Runaway Girl

by Bailey, Tessa

  I’ve never been a fan of cunnilingus. It’s always been kind of a formality. A way for the gentleman to assure himself he’s doing the right thing before the main event. But I’ve always been too self-conscious to enjoy it. Am I making the right noises? Did I miss a spot while shaving? What in God’s name is he thinking about? None of those questions occur to me now, because I’m quite simply being eaten. Jason mouth moves as if he’s savoring a ripe orange, determined to reach every part of me with his tongue, his hands on my bottom pulling me closer for his attention.

  He stays on the surface, laving that bundle of nerves with the flat of his tongue until I’m pressing my head back into the wall and crying out, the muscles at the juncture of my thighs clenching tight. And he watches me like the pleasure is all his. As if he’s selfish for my taste. His obvious enjoyment cuts the final string on my reservations and lets me sink into the moment. Let’s me stop worrying about what happens next and whether or not I look, sound, taste sexy enough. Jason’s hunger for more is blatant. I’m more than enough…I’m exactly what he wants.

  Exhilaration rides down my spine and settles there, turning my hips restless. Oh. Oh, this is moving so quickly. My nipples ache so badly I can do nothing but feel myself up through the gray T-shirt, pinching the tight points between my knuckles. The action starts a wicked tug between my legs, right where Jason is licking me, and the need for relief swells another story higher. He watches me play with my nipples and growls, jerking me closer to his mouth by my backside, and I scream inside my throat when his tongue slides inside me deep. The intimacy of it starts a tremor somewhere inside me that has never been discovered. Oh Lord. It’s happening. I’ve never actually had an orgasm this way. Getting to that point usually takes a lot of finger work and mental commands to stop obsessing…not this time.

  “Jason. S’happening.”

  Did I just say that?

  His only response is to find my clit and flicker his tongue against it, hooded eyes on me…and then his middle finger slides inside, easing in and out slowly, before moving faster, faster. An unfamiliar crescendo builds, the pressure divine and a curse at the same time.

  “No no no,” I chant, tilting my hips toward his mouth like an offering. “Yes. Almost. Please.”

  The tip of his finger brushes a magical spot inside me and I tumble off the cliff into the storm, gleefully allowing myself to crash onto the rocks. Only they’re not jagged, they’re welcoming. They crack me open with the sharpest, most intense pleasure I’ve ever been given, leaving me in pieces on the shore, my spasming flesh making me feel like I’m still soaring up in the air. My body shakes, but I’m warm. So warm. Jason has let one leg drop at a time, carefully cradling me against the wall with his big body, his labored breaths loud and telling above my head.

  The instinct to comfort has my hands lifting, trailing down his stomach toward his waistband. “Don’t,” he barks, snagging my wrists. “I need a fucking minute after watching how hot you get off. Naomi…Jesus. That pussy is the sweetest little thing I’ve ever tasted.” His jaw bunches, nostrils flaring. “You touch me and I’m going to come like a goddamn college kid.”

  “I want to see that,” I breathe, rocked by the desire to see Jason lose his composure. I’m positive I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. “Please, Jason.”

  “Playing dirty using my name.” His forehead falls to mine. “I love you saying it so bad.”

  Being worshipped by this man, having him admit to things in the dark he would never say in the light, turns a crank in my chest. There’s bravery, too, crackling in my belly, just knowing I drove him to this breaking point. My right hand strays lower to lock around his erection, teasing him with gentle squeezes through his jeans, drawing a broken groan from his mouth that echoes down the alley. “Jason,” I whisper, going down on my knees. “Jason.”

  “Naomi,” he grits through his teeth. He closes his eyes a moment, then braces one hand on the wall, the other going to his zipper. “The hell with it. I want that fucking mouth.”

  I’ve spent my life in ball gowns and having men ma’am me to death. I’ve walked stages and been praised for being a classy Southern lady. And yet I’ve never felt more like a woman than right now, watching Jason jerk down his zipper with a shaking hand, needing to get himself inside my mouth. The insides of my thighs are damp, I’m wearing nothing but a T-shirt and my mascara must be running, but somehow I’m the most desirable woman in Florida. Jason makes me feel that way. I want him to feel that way, too.

