Unleash Me: Wedding (The Unleash Me Series)

by Christina Ross

  But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. And so, after simulating a number of shots that I thought Tank would appreciate, I tapped his name in my contacts list and then pressed the video icon. Before I knew it, I was looking at Tank, who was lying shirtless in our bed—and who might even be naked, for all I knew—because his lower half was concealed by a sheet.

  “You look amazing,” he said to me. “I’ve been waiting hours for this.”

  “I hope I won’t disappoint.”

  “Not considering what you’re wearing. I’ve never seen you in that before.”

  “You were meant to see it while we were here. But since you can’t be here, you’re seeing it now.” I lifted my legs and trained the camera toward my shoes. “And then there are these,” I said. “Do you like?”

  “The camera is kind of shaking,” he said. “If you mean your legs, you know how much I love them—in fact, I’d like to run my tongue along the insides of your thighs right now.”

  “No, no—I mean the shoes. Do you like the shoes?”

  “Right now, they’re kind of a silverfish blur.”

  Fuck! I thought. I’m so nervous, my hands are trembling.

  “How’s that?” I said when I took hold of the phone with both hands.

  “Very sexy.”

  I turned the camera back to my face.

  “Tank, before we do anything, I need to know for sure that your parents are asleep. Because I can’t do any of this without being absolutely sure they are asleep.”

  “That’s easy,” he said. “I already know that they’re in bed. They always turn in around nine-thirty.”

  “I still need to be sure.”

  “All you need to do is open your bedroom door and see if the lights are on downstairs. If they are, one of them is up. But if they aren’t, both of them have gone to bed.”

  “If one of them is up, they’ll hear me—and question what I’m up to.”

  “You’re being paranoid. You know how big the house is—no one’s going to hear you part the door.”

  Your mother is like a hawk. If she’s up, she will.

  But I checked nevertheless.

  “Pitch black,” I whispered as I quietly closed the door again.

  “Then they’re in bed.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “We have cybersex.”

  “Have you ever done this before?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Where do we even begin?”

  “Just as I always begin with you,” he said. “With my lips pressed against yours.”

  “Just so I’m clear on what you expect,” I said, “do you want me to kiss the screen when you say something like that? Is that what I’m supposed to do? Or am I supposed to do something else?”

  “You’re supposed to listen to me, Lisa. You’re supposed to let yourself go, just as I’m about to, and we’re going to look at each other while we talk to one another.”

  “Look at which parts of each other?”

  “Right now, think of this first part as foreplay. Think of us as being in the same room together with you in my arms. You know, with you melting into me, like you usually do.”

  “I can do that,” I said.

  “Close your eyes.”

  I closed them.

  “Imagine my mouth against yours.”

  I did—and I felt my body tingle with a rush of sense memory. Nobody in my life had ever kissed me the way Tank kissed me. Whenever our lips touched, I could always feel his love for me, which was transcendent. And that’s what I felt now as I imagined his lips on mine.

  “You’re off camera,” he said.

  In my delirium, my left hand had moved slightly to the left. I righted it and pointed the phone at my face. “Sorry.”

  “You look beautiful tonight,” he said.

  I looked up at him in my SlimPhone and thought he looked hot. And then I thought that this was kind of like porn! He was leaning on his side in our bed, but unlike me, there was no phone in his hands. In fact, his right hand was busy smoothing over one of his massive pecs as he grinned disarmingly into the camera. From where he was lying, I could clearly see that he’d somehow propped his phone on my nightstand and had pointed it horizontally at him so that I could see the length of him. Why hadn’t I thought of that?

  Does it matter? Just go with it. Have fun!

  “Why are you partly covered with a sheet?” I asked.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because it’s cruel of you.”

  “How is it cruel?”

  “I think you know why.”

  “Tell me why.”

  “Because I love seeing you naked,” I said.

  “Do you want to see more of me?”

  “I always want to see more of you.”

  “I could say the same thing to you. But let’s take this slowly. Why don’t you take your free hand and suck on your index finger for me?”

  Excuse me…what was that? Since when do I suck on my index finger? By talking to each other like this, are we about to reveal more about our fantasies than we ever would have if we were making love in person, which generally is without much conversation—if any at all?

  I didn’t know, but when it came to having sex with Tank, I was open to pretty much anything, because I loved him and trusted him. So, I slid my index finger into my mouth and started to gently suck on it.

  “Mmm,” I said.

  “What does it taste like?”

  Vodka.

  “You,” I said.

  “Now, take that finger, dip it beneath your negligee, and rub it over one of your nipples.”

  When I did, I felt a sense of excitement and surprise overcoming my body as it responded to the touch of my moistened finger. Tank had me put my finger in my mouth for a reason. With it so wet, it felt more erotic.

  “Now, pinch it,” he said. “Hard.”

  When I did, it felt as if he himself was doing it.

  “I want you to imagine my mouth between your legs,” he said. “You know how that feels. You also know how deep I can go.”

  I knew exactly how deep he could go.

  “Think of me down there right now.”

  “I want to touch myself,” I said in frustration. “But I can’t when I’m holding this phone over my head.”

