by H. J. Bellus
Somebody cleared their throat, forcing my attention from the piano. It was Tripp. He was leaning up against the door jamb with a perplexed look on his face. His massive body filled the entire space of the door. I froze with fear and became instantly enraged that he had been listening to me play.
“What the hell are you doing?” I screamed.
He didn’t answer me, so I threw a shoe at him, nailing him in the chest. Rage took over my small frame and blinded me.
“Fucking answer me, Tripp.”
I shot from the bench and started pounding Tripp with my fists. He stood there, allowing me to release my rage on him. It enraged me even more that he didn’t fight back. I wanted him to hurt me and make me feel the way I am supposed to: broken.
“Goddamn it! What the hell were you doing?” I shouted, then continued to rain my punches down on him.
Tripp finally secured my hands down at his side. My forehead flopped down onto his strong chest, letting my sobs escape.
“It’s lunchtime, baby,” is all he delicately whispered down into my matted hair.
My love picked me up and carried me to the back patio. He sat us down in the lounger and just simply held me in his arms. I gently lifted my head in an attempt to apologize for my foul behavior. I loved him. This wasn’t how you treated someone you loved. Problem being, he is the only one that I have ever truly loved since my momma.
“Baby…”
“Don’t, Lace. Sit here in the sunshine with me.”
“I hurt you. The piano was only for my momma.”
“I’m here. I want all of you…the nasty, the beautiful, the princess, the trashy, the sexy, the outlaw. All of you.”
“I love you, Beast. No one knows that I play. I told everyone it was for decoration purposes,” I whimpered as tears pooled once again in my eyes.
“I won’t tell a soul,” he whispered.
I craned my head up to look at Tripp. “Why are you whispering?”
He started to chuckle. “Do you want the truth or should I lie here?”
“Truth, dumbass!” I spat out.
Tripp’s eyes twinkled at my insult, and I could sense the relief flood through him at my snarkiness.
“Truth is, I’m whispering because I don’t want you to spaz out on me again. I don’t know what happened, or what caused it, I just know I love you no matter what. End of discussion,” Tripp whispered again.
“Thank you, Tripp.”
“Just lay here in the sunshine, baby,” Tripp whispered.
“You don’t have to whisper. I’m fine.”
“Will you play the piano for me naked one day?”
“I practically am.”
“Not quite, Princess. I want to see your blue bird tattoo that sits in the middle of your back,” Tripp whispered as he kissed the side of my neck.
“And the crown and heart that’s on your ribs.”
He placed more kisses down my shoulder.
“Mmmm, and the skull on your left hip. I want to touch it and kiss it as you play your sweet, painful music,” Tripp whispered.
His calloused hands began their journey caressing every body part, while he showered kisses up and down my neck. I was hopelessly limp in the shelter of Tripp. I snuggled deep down into my safety net and felt content. Just plain content.
***
He feeds me lunch every day, buys me gifts, protects me and sends me dirty texts all the time. The dirty texts are definitely the cherry on top of the very hot sexy sundae. My eyes never know what to expect when I open a message from Tripp. Sometimes his python is in clear view and ready to play. Other times he’s just a little tease showing off his amazing abs and oh-so sexy V that leads to his python. Either way, his glorious, healthy python is always on my mind. He is my current disease and eating away at me slowly.
Chapter 8
Whizzletits & Whipped Cream
Lacey
“Sup, Biotch,” I chirped out as I entered Milly’s shop for my morning cup of freakin’ sunshine.
Milly shot me her typical death glare. She hated when I used foul language around her customers.
“Lacey, how nice to see you,” she hissed out as she finished up her current coffee order.
I made my way behind the counter and found my favorite spot, which was perched right between the whipped cream canister and the jar of chocolate chip cookies. Willow’s cookies could make a grown man cry. They had the perfect hint of almond flavoring and the sweetest chocolate. I helped myself to a package and made sure to add just the right amount of whip cream to my cookie before I would plop it into my mouth.