  From this vantage point, Jason is the sexiest, most powerful man I’ve ever witnessed up close, his body mapped with tattoos and hair, his expression fiercely…possessive. Of me. But also desperate. At my mercy. That combination turns me on all over again. If someone told me I’d be licking my lips for the feel of a man in my mouth, I wouldn’t have believed them. Here I am, though, excitement simmering in my blood as he takes his huge, swollen arousal out of his jeans, dragging his fist from root to tip. “Oh my God.”

  “Yeah. You make it this way, baby.” He pumps his flesh a few quick times, groaning. “Come get a suck.”

  I don’t even flinch now at the way he speaks to me, because his actions tell a different story. One of respect and protectiveness. This is about sex. That’s the language he’s speaking. I want to speak it with him. “Come get it.”

  A low curse vibrates out of Jason and he walks forward, erection in hand, pants around his knees. He cups my chin in one hand and pulls it down. Firm, commanding. Needy. A second later, his smooth head glides across my tongue and the taste of salt travels down my throat.

  “Son of a bitch.” He tugs himself back out of my mouth, face contorted in pleasure/pain, before dipping the thick weight back inside, inch by inch. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’ve got you on your knees. Thought I’d just be dreaming about it the rest of my life.”

  My breath catches at his admission that he’s been dreaming about me. Needing a distraction from the pinch in my chest, I wrap my hands around his girth and stroke him toward my mouth, licking around the head in one slow revolution. “What do I do in these dreams?”

  “Baby, you are a fucking dream. In a pinch, I can get off thinking of you in yoga pants and your pouty lower lip.” He steps closer, his booted foot bumping my outer thigh. “You sorry for making me suffer so long? Show me. Show me how you make nice.”

  Keeping my eyes on Jason, I relax my throat and let him guide his hard flesh deep, blinking when he meets the back. It might have been uncomfortable with someone else, but I’m too mesmerized by Jason to register the tears that jump to my vision, the ground abrading my knees. No. His harsh grunt and another taste of salt make it worth the reflexive pressure of my throat. His flesh jumps inside my mouth as he retreats, thickens as he pushes deep again. Again. Again. Again. The way I’m affected, he might as well be inside me. My folds are slick, a lust-dazed feeling creeping over me, blocking out the entire world. The noise of the parade in the distance erodes, leaving nothing but the wet, sucking sounds of my mouth and Jason’s erratic breathing.

  “That’s so good, baby, baby, such a sweet fucking mouth. You’ve got me so horny or I’d keep tapping the back of that throat.” He wraps my hair in a fist and turns up the pace of his thrusts, each of them punctuated by a curse. “Ahhh, Jesus. Going to come. You want it?”

  I hum around Jason’s erection and tighten my lips on a down stroke, walking on my knees to get close as possible, reveling in him, inhaling his musk. Want it? Yes, yes, I do. With my entire being. I’m the one that got him to this point—I want the proof. The reward.

  His fist grips the base of his length, rubbing up and down in time with my bobbing lips, working in perfect tandem for tense moments before the dam gives way. A groan rips from Jason and he erupts in my mouth, his hand a blur of motion as he frantically relieves himself into my mouth, down my throat. I watch him, absorbed, triumphant in the arch of his neck, the vein standing out in his temple, the sweat beading on his forehead. He’s wrecked
. A servant to his own body and the way it jerks, shudders as it empties.

  When he’s finished, a strange peace comes over me. I’ve needed this kind of contact with him for weeks, haven’t I? The stress of not touching Jason or having him touch me has kept me pulled tight as piano wire, but the wire is cut now and I fall to one side, catching myself on a hand.

  “Come here, beauty queen.” I’m hoisted off the ground and squished up against his chest, my toes brushing the ground. “Damn. Never thought I’d say this after a month of hell, but you were…you are worth every minute of the torture.”

