Dirty Laundry

by Lauren Landish

  Keith gathers my hair in his fist, keeping it out of my face as he looks down at me like a king. “I need to see. I want to see every inch of my cock disappearing into your hot little mouth. You can take it, Elise. Show me . . .”

  With every beat of love in my racing heart, I take him to the root in one motion, holding him deep in my throat as I press my nose into the soft hairs at the base of his cock. I hold my breath as long as I can, hollowing my cheeks against his shaft and massaging the head of his cock with my throat, swallowing again and again before lifting back up, gasping for air.

  I do it again and again, both of us getting more aroused with every thrust. With just the head of his thick cock in my mouth, I look up at Keith through my lashes like he wants, knowing the sight of my lust, my love on my face as I suck him does wondrous things to him. “Like that?”

  Keith growls, nodding slightly. I return to my task with a gusto, bobbing up and down on his cock as I keep my eyes on him, my panties getting wetter with every stroke of his cock over my tongue. I don’t go deep throat every time, but I give him all I can, licking and worshipping his cock with all that I am.

  Keith groans above me, running a soft hand on my cheek as our locked gazes tell me to stop. I pause, circling his head with my tongue and waiting for his command. “Your hips are bucking the whole time you’re sucking me. Is your pussy nice and wet for me, baby? Are you getting off on having my cock fill your mouth?”

  I nod, pulling off his cock but still pumping him with my right hand as I answer. “Fuck, yes. I’m soaked from your taste, from having you in my throat. I fucking love it.”

  Keith smiles down at me, his cock jumping in my fist as he hears me return his dirty words and thoughts. “That’s a good girl. Slip your jeans down a bit. I want you to touch your clit while I fuck your face. You don’t come until I’m splashing down your throat and over that beautiful face of yours though. You hear me?”

  I nod, hurriedly shoving my jeans and panties down my thighs. Sitting back on my heels, I spread my legs as wide as I can and slip my fingers into my folds. I moan at the slickness I find there, and Keith leans forward, looking down at me. “Is this what you want?”

  “Fuck, yes,” Keith says, his voice rough and deep. “Just like that. God, your pussy is perfect.”

  He watches for a moment, taking his cock in his own hand and stroking himself in time to my movements against my clit. We build together slowly, his fist pumping his cock while I slip another finger into my pussy, pushing them in and out in sync with his hand until we’re both moaning, my chest flushing as I feel the orgasm build within me. Suddenly, Keith reaches for me, grabbing my hair again and pulling me forward. “Give me your fingers. I want your taste on my tongue when I come.”

  I move my honey-coated fingers to his mouth, and he sucks them in, licking them clean before pushing them back between my legs. I’m watching his hand move up and down right in front of me, and I see him squeeze himself hard just behind the head, milking a drop of precum out.

  “May I?” I beg, opening my mouth for him, sticking my tongue out, wanting that drop so badly.

  Keith taps his head to my tongue, and his taste bursts across my tongue again and I can’t help but lick and lap at him for more. He moans, guiding his cock back into my mouth. “Mmm, fuck. Take me in your mouth again and rub that clit. I want to feel your moans all the way to my balls.”

  I take him in deep again, holding him there and humming, and Keith growls as he starts to fuck my mouth, his hips jerking as he fully takes over. “Dammit, Elise. I can’t hold back. You feel too fucking good. Get there, because I’m about to come down your throat. I want you choking out your orgasm around my cock as I fill you.”

  I moan in happiness at his compliment as I speed up my fingers, blurring across my clit, moans and gasps coming from us both as we get closer to the edge. Keith lets out a grunt, trying to be quiet but failing spectacularly. I can feel his balls tighten and his cock swell even as he chokes out his order. “Come. Now.”

  As soon as I feel the first hot jet of his cum splash the back of my throat, I shatter into a million pieces. I’m slurping to catch every drop as Keith keeps pumping his hips, driving his cock into my mouth, crying out in a strangled gasp as his climax overcomes him and he throws his head back, filling my throat with his cream.