This whipped cream canister must make it to my bedroom one day. As I was fantasizing about the canister, whipped cream and my Beast, a wet rag slapped me across the face, snapping me back to reality.
“Jesus Christ, Lacey! How many times do I have to tell you not to cuss around the customers? I really didn’t think you were that dumb,” Milly spit out while trying to keep a straight face.
I knew that I pissed her off using foul language in the shop, but I did it just to get her titties all knickered up.
I shot some cream at her and said, “Chill the fuck out! You know I love you. Now get my coffee made, biotch, and do it with a smile.”
“You’re impossible! You know it, Lacey. Completely impossible,” Milly said as she went to work on my favorite mocha. The Banana Split Mocha…that shit was amazeballs.
“Settle down, whizzletits! I promise, I will try super hard to control calling you biotch in public, you bitoch.”
“You two sound like two little snot-nosed brats,” Willow added.
Oh! Poor Willow will never know when to stay out of it. She was now the object of Milly’s and my harassment. With just one quick glance, Milly knew what we had to do. Armed with the whipped cream canister and Milly posed with the wet rag, we attacked.
That dirty little biotch fought back hard, throwing lemon bars at us! Within minutes, we were all on the ground laying shoulder to shoulder, belly laughing at the ridiculous scene we had created. It never was civilized with the three of us.
“PMP,” declared Milly.
“Your lemon bars; really, Willow?” I hissed out as I licked chunks of lemon bars off of Milly’s bare shoulder.
Willow’s lemon bars were totally orgasmic, life-altering and the best fucking dessert that has ever graced my taste buds. I’d lick the shit up off the street. They were my absolute favorite.
“Okay, since you’re all here, I have a favor to ask,” Milly said.
“No, we are not going to find an elevator for you and my brother to shag in,” Willow retorted.
Willow was always being scarred by the thought of her brother and Milly. Well, actually, it wasn’t even the thought. Milly and Cree had been caught several times shagging, licking and kissing all over the farm.
“Wills, you’re way behind the times. I’ve checked that off my bucket list thingy last month when Cree and I went to Denver,” Milly said, giggling.
“WTF, Milly? Spill the details, now!” I practically shouted as pieces of lemon bars spewed up into the air. Yep, I was making it rain lemon bars.
“You’ll get the details if you guys go to a frame party with me,” Milly said.
“A frame party?” Willow and I said in unison as we stared at her quizzically.
“Yes, a frame party.”
“What gives?” I demanded.
“Well, you all know Kimmy? The bleached blonde bimbo that wants to bang Cree,” Milly offered.
“You mean the Booster President,” Willow said in a very mocking voice.
It was well known that Kimmy was very proud of two things: her big fake boobies and the fact that she was the local booster club president.
“Really? You want to go to Barbed Wire’s frame party?” I asked.
We liked to call her Barbed Wire because she was a little rough and a downright rotten woman, so Barb Wire just stuck.
“Yes, I want to go to her party and buy the bitch out! I
want to flaunt my wedding ring, Cree’s truck, and my real boobies to that nasty woman. But I need my girls.”
Milly was basically pleading with us and feeding me broken lemon bars from the floor as she talked.
“Milly, you know damn well whatever frames she’s selling you could make them yourself, and even better at that,” Willow said.
“I know, but I feel like being catty and bitchy…what’d ya say girls?”
“When and where, sista?” I said.
We would be there for Milly. There was no way we could leave her hanging. The three of us were like the sisterhood of exquisite misfits, and would always be there for each other no matter how fucked-up the situation was. A frame party at Kimmy’s was pretty high on the list of fucked-up. Milly didn’t have a mean bone in her body, so this would be interesting, to say the least. She would probably end up feeling bad for Kimmy’s poorly decorated house and offer to redecorate it for her.
“Tomorrow night at seven. Cree will stay home with the kids.”
“How much does he charge to babysit? I need to find a sitter for Tripp.”
We all started laughing at my request. Deep down, it was the truth because my gorgeous Beast won’t know what to do with himself.
