His Taste: A Dark Small Town Romance

by Hamel, B. B.

  I sigh and flip her off as she’s leaving. For a second though, I swear she can see it, but she doesn’t turn back around.

  I sigh and go back to work. Any lingering pleasure from that kiss is completely gone after that bizarre run-in with Jessamine.

  I get back to work, moving my way through the rooms. It’s easier today, since not much dirt’s accumulated since yesterday, but I straighten it all up. In some rooms, it looks like someone’s been in the beds, or rummaging through the drawers. It’s strange, since I think only three people live here, but I don’t think anything of it. Even the Hammetts can have friends stay over.

  Finally, when I’m finished, I put away my things and knock on Case’s study door. He answers after a minute, opening up and looking out at me.

  “Done for the day,” I say.

  He nods. “Just a second.”

  He disappears back into the study. I stand there, waiting for a couple minutes, before he finally arrives.

  “I’ll walk you to your car,” he says.

  “You don’t have to.”

  “It’s fine. Come on.”

  I follow him down the hall and out the front door. I still have to park on the street, since they never open the gate for me. I follow Case down the pavement, stepping up next to him.

  “How was it today?” he asks.

  “Fine,” I say. “Map room is clean now.”

  He laughs. “Thank god. I’ve been dying to get in there.”

  “Now you can see how wrong people have been about the world.”

  “Oh, good. As if the internet didn’t tell me that already.”

  I laugh lightly. Whatever reservations I have about working in that house always seem to disappear when I’m around Case. His weird sister, his creepy butler, they cease to matter. All I can do is focus on him, on his handsome face, his sharp eyes.

  “Listen, your sister said something odd to me earlier,” I tell him as we slip through the side entrance gate and stop next to my beat-up old Camry.

  “You talked to Jessamine?” He sounds smooth and calm, almost like he’s trying too hard.

  “She cornered me in the kitchen. Said something about… your dad.”

  He flinches. Just for a moment, but it’s there. I can see the anger flash up and disappear just as quickly.

  “What did she say?”

  “Just something about the rumors and your dad. I don’t know, it sounded like she was implying he had something to do with them and that I should ask you about it.”

  He watches me very carefully for a moment before speaking. “My father is dead,” he says softly. “He’s not worth talking about.”

  I frown. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

  “It’s okay,” he says quickly. “It’s just, he wasn’t a nice man. Those aren’t good memories.”

  I glance away. I know something about having a shitty father. I know how that can hurt.

  “It’s fine. You don’t have to talk about it.”

  “Maybe one day I’ll tell you that story.” He says it softly and steps closer to me. I look up at him, up into his beautiful eyes, and I can feel myself getting lost again. “Don’t give Jessamine too much attention. You’ll regret it.”

  “I’m not sure that’s what I’m going to regret.” I say it softly, almost a whisper.

  He laughs gently. “Are you thinking about earlier?”

  I nod. “Should we talk about that?”

  “God, no.” He steps closer and his hand touches my cheek. “We don’t have to talk at all.”

  And he kisses me again, hands on my hips. I stumble back and bump up against my passenger side door as he presses me there, his tongue in my mouth, his taste flooding through me.

  Some vague and distant part of my mind thinks I should stop this. I should step away. I have to work with this man, have to come to his house, have to clean for him on my hands and knees. I shouldn’t get involved.

  He’s a Hammett. He’s scary, rich, perfect. He’s so far out of my league, it’s impossible to even see him from here.

  But I can’t stop myself. Not when his hand grips my hair again, pulls it back. Pain lances through me, mollified by his lips against mine, his tongue in my mouth. His other hand slides down my body, sending shivers down my spine.

  He grabs at the back door handle and pulls it open. Thankfully, nobody ever locks their doors around here. He pulls me back from the car and steers me into the back seat.

  I crawl back away from him as he comes in on top of me. He kisses me, lips hot against mine. I pull his hair, gripping it, as his body presses down on top of me.

