FILTHY (Reckless #2)

by HJ Bellus

  “At first it was just you, your perfect body, and how you make me feel.”

  “Then?” She sneaks up on her tip-toes, giving me a simple kiss.

  “That thought made me hard. Then it was you down on your knees sucking me off.”

  “Mmmmm,” she moans out.

  “Your dark brown eyes looking up at me with my cock deep in your mouth.”

  “I do love sucking you off.”

  She begins to sink down on her knees in the shower.

  “No.” I grab her upper arm. “My fantasy wasn’t well thought out.”

  “Uh?” She tilts her head to the side.

  “It will hurt your knees.”

  “But will taste so good,” she purrs, grabbing the base of my dick and slowly stroking it.

  I throw my head back because her touch electrifies me. Fuck, it’s like I’m a teenager again. I could blow with just two simple strokes from her.

  “Fuck me,” I groan.

  Her hands pick up the pace and she tries for her knees again but I refuse.

  “Fuck me,” I groan again, flexing my hips up in her direction.

  Darby’s lips attack mine, biting down hard on my bottom lip, while stroking my cock. She glides her hand from base to tip then on the next stroke grips it harder. A fucking hand job from a woman is something I haven’t had since high school and this woman has me ready to blow in a matter of seconds. My whole body shudders as she sweeps her tongue into my mouth.

  It takes everything inside of me to kiss her back. The sensation throbbing in my dick is overwhelming, making me fucking dumb. My hands find the slopes of her breasts, cupping them in my hands.

  “Darby…” I uncoil and spill into her hands. She strokes me, milking everything out of me and then smashes our bodies together. We slip and slide, kissing the fuck out of each other for a long time.

  My brain floats in a heavenly state after my release and I work my lips on hers in a harsh and demanding way. Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling hard, and moaning into my mouth. Our tongues begin an intricate dance. I’m hard and throbbing between us in a matter of moments.

  Darby finally steps back, running her hands from her abdomen up to her globes, smearing me all over her. She’s marking herself and I fucking love it.

  “Mmmm, all mine,” I fucking growl and then whirl her around, pressing her back to my front.

  “Rhett.” Her voice is full of need and greedy.

  “Baby?” I sweep her hair to the side, talking into the crook of her neck.

  “Never quit making love to me like last night.”

  “Ok,” I murmur on her skin.

  “But also never stop fucking me raw and real.”

  “Are you asking for something?”

  She moans out. “Fuck me hard, Rhett.”

  My hands go to the top of her shoulders, glide down the length of her arms, until I have her wrists clutched in my hands. I guide them up to the shower wall and press them there. Then I grab her hips, bringing her sweet ass to me at the perfect angle. Our bodies fit perfectly together. The tip of my dick is at her entrance, ready for round two with my girl.

  I slam into her, giving her what she wants, and I never slow down the pace as I relentlessly fuck her. One of my hands wraps possessively around her throat and the other down to her clit. I find my rhythm pounding into her and strumming her clit until we are both falling apart together.

  I take my time washing her body first and controlling my need for her. God knows I want to take her again, over and over, but I’m thinking telling my boss I’m late for work because I couldn’t get my dick out of Darby won’t go over too well.

  Her hands go to wash me, but I peel them away.

  “Out you go.” I slide open the shower door and swat her ass.

  Darby gives me her signature pouty lip and I shoot back my “no take shit” Rhett stare.

  “Not fair.”

  I swivel her around to face the bathroom and talk into the crook of her neck. “If those sweet hands of yours are all over my body again, we will never get out of here. I’ll be fucking you all day long.”

  “And the problem?” she asks.

  “I’ll get fired.”

  “And the…”

  She’s such a little shit, and loves to tease and joke.

  “Out.” I slap her ass again before she finally steps out.

  Washing Darby’s smell off the second time fucking sucks and is just as hard as the first time. Like I said, when I grow up I want to be a Darby Scented Candle burning on high. I cut the shower off and slide open the door to a buck ass naked Darby with her hair pulled up in a towel. She’s perched on the bathroom counter with her legs crossed and looking like a fucking centerfold in the naughtiest magazine.

