by Tara Sivec
After a few more minutes of heavy kissing and small, remnant jerks of his hips between my legs, we both start slowing down until I loosen the death grip I have around his shoulders to press my hands to either side of his face. Both of his arms wrap loosely around me, his body now gently holding me in place against the wall instead of thrusting me up and down against it. Brent peppers a few more gentle kisses against my lips before slowly pulling his head back to look down at me, a sudden look of concern written all over his face.
“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“If that’s what you consider hurting, feel free to hurt me any time. Like, in about a half hour, after I recover. And then possibly an hour after that. Also, I’m free every day the rest of the week, including all day Saturday and Sunday.”
Brent chuckles softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair off my forehead that came loose from my ponytail, tucking it behind my ear.
“Not that I’m complaining or anything, but what was that for?” I ask softly, my body still vibrating and my skin still tingling.
He shrugs with a smirk. “I guess… Nightmare Bars just really, really excite me.”
“Well, shit! I should have taught you how to make those things on our first date then!” I inform him, cutting off his laughter with a kiss.
Chapter 25
“Well, what do you guys think?”
Brent and I stand next to Jameson and Aubrey, no one saying a word as we stare straight ahead. When Brent expressed interest in wanting to meet my friends, I wasn’t too certain Aubrey and Jameson would be up for it. They’ve pretty much kept a low profile since he’s been in Minnesota, not really going out in public all that much. I figured bringing them to a small restaurant in Waconia would be as low profile as you could get, but he was still stopped and asked for pictures by several people when we were led through the restaurant to our table.
Jameson didn’t seem to mind though, but that’s probably because it’s five-dollar burger night at Hopper’s Bar and Grill, with all-you-can-eat tater tots. That will make anyone not care about pretty much anything.
It could also be because of Trevor, the hulking bodyguard who has stayed glued to their sides since Jameson and Aubrey met us here at the restaurant. He hasn’t said one word to anyone, unless you count a few annoyed grunts as words, and he’s had a permanent scowl on his face all night with his big, beefy arms crossed in front of him.
“I think it’s tastefully inventive with a hint of whimsy, reminiscent of the Madrid-based artist, Irma Gruenholz. Looking at this sculpture is releasing endorphins that make me feel blissful,” Trevor pipes up from behind us in a super deep, monotone voice that makes me jump when I hear it, and it does not sound at all blissful.
All four of us turn around and stare at Trevor with our mouths open.
“What? I like art. I’m gonna go talk to the owner about the fire exits.”
With that, Trevor turns and exits the kitchen, needing to turn sideways to get his giant body to fit through the doorway.
“Seriously, you guys have nothing to say?” I ask after he’s gone, shaking my head at all of them as we turn back around, because they aren’t in awe right now.
Or maybe they are, and that’s why no one is saying anything.
“It’s a giant face. Made out of butter,” Aubrey finally speaks up, cocking her head to the side to study the frozen butter sculpture sitting on a shelf in the walk-in freezer in the kitchen of Hopper’s.
“It’s not just any giant butter face; this is the Princess Kay of the Milky Way sculpture from 1981,” I explain to them. “Donna Manning, the owner of Hopper’s, was crowned Princess Kay at the state fair that year. Every Princess Kay gets her very own ninety-pound, exact replica of her face carved out of butter to do with as she wishes once the fair is over. One princess’s family hosted a pancake breakfast for her entire town and let people scoop her face out for their breakfast. Another princess donated hers to her town’s Corn Festival for their corn on the cob booth. Donna has kept hers in a freezer ever since, and she’ll let anyone who asks come back and see it.”
“That makes sense. I don’t think I could eat my own face. That would just be weird,” Aubrey states.
Jameson casually nudges me with his shoulder.
“Where’s your Princess Kay of the Milky Way sculpture, Heidi?”
“Oh no, I don’t have one of those! I’ve never been a Princess Kay. That would just be crazy.” I laugh.
