by Layla Wolfe
I then realized I’d mostly forgiven him for taking the rap for his brother.
Should I condemn a man just because he’d shared cells with rapists and pedos? The Innocence Project had gotten him released at least a couple of years early, and he’d endured grievous torture the first ten. By turning against him, I was just prolonging the dues he’d paid for his one real mistake, which was serving time in place of Sonny. Society had cleared him of all charges to the point where even the Air Force had taken him. Why couldn’t I?
I could. I can do this.
Tanner didn’t answer his door, so eventually I walked in. He was in the shower, steam rolling from the open door. First thing, I put the weed and pipe onto his glass table, where a plastic cup and a bottle of Jameson’s sat. It looked like he’d only taken a few sips before showering. I should talk. I can’t go a day without pot. I drifted to the bed and, without thinking, picked up the Paws-n-Gauze T-shirt he’d been wearing at Tutti’s. Smashing it to my face, I buried my nose in it and inhaled deeply. Tanner’s strong pheromones actually sent shivers down my arms, puckering my nipples.
I inhaled again. The manly, musky scent almost gave me true to God biological urges. I wanted to race into the bathroom and jump into the shower with Tanner, wrap my thighs around his muscular hips, allow him to him penetrate me, pin me to the cheap tiles. His stiff nipples would rasp against mine and he’d splash my womb with his fertile load. Smelling his aroma was filling me with real baby fever.
Bellamy and I’d discussed that issue many times. Being infertile, could we truly have these hormonal cravings? Or did we plain old just want to get thoroughly reamed by a macho guy? Tossing the shirt down, I yanked my phone from my back jeans pocket. I thumbed rapidly to the shirtless photo of Tanner I’d stolen from his website. Cradling that little white dog like that, his pecs were pumped, juicy. How I fucking wanted to rub my face over that muscular chest, nibble those nipples, drop to my feet and inhale his long, succulent pole down my throat.
“Oh!” I cried loudly, tossing my phone onto the table. Why the fuck had I downloaded that photo? Now it was driving me insane.
As if seeing the man in the flesh would help, I took a few long strides to the bathroom. Tanner’s fuzzy, tanned image floated in and out between puffs of steam. He was practically belting out a tune as he soaped his chest, socking his lathered hands into his pits, turning and letting the water and sweat stream down his body.
Could he not see me? I was an obvious dark silhouette in an otherwise all-white bathroom. I moved a little from side to side, but it didn’t stop him. His hands slid lower, over his taut abdomen, fingers forking through the triangle of brown hair at his pubic bone. He took his time reaching under to cup his ballsac, slithering it through his soapy fingers, wagging his half-erect prick from side to side. Even at half-mast it was a beautiful, impressive penis, the wide glans glossy, the meat weighty as it swung from the V of his fingers.
Then he grabbed the whole length of it and tossed his head back. Feet spread apart near the drain, he used both hands to wash his dick. He was clearly taking pleasure in making long strokes from his pubis all the way down to the wide cap. The other hand kneaded his full scrotum. When his palm closed over the bulging glans, I know I gasped. I know I did, although how could he have heard it over the sound of the splashing water?
He froze, and I could’ve swore I saw his eyes open behind the foggy glass.
Shit! Should I stay, or should I go? Maybe he didn’t see me. Maybe something else had just popped into his head. If I moved now, he’d definitely see me. But if I stayed, I just looked like a giant letch.
Luckily for me, he moved first. Turning his back to the spray, he almost pointedly spread his ass cheeks to allow the water to sluice between them. At that point I would’ve fallen to my knees and licked his gorgeous asshole clean. His penis stood out at a severe right angle to the flat plane of his body, and he didn’t seem to care. I backed up a few inches when he turned to rinse his front, fisting his meat to cleanse his balls. Last, he rinsed his dick by wiggling the heavy organ back and forth. His shapely form turned once more to spray his back, and he boldly opened the shower door.
I boldly played dumb.