  “What are you plans today?” I ask, swallowing down my temptations.

  “Thought I’d start moving our stuff over and buying a few things for our new casa.”

  I nod approvingly while running a navy blue towel over my limbs, drying off. I don’t miss the fact she studies every action of mine and I play her little game, making her just as hot for me as I am for her. When I’m finally dried off, I pay extra attention to my dick, making sure it’s perfectly dry.

  Darby remains on the counter with her mouth wide open and her hips flexing back and forth.

  “Making you wet?”

  “Ass.”

  I walk over to her and put myself in another very dangerous situation, right between her legs. She spreads them easily for me and wraps her arms around my neck.

  I run my hand between her legs.

  “Very wet.”

  I don’t stop there. Two of my fingers run through her wet folds and she moans. I stop there with enough of her scent on me. I bring my two fingers to my mouth and lick each one of them off. My tongue swirls around the tip of my fingers until her juices are all consumed.

  “What are you doing today?” She raises an eyebrow.

  “Working my day job and then the club.”

  I feel her tense at the word club and know I’m going to have to do something about that job. The problem is that it’s a part of me that I love. It’s become my second home and I love it.

  “Meet me at the club tonight?”

  “Sure.” She shrugs.

  “Darby, look at me.” I cup her face and pull it up to mine. “I love that club. It’s a part of me.”

  “I know. It’s fine.” She hops from the counter trying to avoid the subject.

  “Talk to me, dammit.”

  “It’s fine, Rhett.” She pulls on a fresh pair of lacy, lavender panties.

  “Does it bother you?” I ask, leaning up against a wall.

  She doesn’t make eye contact while snagging her matching bra from the floor. “No, it doesn’t bother me. It’s not like you’re fucking them. You’re just dancing.”

  I step up behind her and pluck the bra from her hands and begin to put it on her. I let the backs of my hands roam under the swell of her tits. “I’m all yours, baby, please trust me.”

  “I trust you, Rhett, it’s just…” She doesn’t finish her thought and only shakes her head. “Never mind, it’s fine.”

  This conversation is going nowhere and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I have to prove to Darby I can make this all work. I can continue to be me, and the same with her, and our love will be the one thing that pulls us together.

  “Are you sure?” I swivel her around in my arms to face me and place a gentle kiss on her lips. “You have to be open or this won’t work, baby.”

  “It’s just a hard pill to swallow knowing all those women will be fantasizing about fucking you. It was fine when we were friends with benefits, but aren’t we more now?”

  The uncertainty in her voice guts me and I’m quick to respond, leaving no doubt left behind in her mind. “We are so much more now. You’re mine and I’m yours. We are going to move into a home together that I restored with my own hands.”

  “Then it sucks to watch you dance.”


  “Do you not want to come?”

  “If you choose to dance then I’m going to be there.”

  I don’t miss the choice of words she uses. If I choose.

  “I’m not choosing this over you. It’s a part of me.”

  “Then I’ll be there.” She runs her long nail down my chest.

  And I know it’s my job to make her know it will all work out.

  9

  Darby

  “Well, that was easy,” I say to the empty room.

  It took two carloads to get everything over to our new house. The landlord was kind and didn’t mind us breaking the contract. As I sifted through our shit, I realized I’ve been living in a state of numbness since the night I pushed Oliver. Empty pill bottles, booze bottles, and anything else I used to mute the pain of living and remembering.

  I left it all behind and became physically ill looking at the shit. That’s not me. Not me at all, I’ve been through other traumatic shit and never went that route. Goosebumps race all over skin thinking about how close I came to losing myself. It was a combination of watching Ava’s happiness yesterday and opening up to Rhett that cemented the fact I’m not letting Oliver control me anymore.

  Rhett scares the shit out of me, but he really opened up to me yesterday, soothing away some worries. I’m jumping in with him and it feels so fucking thrilling, but also so damn scary at the same time.