  My clit is pulsing as my pussy clenches around nothing, hungry for Keith’s cock. I’m floating, darkness surrounding me as flashes of white spark across my vision behind my closed eyes as I feast on his sweetness, both of us so caught up that he doesn’t pull out but instead stays inside me for every pulsing release.

  Finally, I collapse, laying my head on Keith’s hip and humming out in satisfaction. Nuzzling his cock, I lick at the softening skin, mewling in pleasure and contentment. Thinking he’s laid back on the couch too, I’m surprised when he speaks up, his voice still full of heat and desire. “Elise, I need to taste that orgasm. Give it to me.”

  I smile, reaching down between my legs again and rubbing gently across my sensitive pussy, coating my fingers. “For you.”

  I look up, keeping my head on his thigh as I offer my fingers to him once again. He holds my hand, drawing the essence of my scent deep inside him, searing it into his mind and soul before sticking his tongue out for a long, lapping lick along their length. “Mmm, so fucking good. Come here. Taste . . .”

  He pulls me up from under my arms, depositing me sideways in his lap, and takes my mouth in a kiss. As our tongues slowly tangle, I can taste myself on his tongue, and I know he must taste himself on mine too. Somehow, it feels filthy and dirty, but at the same time it doesn’t. It’s the joining of two souls, mingling as one and making something new, something better. It couldn’t be more perfect.

  He was right. That was just what we needed.

  Chapter 28

  Keith

  For weeks, the firestorm has raged, surrounding and consuming reputations like they’re nothing. Between me, Elise, and Donnie, I’m not sure any of us will survive the ugly gossip and snide commentary from the tabloids, who seem to be playing the odds and supporting both sides of the story, even though ours is the truth.

  Donnie and The Daily Spot basically wrote Francesca off, leaving her to fend for herself as they focused on their own spin-doctoring. She went the Hollywood path, and after a few too many tabloid mentions of her sleeping her way to the top and harsh speculation about basically everything she’d ever written, she checked herself into a ‘health retreat’ due to exhaustion rather than suffer a public mental breakdown. While she’s still a bitch who had no problems trying to stab my family in the back, I can’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for her. A tiny one. But we’ve all got shit to bear right now.

  It’s been hard for both me and Elise to deal with all the craziness. The speculation was so random and out-there, I couldn’t believe anyone would think it was true. One night, some stand-up comedian on late-night TV thought it’d be funny to question the magical powers of Elise’s vajayjay to get more than just secrets spilled.

  I’d been a second away from calling Todd to see if anything could be done about it, but Elise distracted me, teasing me that maybe her pussy was indeed magical and that I should probably check it for rabbits. I had to spank her ass pink for that bit of brattiness.

  By the time we were exhausted and satisfied, it’d been too late to call Todd and I let the cruel joke go, realizing that Elise’s distraction was probably the best idea.

  But we keep watching the headlines and celebrity gossip shows when Carsen isn’t around, needing to know what’s being said about our interview stunt and the whole situation with Donnie. Even I can tell that the paparazzi and tabloid shows are repeating the same story now and that there have been no new developments they’re aware of.

  It’s all a waiting game now, the police charging nobody so far and the lawyers on both sides waiting to see who blinks first. Todd tells me that the lawyers don’t want to jump the gun early since a police report
going against us could torpedo our case even before it begins.

  So we sit and wait. Hiding out doesn’t feel right. I still feel like yelling from the rooftops that Donnie is a scumbag, maybe actually punching him for good measure since he’s using that claim to garner sympathy like the master manipulator that he is. But Todd assured me that that’s not a good idea, and Elise and Sarah agree with him. I know I’m not thinking straight on this issue, so I’m trusting their judgment.

  Other than the sneaky viewing of the shows and the drama outside our door, sitting at home has been oddly easy. We’ve spent long hours eating, playing board games, watching movies, and hanging out just the four of us.

  I work off my stress in my home gym and in my music room, furiously creating dark licks on my guitar that I’m not sure are country or sometimes angry metal. It’s helpful, and each night as I set my guitar aside and look at my red, aching fingertips, I feel better.

