching for his touch, my traitorous body responds to his promise of pancakes and my stomach growls loudly. I guess cans of chili and stew aren’t enough.
Keith smirks down at me, pushing up a little. "See? I need to feed you. I promise we'll get another chance, but you've got to be sore."
He moves one hand down my body, soft caresses meant to soothe as he traces my breasts, my belly, and across my hipbone. Sweet, but oh, so tantalizing, and as he brushes across my mound, I quiver, whimpering again.
He's right, I am sore from our repeated rough couplings, but I'm still hungry for more. I’m addicted to Keith, fully head over heels even if I’ve never said that to him again, and I want every caress and every orgasm he can give me. I arch my back, but my stomach growls again, betraying me. “Dammit.”
Keith laughs, cupping my pussy and making me hiss, both in heat and a little ache before he bends down and kisses me just above my belly button. "Don't worry, Elise. I know what you need. Food and maybe a little recovery time, then I'll make you cream all over my cock again.”
I sigh, knowing he's right. He stands, pulling me up with him, his thick cock sandwiched between us.
Keith hisses at the contact, pulling back reluctantly. "Get dressed before I change my mind," he growls mock threateningly. I'm not scared. Hell, I want to push him a little further just to find that line of control he skates on the edge of every minute of every day, and then shove him past the boundary.
So I do as he says and get dressed, but I do it with every bit of sexiness I can muster. I find my panties on the floor and bend over, exposing myself to him as I pick them up. I can feel his eyes blazing on my skin and I look over my shoulder, delighted to see his gazed fixed on me. I can see his cock hard, throbbing, wanting him to change his mind.
Loving that my tease is working, I flick my panties, getting them turned right side out before inhaling, and holding them out to him. "These are dirty from yesterday. They smell like sex. I need fresh ones from my bag."
I walk past Keith, who is as still as a statue, and lay the panties against his chest where he grabs them in one fist. “What?”
“Souvenir,” I reply as I dig in my bag, again exposing myself to him as I grab a tiny scrap of satin and pull it out, holding it up where I know he can see it from his position behind me. I dip even lower, slipping first one then the other pointed toe into the undies and pulling them slowly up my calves and to my knees.
When I get mid-thigh, Keith growls. "Stop."
I look back, a smirk already on my face. But when I see him, it vanishes, my mouth dropping open as I see Keith with my sexed underwear wrapped around his cock as he jerks himself.
"You think you're in charge here? Your little pussy is what needs a break. My hard cock needs a release, you little tease."
I bite my lip, eyes focused on his hand slipping up and down his length, rubbing the silkiness of my panties against the velvet of his skin.
I try to explain my bratty behavior, knowing it's already useless. "I wasn't teasing you. I want you. I want you to fuck me . . ."
Keith's face is hard, feral, and sexy as fuck as he speeds up, shaking his head. "Oh, no, I already told you. Pancakes. But now . . . look what you've done."
I glance down again and whimper, wanting him, and I move closer but he stops me. "No. Leave those panties wrapped around your thighs so you can't move. Bend over again and show me that wet pussy."
I do as he says, spreading my legs as wide as I can with the confines of the satin at my thighs. "Put your hands behind your back. No touching."
Again, I obey, leaning to one side so I can see him behind me. "That's right. Watch me. I'm gonna jack my cock off with your sexy little panties, come all over them. And you're not gonna move. Stay right there and show me how soaked your pussy gets from watching me come."
I cry out, desperate for his touch, my touch, needing to come. "Tell me. Tell me what you feel, Elise."
"I need . . . God, I can feel my heartbeat in my clit, begging for release."
His eyes leave mine, locking on my pussy, and he groans, squeezing his cock tighter. "I can see your cream coating your thighs. Your pussy is so hungry for my cock that I can see your lips pulsing, searching to pull me inside."
I buck my hips a bit instinctively, opening wider to his fierce gaze. God, I never thought someone could come from not even touching, from just words, but watching Keith, I’m about to come and I haven’t even pinched a nipple.
"Mmm, so pretty. I'm fucking close. You want me to come?"
I nod. He's driving me so insane with lust, I know I could come just from seeing him erupt. "Fuck yes, Keith. Fuck my sexy panties. Come all over them. Show me how you jerk yourself, thinking of my pussy surrounding you. I want to see you explode while you look at my needy pussy."
I'm getting dizzy from standing slightly upside down and from panting with lust, but I'm not moving. Not until I see what I want. Thankfully, only a few hard strokes later, Keith comes with a roar, jets of white pulsing out of his cock and ruining my panties. Well, not ruining them . . . making them better.
I'm gasping as I watch him, forcing myself to stay still even though the need to touch myself is overwhelming.
Keith's breathing is labored as he finishes, a few last jerks as he gets every drop out. He smiles, taking in my body with his adoring eyes. "Such a good girl, Elise. Not moving even though I know your pussy must be begging for release."