  My phone lights up and I know it’s Rhett. He’s been texting me all day. Mostly dirty thoughts and pictures, and I won’t lie, I fucking adore them.

  Rhett: See you soon

  Me: Just finished moving everything over.

  Rhett: Damn, one day you’ll make someone a fine piece of ass.

  Me: You know it.

  Rhett: Wear a fuck me dress.

  Me: Why?

  Rhett: So I can fuck you!

  Me: Have I ever told you how romantic you are?

  Rhett: I’m fucking Prince Charming.

  I toss my phone on the bed his dad brought over earlier this morning, then run my hand along the new bright grey and yellow comforter I purchased. If he wants a fuck me dress then that’s what he’ll get. I’ve been relaxed since being here living in shorty shorts and tanks, but I’ll pull out all the stops tonight just for him and for the skanky blonde who seems to think she owns him.

  My true love and passion stares back at me from my closet. Fashion. Dresses. Shoes. Designer labels. I run my finger along the long line of clothes hung up on hangers. I had them stored over at Ava’s after we moved out of her parents’ summer home. I used to have a fashion blog, and was determined I was going to trend and make a career out of it.

  But then life happened. I pull the black dress from the closet and remember the photo shoot where I shot in it. It’s a short one that barely hugs the curves of my ass cheeks with an open back and tiny straps. A shimmery lace covers the base of the dress, giving it just enough sparkle to stand out.

  My legs dip into the top of it and I shimmy it to the top tucking my tits in it. It fits like a glove, hugging all of my curves perfectly. Exhaling loudly, I remember the high of being in these dresses. I look into the full-length mirror framed by fancy wood that Rhett made and admire myself. I’m not ogling myself, but admiring the fabric and it’s power to make a woman feel beautiful. I pull my hair up and then let it fall down around my shoulders, deciding what goes best with the dress.

  It’s then I remember the feel of Rhett’s lips on my neck this morning and go for the up-do. I gather the wavy curls high on the top of my head, letting some of the tendrils fall around my face. Then I go in for the kill…high heel, shiny, candy red shoes.

  I dig in the tote to find the perfect clutch to pair with the outfit and then decide on jewelry, but with one last look I like the naked look of my neck and chest and forgo any jewelry.

  The drive to the strip club isn’t one of worry or nasty thoughts of Rhett up on the stage dancing for flocks of horny women. It’s the way I feel in the dress and the high of fashion strumming my attitude. A business plan is exactly what I need and will focus on tonight.

  When I roll into the parking lot of Blue Iron, I spot Rhett’s truck first thing. I know he always gets here early on the nights he performs, mainly to relax and have a few drinks. I’m sure he gets high too.

  I straighten out the dress and tug it down as far as it will go, which is not very damn far. When I open the door to the club it’s quiet, which is opposite of what it normally is. There’s no blaring music, darkness bathed with strobe lights, or horny women.

  “Hey,” Kip, the head bartender hollers out.

  “Hi.” I wave to him enthusiastically.

  Kip and I have bonded well over the months of me frequenting the club. He can’t figure out how in the hell I came here all the time and am still into Rhett. I always just respond with, “I’m a strange woman.”

  He’s a quiet man, always only offering up a few words.

  “Looking for your man?” he asks.

  Hearing him claim Rhett as mine sounds weird and I go to correct him, then realize I have nothing to correct.

  “Yeah,” I nod. “Is that jackass around?”

  I spy an empty glass of whisky on the bar before I hear a sound that I’ll never forget. It has to be the skanky blonde who's been deemed the club whore. I’m no fool and know why she’s always around here.

  Obnoxious loud moans fill the empty club mingled with the words, fuck me harder. She has no shame and grows louder and louder as someone fucks her. My cheeks heat up with anger before I realize Kip is saying something. I ignore the words flowing from him and walk closer to the hall. I realize I must love self-torture to bring myself closer to her voice.