  It might be hostile outside these walls, but in here, we’re safe, cocooned together and bonding more and more each passing minute.

  Emerging from my shower following a good afternoon workout, I grab a beer and look out the window to the back porch and the setting sun. I can hear Elise and Carsen talking outside, but it seems like they’re speaking in code, their backs to me so I can’t see what they’re doing.

  “So go under, over, pull a loop, and then cast off the left.”

  “Okay, but what about this piece?”

  Curious what they’re up to, I quietly sneak out the back door, moving to the side so that I can see them better. To my heart-warming surprise, my girls are sitting face to face on the patio lounger, their legs crisscrossed, mirroring each other as Elise teaches Carsen to knit. It’s a beautiful picture, tender and sweet as they giggle at the uncooperative yarn. The soft laughs feel like a balm to my soul with all the anxiety lately, and I can see Elise being maybe not a mother to Carsen, but motherly.

  I never realized just how much Carsen needs that. She has Sarah, and always will, but this feels different and special. My little girl can only be happier surrounded by more love, and I realize that Sarah was right all along about my dating.

  I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and look up, where I see Sarah standing in the window of her bedroom, giving me a nod. I give her a nod back, and she smiles before stepping back, giving us a moment of privacy.

  I’m glad, because nothing could compare to this moment right here. The woman I love sharing one of her passions with my little girl, teaching her so much more than just skills with yarn.

  Elise must feel my eyes on her because she looks over, grinning as she holds up her little patch of yellow. “Hey creeper, you just gonna stand there and watch? Come on over and see what we’re working on.”

  Carsen looks up, delight written across her face, “Look, Dad! Elise helped me get two whole rows done.”

  I look at the small tangle of knots and loops she’s holding up, clueless whether it’s right or wrong, good or bad, but she’s proud of it and that’s all I need to know I’m proud too. “Great job, honey! So what are you guys trying to make?”

  “Well, since we don’t know how long we’re in for,” Elise says, “I figured this was a perfect time to learn. And we’ll start with the same project I started with, a coaster. Simple, small, and it’ll keep us busy. Be productive, all that good stuff.”

  I plop onto the lounger nearest them, sipping at my beer and watching the pink sunset light wash over their faces, thanking the fates for bringing me this moment. A little beauty with the ugly, a bit of joy with the pain. I hop up, suddenly inspired.

  “Keith, you okay?” Elise hollers as I head inside.

  “Fine,” I yell back, not stopping. “Don’t move.”

  I grab one of the notebooks scattered throughout the house and rush back to my perch on the chair, a song taking shape in my mind already. This is different from the angry, rage-fueled metal-country that could still make some damn good songs. This time, as I sit and watch my girls knitting and chatting, I feel peace and gratitude and love.

  I watch the sun set on another blessed day.

  I think about the storm raging beyond our doors and my need to keep my family safe and surrounded by love.

  Before the last sun ray dips below the horizon, I’m done. It’s not a ballad, it’s not a party jam . . . it’s something else. It’s a good one too. I can feel it in my bones.

  Born of pain and hardship, lit by love and appreciation, and filled with my heart and truth, it might just be the best song I’ve ever written. I set the notebook down, eyes taking in the progress Elise and Carsen have made on their projects and on their developing relationship.

  I’m a lucky fucker. I drink the rest of my forgotten beer, not even minding the warm suds but just wanting to drain the bottle before dumping the glass in the recycle bin. Behind me, the door opens and Sarah sticks her head out. “Hey, guys. Dinner’s almost ready. How about if we eat out here tonight?”

  “Yay!” Carsen says, obviously giving her two cents while Elise flashes a thumbs-up. Sarah looks at me and I give her a nod.

  “Sounds good.”

  “Okay. By the way, Keith, your phone just buzzed. Think you got a text.”

  I sigh, wishing I didn’t have to step back into the reality of the world outside, wishing I could just stay in our safe, cozy hideaway. But reality comes calling no matter what, so I know I’d better deal with whatever has happened now.

