Scenic Route

by D. D. Prince

  I guess I’d get her to get me out of here after pizza.

  ***

  It was half past two, hours past pizza, and I was way past drunk. And yes, I was still at the Dominion Brotherhood clubhouse. I was heading down the hall to Spencer’s room to get my purse and coat. Spencer was glued to me almost all night on that couch, and we’d had hours of laughing, joking, and fun with the group, but he’d gone to the foosball table to play a game with that other biker guy, who I’d learned was called Skip, so I took the opportunity to lean into Jenna and Rider, who were cuddled up talking on the couch.

  “When are you guys goin’?”

  Rider glanced at his watch. “Shit. We shoulda gone hours ago. I got work in seven hours. Got a full docket.”

  “I got the cab app on my phone,” Jenna said. “Where’s my phone at?”

  “In your hand, gorgeous,” Rider replied with a laugh. Jenna laughed, too.

  ”Bronto can take us home,” Rider said. “He’s on DD duty for the foreseeable. Poor bastard.” Rider signaled to Bronto, who was sitting at the bar, drinking a Coke. No longer scowling, now looking sad.

  “Can I crash in your spare room? My car’s at your place,” I asked.

  “Jojo’s using it all week, but you want the couch?”

  I’d forgotten about Jojo.

  “Sure it’s not a hassle?” I asked.

  “Pff. ‘Course not,” Jenna said and fiddled with the phone. “We were just planning a quiet night. Jojo went to bed early; the last few days were a lot on her emotionally, but then we heard about your day about ten minutes after we got home, which was nine minutes after she went to bed. We left her a note and headed over.”

  “If you’re sure…”

  “Of course I’m sure. Don’t be ridic-a-lis,” she slurred, pursing her lips, making her face squishy.

  I pursed my lips right back at her. “I’m not ridic-a-lis. You’re ridic-u-lous. And your face is squishy.”

  She leaned forward and grasped my chin. I grabbed her face the same way.

  “You’re squishy,” she said.

  “No, you’re squishy,” I returned.

  “You’re ridic-a-lis and squishy,” she informed me.

  I laughed. She laughed. And then we were both hugging and laughing so hard we fell on the floor together.

  “Bloody hell,” Rider grumbled. I looked up at him. He said that, but he looked totally amused with us.

  “I’ll go grab my stuff,” I announced, and got up (studiously avoiding Spencer’s eyes, which I knew were on me). I headed to Spencer’s room and nabbed my keys, which were sitting on his dresser, then shoved them into my purse and threw it over my shoulder.

  I felt him behind me.

  I reached for my coat. He was now right behind me. His hand slid up my arm and his mouth was at the ridge of my ear.

  “Don’t go.”

  I ignored the goosebumps. “I’m gonna stay with them. I won’t go back to Phil’s apartment tonight.”

  “Stay with me,” he ordered, softly, but though it was soft, it felt like an order.

  I had more goosebumps. He felt them. His lips were on my neck, making more of them rise. His hand slid up and down my goosebumpy arm. I shivered, and my head dropped back onto his shoulder.

  Dave Matthews Band, Crash into Me was playing out in the lounge and someone cranked it. It got loud.

  He turned me around to face him, took my jacket out of my hand and put it down. He took my purse off my shoulder and put it down, too.

  “Stay,” he mouthed. Or maybe he said it, I don’t know. The music was blaring. His eyes were on mine. My eyes dropped to his mouth and my lips parted.

  The door opened, and Jenna was behind him with her eyebrows up high, inquisitively. He must’ve sensed my reaction to her as he looked over his shoulder at her.

  “You coming?” she shouted.

  Spencer’s gaze swung back to me and his fingers sifted through my hair. His eyes were fixed on my mouth.

  I chewed my lip, eyes on his mouth, then bouncing back to Jenna with uncertainty.

  Spencer’s thumb skated across my lower lip slowly.

  Jenna winked at me and closed the door, answering for me.

  Spencer reached his hand behind himself and twisted the lock on the doorknob.

  I moistened my lips with my tongue.

  “I’m really drunk,” I informed, probably unnecessarily.