  I stand at the end of the bar and the opening of the hall. The two doors to the bathrooms remain shut, as does the dressing room door located at the end of the hall. Her voice echoes down the hall and my stomach turns. Rhett. No. Rhett. Are the only three words that race through my thought process.

  My legs begin to tremble, but I begin stepping down the dimly lit hallway. A flying door opens in front of me. I remain in the light flooding in from the main area of the bar and come face to face with Rhett zipping up his jeans. I do a double, then a triple take, before my heart begins to slow down. He was in the bathroom.

  “Holy fuck me dress, Batwoman.” A smile slowly spreads across his face. Not any smile, but one that instantly makes my thong wet. Soaking wet.

  “Rhett,” I finally let out in one long syllable.

  He steps into me, wrapping his arms low around my waist. “Jesus fucking Christ, Momma, are you trying to kill me?”

  My fingers tremble as I bring my free hand up to his beard and run my fingers down it.

  “You okay, baby?”

  And if on cue, the moans and screams of the woman fill the club. He closes his eyes tight and walks me backwards back out into the club.

  “I’m sorry.” He leaves my side and heads over to the DJ stand, cuing up a song. “Die A Happy Man” begins blaring out, drowning out the other poisonous sound. He’s back to me, taking my clutch and flinging it over to the bar, and then finally wrapping me up in his arms. We begin to sway slowly to the tune of the song with our bodies pressed together.

  “Did you think I was back there?” He nods in the direction of the dressing room.

  I’m only able to nod my head up and down telling him yes, and then bury my face in his neck. I let a few lone tears shed.

  “Baby, I told you. Yes, I’ve been with her, but not since I knew this was more. It’s been fucking months.”

  I whisper into his ear. “I know. It just scared me.”

  “I bet. I’m so sorry.”

  I can hear it in his voice that he’s truly sorry for putting me in this situation. I just wish there was a way I could show him how hard this is on a relationship. But he tugs me in even closer, even though I’m not sure there was any way to get closer. His hands sneak down the back of my open dress until he has my ass cheek
s cupped in his strong hands.

  I can feel his hard cock pressing up to my center. He’s still in a white V-neck t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and brown work boots. This has to be the sexiest I’ve ever seen him in his dirty work clothes pressed up against my designer dress, and feeling all of his want and desire bounce between us.

  “You make me a happy man,” he reaches down, whispering into my ear.

  I pull back and stare into his bedroom eyes and can’t help the loving grin that covers my face. “It’s a job that I take very seriously, Cupcake.”

  “Cupcake?” He kisses the tip of my nose. “I think you just made my dick shrink permanently a few good inches.”

  “So, is the weatherman forecasting six inches tonight?”

  The music cuts all together and I’m thankful the blonde is quiet.

  “Drink?” he asks, clutching my hand in his.

  “A stiff one.” I wink at him.

  “You better knock it off or I’ll be taking you out back.”

  I let go of his hand and make it a show of hopping onto the bar stool, giving him a full show of my pussy. I hold the pose a moment too long watching him stare. Then when he has the perfect view of it and his eyes go glassy with lust, I slowly close my legs and swivel around on the bar stool. My tits do a perfect job of perching on the bar, giving Kip the perfect view.

  “Double Scotch on the rocks, please,” I order.

  I feel his strong chest push up against my back, then his fingers dig into my hips, and his dick hard and ready for action. He dips his head low in my neck kissing and licking it. Something out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. The fucking blonde whore stands at the end of the bar with freshly fucked hair, glaring daggers my way.

  I tilt my head to the side, giving Rhett more access. He takes full advantage of it, continuing to lick and kiss the entire area of my neck until he has audibly moaning. When Kip sets down my drink, Rhett whispers in my ear, “After this drink I’m fucking you in this dress.”

  “Promise?” I crane my head far enough to see his face.

  “Double dick promise,” he answers with a smile.

  I attack his lips. It’s a soft kiss at first, but turns into so much more when his tongue darts out to my lips, running along the seam and I part for him. He turns up the heat, devouring my mouth, sweeping every inch of it. I remain, still letting him lap me up until he pulls back.