  “Then take the pillow next you, place it beside you, and position the phone so I can see all of you—and so that you can see all of me.”

  I followed his suggestion, and with my hands finally free, I felt liberated to take this to the next level. I turned my head to look at him just as I reached down to touch myself. Meanwhile, Tank removed the sheet to reveal his erection to me, which inflamed me because I wanted him inside of me. For several moments, each of us just looked at the other as we pleasured ourselves before I rolled onto my side so he could see my ass.

  “I wish you could slap it,” I said.

  “So do I. Why don’t you do it for me?”

  I did. And then I smacked it again.

  “This is hotter than I thought it would be,” Tank said.

  “Speaking of hot,” I said. “I’m getting hot.” I sat up and pulled down the top of my teddy so he could see my breasts, which were so full with arousal that my nipples looked as if they wanted to reach through my phone’s screen and present themselves directly into Tank’s mouth.

  “Christ, you’re beautiful,” he said as he grabbed a fistful of his cock.

  “I want your cock,” I said. “I want it in my mouth.”

  “It’s in your mouth.”

  “But it’s too big for my mouth.”

  “You’ve taken it before. Take it again.”

  “I’m taking it now,” I said as I lifted my legs high into the air. I slipped my right hand down the front of my teddy and began to lightly brush my fingers over my clit before I pressed two fingers inside of me—and began to lose control.

  “Think of me inside you,” he said in a low growl. “Gently at first, but then rougher as you open
yourself up to me.”

  “That’s right,” I said as I closed my eyes. “You’re on top of me. You’re kissing me. Now your mouth is on one of my breasts. The right one,” I said as I cupped my free hand over it. “Your breath is hot against me. You’re biting my nipple.”

  “How about if you bite mine?”

  “I’m biting it.”

  As our conversation escalated with a feverish pace, I could feel myself growing wet with lust as I started to soar toward climax.

  “Fuck me,” I said. “Come on, Tank—fuck me.”

  “I’m fucking you.”

  “Fuck me harder!”

  “I’m fucking you harder.”

  “Really plow into me.”

  “I’m seriously plowing into you.”

  “And I’m grabbing your ass. I’m pulling you closer to me. Fuck me, Tank! Get me there. I’m close.”

  “Grab the base of my cock and pull every inch of me into you.”

  “I just did!” I said in a raised, heated voice. “And it feels amazing.”

  “You’re so fucking wet,” he said.

  “I am! And you’re so big! And I feel so tight! And this is happening in Ethel McCollister’s house! I’m taking her son’s big cock while she’s having nightmares of abortions and evil and all the things that I’m not! I’m getting close!”

  “Lisa…” he said. “What the hell?”

  As I inserted another finger into me, pinched one of my nipples and turned into a heated silo of sex unleashed, I writhed upon the bed before I looked over at Tank. “Come with me,” I said. “Come on, Tank—shoot that big load of yours all over me. Or inside of me. Wherever you want to put it, I’ll take it. But you need to do it soon, because I’m really fucking close.”

  “What was that about—?”

  “Do you want to see how close? Yes? Then let me show you how close,” I said as I stood up and removed my teddy before I lay back down on the bed. I lifted up my legs, parted them as wide as I could, and then grabbed the phone and pointed the camera straight at my sex as I inserted my fingers into me.

  “Holy shit,” he said. “You’ve lost control.”

  “I needed to,” I said. “Especially after today. Now fuck me! Please! Just fuck the living shit out of me! Because right now, I’m getting fucked in the house that Ethel’s God built—and by her own son! And it’s never felt so good!”

  When I said that, a brisk rap came at my door. In shock and in horror, I swung my head around just as Ethel entered the room with a tray of food in her hands. When she saw me naked with my phone about a foot away from my privates, her eyes widened, she swayed to the left, and her shoulder struck the doorjamb. Then her lips curled back in a kind of distorted horror.

  “What on earth are you doing?” she exclaimed.

  “What’s going on?” I heard Tank say. “Is that my mother?”

  “It is your mother,” Ethel said as she glared at me. “And both of you are defiling my house! You’ve turned it into a den of iniquity!”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked as I sat up, tossed the phone to my side, and quickly gathered a sheet around myself. “That door was closed for a reason.”

  “So I can see!”

  “You can’t just walk in here, Ethel. You can’t just—”

  “I can do whatever I want in my own home!”

  “Then maybe it’s best if I stay at a motel!”

  “If this is how you’re going to behave, maybe it’s best that you do!”

  “Mom, you need to listen to me,” Tank said from the SlimPhone. “Lisa and I are adults. We’re in a committed relationship. And you need to leave right now, because none of this is your business.”

  “None of this is my business?” she asked in a weirdly piercing shrill. “None of this is my business? Are you serious, Mitchell? Do you even know what I just walked into? A bordello, that’s what! A palace of porn!”

  As rage took hold of her body—and her eyes darkened against me—the tray she was holding started to shake in her hands.