  His mouth was on my throat, then his lips slid up to my ear.

  “And stoned,” I told him.

  I don’t know if he could hear me. I could barely hear me.

  The volume went down just a touch out there, but the song was still playing loud enough to hear.

  “I’m not ready for a relationship,” I added, glad that he could definitely hear me now. “Anything that happens here with me ‘n you is just cashz… I’m not ready.”

  His nose moved down to the crook of my neck and then he stepped back. His eyes moved to mine. I chewed my lip and stared at his mouth. He walked me backwards and then we went tumbling onto the bed together.

  His mouth was on mine, my hands were in his hair. My tongue was in his mouth and my hands went to his fly. He stopped me, his hand clamping around my wrist, looking at me, questioningly, about to say something, but I spoke first.

  “Just… I’m not ready for a relationship, but I want this,” I said. And I did. I so did. I wanted to not feel pain. I wanted to feel good. For the first time in so, so fucking long. He looked unsure. The guy who’d been acting like he wanted me looked so unsure that I felt it like an icepick being jabbed into my chest.

  “I need this,” I whispered. “You are so handsome, and you’ve been so sweet to me…”

  He let go of my hand and his hand went to my face. His thumb traced my lower lip and then his mouth was on mine while I fiddled with his fly and got it open. I got my hand inside of cotton fabric and he was hot, hard, and impressive. I kicked my ballet flats off and my hands moved to my own fly. I was fumbling… fumbling and pedaling my feet, working my pants off while his mouth hungrily moved over mine.

  Goosebumps. So many goosebumps.

  This man was the best kisser I’d ever been kissed by. By far. Suddenly, I couldn’t wait to find out what else he was good at.

  “So glad you didn’t put onions on it,” I joked.

  He gave me a heated look. ”Wouldn’t have mattered.” There was no joke in the way he said that.

  He was kissing downwards, lifting my top up and off, and then he stopped and threw his shirt off, stood and dropped his pants and his boxer briefs. He leaned over me, reached down somewhere on the side of the bed and lifted up a strip of about a half a dozen condoms and put them on the headboard. I glanced over.

  “That’s a lotta condoms,” I remarked. And then my eyes moved to him. All of him.

  He definitely worked out. And my, my, my… a benevolent God had given him his parts. That was for damn sure. Muscles galore and warm beautiful skin hovered over me.

  “Yeah, and we’re gonna need ‘em all. Been waiting a fuckuva long time for this, Sunshine.”

  My lips parted in surprise.

  He shook his head, eyes appreciatively searing me. “Look at you.” His hands moved over my body, just wearing my black bra and a black lace thong. His mouth touched between my breasts and then his thumbs hooked the sides of my thong and he slid it down just a little.

  “Spencer, wait… we have to…”

  “Please don’t stop me, Pippa. Fuck, baby, please don’t stop me.” He still had my thong, but now his two fists were clenched in frustration.

  “No. No no; I’m not gonna stop you. I just… you need to know I’m not ready for anything serious. And we can’t let this muddy things. We’re in the same friend group and I don’t want it to get awk---”

  He silenced me with his mouth, slipping his tongue in, letting out a masculine moan that had me so soaking wet it was a little bit embarrassing.

  And then he kissed his way back down my body a
gain as my thong was hauled down and off.

  He crawled backwards, eyes up and aimed at my face, his head descending below my waist until that beautiful full pouty mouth was on me. Me.

  My lips parted. His tongue was right there. Right there.

  God, it had been such a long time since anyone did this to me, since anyone had me feeling like just a ball of nerves, uncurling, sparking, ready to zipline straight through a wall without a single care.

  I was drunk. I was high. But, I was feeling so damn much.

  “This is just fooling around,” I said to the ceiling and then my back was arching. “Omigod, you’re good at that.”

  He laughed a little against my clit and my lower back was even higher off the bed at that sensation.

  “Whoa. Holy shit.”

  This was hot. HOT.

  His fingers were on my boobs, then shoving my bra up. I leaned up in a sit-up, to unfasten it. I tossed it and fell backwards as his tongue went inside me.