“Hey, your face would look amazing in butter,” Jameson reassures me with a wink.
Brent quickly steps up and wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his side.
“Heidi’s face is too beautiful. Butter could never do it justice.”
Okay, this conversation is officially weird, even for me.
Brent has been doing things like this all night whenever Jameson says something to me or pays me any kind of attention. He’ll find any opportunity he can to touch me, and one-ups any compliment Jameson might throw my way. When Aubrey and Jameson first walked into the restaurant and I gave Jameson a hug, as soon as I pulled away, Brent turned me around and kissed me, right in front of everyone. When we sat down at our table and Jameson told me the dress I was wearing was cute, Brent literally growled at him before kissing the side of my neck and whispering in my ear that my dress was “hot as hell.” When Jameson laughed at something I said, Brent laughed even louder and put his hand on my thigh under the table. It’s almost like he’s…
Oh! Is Brent jealous of Jameson?
I’ve had a few beers tonight with dinner and my judgment could be off, and honestly, the fumes from a thirty-eight-year-old butter sculpture could be killing some of my brain cells right now, but I’m pretty sure Brent is doing whatever he can to remind Jameson that I’m with him. Which is just ridiculous. For every amount of attention Jameson has shown me, he’s shown a thousand times more to Aubrey. His wife. They haven’t been able to keep their hands off each other all night.
I should be completely appalled by his behavior, shouldn’t I? I mean, I’m not his property. If another man wants to talk to me and throw me a compliment or two, it shouldn’t make him act like a caveman who wants to smack me over the head with a log and drag me by my hair back to his cave.
And now I’m thinking about Brent pulling my hair. Clearly, I like the whole caveman routine. Who knew?
As Aubrey and Jameson walk away from the freezer and back through the kitchen, I grab Brent’s hand and tug on it to stop him from following them. Walking right up to him, I push up on my toes, grab his face in my hands, and lay a hot and heavy kiss on him. A wolf-whistle from one of the kitchen workers forces us apart a few minutes later, both of us flushed and breathing heavy.
“What was that for?” Brent asks, rubbing his hands up and down my spine.
“I don’t know. I guess… butter sculptures just really, really excite me,” I tell him with a smile, pulling out of his arms, grabbing his hand, and leading him back out to the main part of the restaurant so we can finish our double date.
“Just close your eyes and relax!” I order, smacking my hands against Brent’s chest, forcing him to fall backward and onto my couch.
I start giggling like a fool and then quickly apologize. “I’m sorry! Uff da, that was a little rough. I guess I like it rough! We’re moving on to the rough stuff!”
It occurs to me that I probably shouldn’t have had another glass of beer when we got back to our table at Hopper’s. I’m not drunk, but I’m pleasantly buzzed, which makes me more word vomity than normal. I just want Brent to know that I appreciated his possessive jealousy. It was—I hate to say it, but I have to—cute. And sweet. This appreciation that’s about to happen was the reason for that last glass of beer. Liquid courage and all.
“Just close your eyes and hold on tight, big boy,” I tell him in my sultriest voice, quickly getting down on my knees on the floor, in between his legs. “Seriously. Close your eyes.”
Once Br
ent has done as I’ve asked, I grab onto the button of his jeans with one hand while quickly reaching under the couch with my other hand, sliding out the book I shoved under there while he was in the bathroom.
Oh no! I lost the page I had it opened to!
Brent lifts his head up from the back of the couch when my hand just sits there like a useless slug on the crotch of his jeans, while I’m frantically trying to flip through the pages of the book down on the floor next to my knees with my other hand, trying my hardest to make sure the pages don’t make any noise.
“No! Keep them closed! It will be more exciting that way!” I shout a little too forcefully, shoving against his chest again to get him to resume his previous position.
He still has an amused look on his face when he tilts his head back and closes his eyes, and I continue quietly flipping through the pages until the word blowjob catches my eye.