  “Fuck, girl. I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he whispers. “Did you really think you could leave without giving me another taste?”

  I groan as I feel his hand push my legs apart. I wiggle my hips as he teases me overtop my panties, rubbing slowly, driving me wild.

  “We shouldn’t,” I manage to say finally. “I work for you.”

  “Even better. You’ll be here every day, ready to do what I say.”

  “No,” I groan, but his hand keeps doing whatever he’s doing, rubbing my pussy, teasing me, driving me wild. “I can’t. I mean, I can’t do that.”

  “You can, little Eden. You’re going to open your legs for me, let me tongue that pink little pussy, and when I’m finished, you’re going to beg to come back. Do you understand?”

  I moan, deep and low. It’s an animal sound but I can’t help myself.

  “Case,” I groan.

  He leans back and grips my pants, tugging them down. He slides them over my round ass and gets them down around my ankles. Next come my panties, and I’m half naked, panties and yoga pants around my ankles, my knees spread wide.

  He kisses me again, fingers teasing my pussy now, bare and wet and open for him. I’ve never felt so fucking exposed in my entire life.

  I’ve never felt more excited.

  The Hammetts live on a quiet street. There aren’t many neighbors around, and definitely nobody out on the street. But if someone happens to walk past, they’ll see me, giving myself to him. They’ll see Case Hammett teasing my pussy like I’m his plaything.

  The simple thought drives me absolutely wild.

  I bite his lower lip, making him grunt. He presses two fingers deep inside and not gently. I gasp and he grips my hair, pulling it back, fucking my pussy with his fingers.

  “Oh, shit,” I groan.

  “I think you like pain, don’t you, little Eden?” he asks. “Sweet Eden, begging for it to hurt. Say you want me to make it hurt, sweet Eden.”

  “Oh, god,” I moan. “I want you to do whatever you want.”

  “Tell me to make it hurt.” His lips are against my ear.

  “Make it hurt, Case.”

  He pulls my hair and drops down between my legs. His mouth is on my pussy in an instant, tongue licking all around, working my clit, teasing me, biting and sucking.

  I grip the seat with my left hand and press my right flat against the window above my head. His hands grip my legs as he licks me, eats me, and I can’t do a thing but throw my head back and moan.

  I’ve never felt anything like this before. He knows what he’s doing. His fingers are skilled, incredibly skilled. It’s like he can read my body like a book. As soon as something feels good, he keeps doing it, pushes my boundaries, makes the pleasure multiply.

  I grab his hair, roll my hips. I can’t believe this is happening, but I also can’t think of anything else in the world. It’s his mouth, his sweet mouth, driving me totally wild.

  His fingers slide inside my pussy as he works my clit. I roll my hips as he slides them in and out. I can feel sweat beading on my skin, my skin turning red, flushed with desire.

  He looks up at me, fingers still sliding in and out, fucking me. “I need to hear you beg for more, Eden.”

  “Please,” I groan.

  “I need you to tell me how good it feels.”

  “It feels so good.”

 
“Tell me I’m the only man to make you feel this way.”

  “Oh, god, it’s true. It’s so true.”

  His smile is vicious and incredible. “That’s right, sweet Eden. You’re all mine now, aren’t you?”

  “Oh, fucking god,” I moan as he drops back down. His tongue goes at me again and it feels like he’s moving twice as fast.

  I can’t last much longer. It feels too good, too intense. My back is arching, my body is tensing. I can feel the orgasm building.

  And it’s like he does too. He doubles his efforts, fucking my pussy, tonguing my clit, driving me over the edge into that incredible explosive abyss.

  “Fuck,” I gasp, back arching. I grab his hair tight as the orgasm starts to rock through me. “Fuck,” I repeat, coming.

  He doesn’t stop. He’s relentless as he works my pussy through the orgasm. I feel like I come for hours, wave after wave of ecstasy. Pure pleasure, intensities all through my skin. I basically black out as I toss my head back and let it all wash over me.

