“Lucky he’s gone for the weekend then, huh? He would have our heads for this,” he scoffs, wringing me back to today, and I cuddle at the warmth at his beating heart.
“Our heads? I’d tell him this is all your idea,” my smirk beams. “We both know he takes my word over that of the sacrilegious boy of a former cop who secretly fucks his daughter when he’s not around…or not looking.”
“Ha-ha. That was seriously the best we have ever had. He was right there in the next room!” he gladly looks up at the ceiling in nostalgia. His prick warms up again. Another round should be upon us soon.
“Spencer…”
“Yes, Jasmine?”
“I can’t wait for us to finally get out of Crimson. I hate it that we have to be sneaky all the time around him.”
“I thought you loved the mysterious intensity?” he asks, his lips touching mine as he speaks.
“I know…we both do. It’s just…”
“Tiring, huh?”
“Yeah. And I want us to hold hands in public. I want to kiss you day in and out with no show for fear of him finding out about us. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, without the constant checking of his forked tongue behind our backs.”
He looks at me longingly, and the glow starts from his eyes, down to his twitchy nose. Lastly with his lips, that curve into a twisted sense of glee.
“You took the words right out of me. And pretty soon, my breath.”
“What do you mean?”
I get my answer when he slips right into me and rides me slow and hard with his lips gently suckling at mine. We make love for hours on end, with no rush, with no end in sight. Only the reward of a warm arm to sleep on kindles my sleep after sunset and his slow unabated snore to boot with it as we sleep in each other’s arms.
Chapter 2 – Spencer
In my dreams, I can hear a score abound. Violins play with the heart of laughter, and cry with a touch of sorrow. The strings push and tug, warming the essence that is ever more between my lips and hers.
Jasmine…it’s a name that I cannot say without skipping a leg or two in my heart. I think of her all the time, wishing her well, kissing her to sleep, fucking her to awaken. The couple of years that I have known her have been something of a dream really. I keep my eyes shut, reminiscing in the way she spoons into me, how her blonde and perfectly imperfect hair falls on her strong yet undignified shoulders. I always joked about her joining the football team, but she was never into sports, not even for the ass-wagging in the cheerleading team.
We were at a coffee shop, the last call at 9 in the chirpy brisk of night. I was getting some coffee to go at the local Starbucks, the homework that night was immensely torturous. I needed the pick me up to finish my measly report on the history of the Incas for a special project. Later on, I laughed at how weird it all was, how all of it started with the pursuit of a silly grade.
“Winters.” The attending brood called out my name. ‘Rooster’ was a cool guy, but his thick glasses and his under qualified knack for human socialism killed it for him in class. We called him rooster for his appetite with the ladies; always chasing but rarely catching. He needed the job for money, and friendship. We all did. Well, I speak for myself.
I rose with Macbeth at my feet, hollering wildly at the fresh new scents all over the coffee house. She was a mesmerized brown little friend of mine who gave me comfort whenever I found my eyes watering. I loved her for the look she gave me whenever I went to the bathroom. She always wanted to come in, and after one look of what goes down in the vortex of poo, she never followed me again.
Just as I went for the hot cup of Joe, bam!
Blonde is all I saw. The mop of hair rammed through the door with a pink laced scarf hurtling behind the scent of pure lavender. My coffee on the ground, Moose pursing his lips at the future clean-up he was bound to do, and my hand burning from the sugar and honey-spunk blackness I was to enjoy.
What more could a guy do but run after his aggressor? Nothing but laugh it off first, of course. My feet swiftly followed.
“HEY!” I yelled. Man was she quick. It was like she had a tire on her sole, like burning rubber on high gear she went. She did not stop for nothing or anyone, running through the street like a madman hoping for redemption from his old gods, or his new ones.
“HEY!”
A car ran through the distance between us. There I was, running as fast as my feet could fly, and yelling my lungs out, and yet she kept on going like a danger was about the turn of her coat. The darkest alley that I could see, where I hoped she was avoiding, was where she went through; a cat through the cracks of the wall, unseen, unheard, only but a whisper in the light.