  Still captured in my dazed state, I let him sway me. My body is slack, but his words have made my pulse boom wildly in my ears. There are worries just out of reach and I can already feel them sneaking back to the fore. Go away. “So are you, Blackbeard.”

  His fingers pause in their sift through my hair. “Any time you wanted me, baby, I’d have moved mountains—”

  I put my fingers over his mouth before he can go any further. The words he’s saying to me are beautiful, like balm on a scrape I didn’t even know I had. His arms feel so right around me, his heart beating against my ear. But we’re making too many admissions. Where does this lead? Nowhere. It can’t go anywhere. I’m afraid of us admitting too much and not being able to take it back. “Can’t we just have the moment a-and—”

  “And what? Go back to St. Augustine and pretend this didn’t happen?” Using a fist full of my hair, he tugs my head back, his face hovering over mine. “Pretend I didn’t drive here at ninety miles an hour because I can’t stand the thought of another man looking at or thinking about you?” His voice drops. “Pretend I don’t know your pussy melts like warm sugar on my tongue?”

  Heat careens through me. “Stop.”

  “No, Naomi. It’s not convenient to want each other this fucking bad, but here we are.” He looks away and something hostile passes through his eyes. I’m not prepared to balance myself when he lets go of my hair, but he holds me until I gain my footing. “You haven’t completely cut ties with your last relationship, but if you can kiss me the way you did, as far as I’m concerned, they’re fucking cut. I want them cut.”

  “It’s not that simple. Legacy and marriage and commitment and bloodlines. Those things are important to my family. I’ve allowed myself to be selfish, but I can’t stay this way forever.”

  The word forever falls between us like a boulder.

  “How can you ask me to make huge decisions that will affect my life when you’re leaving?” I whisper in a shaky voice. “We both are.”

  Silence stretches so long, I’m not sure he’ll ever respond. Then, “If we’ve only got a couple of weeks, so be it.” It takes him a moment to look at me. When he does, I can’t help but think he’s holding something back. “Until you go, though, I want it all. I want you in my bed every night. Fuck it, I want to hold your hand and take you out. All or nothing.”

  “Jason…”

  “You want an adventure?” He takes my face in his hands. “Let me help give it to you.”

  I’m almost dizzy from the rapid pounding of my heart. He can’t really be asking me to make a decision when I still haven’t come down from what he did to my body. What I did to his. I’ve barely given myself permission to acknowledge that I have feelings for Jason and he wants more. He wants it all.

  Temporarily.

  Will I be able to walk away when it’s all over?

  “Think about it.” Jason lays a lingering kiss on my lips. “But please don’t take long.”

  We don’t speak as Jason hails a cab and brings me back to the studio to collect my clothes and purse. When I’m dressed, the same cab brings us to the hotel. Jason holds my hand on the way through the lobby and I notice how everyone reacts to him. Men nod, like they can sense his heroism and want to pay their respect. Women duck their heads or full-on stare. He doesn’t seem to notice any of it, but I know he does notice, don’t I? I know he’s not aloof or uncaring about how he presents himself—he told me about the bagel shop. I know him. And with my hand tucked so tightly in his grip, I feel known, too. Protected and appreciated. By Jason. By the time we reach the elevators, my nerves are like tiny bottle rockets. Is he going to stay the night with me? Am I actually going to let him?

  Who am I kidding? If he kisses me, I won’t be able to say no. Just having his commanding presence so close to mine has me vibrating head to toe. My brain won’t stop replaying all his admissions. He’s dreamed of me. I’m worth the wait. I taste like sugar. But won’t spending the night together be as good as a yes to his proposed temporary arrangement?

  “Um…” I stop at the hotel door and turn. “I-I’m not sure—”

  “I know, beauty queen.” He lowers his head and gives me a kiss that spins me in a web, my head going so light I think I’m floating. “I want to stay. I need to stay and make you moan all goddamn night. But I can’t exist on a half measure of you anymore, Naomi. Stolen moments that end too fast. Give me all, for just a little while.” Another lingering kiss, followed by a rough exhale. “Come home to me safely tomorrow.”