  “And to think I was lying in bed feeling guilty about the conversation we had earlier,” she said to me. “To think that I couldn’t sleep because of it! I know you haven’t eaten anything since you left Manhattan, which was bothering me since you chose not to eat dinner with us after our little chat about the contents of your book. So I decided to get up and make you a perfectly nice chicken-salad sandwich, Lisa. I even poured you a glass of milk. I was concerned about you, and what do I get for that concern? You filming yourself in ways that are so lewd and unspeakable that I want to vomit.”

  “Leave the room, Mom,” Tank said with a sudden sternness in his voice. “Do it now, because I’ve heard enough. And so has Lisa.”

  “Fine,” she said as she walked over to my bureau and slammed the tray down on top of it. “There’s your sandwich, Lisa. And your milk. Consider them power fuel for the rest of your nightly adventures with my son, because you probably need them right now just to get through God only knows what’s coming next. But as for this? As for what I just walked into? The fact that I just witnessed my own son naked and heated and being drawn into your strange sexual fantasies? This I can’t have. This I won’t have. So, here’s where we stand now, girl. As you saw on the drive from the airport, there are plenty of motels and hotels between Prairie Home and Lincoln. I’ll have a list of them waiting for you in the morning, and somebody will drive you to one of them, since I clearly can’t have you here when you and my son will only be doing this.” She stalked toward the door, walked through it, and said a blistering “Good night” before slamming the door behind her.

  ***

  “Lisa,” I heard Tank say from the SlimPhone. “Pick up the phone. Look at me. It’s going to be all right. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll call her in the morning and work this out.”

  With the sheet held close to my naked breasts, I was in such a state of shock that I just stared straight ahead at the tray of food Ethel had left on the bureau, and I felt nauseous just looking at it.

  I’m finished, I thought. That’s the end of me when it comes to her. I’m done—and it took me less than a day to pull it off, so congratulations to me. She’ll never accept me after what she just saw. That image of me lying flat on the bed with my legs spread wide and the camera down there to capture it all for Tank will be burned into her mind for the rest of her life—particularly whenever she lays her eyes on me. And what is she going to tell Harold, my only ally here? How is this going to change my relationship with him? Because it will. I know it will. Even he won’t be able to look past this. What have I done?

  “Lisa, come on. Pick up the phone. Talk to me, for God’s sake.”

  I picked up the phone and looked at him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with a sheet wrapped around his waist. I caught a glimpse of the scar on his chest left by the bullet he’d once taken for me, and I knew he was about to take another bullet for me, especially if he planned to talk to Ethel in the morning.

  “Your mother didn’t like me before, Tank, and after walking into that? There’s no saving our relationship now. She’s never going to forgive me for this.”

  “I can talk to her,” he said.

  “And say what? That she should unsee what she saw? That’s not going to happen. And since I know it’s not going to happen, I’m leaving in the morning. I’ll go to a motel. I can’t be expected to stay in a house where I’m not wanted. Or where I’m always going to be judged as your horrible choice for a wife. That’s where I stand, and I need your support when it comes to my decision.”

  “You’re going to get my support in ways you’ve never imagined,” he said. “But before you do anything, at least let me talk with her first, because this isn’t just on you. I’m also complicit in this. If she’s going to judge you, then she’s also going to have to judge her own son, because I was a happy and willing partner tonight. Christ, I was having some harmless fun with my future wife, and I won’t apologize for it.”

  �
��You’ll never get through to her, Tank. You won’t.”

  “That’s not necessarily true.”

  “I think it is, and here’s why—you didn’t see how she looked at me. You didn’t see the disgust on her face or the hatred in her eyes before she left. Her loathing of me was palpable. And here’s the thing,” I said, “I don’t blame her, especially after walking in on that. If I were in her shoes, I can only imagine how I’d be feeling right now.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “For all of it. I was the one who came up with the idea of doing this, and trust me, she’ll hear that from me. I’ll put it all on me. We did nothing wrong.”

  “I disagree,” I said. “We thought we could get away with this in her house, which we didn’t. She’s religious. She’s made no bones about it. We should have respected that. What in the hell were we thinking?”

  “Had I been with you now, we would have made love in that bedroom. My mother and my father would have known that, and they would have said nothing about it. So who gives a damn if we tried to do it by phone?”

  “Your mother asked me whether I’ve ever had an abortion today, Tank.”

  “She did what?”

  “You heard me. She’s reading the first book I published through Wenn. And because of that, when I returned from the gazebo after talking with you, she took me on. She asked me all of these invasive questions, such as whether I’ve ever had an abortion or if I even believed in abortion. She hammered me with judgment—and also with a sense of self-righteousness that put me on the defensive.”

  “What did she say to you?”

  I told him—and I also told him what I’d said to her.

  “She deserved every word of it,” he said.

  “But here’s the thing, Tank—not only did she do it on purpose, but she did it on my first day here. She didn’t even give me a day or two to settle in before she started her attacks on me. She went straight for my jugular on the drive from the airport with that ridiculous audiobook she made me listen to. And later today, when she was in the middle of reading You Only Die Twice, she went straight for the abortion issue, which turned the moment so caustic between us that I skipped dinner. She has an agenda when it comes to me, and I think that agenda is now abundantly clear. She doesn’t want this wedding to happen. I think that in some twisted, fucked-up way, she’s trying to shove me out of your life while she still can without you here to stop her.”