Wild Child (Wild Ones 1.5)

by M. Leighton

  “You wore this just for me, didn’t you?”

  I trail my fingers from my collarbone, down between my breasts to my stomach. “What, this old outfit?”

  “Yeah, ‘this old outfit’,” Rusty says, glancing left and right then taking another small step closer to me. I can feel his thighs against mine. And I can feel the growing bulge between them. “This shirt that makes my palms itch to feel your nipples,” he says, tugging at the hem of my shirt, the back of his hand tickling my stomach. “And these shorts that are so short I could slide my fingers right up under them,” he says, reaching one hand down between us to barely stroke my inner thigh. “And feel those damp panties of yours.”

  I’m breathless. Already. And I know from experience that it will only get worse. Rusty does to me what no one else in the world can.

  “What makes you think they’re damp?”

  “Because I know you, baby. I know you put them on with thoughts of me taking them off. I know, even now, you’re wishing that I’d take you upstairs and pull them slowly down your legs so that I could…do things to you.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” I whisper. “But we both know that won’t happen so it doesn’t matter.”

  “This is going to make you just as miserable as it will me.”

  “Maybe.”

  Rusty grins. “Oh, no. It will. I’ll see to it.”

  I lift one brow. “Is that right? Well then bring it! Touché, pussycat.”

  “Touché, indeed.”

  With a wink that turns my insides to mush, Rusty reaches around and slaps my butt before he moves past me, his shoulder brushing my aching nipples. I close my eyes for a second, wondering if this might actually hurt me worse than it does him.

  ********

  I flop down in one of the deep cushions of the patio chair. “Phew! I’m glad that’s over.”

  I hear Cami’s sigh. She’s sitting on the outdoor sofa with her legs curled under her, leaning into Trick’s side. “Me, too. That was exhausting!”

  “But at least it wasn’t embarrassing. I was just sure Rusty’s present would be a sex swing and you’d have to explain it to your mom.”

  “Rusty what?” Rusty asks as he appears at the door, stepping out onto the patio.

  “I was just telling them I figured you’d get them something like a sex swing.”

  He grins and comes to sit in the chair beside mine. “That’s why I wanted to shop for it without you. I wanted to show you I could be unguy-like sometimes.”

  “So you’re saying the wine fridge-keg cooler combo unit was your only consideration?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Ah-ha! I knew it!”

  “Look, I’m a guy. Of course I thought first of a sex swing. But I figured some prudish old blue-haired woman might have a heart attack when it was unwrapped. Or that Cami’s dad might whip my ass.”

  “I’d gladly let Jack whip your ass for a present like that.”

  “Of course you would, dickhead! But even I don’t love you that much.”

  “Well, I think you did a great job, baby,” I croon to him.

  “Great enough to get some kind of reward?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows at me.

  I pause for a few seconds. “Sure. What did you have in mind?” I know exactly what he has in mind, but I want to hear it. Even if we can’t do it, I still like hearing what goes on in his head.

  “How ‘bout a lil skinny-dippin’?”

  I perk up instantly. Not only does that sound cool and refreshing, but it sounds like fun. Hot, playful fun.

  “You’re on,” I say, coming to my feet. “You two coming?” I ask Cami.

  She looks at Trick and grins. “Yeah, I think we will.”

  “We will?” he asks.

  “If you want to see me in anything less than what I’m wearing right now, then yes, we will.”

  “I’m in,” Trick replies enthusiastically. We all laugh.

  The four of us strike out across the yard, bathed in warm breezes and pale moonlight. It already looks like the perfect night for a naughty tryst, which will make it that much harder not to…indulge. But I think Cami’s right. I think maybe this will be a good way to make Rusty see what he’s missing out on. Maybe he’ll realize he doesn’t want to be without me. It’s worth a try anyway. Rusty’s worth a lot of tries.

  We drop into single file formation as we trek through the woods. I’ve heard Cami talk about the pond on their property and how much she and Trick love to visit it, but I’ve never been. When the trees part to reveal an oval clearing dominated by a sparkling fresh-water pond and absolute silence, I can see why it’s a favorite of theirs. It would be a favorite of mine, too.