“Oh, hey, darlin’,” he said casually, whipping a towel off the rack. Even when he wrapped his hips in it, his erection stood out like a pork chop in a synagogue. The material was so cheap the outline of his mushroom head straining against what might well have been Kleenex was clearly visible. Wiping the mirror off with his palm, he seemed much more interested in his own reflection than in me. Was I relieved or disappointed? His haunches beneath the flimsy towel moved like a show horse’s when he took a step to whip another one to dry his torso. I wished I was that towel. My bold move was to step toward him and take control of the towel from him. He allowed me to do that as he leaned on his palms on the sink, his head lolling as I simultaneously dried and massaged his shoulders with the towel.
I was grateful to him for saving my stupid ass at Tutti’s. And I needed to find out his intentions.
“It’s been a long day,” he said into the sink.
I circled my thumbs around his cervical vertebrae. I was always sore there after a long shift washing and grooming dogs. “Yes. I’m so, so sorry for dragging you out to Tutti’s.”
It sounded as though he smile-laughed. “I want to know what you were thinking.”
My fingers stilled. I knew he was rolling it over and over in his head, every idea coming back to the same theme . . . What in the name of Captain Kangaroo is going on with her? What did I hope to gain by going to Tutti’s? Didn’t I know it was a dangerous trap?
“I know it was stupid,” I stuttered, “but I did it on the spur of the moment. It came from an emotional place, you have to understand, Tanner. When Knoxie told me you did ten years for rape, though I knew it was your brother who did it and you were innocent, still, I couldn’t separate you from the crime. And I wanted to lash out against the guy who had put me in that situation. I felt I never would’ve hooked up with you if Tutti didn’t kill Lavinia. I wanted him to know that we know what he did. That we’re not stupid.”
Sighing deeply, Tanner turned to face me. I was finally able to put my hands on his beautiful chest, but the circumstances were not those of my fantasy. “Unity. It was a stupid move, trying to tell Tutti we know. What difference does that make? It just puts him on the defensive, don’t you see?”
“I see now,” I said, my head hung low. “Wolf wouldn’t have been shot if I didn’t go there.”
“Right. And you could have been raped again or worse, if we had not come along.”
Tanner was trying to paint himself as a hero, but he was a hero. I knew to give credit where it was due. Tanner was a fucking hero, and I needed to thank him for saving my sorry ass. “I know. I can’t apologize enough. I need to get over this rape thing. I can’t run from every guy who ever stood next to a rapist.”
Tanner grinned, that adorable boyish grin that always melted my heart, if it was not mindless mush already. “Queen of Heaven. I’m not angry at you. I know you’re not going to get over something that drastic in a few weeks. You can take as much time as you want. I’ll be here.”
“But you won’t.” I pouted. “You’ll be in St. Louis once we find Lavinia. And I have a feeling we’ll find her tomorrow.”
“But I’m only going back to St. Louis to pack everything up and move out here.”
What? “What?”
He took my chin between his fingers, examining me from different angles. “Yes. I’m relocating Hang Town Ranch out here somewhere. Josie and Curly can run it while I go to med school.”
What? “Dafuq?” I whispered, awed to the core.
“I ran into a realtor at the Bum Steer the other day. She said there are plenty of former horse properties in this valley. Should be no big deal, if I can talk my sponsor into agreeing.”
“Sponsor? Someone sponsored your ranch?”
“Well, yeah, when I got out of
the service I wasn’t rolling in dough. I contacted some folks from Puppies Behind Bars, and yeah, I got a sponsor.”
I raised a skeptical eyebrow and started to rub his chest with the towel again, though his chest was dry. I knew about sponsors. “A female, by any chance?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. Does it make a difference?”
“Did you fuck her?”
“Yeah. Does it make a difference?”
There it was again, that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. As when he’d told me about Joy, even though they still appeared to be split up, a lance of jealousy speared my guts. Of course he’d fucked a few women here and there! Or even a bunch of women. Big deal. He got what he wanted and that was for the betterment of thousands of dogs everywhere!
“Yes. If you did it to get the money, it matters.”
His gaze was so direct I almost did go into capture myopathy. It was unnerving, now that he’d started doing it. I felt like a fly pinned to paper. “I didn’t do it for money. We genuinely liked each other, and haven’t fucked for over a year, but she still funds my work. Her and some other animal rescue groups. Here, beautiful.”