  “Just fooling around, okay? That’s all this is.”

  He kept going. He was at me. At me with hunger.

  “Spencer?” I asked.

  He made a noise against me. It sounded like a sound of agreement, but it was a mmm hmmm-like hum that made buzzing happen directly against my clit, his tongue still inside me, and I let out a big shuddering moan as I hit a big, big, BIG climax.

  The song ended at that exact moment and yikes, I was loud, piercing the silence, at the top of the scale, hitting a high C. My hand went across my mouth and I froze. He lifted his head and smiled a dazzling smile with that dimple out.

  I laughed. “Ho-shit. Timing.”

  “I barely even got started and you light up like that? Fuck yeah, like fuckin’ sunshine…”

  Oh wow.

  The music’s volume went up again and the same Dave Matthews song started playing again. Louder. Louder than before.

  Someone either loved this song or was drowning us out.

  He moved up my body, reached for a condom and separated it from the strip, then as he got it on, smiling the whole time, as I nibbled and kissed and licked all over his chest, his biceps, digging my nails into his tight awesome ass. His mouth came down and hit mine and began hungrily devouring, tasting me, and I tasted ‘me’, too. Spencer, and beer, and ohmigod, he lined up, then in one fast thrust, he slammed inside. No hesitation, not a touch of gentle. He slammed deep into me. Hard, bottoming out, and I thought I was being split in two.

  Crash into me…

  I grabbed his shoulders. He slowed, looking at me with my mouth open, my face somewhere between pleasure and pain, and then his eyebrows went up as his eyes roved over my face. “Is this okay?” I had a feeling I was way drunker than him.

  “Kinda late if it wasn’t.”

  He froze, and his face was like stone.

  I shook my head and then grabbed his jaw with both hands.

  “I mean… yes.”

  “Yeah?” He looked serious. Too serious.

  Darn. I nodded with a gulp. “Sure is…”

  I was feeling kind of conflicted.

  He looked at me in a way that made me sure.

  I tightened my legs around his hips and he started to move. A lot. He pinned my hands over my head and devoured my throat with his mouth. Lips, tongue, his teeth, almost angrily, but yet… exquisitely. I clamped my legs tighter, squeezed my inner walls around him, and he started to go faster, harder, jackhammering into me, jaw tight, eyes on mine, an expression as if he had a point to prove.

  He was proving it, whatever it was. I believed it with every single cell in my body.

  He let one hand go and my hand moved into his hair. His lips were on mine, but his hand slid between us and his fingers began plucking at my clit.

  “You want this?” he demanded.

  My eyes bulged, and it made me tighten around him even more.

  His fingers twirled, applying the perfect amount of pressure.

  I nodded.

  He looked directly into my eyes and said, “I’m gonna give it. All fucking night.”

  His words, his demeanor?

  Bam! They did it. I came again, hard, convulsing around him, and as he drove upwards, his shoulder hit my mouth and I clamped my teeth down right on his delicious skin. I felt his ass tense under my legs, followed by a shuddering groan that came from his gut as he gave me all his weight for a split second, moaning, “Yeah, milk it. Fuckin’ fuck, Sunshine…”

  And then we were rolling, and I was on top, his arms wound tight around me as he breathed heavily, squeezing me too tight, inhaling me, absorbing me with everything that was him. I felt goosebumps ripple across my flesh. He had them, too. It was like they rippled through me, and then directly through him. I lifted up and looked down at him and his chest was rising and falling rapidly.

  I looked into his eyes.

  Oh my God. This look on his face? My whole world was rocked to its core.

  He lifted my hair, which was curtaining over the side of his face, and touched his lips to mine gently, flipped me, and then he was back on top.

  He reached down, pulled the condom off, tied it in a knot, still hovering over me, and then dropped it somewhere off the side of the bed, then he reached above my head and grabbed another.

  Gulp.

  I giggled.

  He gave me that glorious smile with the dimple. The lights were still on.

  “I’ve never been fucked with the lights on unless I was under a blanket.”

  Those rascals…that Jack and Ginger (okay, so just Jack), making me say things... words that surprised me as much as him, I think.