  Trick and Cami drift off to one side. I can barely make out their whispers and Cami’s giggles from where I’m standing. It’s just enough privacy for everyone without there being…trouble.

  When I feel a palm brush my butt and Rusty appears at my side, I quit thinking of anyone except him.

  “Need some help with these?” Rusty asks, trailing his hand over my hip as he walks around in front of me.

  “I think I just might. This zipper can be awfully hateful,” I say with mock seriousness.

  “Mmm, I figured as much,” he says, stepping in close to me again. I can feel warmth radiating from his body as though there’s nothing between us at all—no clothes, no air, no emotional separation. Just… heat. “But we’d better start with your shirt. I don’t want to get tangled up in it as I’m working on that faulty zipper.” His eyes appear black in the low light, his dilated pupils overwhelming the azure of his irises.

  “I’ll trust your judgment,” I reply, my heart already racing.

  “Lift your arms,” he commands quietly, his eyes never leaving mine.

  Obediently, I lift my arms over my head and I wait. Rusty watches me for several seconds before he presses his palms to my waist and slides them slowly upward, caressing my rib cage, thumbs teasing my nipples as he drags up the material of my shirt. I close my eyes for a heartbeat as he runs his palms up my arms, bringing my tee with them. When Rusty gently removes the shirt from my head, I open my eyes again, falling head long into the desire I see in his.

  “Thank you,” I breathe.

  “Now for this pesky thing,” he muses as he slides a finger under the strap of my bra. “I’m sure it could get in the way.”

  “I’m sure,” I agree, trying hard to remember my objective so that I don’t get lost in the moment.

  Rusty reaches around me and pops open the hook of my bra with one flick of his fingers. He runs his hands up over my shoulders and down my arms, removing my bra straps as he goes.

  I see his eyes flicker down. My nipples tighten when I hear him suck in a breath through his clenched teeth. I know he wants to touch them. He loves my body. He’s told me a thousand times as he worships every inch of it. But this time, he’ll have to love it from a distance. Even if it’s a short distance.

  “My shorts,” I prompt, knowing I’m dangerously close to giving in to my need of him.

  Rusty’s gaze comes back to mine. He doesn’t move. Or speak. He just watches me. I know he’s fighting touching me. And I let him.

  Finally, he drops to one knee and reaches for my waistband. Carefully, he unbuttons my shorts and then slowly unzips them. He doesn’t touch me in any way except when he leans forward just enough to press his lips to the top edge of my panties.

  Heat pours into my core and my body throbs for him to kiss me lower. Then lower still. But he doesn’t. With his face so close I can feel his breath, Rusty pulls my shorts down my legs then follows them with my panties.

  When I’m standing before him, wearing nothing but my shoes and a passion for him that never seems to die, he looks up at me. For a few seconds, I think it’s over. The game is over. He’s going to kiss me and I’m going to let him. But he doesn’t. Instead, Rusty stands slowly to his feet and says, “Your turn.”

  I kick off my shoes, take a deep breath and cur
l my fingers in the hem of Rusty’s shirt. I pull it up, letting my hands touch his hard, smooth skin as I go. I can feel every ripple of his abdomen, every hard bulge of his pecs, but I don’t give in to my urge to press my lips to them.

  I stretch up on my tiptoes to tug his shirt over his head. He’s taller than me, so I have to sway slightly toward him to reach high enough. My breasts graze his chest and I gasp. I can’t help it. The sensation of his skin touching my nipples flashes through me like a bolt of lightning, hot and electric.

  “Jen-na,” he warns gruffly.

  “Sorry,” I pant. I throw his shirt to the side and drop to my knees in front of him. I reach for the button of his jeans. I pause with my fingers tucked just inside his waistband and I look up at him. His face is set in stone and his jaw is clenched. I know this is hard for him. And when I let my eyes travel down, I can see the enormous bulge that assures me just how hard it is for him. Impulsively, I lean forward and press my lips to it. I hear him moan and his fingers wind into my hair, holding me to him for a few seconds before he tugs my head away.