Bending at the knees, Tanner lifted me effortlessly. I giggled like a little girl. When had I last been carried? Oh, I didn’t care to think about that. Let’s just say a man had never carried me anywhere fun, like Tanner was now doing.
In moving to the bedroom, he lost his little hip towel. I caught a great eyeful in the wall mirror as he sauntered to the bed. His ass was muscular, juicy, and I just wanted to take a bite from it. But he sat down on the edge of the bed with me in his lap, my arms around his neck.
“We should discuss tomorrow’s schedule,” Tanner said, “but first, I’d rather kiss you.”
I made a curious sound, somewhere between a whine and a sob, and went in for the kiss.
My lips are pillowy and plump—yes, sometimes thanks to lip fillers, I freely admit—which I knew was always very sensuous for a man. But this time was different, as was everything about Tanner. We munched on each other’s mouths languidly, like two drunken people in a boat, clinging to each other out of desperation, yet knowing we had all the time in the world. I’d left my pants in my room—why put back on dirty pants to sleep?—and through my flimsy panties I felt his prick stiffen. In fact, if I squirmed just right, yes, that worked perfectly, his hard-on popped out between my thighs, and I could massage it just by writhing, keeping my knees together. It was hot and satiny and felt so much like I’d strapped on a dildo I couldn’t resist reaching down to cradle the heat in my palm.
A few slick drops of precum had spurted forth, so I used my palm to lubricate the mushroom head. Tanner moaned into my mouth as I licked the back of his teeth, his breathing quickening. I mashed my braless tits against his well-developed chest and squirmed, groaning when one of my stiff nipples scraped his chest hair. Oh, it would be even better if we were skin to skin, so I reached my free hand and lifted the Grand Canyon shirt like a curtain on a drama. The exquisite feeling when I mashed my skin to his made me squirm even more ardently, and I sucked on his upper lip, already many stages along the road to orgasm.
I jacked the fat stub of dick that sprouted between my not-so-slender thighs. Tanner moved to lift my kokopelli shirt completely over my head, and tossed it somewhere behind me. He held me firmly with his fingertips against my back, groaning deep in the pit of his stomach when I smoothed my palm over his cockhead. It was heaven to mash my bare boobs against his buff chest.
“Unity,” he said, his mouth full of my lip. He made as if to remove my hand from his cock. “Darlin’. My ever-lovin’. Oh God. Oh God. You’ve got to—“
“Stop?” I squeaked. My fingers could barely meet around his member.
“—stop,” he finished, forcing my hand away.
“Why?” I practically cried.
He was panting, his eyes dilated as he looked at me. “Look. You’re primed enough. But I want to go slow with you, understand?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m primed, all right. I’m ready to take your fat, juicy cock into my pussy, Tanner. Come on.” I kissed his full, bee-stung lips. “I’m ready. What are we waiting for?”
“I don’t want you to be—cut it out—I don’t want you to be one of the majority of women who don’t gain pleasure from sex. I don’t want you to shut down.”
“Don’t gain pleasure?” I cried, finally pulling back. “Are you trying to say they don’t have orgasms? I have orgasms all the fucking time, mister! Just maybe not with other men.”
His smile was now sly. “Oh, yeah? Well, now we’ve both got something to prove. Challenge accepted.”
And without any more ado, Tanner flipped me off his lap. I spun in the air, landing on my ass, while he vanished somewhere on the floor at my feet. I felt bawdy and ridiculous, my bare legs spread, my labia wide open, my clit no doubt elongated and slippery.
Tanner set me at ease instantly. He began biting my inner thighs lightly, little animal nips that sent arrows of lust shooting up my inner pussy. It almost tickled and I laughed, but when his hot breath started to warm my pussy lips, I fell back onto my elbows and just watched him perform like a trained seal.
He was majestic. He was a pearl diving expert.
He seemed to spend forever just breathing onto my labia, darting tiny snake licks that barely touched my screamingly sensitive skin. I took a handful of his hair and tried to direct him like a joystick, but he refused to be driven. I tried rotating my hips, so my clit met his mouth, but he ducked from the encounter every time.
“Tanner!” I screeched. “Lick me!”