  He laughed, heartily, and then he got up, yanked the comforter off the bed, spinning me as I’d been on top of it, then he opened his window, pushed the screen up high, and then threw it right out. Right out!

  I giggled some more and then he was back in bed, on me, then not a moment later, in me. Holding me and staring deep into my eyes as he fucked me slow, sweet, kind of… reverently.

  ***

  It was sometime after 5:30 am (the last time I recalled a glance at his alarm clock on the headboard) and I whispered to ask him to go find the blanket. I was shivering. He pulled a sleeping bag out of his closet, unzipped it, and threw it over us, and turned out the light. I finally passed out, but not before briefly contemplating the sleeping bag and wondering if it was the same one he’d used the night he slept beside me in that two-room tent, only a few millimeters of vinyl between us.

  We’d used three condoms, did it in about half a dozen positions, and for longer than I could ever fathom: me on my back, him on his back, me on my knees facing him, then on my knees, reverse cowgirl. There was also my legs up over his shoulders, and more before I passed out sweaty, sated, having lost count of the orgasms, and knowing I’d feel pain in every muscle on my body in the morning.

  He was in good shape. Beautiful body. Big, beautiful cock. Skilled strong hands. And it had been frantic, hungry, and rough, and then it was slow and sweet, but then frantic again. It went on for hours. Spencer Valentine wasn’t just trouble; he was Trouble that was absolutely fantastic in the sack.

  Drunk or sober, best sex I’d ever, ever had.

  I really hoped I’d remember it in the morning.

  ***

  I woke with a start.

  “Got you,” he pulled me close.

  “Huh?” I was disoriented.

  “You had a bad dream. It’s okay. I got you.”

  He cuddled me close. I closed my eyes and snuggled in, feeling his hand caress my face.

  7

  I opened my eyes, hearing knocking, kind of distantly, not on Spencer’s door.

  Spencer’s door. Uh oh. What did I do?

  It all came crashing in to my brain.

  Crash into Me.

  As it flooded back, I felt instant pain in my thighs the likes I hadn’t felt since the day after that first time I’d gone horseback riding. I heard footsteps, a feminine giggle, then the sound of a door clicking.
I was under the weight of Spencer’s arm and one of his legs. I was also underneath a mountain of pillows. They were all over me.

  “Good morning, beautiful,” came a faraway male voice.

  Scott’s voice?

  I looked over at a sleeping Spencer. He was still out.

  My God, what have I done? This is a disaster. A catastrophe. A colossal mistake.

  I inched away, easing his arm and then his leg off me.

  Was this a colossal mistake?

  He was barely covered by a piece of sleeping bag. Most of his skin was on display for me. That body. Hot damn. My eyes roved from his heel to his big and strong shoulder. And then his ear, his jaw. That mouth.

  The things he did with his fingers, his tongue, his cock. My God. He had worshipped me for hours last night. Worshipping was the only way I could think to describe the way he touched me, the way he looked at me, the way he watched his fingers stroking my body, the way he stared at the connection of his cock plunging into me with such a focused look on his face. He’d gone down on me four times, like he couldn’t get enough of the taste of me. And stamina?

  If I hadn’t passed out after he took off condom number three, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he hadn’t opened condom number four.

  Philippa Christine Griffin, what were you thinking?

  Stupid, stupid, stupid, Pippa.

  Spencer Valentine: The guy who was a thorn in just about everyone’s side in those first few months, a guy who I hadn’t seen all that much of in recent months, but who had definitely made it known he was into me in the past month.

  What was I thinking allowing this to happen? This was my two best friends’ brother-in-law, basically.

  I wasn’t thinking. I was feeling. Feeling booze. Feeling high. Feeling sorry for myself and wanting just a few hours of not feeling pain, hurt, pitied, or shameful.

  Pity. He had to pity me. Did he see that broken, rain-drenched and bloody stupid girl in the alley whenever he looked at me? What else could he see?

  Disgusted with myself, I rolled slowly out of the bed and found myself on the floor on my knees. A strip of condoms was dangling from between the mattress and box spring. His condom stash.