Eureka! I found it! Okay, let’s get this party started. First step, blow gently on his penis. Wait. That can’t be right. That can’t be the first step. I haven’t even taken his penis out yet! Where are the directions on how to take it out?
Biting my lip as I study the bulging crotch of his jeans, I just decide to go for it. With one hand reaching down and holding the place I need in the book, my other hand tugs on the button as hard as I can, forcing Brent’s hips to jerk up off the couch. And the button to stay firmly hooked.
Did he superglue these stupid things on?
“Oopsie! Don’t know my own strength!” I giggle nervously.
Making sure Brent’s eyes are still closed, I quickly skim the chapter I’m holding open on the floor.
She spits into the palm of her hand before wrapping it around his hard cock… Eeeeew, I have to spit on my hand to do this? That seems very unsanitary. Also, I still don’t see the directions for taking it out! Why are we skipping steps here, people?
Glancing up at Brent’s face, he seems completely content to just sit there with his head back and his hands folded together on top of his stomach, letting me take the lead and do my thing. But I don’t want him to be content. I want to drive him wild. And if driving him wild includes spitting on my hand, I guess I’m going to have to spit on my hand, dammit! I’ll figure out how to get his thingy out afterward.
Bringing my palm up to my mouth, I bend my head forward and let as much saliva as I can drip down out of my mouth. And since I’m trying to be quiet, because I’m assuming the sound of me hacking into my own hand would not be sexy, the spit comes out in a long, stringy line that won’t break free from my bottom lip.
Brent chooses that moment to pop his head back up, and I quickly slurp the spit back into my mouth in the most unladylike way, clamping my lips together tightly and giving him a big smile.
“What’s going on down there?” Brent asks in amusement, leaning forward and resting his hands on my shoulders.
“Nothing! Nothing at all! Just getting all set up to put your… thingy in my mouth!” I inform him, smacking my hand down around on the floor, trying to blindly find the book and shove it back under the couch.
Brent leans to the side to see why my arm is flailing all around, bending down and scooping up the book, while I die a little of embarrassment. With his thumb holding it open where I had it, he flips it over.
“Tie Me Up, Master?” Brent questions, reading the title out loud.
I knew I should have stuck with Aubrey’s books and not chosen something out of my current reading level.
He flips the book back around and I watch as his eyes skim the page.
“Were you… about to spit in your hand?” he asks tentatively, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“What? No! That’s just crazy talk!” I laugh.
Brent sets the book down on the couch next to him, reaching up and swiping his thumb across my chin, right under my bottom lip.
“You had a little drool there,” he says, barely able to contain his smile.
Dammit!
“Babe, you don’t have to use an… erotic manual, so to speak, with me.”
Oh, he should call me babe all the time. That was hot.
“But now that I’ve been getting in touch with my sensual side, I wanted to make sure I do it right and you enjoyed it, and there are so many confusing steps about this process. I thought you just stuck it in your mouth and went to town, and I really don’t understand why they call it a blowjob, when you suck, you don’t blow, unless you’re doing that blowing air thing on it, which I still don’t fully understand,” I ramble. “It would be a cold breeze on your member. I thought that made them shrink? I feel like everything I know has been a lie.”
I can’t believe I just said “your member”! It’s all fun and games being able to say “cock” on my podcast, but saying it in front of the guy I like is a whole other ballgame that will require more practice.
Brent chuckles softly before grabbing onto my sides, scooping me up from my knees, and swiftly placing me on his lap so I’m straddling his thighs.
So, this is how it’s done! That wasn’t hard at all.
“Listen to me, Heidi,” Brent says softly, cupping my face in his hands and forcing me to look at him. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with or ready for.”
“I’m comfortable and I’m ready, I swear! Are we moving too fast? Is this too much for you?”
“Nothing you do is ever too much for me. I will move at whatever speed you want. Fast, slow, supersonic, or grandma in the middle of traffic with a walker.”