“Hey.”
Timidity must be my best suite, knowing how nasty the nights in this neighborhood turned on a girl my age, let alone the son of a former dead cop. Yeah, I miss the old man, but some day his name is gonna get me into a heap of trouble. I slowed down to pant and catch the little of the stank breath I could get from the piss-stained walls. The gutters must have been fresh with rust, and teeming with new kinds of life. My gaze darted across the narrow garbage heap, and I am as sure as I was then that there was a dead body in between the cracks of spoilt pudding and rotten cabbages.
There she was. Cuddling like a child to her knees, sobbing. I could hear the silent whisper of a prayer escape her lips. All that time it took me to realize and wonder why I had chased a girl I had barely known all through the town and into the oddest place I could ever have found myself in at that hour of the night. It was instinct, the paternal and patriarchal rite that was passed down from lawman to son.
Even the burn on my hand had gone by the time I called her out.
“Excuse me, Miss? I’m sorry to have chased you down that road like a maniac, but I couldn’t help but wonder…why you dropped my coffee and ran?”
Snarky with a touch of class. I had to learn from the best.
Her face slowly lifted from the wet lapels of her coat. In the gleam of the sudden moon light, I could see her eyes. They startled me at first. The gems on the girl…it was seeing through me, her soul. I could tell she knew my entire life, past, now and the rest, with one look from her blue eyes. It must have been the speed of the moment, but they reminded me of the ocean. Clear as day and pure as silk; that was a friendship I could not let pass by.
One hand offered, accepted, and we were friends.
“Hey guys…you wanna tango tonight?” a creepy sooth of a voice crackled from the edge of the alley. The dark was enough; the creeps shadowed by it even more. I grabbed her firmly by the hand and hoisted her up.
“Run!”
She tussles alongside me. I open my eyes to see the slightly cloudy sky staring at us; whether brooding or smiling I could not tell. The morning has come quickly, more than I could have anticipated. The bed is in a tangled mess, the sheets strewn all over and only the nakedness of our drying bodies keeping the other warm. Jasmine is still asleep, slightly snoring. Her perky breasts, my lil’ biscuits, as I so ravishingly call them, hang loosely but swell tightly at the gentle rub of hair on my chest. I look around her room, and just laugh at the messiness that screams from the walls. Posters of band boys and Shakira on the right wall, her radio surround system tuned to the only rock station in the county on the left, a mural of a goose watching a man feed on bread on the oblong ceiling and her dresser filled with boots to fill a coffin. Macabre of me to think so, I know, but what is life without a touch of the inevitable?
I’m really glad her dad is gone. The asshole, pardon my Russian, is a prick in the neck infinity times over. I have never understood why he hated me so much, more with a passion than I could fathom. I always surmised that the world is better off with pompous negatives that would show the future generations what it would be like to be better than them. He was and still is an exception to the tally. But my hope lies in Jazz. She turned out better than I did.
There is now way we would be in bed together had he not gone on h
is ‘business trip’. Yeah, I never trusted a man who would never say where he went, even for the good of the realm, or whatever that means. He just left her money and the phone number for the chef on call in case she got hungry, and never, not even once, did he care to ask her how she was doing. He has this overpowering God complex that trumps even the guy that made the platypus. Seriously though, why go there bro?
Jazz is the kindest girl I know, and my first. Yeah, my first in that sweet department of nocturnal activities that involves tongue-wars and cuddling nethers. Ever since we ran from that weird ally back then, over two years back, we’ve never looked back. My hand was still in hers when we stopped running. And then, she started laughing her head off.
We were atop a hill on the outskirts of the city next to my high school’s football grounds, and conceivably safe.
“Why…we ran from a perv and all you can do is laugh?”
“Oh come on. Lighten up. That was funny. He…he had levels of high only the Empire State understands, and he wanted to tango! Ah.”