  Slowly I start to come back to myself. I’m sweating, panting. I’m dripping onto the seat.

  He smirks at me. He sits up, leans back, licks his fingers.

  “Good, Eden,” he says. “Very fucking delicious. I knew you’d be exactly my taste as soon as I saw you.”

  I sit there, blushing, panting. I slowly manage to get my panties and pants back up as he steps out of the car.

  He leans against the hood as I adjust myself. His words keep ringing in my ears.

  I’m his taste. I’m his taste.

  I slowly slip out and walk up to him, arms crossed. “Uh, so—”

  He holds out a wad of cash.

  I stare at it, horrified.

  He grins at me and laughs. “For today’s work,” he explains. “Don’t worry. You’re not my whore.”

  I glare at him and snatch the money away. “I know that,” I snap.

  “Of course you do.”

  He reaches for my chin, but I bat his hand away. “Asshole,” I say.

  He laughs like he’s happy he ruined that moment and walks toward the gate. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, sweet Eden,” he says.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  He laughs again and waves, slipping past the gate and walking back up toward the house.

  I sigh and watch him go. That whore comment really pissed me off, and I’d probably be livid right now if it weren’t for the fact that I’m still floating from that orgasm.

  I’ve never come like that in my entire life. I’ve never even gotten close. I didn’t know I was physically capable of coming so hard.

  “Shit,” I whisper and get into my car. If I wasn’t in the deep end before, I definitely am now.

  At least work just got a lot more interesting.

  6

  Case

  I’m practically high off her for the next couple hours. Even Jessamine can’t ruin that.

  “You’re going to break that girl, aren’t you?” she asks me, poking at the fire in my fireplace with a metal fire poker.

  “Not everyone’s a praying mantis, Jessa.”

  She looks back at me. “How’s that?”

  “Praying mantis women rip the head off their mate when they’re finished.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “Oh. Gruesome. Sounds hot.”

  “Thought you’d like that.”

  She sighs and sits back, holding the hot poker up in the air. “Seriously, Case. You know your history. That girl is practically toast already.”

  I keep myself under control. I know what she’s doing.

  She’s been doing it for years.

  Pushing me, taunting me. Trying to get me to make some mistake, to do something she can use against me.

  Because if I hit her, scream at her, throw her down the stairs, she can take everything away from me.

  Sooner or later, she’s going to try anyway. But for now, she’s still content to push my buttons.

  Fortunately, I’m not my father. Unlike the only other male role model she’s ever had, I don’t beat women. I don’t hit them. I don’t scream at them.

  I don’t choke them until they turn blue.

  I shut my eyes for a second, banishing the memory. When I open them again, the hot poker is inches away from my face.

  I pull back. “Fuck, Jessa.”

  She laughs and twirls the poker away from me. “Oh, relax, you big baby. I’m not going to burn you.”

  I clench my jaw and stand. “I’m going out.”

  “Oh, of course you are. Can I come too?”

  “No,” I say. “And you know why.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, whatever. The deal.”

  “Don’t forget about it.”

  She makes a mocking face. “Don’t forget about it,” she mimics in an unflattering tone. “Seriously, Case, you sound like such a dork.”

  “Good.” I brush past her. “Tell Fox I’ll be back later.”

  She sighs and I don’t look back as I retreat upstairs into my bedroom. I get changed, back into my disguise, the clothes that help me blend in with the local Pine Grove people.

  I shouldn’t go back to Hammy’s, not after last night. I should stay away for a few nights at least.

  But I can’t stay here. If I do, I’ll drive myself insane thinking about Eden’s sweet, delicious little pussy against my tongue.

  So, I get changed, head out the back door, and take one of the cars out into the night. I drive the long way, enjoying the fresh air, before I park and go inside.

  Hammy’s is like a warm embrace. As much as I try to pretend like I’m above all the stupid lives of these small-minded, small-town assholes, I love this place. I love the people talking, the drinking, the way everyone pretends like everything is just fine, at least for the night.