He stands there just like that, watching me, eyes moving from mine to my soaked slit. "How close are you? Are you about to come from watching me? From standing here with your dripping pussy on display for me to jack off to?”
I whine, mad at myself because I couldn’t hold myself back even if I tried. "Fuck, Keith. I'm so close. So fucking close."
He moves closer and stuffs the cum-covered panties in my mouth, and the flav
or of his essence coats my tongue, making me moan at the deliciousness.
He gives me a hard look. "One lick, Elise. That's all you get, you naughty cock tease. Come on my tongue or you'll have to wait until we get home for some relief. It's a long, hard drive home, baby. You don't want to wait, do you?"
I shake my head, my thighs quivering, so close to the edge I think his breath might be enough to send me over.
He leans closer, inhaling my scent like it’s the finest of wines and making me wait even longer. Oh, my God, do it already! "You smell so sweet. I know you're gonna taste like honey on my tongue, coating me as I lick you down while you taste my cum on your gag. Don't drop it, Elise. Bite down and taste me while I give you your one . . . good . . . lick."
He leans forward, his hands spreading me wide, and the flat of his tongue presses against my clit, tracing through my soaked lips, up to my asshole before fluttering there, never breaking contact but still . . .
I detonate. From just one lick, shudders wrack my body as I see stars. I cry into the makeshift gag, his flavor bursting on my tongue sending me spiraling again. My knees buckle, and I start to pitch forward but he grabs me with one arm, supporting me as I lose all control, futilely trying to breathe oxygen into my blackened vision when Keith grabs a gentle handful of my hair, pulling me up to stand in front of him.
Supporting me from behind, he reaches around, taking the panties from my mouth and letting a rush of sweet, cool oxygen flood my body. Placing his lips by my ear, his breath is warm as he holds me tenderly. "Such a naughty girl, but you took your punishment fucking beautifully."
I grin, finding the strength to stand up on my own. Keith reaches down, grabbing my still pristine panties that are twisted and stretched around my thighs and pulls them up, smoothing the stretch of material between the cheeks of my ass. “Keith . . . I have so much to say.”
“Over pancakes,” he promises me, stepping back. He takes my panties and inhales deeply, savoring their scent. “You’re right, these are mine now.”
He puts them in his backpack, cinching the top closed. "Get dressed. I’m feeding you some fucking pancakes on the way home."
Fuck yes, pancakes sound like heaven now, my body on empty after the intensity of what we just did. With one lick.
That's all it took.
We take the ATV down, Keith using some ramps in the back of his truck to put the vehicle inside before he ratchet-straps it in place. “Just one thing,” I tell him as we sit in the cab, finally finding words. “You have to promise me something.”
“What’s that?” he asks, smiling as he sees me regain my equilibrium and a little bit of my sassiness.
“Promise that if you start wearing my panties, I have your permission to include that dirty secret in the articles. And maybe take a picture . . . but I’ll keep that to myself,” I say with a saucy wink, the imaginary image of a big, rough country boy like Keith even getting one tree-trunk of a thigh in my tiny panties quite laughable.
He laughs, twisting the key in the ignition before pointing a finger at me. “Not happening . . . the wearing, the story, and most definitely, not the picture.”
We start back toward the city, stopping at a restaurant known for its weekend brunches, and my thoughts return to the promise of pancakes and coffee. God, coffee . . . I need a thermos full considering how blissfully worn out Keith has made me.
“Just a moment,” Keith says, getting a hat from the back and pulling it over his head. “There.”
"You just going in here, thinking you won't be recognized?" I ask, laughing.
He chuckles, shaking his head. "Actually, if I don't have a cowboy hat and tight jeans on, most folks don't even give me a second look. Especially when I pull out the fancy disguise."
He pops open the console, pulling out a pair of thick black-framed glasses, slipping them on. He looks like a sexy nerd, and I’m reminded of my earlier thoughts that Clark Kent could learn a lot from this guy. Then again, maybe Keith is from Krypton . . . he certainly is the cock of steel, at least.
“So, what do you think?”
“I think if you throw on a fake Boston accent, you could pull that off in the middle of Kentucky and nobody’d bat an eye,” I say, impressed that the glasses actually do a decent job of disguising him. I should know since I've had some pretty stellar disguises in my investigations. “So does that mean I get to hold my boyfriend’s hand and not have to worry?”
“Damn right,” Keith says, and he’s true to his word as we go inside. Also true to his word, the hostess doesn't even give Keith a second look before leading us to a table by the window. The waitress gives us an appraising double-take as she takes our orders of orange juice, coffee, and pancakes, and worry starts to twist in my stomach. Despite what’s growing between us. We absolutely can’t be public.
As she walks off, I lean over, trying to keep my voice low. "She knows."
He grins as he wiggles the glasses at me, totally assured. "You don’t know that. Maybe she just thinks I'm hot."
My fears are confirmed, though, when she returns a moment later with the steaming cups of caffeine nectar. She leans forward, her voice careful. "Uhm, excuse me, but are you Keith Perkins?"