“I still don’t get it. Why would you find that funny?” I asked, my hand really loving the attention from hers.
“Well, let’s see shall we? My dad left the country for business two days ago, clearly forgetting that it’s my mom’s anniversary today since she died from her body turning against her and kissing her with cancer. Then I get to the coffee house and sit down, reminiscing on how epic it would be to have a conversation about boys with her since there is a couple at the back snogging with their hair all tussled up. And then I get horny and really want to smash something and yell out and cremate something with the fire in my heart that’s spewing out tears, but all I could do was stand up and run. And then I run into a guy, you, getting his coffee and push through him, hoping to get ran over by anything on wheels, even a kiddy bike, just so that he could notice. And then I get into an alley to cry my heart out and almost stab myself to death with a piece of gum tied to the crusty metal, and yes I know how that came out, and now you’ve been holding my hand EVER SINCE THAT CRAZY-ASS PSYCHO WANTED TO FUCK US!”
Well, shit.
A web of silence fell. She took in a breath of air and in the ensuing quiet, let my hand go and wiggled hers onto her red face. She had really held that in for a long time, I presumed. The chirping of the crickets jumped here and there, gnawing at the cold of night, urging us to go back home and sleep our worries away. But this is no fairy tale. That I am sure of.
“As far as first impressions go, you deserve a title,” I said, smiling. It’s the only way I know how to calm her down. Mum usually says it’s my winning quality.
“Ha! Ah fuck…why not give this a go?” she said, lifting her face from her sadness, her gaze shifting sharply towards me.
“Give what a go?”
Her hand was outstretched in the floodlights far from us, and only a flickering street bulb with a bug for company illuminated the fate signed around us.
“I’m Jasmine…Jasmine Turner. It is really nice to meet you in the darkest of places, and I truly do not apologize for spilling your coffee.”
“Oh, the nerve on you,” I smirk, outstretching my own to meet hers. “I’m Spencer Winters, delighted to meet your acquaintance lady of the fray.” Then it smashed into remembrance,
“Fuck! My dog!”
The pact was made, and a friendship bonded. Over the months that came and went, we stopped being mundane and decided to flourish what more we could become. On a certain warm morning early in spring, we were on a hike in the forests outlying our town, trying to see who would be the fastest in climbing trees. She was no match for my core training. That was what I thought until I saw what she could do with a rope, bare feet and a band behind her head, twisted around her long hair.
“You were saying?” she smugly asked, from the top of the tree.
“Oh, you’re definitely buying coffee,” I defiantly shook. She dropped down and gave me a hug. It lasted a minute before she realized our arms twined and eyes stuck on repeat, looking and savoring the sight.
“Are you gonna kiss me, or will you wait till we’re old and I’ve beaten you in every game invented?”
I didn’t kiss her, but smacked her ass and ran away. She chased me after, yelling bloody murder in my wake as I tumbled down the hills to my mom’s car. It wasn’t where I wanted our first to be. Not entirely true…
The fair had been in town for a couple of days, and I had decided to treat her. Macbeth had just died from a severe case of pneumonia, and with the three of us taking turns to watch her sleep every night, that is, Jazz, my mum Serena and myself, we could only do what was right and put her down, far from her misery. I couldn’t sleep for days, or even talk to mum about anything. Jazz and she came up with the idea to roll me in some funny mud that weekend.
I had no control over what I could eschew or welcome, but my six-month-long relationship was something of a marvel with us. My lips could never say yes, and I wanted to be her special knight. Keeping from being together in bed was the only way I knew how. My virginity intact, I accompanied my girl to the lights and disheveled action.
I won a teddy for her, but even in the flair and color of the occasion, she could tell I was distraught.
“Spencer, please lighten up. I miss her too.”
“I know baby…I know.”
She nudged her lips together and grabbed me by the arm, holding it tight. Her hips were a delight to feel around my waist, especially when she got close enough to kiss me and I moved away. Yeah, yeah, hard to get with one’s own girl isn’t in the books, but I had my reasons.