  I sit at the far end of the bar, trying to blend in. I nod at Mae and she brings me my usual, the best whiskey in the place, which isn’t great.

  “You good, boss?” she asks.

  I grin and shrug. “Sure. I’m not the one with a broken nose.”

  She laughs. “Everyone’s been talking about that.”

  “Yeah? What are they saying?”

  Her smile falters. “Folks aren’t happy about the layoffs,” she says finally.

  I sigh. “Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

  “It’s not your fault, Case. But they blame you anyway.”

  “And they’re pissed I broke the golden boy’s nose, huh?”

  “Pretty much.” She smiles sadly. “Sorry, kid.”

  “Yeah, well. I’m fucking used to it.”

  “I bet you are. Anyway, folks just didn’t see what led up to it, but I saw.” Her voice lowers a little bit. “You did the right thing, boss. Fuck that dumb asshole.”

  I give her a genuinely grateful smile. “Thanks, Mae.”

  She nods and heads off to pour more drinks. I hunch forward, leaning over my drink, trying to lose myself in the crowd.

  This is what I do most nights. I come to Hammy’s, drink too much and go home. I barely talk to anyone, mostly because nobody wants to talk to me. Nobody wants to talk to the creepy Hammett boy, the rich, spoiled asshole that ruins everyone’s life.

  Fine, whatever. I get it. They hate me, but I don’t hate them.

  Thing is, I’m trying to keep this town going. There are not many towns left like Pine Grove in America. Most manufacturing jobs fled years ago. I’ve resisted to the point where we’re barely making any money on the mill. Last year, we finished in the fucking red, but I still wouldn’t close.

  These people depend on the businesses I own. They need the mill. If I have to lay some of them off to save the others, well, that’s what I’ll do.

  If I wanted to make the mill profitable again, I’d shut it down and open a new factory in fucking Indonesia or something like that. Instead, these people have jobs, and I’m bleeding cash.

  It doesn’t matter. I know I deserve it. The sins of the father are visited on the son, or howeve
r that goes. I’m paying them back for what my family did to them for years, even if they don’t realize it.

  I kill a couple hours like that, drinking a couple whiskeys. I check the time and decide I should probably head home before I’m too drunk to drive, but before I can get up and slip out the back, the front door opens, and a group of men come inside.

  I recognize Mitch and Dean right away. They don’t look happy as they scan the room. A couple other guys come up behind them, guys I know from the mill, young guys that are pissed off at the life they live and are ready to blame anyone but themselves.

  I glance at Mae and she shoots me a look. I hurry toward the back door, pushing it open and spilling out into the alley.

  I hate running, but I’m outnumbered. There are too many of them and I’ve had too much whiskey to try and fight them off. I hurry around the side, but come up short when I spot another guy, standing outside, smoking a cigarette.

  There’s a moment, a short lull in the world, where I can choose to do something else. I can turn around, do something, do anything. I could run, drop, hide.

  Instead, I freeze. And he looks over at me.

  “Hey!” he shouts. “That’s him! That’s fucking him! He’s out here.” The guy bangs on the door.

  “Shit,” I say, and I run.

  But not fast enough. The door slams open and the gang of guys pour out. They shout and chase after me, and I know I’m not getting inside that car before they catch up.

  But I try anyway. I slam into the car, grabbing at the handle. I wrench the door open, and for a second, I think I might make it.

  Until someone bangs into me from behind, shoving my face against the steel. I grunt as pain flares through my cheek.

  “Fucking bitch,” someone yells. I feel a fist slam into my side.

  I spin around, arms up, protecting myself from the fists I know are coming. I feel myself get pummeled, but I push back, kicking out. I slam one fist into the nearest face, cracking into it with a satisfying thud.

  I learned to fight at a young age. I had to learn, or else my father would just keep hitting me. He’d laugh and tell me to get up, to get back up, and finally one day, I did. I got up and he taught me to hold my fists up, to swing with my hips, to use their momentum against them.