  Grabbing my phone, I see it’s a text from Todd. Call Me ASAP.

  It must be important because he picks up on the first ring.

  “Holy shit, Keith. Are you watching this?”

  “Watching what? What happened?”

  “Turn the TV on. Do it now.”

  I head into the living room, snatching the remote off my couch and jabbing the power button. “So what am I looking for?”

  “News. Shit, any news.”

  I click a couple of times as Elise, Sarah, and Carsen come in, likely hearing my raised voice even from outside. I find the news and see a blonde pseudo-pageant-looking reporter talking in dramatic tones, as if the world were hanging in the balance.

  “That’s right, Joanna. What we saw here today was something I don’t think anyone was expecting, especially Donnie Jardine. Police arrested him at the offices of The Daily Spot this afternoon, reportedly rushing in with multiple arrest warrants. Simultaneously, they raided his home, executing more search warrants. Police and crime scene investigators were seen leaving with several dozen boxes of evidence. No official word yet what the boxes contained. Speculation is that they contained evidence proving the multiple allegations of blackmail that were brought to light earlier today.”

  My fingers half numb, I put the phone on speaker so we can all hear. “Todd, what the fuck is happening? What are they talking about?”

  Todd’s glee is evident even through the phone line. “It seems Francesca had a surge of conscience and started naming names. You’ll get the list later, but there are some heavy hitters in music and media . . . and they fought back. A little late, considering most of them already paid him, but they’ve got lawyers that make ours seem like goddamn Night Court. And with Francesca now turning on Donnie . . . he’s going down for sure.”

  “So they arrested him?” I ask, stunned. “I mean, I’m glad he’s going to be prosecuted, but what does this mean for us?”

  “Well, Schrodinger’s cat is already out of the bag. Everyone knows about Carsen now. But you don’t need to stay at home anymore. The complaint against you has been dropped. It’s up to you, but we have a good case to go after the tabloid since Donnie committed these felonies under their employment umbrella using staff to do his dirty work. I’m gonna be honest, it’s the only way to get money. By the time the other lawyers are done picking Donnie’s financial bones, he won’t have two nickels to rub together.”

  I look to Elise, wanting her opinion. She shakes her head, speaking up. “The tabloid itself didn’t do anything ot
her than what it’s designed to do, which is report gossip. I hate it, but it’s the truth. This was all Donnie, his evil scheme and power play. Besides, I’ve still got a friend working there, so going after The Daily Spot would just hurt people like her, and she is a good person, just doing her job.”

  “I agree. Leave the tabloid alone as long as they agree to never publish a single story about my family. Ever. I just want this to be done and over. If Donnie gets his, I’m happy. Oh, except there’s one more thing . . . Francesca. Tell the cops if she is the one who leaked all of this and is willing to testify against Donnie, I won’t file a complaint against her. That’s how much I want this over.”

  I look to Elise for approval, and she nods.

  “Okay, all clear then,” Todd says. “Feel free to go out when you want. But Keith, you’ll definitely need to take a driver and guard for a bit until all of this dies down. It won’t be instantaneous, but if we’re lucky, a Kardashian will get pregnant again and that’ll be all the talk and they’ll leave you alone.” He laughs, and we hang up, looking at each other in shock.

  Carsen is the first to break the silence. “Does this mean Elise has to go home now?”

  My eyes snap to Elise as I answer Carsen, trying to decipher what she’s thinking as I jump in the deep end with no life vest. “No, it means she can go home now. But only if she wants. I’d rather she stay here with us. This can be her home now too. If that’s okay?”

  My words hang in the air, the question a huge turning point in our family. Elise looks at Carsen, the hope obvious in her eyes. Carsen, in all her innocence, seems unaware of the weight of the situation and responds casually. "Cool! I want to finish a few more rows on my coaster tonight before dinner. Pretty sure I'll need your help. And next, I want to try a blanket.”

  And without a care in the world, she walks back outside and plops down on the lounger, returning to her knitting.