I freeze, curious how he's going to handle this, and admittedly, my journalist gene kicks in a bit. He gives her a confused look and tweaks his voice a little to make it sound totally un-Keith-like as he replies. “Who? My name’s Adam. You must have me confused with someone else. Sorry.”
He flashes her an innocent smile and shrugs his shoulder. She looks at him for a second longer before sighing wistfully. "Sorry, sir. You just kinda look like him. You’ve never been mistaken for him before? He's a country singer."
Keith smiles wider. "Not that I recall. And I’m more of a rock guy myself. Ever heard of Highly Suspect?"
She smiles back, and if this girl starts flirting any more openly, I’m going to know right where to stuff my first handful of pancakes. "Nope, can't say that I have."
Keith nods, adjusting his glasses. "Good band. You should look them up."
Seemingly appeased, she heads off to check on our pancakes. I'm grinning behind my coffee cup, damn proud of myself for not laughing and blowing Keith's cover.
"Have you even heard a single song by Highly Suspect or did you say the first rock band I mentioned in a desperate attempt to distract her?" I ask. “And by the way, she was flirting with you.”
"Maybe both,” Keith admits with a chuckle. “The distraction worked, but I gave them a listen after you mentioned them. They do have a good sound. And even if she was flirting . . . I’m taken."
I smile, my heart melting at the simple statement. "You surprise me, Adam. Just when I think you’re a gruff asshole, you’re sweet too. Keep it up."
We're halfway through our stacks of pancakes when I see someone I never expected to see working her way through the tables. Her eyes cut my way and lock, the surprise obvious on her face even if her eyebrows don’t move because of all the Botox. She turns, bee-lining straight for us. “Shit. Incoming.”
Before Keith can even question me, Francesca stops by our table, all airs and elegance. “Elise, darling! What a surprise to see you! Out for a bite of brunch? They do have the best mimosas here.” She says it like she’s sharing national secrets, whispering slightly and gesturing to my non-champagne orange juice like we’re besties.
I force a smile, knowing it's fake, but Francesca can't tell the difference anyway. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve given her so many dishonest smiles or if she just doesn’t care. Not bothering to correct her assumption about my juice, I tell her neutrally, “Good to see you too.”
Francesca dips her chin demurely, her eyes zeroing on Keith. "Ooh, aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"
She knows who Keith is, I'm certain of it. Hell, Donnie and she have probably had some gross form of pillow talk about my article series, but she's playing coy. Fuck that.
"Of course. Francesca, this is Keith. Keith, this
is a coworker of mine, Francesca. She works with red carpets, galas, award ceremonies, that type of thing mostly."
Keith is polite as he shakes her hand, and I can see on her face that she's thinking he'll be impressed by what I said and by her good looks.
But what Frannie doesn’t know is that Keith knows about her too, and her hopes are quickly dashed. "Oh, yeah, those are all events I mostly avoid like the plague if I can help it. The vampires and vultures are out in force there."
I smile, keeping my giggles inside, as Francesca seems a bit miffed at his dislike of her favorite arenas to see and be seen. "Well, yes . . . I'm sure they're not for everyone. So, Elise,” she says, directing her focus on me. “How’re the interviews going?”
“Oh, great,” I reply, jittery until I feel Keith’s foot touch mine under the table. Keep it together, girl. “Keith was showing me some of his hobbies, like hiking and archery. A bit of outdoorsy stuff for the next article.”
Francesca sniffs, literally sniffs like she’s smelled something distasteful. “Outdoorsy? Sounds . . . interesting.” Her tone says she obviously finds it anything but interesting.
Keith interjects, saving me. “Elise was a natural out there. I’m sure some reporters wouldn’t be willing to get dirty . . . hiking, riding an ATV, shooting a few arrows. But she jumped right in. Anything for a story, right?” He says it with a true smile, but I can see by the flint in his eyes that he remembers what I’d told him about Francesca.
“Oh,” Francesca replies, giving me a worried look like everyone doesn’t already know how she gets her assignments. “Uhm, well . . . sounds like you’ve got some good scoop, so I’ll let you two finish brunch. I’m off for a hair appointment. See you Monday.”
After Francesca leaves, I freak a bit, gasping. "God, do you think she suspected anything?” I whisper, trying and failing at not looking guilty. “I'm pretty sure we were just eating when she came up, nothing suspicious. Right?"
Keith smiles, patting my hand. “I think we’re fine, nothing sketchy. Am I your dirty little secret now?”
He’s teasing, but there’s a hint of truth to it, and a bit of hurt too. I try to corral my thoughts. “Honestly, there’s a piece of me that wouldn’t mind shouting from the rooftops. But that wouldn’t be great for either of us right now. Professionally, it’d be career suicide for me, and you would have those vultures flocking around so fast your head would spin. And that’s dangerous . . . for Carsen. Neither of us can afford for suspicions about a flirty breakfast to get out.”
Dirty Laundry Page 16