“By the way, where the fuck is my mocha, biotch?”
***
“I can’t believe your dumbass is dragging our dumbasses to a shittin’ frame party,” I hissed as we cruised into town in my Jeep.
“I’m fucking excited. I even brought cash to buy that shit out,” Milly exclaimed.
“We need shots before we go,” demanded Willow. Milly was more than thrilled at this prospect because she could actually drink. Her milking booby things were all infected from some kind of moldy shit or something like that. I really try to not pay attention to her mammary milking production line. All I know is that she was very upset about it and was trying to get everything healed up.
I didn’t need any extra reinforcement to navigate my Jeep towards the local watering hole. ’57 Chevies were our signature shots for ladies night out. Phil, the bartender, already had our pitcher going when we walked in the front door. Yep, I said pitcher! We always ordered a pitcher and three shot glasses. The old codger saw us coming. He was a smart one, sly as a damn fox, too. We slammed two pitchers of the fruity flavored goodness before we decided to set sail again.
I jumped up out of my seat ready to hit this shit, and the only thing I hit was the fucking hardwood floor. Those drinks really snuck up on ya and took your ass for a crazy ride. Willow toppled over me and we formed a boneless heap of giggles. Milly didn’t dare move from her seat; instead, she just pointed and laughed her ass off.
“Willow, get off of me. We have a goddamn epic frame party to go to,” I said, between fits of giggles and pissing myself.
“C’mon, ladies,” came a deep, familiar voice.
I knew that deep, sexy voice and the beautiful face it belonged to. It was my Beast. All I could do was giggle up at my masterpiece. Greyson pulled Willow up from the floor and then Tripp grabbed me. Willow tried walking without Greyson’s help. She was adamantly refusing his help or touch. I wasn’t too damn proud. I leapt up into Tripp’s arms and settled in for the ride. An intelligent person would have been worried about wiping out on the hardwood floor for the second time, but not me. Caution to the wind, baby! I was his Outlaw Princess, and he was my Beast.
“Load your asses up,” Tripp hollered back to Milly and Willow.
“Tripp! The partaaay. I have to go,” slurred Milly.
“Oh, you’re going. You just aren’t driving.”
“How’d ya…,” I tried to get out, but the smell of Tripp, and the alcohol buzzing around in my veins, made it hard to speak. All I could think of was sniffing the crook of his neck.
All I wanted was him, not a frame party. My hips instantly started to press up and down on his groin area as he packed me, and I started to nibble on his ear after my nose got its fill.
“Behave, Lace,” Tripp warned me.
He knew better. My stubborn, horny self wanted him and I was going to get it. Tripp opened the passenger door of the Jeep and placed me on the seat. Greyson was still trying to get Milly and Willow to the Jeep. Willow was refusing Greyson’s help, and Milly could barely stand, so he would be a while helping those two douche canoes.
I wrapped my legs around Tripp’s waist and sunk my heels into his ass before he could back up. My hand went down to his already hardened erection. I knew it! The douchebag wanted me too.
“Lace, stop,” he hissed out as I snuck my hand into his workout shorts, finding him nice and ready for me.
I gripped it and started to gingerly work him in my hand. I could have him blowing his load in a matter of minutes.
“Tripp, I need you. Let me have you,” I pleaded.
“You’re wasted. Behave,” Tripp whimpered out as I continued to stroke him.
I released my legs from his waist and pushed back on his chest, which made him stumble back just enough for me to go down on him. I was right. It only took minutes before he let go in my mouth. Enjoying every last drop of his release was the best sensation in the world. When I rose up to meet his eyes, he was all smiles.
“You love your dirty little Princess, don’t ya?”
“Yes, I love my dirty little Princess,” Tripp said, as he placed a kiss on my lips.
We heard the drunken twats approaching, and Tripp tried to pull away. I wouldn’t let him. I needed his touch every minute of every day. He was now my drug.
“Greyson, follow me in the truck,” Tripp instructed.