  “You’d better hurry it up or this is all over with,” he says hoarsely.

  I grin up at him. “Can’t handle it?”

  He opens his mouth to say something, but stops, clamping his teeth shut with a click. He watches me for a bit before his lips curve into a smile. “We’ll see who can handle what,” he responds, crossing his arms over his chest. “Continue.”

  He’s steeling himself against wanting me, which makes me want to tease him that much more. I want to break him. I want him to give in because he just can’t stand it. I want him to forsake all else for me, for the want of me, for the love of me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted from Rusty—his devotion. The same kind of devotion I have for him.

  With determination, I smile up at him and unbutton his jeans. I reach for the zipper and ease it down over his erection. I ignore the pulsing between my legs. This is about Rusty.

  I run my hands around his waist and slide them down over his butt, pushing down his jeans as I stroke the backs of his thighs, letting my chin graze his belly as I look back up at him.

  With glittering eyes, Rusty watches me. I feel him shift as he kicks off his shoes and steps out of the jeans now pooled at his feet. And then he waits. Waits for me to finish.

  I trail my fingers up the outsides of his legs and tease the bottom of his boxer briefs, running my fingers up high enough that I can feel the crease where his thighs meet his hips. I see him twitch behind the white cotton.

  Bringing out my hands, I reach up to grasp the elastic band of his underwear and I tug, carefully freeing his shaft before I drag them down his legs. When he steps out of them, I hold onto his thighs as I rise. As my mouth passes his hard length, I stick out my tongue and drag it along the thick vein that runs from base to tip.

  I hear him growl and I smile as I straighten in front of him. “Ready?”

  “To skinny dip with the devil? Sure,” he replies, a slow grin coming to his face.

  With speed a striking snake would envy, Rusty bends and throws me over his shoulder. I squeal in surprised delight as he takes off running toward the water and jumps off the bank, plunging us both into the cool, black pond.

  CHAPTER FOUR- Rusty

  It’s been hours and I still can’t sleep. Cami and Jenna had asked that I stay with Trick during this forced period of celibacy. I think each of us is supposed to watch the other, making sure no one cheats by paying any late-night visits. And it’s probably a good idea, because if there was ever a night I’d be likely to climb a tree to try and get to Jenna through Cami’s window, tonight would undoubtedly be it.

  Just the thought of hearing Jenna laugh as we played in the water, just the memory of her playfully wrapping her arms and legs around me and pressing her cool lips to mine, just the knowledge that her tight, hot body was within centimeters of my granite-hard cock—well, it’s enough to keep a man up at night.

  With a growl, I throw back the covers and stomp through the living room and into the kitchen. I have to laugh when I find Trick sitting at the island, in the dark, nursing a beer.

  “What the hell, man?” he says when I turn on the light.

  “If we ain’t sleeping, we’re drinking. Now go get your stash of beer from downstairs. We’re gonna need a lot more than what’s in the fridge. We’ve got some hot blood to cool.”

  “This is gonna be a long week, isn’t it?”

  “Hell yeah, it is!”

  We both sigh and Trick gets up to go downstairs. I walk to the fridge and take out the rest of the cold beer in there to make room for more. I figure we’ll have these downed in less than an hour.

  I shake my head as I think again of Jenna. I don’t know what that girl’s trying to do to me, but if it includes death from over-excitement, she’s well on her way.

  CHAPTER FIVE- Jenna

  It’s after lunch and Rusty is on my mind even more than usual, which is always a lot. This whole look-but-don’t-touch (or at least don’t touch anything too much) is eating me up. But in a really good way. For whatever reason, I almost feel closer to Rusty, like we’re sharing a private joke. I guess we are, actually. A private joke that’s like the ultimate foreplay. And neither of us knows how much we can take before we give in.

  But wading through every sweetly torturous moment is half the fun.

  “So they are meeting us there, right?” I ask Cami, who’s sitting in the passenger seat of my car, fiddling with her phone.

  “Yes. For the millionth time yes! They’re supposed to be there by 1:30.”