I sigh at his sweet words, licking my lips and swallowing quickly before I start talking again.
“I like the speed we’re going. I would not mind one bit moving faster and mowing down that grandma in her walker. I want to experience everything with you, because I trust you. I’m just… nervous. I’m afraid I won’t do it right, or you won’t like what I do, or it won’t turn you on, and I thought if I did exactly like it said in that book, it would be perfect,” I explain. “But they skipped the part about taking it out of your pants, and I’m confused on how that works without catching it on your zipper. Was I supposed to pull your pants off? You still have your shoes on. Was I supposed to take those off as well? Why didn’t they say that? They just skipped right to the spitting!”
He rubs his thumbs gently back and forth against my cheeks, making my limbs feel all melty and gooey, even when I’m having a slight sexual breakdown.
“I will like anything you and I do together, no matter what it is; I guarantee it. Because I like you. I like everything about you. You turn me on just by being in the same room with me. It was also pretty hot to hear you say the word blowjob, and suck, and if we’re being honest, member kind of did it for me too.” He shrugs. “I don’t ever want you to feel nervous with me. We can stop until you’re more comfortable. We don’t have to do anything right now. We can watch a movie or something.”
“No! We’re not stopping. I just… need to get over my nerves. Quick! Tell me the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to you.”
Lifting myself up on my knees a little, I scoot forward, resting my hands on his shoulders before pushing my body back down more snugly against his lap and moving around a little to get comfortable, my eyes widening in surprise.
Oh my, he wasn’t kidding. I really do turn him on just by being in the same room with him. Obviously, because what just happened in the last few minutes was definitely not hot.
“Sorry, I have no control over my dick when you’re sitting on my lap, wiggling your cute little ass around like that,” he informs me, resting his hands on my hips to stop me from moving. “Most embarrassing story, huh?”
I nod quickly, almost wanting to tell him to forget it. When he put me on his lap and I got myself situated, the skirt of my dress rode up, and right now, the hardness in his pants is pressed right up against me, with nothing separating us but my flimsy scrap of underwear and the rough material of his jeans that is doing some amazing things down there.
“
My mom once walked in on me masturbating,” he says easily.
“Oh no! That couldn’t have been fun. But, I mean, boys do that sort of thing all the time when they’re teenagers, I’ve heard, so don’t be embarrassed about that,” I reassure him.
“It was three months ago,” he deadpans, which makes me throw my head back and laugh.
“No!”
“Yes.” He nods once I’ve gotten myself under control and just a few small giggles are still coming out.
“In my defense, it was your fault.”
“What? How was it my fault?”
“I was looking out my front window, and you were outside doing some gardening in a tank top and a pair of ratty jean shorts, and you bent over, and… yeah.”
My gardening outfit turned him on? This just keeps getting better and better, and I am kicking myself for not making a move on him sooner.
“So, anyway,” he continues, his hands moving off my hips to rest on top of my bare thighs. “When you move across the country and get your own place, you assume you have all the privacy in the world. Until your dick is in your hand and you suddenly remember you gave your mother a spare key the last time you went to visit her. And she showed up out of the blue to surprise me. I don’t think either one of us could have been more shocked when she walked through my front door.”
We both laugh softly when he finishes with his story, and now his palms are skimming gently up and down my thighs, inching a little bit higher under my dress each time he glides them back up.
“I think my nerves are gone now,” I whisper, shifting myself on his lap and pressing my forehead against his.
He lets out a low groan, his hands moving the rest of the way up under my skirt until they’re gripping my hips, slowly helping my lower body rock against him.
“Are you sure?” he whispers back.
With confidence I didn’t think I possessed a few minutes ago, I remove one hand from his shoulder and slide my hand down his chest, lifting myself up a little, my fingers easily unsnapping and unzipping his jeans now that I’m not thinking so hard about it. I let my hand slide right inside his pants and wrap it around him, which makes him let out an even louder groan.