“I have something to show you in the car. Would it be okay if we left this noise and went somewhere quiet?” I asked, praying for zero suspicion.
“Okay, soldier. As long as it’s not I any weird cult that needs my spleen or anything.”
“No, it’s a factory that deals in blue eyes and appendixes. I doubt you’ll need yours in the long run Jazz.”
A nudge in the ribs for one joke. I flipped for the key in my pocket and opened her door for her. Comfy and set, I revved the ’69 Camaro and tore the open road. Mum had a thing for cars, and couldn’t sleep for two days cleaning her inheritance from old Grandpa Milks.
“Where are we going baby?” she asked. I smiled, knowing. “Trust me Jazz…just trust me.”
She resigned to the chair and napped a little, her right hand warming my left as I drove. Finally, I got her to the top. I woke her up. She nudged my arm with her teeth.
We were at the top of Bishop’s Cove, the tallest point in the town hidden by the trees and alpines. I walked her out of there and held her fidgeting and clammy hand.
“Spencer…no one’s ever come up here in years. How did you-?”
“My dad’s old files. I saw a route on one of his old maps only law enforcement uses to get here. But that’s beside the point. Look!”
A star, burning bright, stormed the sky in a snap of the finger. It illuminated what was left of the town, the far edges of the cities beyond. It was a sight to have, and I took her there to share something.
“Our beginning.”
“What?” she retorted, perplexed.
“I brought you here, Jasmine Turner, to share with you our beginning.”
She had no time to respond. My hands flew to her hips, my pelvis ground her to the hood of the car. Her mouth was cold, and it was my sole purpose to warm them. Jasmine was as beautifully tasted as I could ever have imagined. The taste of honey balm and cotton candy was hers that night. Our first kiss was as summer is to spring.
My body couldn’t take her clothed, and neither could hers. I ripped away my shirt, and tore apart her pants with my teeth. My lips found their goal and my tongue its victim. I gave to her what I would never give to any other woman.
My heart.
The memory is sweet and enriching. Love at the Cove, my spunk into hers, loving and cherishing each and every moment with her. She only got my plan after we had screwed each other in the star ligh
t. I had feigned an extra bit of worry, oh shut up Macbeth, we both wanted me to get laid. And it got mum to give me her car to go out on a date that they both wanted me to have. In haste, I had taken precautions and bought condoms for the occasion, and stolen a peek at dad’s old case files. Sure, Bishop’s Cove was notorious for the number of suicide’s committed from its tongue over the years, but it sure as hell could never beat the view.
I look at her, and she is up. Her teeth are wide and bright, a tad of morning breath a non-deterrent. Even her baby blues are awash with some of the sticky goodness that we all wake up to and zombie our way out of.
“Morning sleepy,” I start.
“Morning baby.” She is still sleepy I can tell. Only one way to get her rolling. “Can I suck your eyes?”
“Goat man strikes again I see.”
“Hey, you can’t deny how much it got you wet that one time.”
“One time Spencer! It was just once and you told me it would get the bug thing out of my eye.”
“Ah, denial. It’s such a beautiful thing to savor in the morning. You just wanted to get out of studying, and anything from a make-out session to an eyeball suck could have gotten the job done.”
“Hey! You offered the suck man, don’t go there.”
“Mmhmm…and who got an A after that refreshing suck?”
“Umm, we both did? Your dick got his too, remember?”
“Ah, how could I forget?”
Proximity is compromised. I tongue her lip, and then go in for the kill. I suckle her and so does she. Morning kisses are the best. They give an opportunity to a standing ovation from the lower decks. But I’m slightly chaffed. This might need more than just a shower. I’m thinking some baby oil and enough rest for two days.
“Is that it? One kiss after poking at my integrity?” she asks, defiantly pushing her breasts inward and straddling me with one leg on my side.
Triple Pass: An MFMM Reverse Harem Romance Page 35