  “Okay,” I say with a smile. Cami’s turns her attention right back to her phone and types something out furiously. “Just what the hell are you doing?”

  Cami’s head jerks up and she glances guiltily at me, shielding her cell phone against her chest. “Nothing. Why?”

  I gasp. “You’re sexting!”

  “Am not.”

  “Are, too! You are a dirty little sexter! Don’t even bother to hide it. Your cheeks are blood red and your pupils are huge!”

  Cami grins. “Are they really?”

  “Ohmigod, you two are horrible!”

  “You say that like you don’t do it.”

  “I haven’t texted Rusty one naughty thing since you told me what we were doing with this no sex thing.”

  “Really? I’m impressed.”

  “You should be, you cock-blocking gutter snipe!”

  “Cock-blocking gutter snipe?” she laughs.

  I giggle. “I don’t know where in blue blazes that came from. See what a lack of sex does to me?”

  “I figured you’d have caved already. You’re not the celibate type.”

  “Neither are you. At least not where Trick’s concerned.”

  She smiles wider. “He does make it awfully hard to do without.”

  My sigh is wistful, as thoughts of Rusty’s talented…parts come to mind. “Gotta love a man with magic in his pants.”

  At 1:22, Cami and I are pulling into the parking lot outside the Crazy Clown Costume Shoppe in Summerton. It’s the nearest more-than-one-horse city to our hometown of Greenfield, South Carolina. We get out and walk to the door, both of us stopping to stare at the cardboard cut-out standing on the sidewalk like a proud, bipolar sentry at the shop entrance.

  The guy is wearing a fuzzy red wig, a squishy red nose and his face is painted white with a big, black smile around his mouth. From neck up, he’s a clown. But from waist down, it’s a different story. He’s wearing a Chippendale bow tie, forearm cuffs like Conan the Barbarian, underwear with an elephant trunk at just the right place and chaps to finish him off. He’s sort of a costume clusterfu—.

  “Please God, tell me you didn’t pick any of this for Trick,” Cami pleads as we approach the door, interrupting my thoughts.

  I giggle. “Well, not all of it.”

  She looks at me from the corner of her narrowed eyes and I smile as angelically as someone like me can smile.

 
; A chime sounds as we walk through the door. A short, olive-skinned, small-framed guy dressed in full drag—and I mean full drag—greets us from near the cash register.

  “Welcome, ladies,” he says with something similar to a lisp.

  His clothes are girly enough—pink sequined mini dress, black feather boa, black fishnets, pink polka dot platforms—and the silky, straight pink wig even matches. But it’s the flat masculine nipples visible above the plunging neckline of the dress that gives the clerk’s gender away. That and the bulge about six inches below his navel.

  “I’m Loretta. Can I help you find something?”

  Loretta?

  What I’d thought was a female smoker’s voice over the phone was apparently…not. Loretta is a man.

  “I’m Jenna. I called a few days ago about some coordinating costumes.”

  Loretta throws his hands in the air and his mouth forms an O of excitement. “Oh, girl! I’ve been waiting for you. I can’t wait for you to see what I got in for the guys.”

  Platforms and all, Loretta races toward me and takes me by the hand to start towing me toward the back of the shop. Quickly, I reach out and grab Cami’s wrist. If I go, she goes.

  The back wall of the store is lined with rows and rows of rolling metal racks. Loretta doesn’t stop until we are in the far right, rear corner facing a rack parked under a sign that reads Theopolis.

  “I already pulled aside two or three different sizes in all the costumes you asked for. I brought ‘em back here with the ladies’, just to keep ‘em straight. It’s the only thing I like straight,” he says with a wink and an elbow to my ribs. “They start at large and go through two X. I know how big these corn-fed country boys can be.” He waggles his eyebrows comically and delicately slaps my shoulder. I laugh outright.

  “Well you know your men,” I say, stating the obvious. “Most of the ones coming in are pretty husky.”

  “Mmm, I love me some husky,” Loretta says with a wicked grin. “Now which one of you gets what outfit? Wait! Don’t tell me. Let me guess.”