I made Willow and Milly crawl in the back of the Jeep and I rode shotgun. Milly was still giggling uncontrollably. The girl really couldn’t hold her alcohol. Willow was pissed and I really had no clue what had set her off.
“So, Tripp,” Milly blurted out.
“So, Milly,” Tripp replied in his best taunting tone.
“Lacey says that you give the best oral ever, and that you have this little finger trick where you…”
Yes, this is the moment that Milly Fitzpatrick horrified and embarrassed the ever living shit out of me.
I whirled around in my seat and yelled, “Milly, shut up now!”
“What? Lacey, you’re always bragging about your spontaneous doub-lay orgasms. I just want him to teach Cree, that’s all,” Milly finished.
Tripp was shaking his head back and forth, and I could see the outline of his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. I could not fucking believe that Milly just asked Tripp to teach Cree some sex tricks. I’m going to kick her in the goddamn biscuit when we get out of the Jeep. My face was flushed crimson with embarrassment, and Tripp had the audacity to reach over and grab my leg and shoot me a sexy little wink. He was so getting cut off for at least a good twelve hours.
“So what’da ya say, ol’ Beast? Will you teach my man to give me spontaneous doub-lay orgasms?” The drunk little shit wasn’t giving up. I was ready for her to get down on her knees and beg.
“No! You picked the wrong cousin. You’re not getting any taste of the doub-lay orgasms,” I told her with my fiercest voice.
The whole car was laughing from the crazy conversation started by the very sloshed Milly, and I could only imagine what this damn frame party had in store for us.
“Fine! I’ll settle for the single orgasm,” Milly said as she crossed her arms and started to pout. “Which, don’t get me wrong, are very life-altering and delicious.”
“Well, maybe someone can teach Greyson how to give a freakin’ orgasm without him blowing his load in the first fifteen seconds,” Willow blurted out.
And that made the whole load of us fall silent. Where in the hell did that come from? Willow and Greyson? Obviously something was very wrong. And for a moment, I saw the realization dawn spread across Willow and Milly’s face that Tripp was in the Jeep with us. The poor guy just heard more than he ever wanted to from his cousin. I noticed his white knuckle grip on the steering wheel, and could t
ell he was hurting for his cousin, Willow. I do believe our drunkenness was wearing off of all of us.
I decided to lighten the mood, “Well, Tripp’s finger trick is something worthy of the Guinness Book of World Records, but so is his small dick.”
The girls roared with laughter, and thoughts of Greyson flew out of the Jeep with the breeze of the night. Milly took this moment to proudly advertise the length and width of Cree. She went into so much detail that I practically felt like I knew Cree’s member. Tripp tried stopping her several times, protesting that he didn’t need to know this information.
At one point, he leaned over to me and whispered, “I remember my small dick choking you just a few moments ago.”
I grabbed his hand and placed a kiss on his cheek, “Thanks for taking one for the team, baby.”
Tripp lectured us like we were five-year olds going to a sleepover. He made it very clear that he would not bail us out of jail, and to play nice with Kimmy. He went on for about five minutes before Greyson started blaring on the horn. He told me he would leave the keys with me, but I wasn’t supposed to take another drink of alcohol. He even made me pinky promise him.
We finally made our way into Kimmy’s elaborate home. It was landscaped perfectly and decorated with a fine touch, if you were into that kind of shit, which, clearly I wasn’t. Milly strutted in like she owned the place, and she even made a point to call Cree during the party and ask him a color preference on a frame. She went on giggling and talking on the phone and telling him to knock it off. The girl was putting on a superb show for Kimmy and I’m pretty sure Kimmy was getting the picture. Milly ended the conversation with, “Cree, you’re not sticking it there again, got it?”
I was drinking ice tea at that point and spewed it all over the front of me, covering the gourmet appetizers that filled the island. Oh, the appetizers were fucking disgusting. Typical gourmet shit. I didn’t even touch them and neither did Willow. Milly nibbled on some while explaining how to make each one taste better.