I could actually feel his smile against my inner thigh! That asshole was grinning to beat the band, and all at my expense!
I shook his head like a dog’s toy. “Cumon! I’m serious! Lick me! Do it, you bastard! If you think that I can’t just shove you aside and take care of business myself, you’ve got another thing coming! If you think—Agh!”
At last, he took me at my word. He dove in open-mouthed, clamping his lips down over my clit and dredging all kinds of animal sounds from the pit of my throat. Oh man, I must’ve growled, barked, hummed, snarled, and yes, even keened. At first, he lapped with a wide, stiff tongue. He seemed to know instinctively where to lick to urge me higher. He kept up this murderous pace for an admirably long time. He must have strong throat muscles. His oral massage coupled with his hot breath and his own deeply male groaning stoked me so high, I realized my feet on the floor were on tiptoes, stiff from tension.
Even better, Tanner kept up an appreciative groan. “Mm, mm, mm.” As though my cunt were the most tasty appetizer ever! And for once, I wasn’t embarrassed to have my legs splayed wide open, a man gorging on my juices. Well, OK. It’d only happened once or twice before—with Evan once, and with another random photographer another time. From speaking to Bellamy, Bee, and Maddy, I gathered it really wasn’t even a common occurrence among men. In fact, those three women said it had only been done to them by their current old men.
So I relished every second of this loving attention from such a macho man. That is, until he started stroking me higher and higher. That’s when things began to swirl around me. Really, the ceiling above me was twirling like a top, like a wheel of fortune. I knew he was stoking me closer to orgasm and it’s like my body refused to accept it. My awareness of the outside world began to shut down. It was almost like someone had applied some numbing agent on my clit. How would I ever fall over the edge of the orgasmic cliff if I couldn’t even feel Tanner’s tongue anymore?
It was as though I were fainting while conscious. I couldn’t move my limbs. I knew I’d been on the verge of coming, and now I was a mindless, sensationless blob crouched in a ridiculous poDsition on the edge of the—
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Tanner
Man, that woman was a delectable piece of cunt.
She must’ve known it too, displaying her inner labia so brazenly. Most women seemed ashamed of their nether parts. I was
surprised to see her lips weren’t pierced there, too. No, her lady parts were completely unscarred—physically, that is. I proceeded to eat her in a rhythmic manner until I felt her legs tense. That was a definite precursor to orgasm, so I stepped it up, using a flickering, rigid tongue-tip.
Oh, Law, she was a tasty cunt. Her juices flowed in an even stream, and soon my rough beard was flecked with more than just grey. Her fingers buried deep in what little hair remained on my head, she pressed my temples like a Vulcan mind-meld, then worried my skull like a toy.
I could tell from the various moans and groans that came from deep inside her how close she was coming. I was proud of my prowess at muff diving. It was another thing that set me apart from the rest of the pack. Most guys didn’t bother, so it really impressed the babes.
And more than ever, I wanted to impress this one.
It was the opposite of a chore to lap and lap at her inner core. Her erect clit squirted tasty juice when I licked, and I even got to swallow a few mouthfuls. She was right—she was primed and ready for a good reaming, but I wanted to tend to her needs first. I wanted to see firsthand how powerfully she came for me, so maybe it was a little self-serving too. Yet there I was, giving it my all, every cell of my body concentrating on pleasuring that jutting core of her, when she went limp.
Yeah. She shut down.
I thought maybe she’d fainted from so much sensation, but her legs stayed upright, toes balanced on the floor. Slowly I stopped sucking and gnawing, giving her button one last lap that elicited not a single gasp or twitch from her. What the fuck? I pulled back and saw her face turned to one side on the mattress, eyes closed, palms facing the ceiling, slack.
Was this like the animals who defuse their attackers by playing dead?
Now, I had no notion she was doing this on purpose. My gut instinct was that it was her natural defense against Gary Gregario. Many rape victims, I’d heard, went limp, sent their consciousness elsewhere, into a fly on the ceiling, or to a happier memory entirely. Torture victims have told a disgusting similarity. They pass out, or faint while remaining conscious, because the psyche simply cannot take such extremes of abuse.