  I can only stand there on knees made of rubber as he walks away, biting my lip so I won’t call him back. It’s not until twenty minutes later when I’m showering off the butterflies that I realize he called St. Augustine home. And I didn’t even question it.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  EndoftheInternet.net

  Username: IGotAnswerz9

  Let me be plain. The only one with a motive to kill Naomi was Getaway Girl herself, Addison Potts. Classic love triangle situation.

  Next!

  Jason

  The Florida humidity must have driven me goddamn crazy.

  That’s the thought that ran through my head on the drive home from Daytona last night. Actually it’s still there, pinging around like a nickel in the dryer. It’s ten o’clock in the morning and I’m pacing the driveway in a cloud of cigar smoke. Restless as a pitcher in the bullpen waiting for the green light from his manager.

  Or rather, from a blonde with a dream mouth.

  It’s Sunday morning. She doesn’t have pageant practice scheduled with Birdie. It would be totally natural for her to laze around in a fluffy hotel bed, browse Daytona for…whatever women browse for and come back later in the day. Here I am again, though, hobbled by having her safety out of my control. It seems like years have passed since I found out Naomi was sleeping in that shit bag motel, but I can still recall the feeling of fear. Fear that she might reject my offer to live above the garage and stay. Being helpless to convince her otherwise.

  This restlessness inside me is stronger now. But it’s different.

  Last night, when I found her walking mostly naked down the street, my first reaction had been total and utter denial. That couldn’t be her. This couldn’t be happening. Who the hell got close enough to paint butterflies on her tits? How fast could I get her away from everyone with a cock? Typical man concerns. I’d been ready to read her the riot act.

  Until she’d turned her head and I’d seen her profile. She’d been…blooming. A light shone down on her from some unseen source—maybe my imagination—and I realized I’d never seen her like that before. I’ve been caught up in my never-ending need to fuck her, being frustrated and confused and amused by her. Because of that, I’ve missed how she’s changed. Until last night. She’d told me in her own words that she’d come to St. Augustine for an adventure and she’d gone out and had one. She’s been having them.

  I sit down on the bumper of my boat trailer and grind out the cigar stub under my boot. I check my watch for the ninth time in as many minutes. The street was always too quiet for my taste. In my line of work, quiet meant loud was about to happen. With Naomi’s exhilarated expression in my head, I want to hear a Range Rover turning the corner. I want to be the one to make her look like that next time. Eating her pussy in an alley was all I’d had to work with on short notice, not that I’d heard any complaints. The need to do better is relentless, tho
ugh.

  The screen door slaps against the house and I turn to find Birdie wandering out, hair in disarray, mug of coffee in hand. “She’s not back yet?”

  My jaw pops under the pressure. “Nope.”

  Silence passes. “So you’re just going to be sitting here like the post-transformation Hulk when she pulls up?” She pauses with the coffee mug on her lips and sing-songs, “Creepy.”

  “I don’t like…” I blow out a breath. “The unknown. I don’t like having no gauge on the situation.”

  “You’re used to having coordinates and commands and an AK strapped across your chest.”

  “Yes.” Birdie sits down next to me on the bumper and lets me take a sip of her coffee. I watch her hover over the rim, marveling at how well she reads me when I’m positive I give nothing away. I’ve been marveling over her a lot lately. “I know we’re in Florida. Logically. But I’ve been there to see how fast it can end. It’s just…” I snap my fingers and feel an answering jolt inside of me. “I know I can’t prevent bad things from happening to people, but it’s fucking torture not being allowed to try.”

  The side of my face warms where Birdie studies my profile. “I’m sorry.”

  That cocked trigger in my chest eases back to the safety position. “That actually helps.”

  We sit in silence for a while as she downs her brew. “Do you worry about me like that?”

  As soon as she sees my incredulous expression, she looks away. “Of course I do, Birdie. I’ve got our house locked down like Fort Knox. If it was just me, I’d probably leave the doors unlocked, hoping someone would break in and give me the fight I need.”

  That was revealing. Even to myself. But Birdie just nods, a smile playing around her edges of her mouth. Her question seems to still be lingering in the air, though, so I keep talking.