by B. B. Hamel
He walked past the VIP and I glanced up but didn’t see Lydie anywhere. We walked toward the back of the club where the bathrooms were. He parted through the crowd like they simply knew that he had to pass. Nobody bothered us, let alone stepped in our way. He ignored the lines and went through toward an unmarked door. He pushed it open and led us into a series of back rooms, obviously halls for the staff. Finally, there was a door with an “Exit” sign. He pushed through that and we were out in the cool beach air in the alley behind the club.
We were totally alone. I knew it was absolutely crazy to follow this guy out here. He could easily murder me or something like that, but I wasn’t afraid of him. Frankly, that worry only heightened my desire and excitement for him. Plus, something was telling me that he wasn’t dangerous.
“This is better,” he grunted, pressing me up against a wall.
“Are you this forward all the time?”
“Only with girls like you,” he said in my ear. “Only with girls that get me fucking rock hard on the dance floor.”
“I didn’t do that.”
“Sure you did. With that perfect fucking body.”
And then he was kissing me again, his hands grabbing my ass and pressing me up against his hard dick. I moaned slightly into his mouth and began to grind up against him, needing it so badly.
“Easy girl,” he grunted in my ear.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I said, panting. “I don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what?” I felt his hand move up my leg and under my dress. I shivered as he slipped under my panties, gently thumbing my clit. I gasped as pleasure rolled down my back. Fire and passion raged inside of me, drowning out any part of me that wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing. My body was telling me yes, and I was going to listen.
“I don’t kiss guys when I don’t even know their name.”
“Would that help?”
He kissed my neck as he continued to work my clit. I wrapped my arms around his strong shoulders and held on, standing on my tiptoes, pleasure and tension flooding and warring in my core.
“Yes. I don’t know. Fuck that feels good.”
“I’ll give you a name. But only if you come for me.”
“I don’t think I can,” I said. But as he continued working me, kissing my neck, I knew that was a lie.
“Please. You’re panting. You’re practically about to burst,” he growled, grinning.
He was right. Shit, I’d never been so close to coming from a guy just rubbing me like that before. Normally I needed way more time, but with him it was fast and brutal and totally overwhelming.
“Okay. Okay, you can make me come,” I gaped as he kissed me again.
I began to move my hips with his hand working my clit, over and over, slow and fast circles sending pleasure bolting through my brain.
“I’m close,” I gasped.
“Come on, babe. Come nice and hard for me.”
And it overtook me, pleasure rolling like waves through my brain as my body contracted. I came on his fingers, his masterful, incredible fingers, and moaned loudly, not caring if someone heard. His hot breath on my neck only made it more intense as he whispered dirty encouragement into my ear.
“That’s right, come on my fingers. I love making this soaked little pussy come. I love your slick clit and perfect tits.”
Slowly it passed and he moved back, grinning at me.
“Holy crap,” I said, breathing deeply.
He took my hand and pressed it against his big, bulging cock. I squeezed and began to stroke it softly, my eyes wide.
“My turn now,” he grunted. “Think you can make me come?”
“I think so,” I said softly.
“I want to see you suck this cock. I want to see you swallow all my hot cum.”
I gasped and bit my lip, shocked. “First, what’s your name?”
“Nathan. You can call me Nate.”
I blinked and cocked my head. There was something about that name, something really familiar . . .
But before I could think of it, my phone began to buzz.
“Shit,” I said.
“Go ahead.” He nodded at my pocket.
I pulled out my old, beat-up phone and read the text. It was from Lydie.
shiitttttt I’m maddd dunk girl
And two more in quick succession:
siickkk as fuuuckkkk
omg bitch pukingggggg
I wrote back, Where are you? Are you okay?
bathroom bitch just puked need to rally
I cursed under my breath, putting my phone away.
“What’s the matter, babe?” Nate asked.
“My friend. She’s wasted right now and needs some help.”
He grunted, nodding. “Well then, let’s go find her.”
I frowned down at his huge dick, still hard as hell. “I’m sorry.”
He grabbed me by the hair, a soft fist full, and pulled me close. I gasped as surprise and excitement filled me.
“You’ll pay me back.”
“When?”
“Later.” He grinned and let me go. “Come on.”
“She’s in the girl’s bathroom, I think.”
I followed him back inside, back through the hallways, and out toward the bathrooms. We skipped the line, ignoring the loud complaints of other girls. He silenced them with a look and followed me inside.
“What the fuck?” some girl putting lipstick on said as soon as she saw Nate.
“Helping a friend,” he grunted.
“Whatever, perv.”
“Lydie?” I called out.
“Claire? Bitch, is that you?”
The voice was coming from the far stall. She sounded awful, but I expected that. I walked over and stood outside the door while Nate leaned up against the wall, his arms crossed.
“It’s me. Are you okay?”
“I just puked up like a thousand dollars in drinks, but otherwise okay.”
“Can you get up?”
“I can dance but I can’t walk.”
Nate grinned at me and I smiled back. “Lydie, come on. I’ll get you a cab.”
“No. No way. I’m dancing!”
And then she puked again, a fresh heave. I cringed as I heard it hit the water.
“Okay, maybe not,” she mumbled, spitting.
“Come on, Lydie. Open up.”
The stall door unlocked and pushed open. Inside, Lydie was hugging the toilet bowl, looking miserable.
Part of me felt like she totally deserved it for her nasty comment earlier. But I knew Lydie was actually a great person at heart, even if she sometimes put her foot in her mouth.
“Come on, let’s get you up,” I said, trying to help her stand.
“No. No, thanks. I’m sleeping here.” She was dead weight as I struggled with her.
“Lydie, seriously. This isn’t funny. Let’s get you home.”
Suddenly Nate was there, moving me aside.
“Okay, girl, time to go,” he said, grabbing her by the arms and hoisting her up.
“Fuck!” she said as Nate placed her on her feet. “Who the hell is this dreamboat?”
“Lydie, this is Nate.”
“Well, Nate, you better carry me fast or I’m puking on your shirt.”
Without another word, he scooped her up into his arms and moved quickly back out the way we’d come. He carried her out the back door and into the alley and then up around toward the front. I had to hustle to keep up, my high heels annoying as hell as I struggled to stay close to them.
Finally, we were out front with all the cabs. Nate placed Lydie down on the curb and she slumped over, giggling like an idiot.
“I am so, so sorry,” I said to him.
He stood close, grinning. “Not often I get to save a damsel in distress.”
“You’re a wonderful knight.”
“All in a day’s work.” He pulled me up against him. “Now, how about sucking me dry?”
I smiled. “
How can you still be thinking about that after hearing my friend puke?”
“Heard a lot worse in my time, trust me. And something about you drives me fucking crazy.”
I realized I felt the exact same way, despite how insane it seemed. I had just heard Lydie puke and saw it all in the toilet, and yet I still wanted to feel Nate’s hard cock in my mouth.
“Let’s go, bitch!” I heard suddenly.
I looked up and saw Lydie climbing into a cab.
“Shit!” I said, following after her. “Lydie, come on!”
“Get in, bitch. It’s taxi time to pukeville.”
The cab driver looked at me. “You better take care of your friend or I’m kicking her out.”
“Okay, okay, sir. Just one second.”
I turned back to Nate. “I just keep apologizing, but I really am sorry. This is so annoying.”
Lydie literally started grabbing me and pulled me into the back of the cab. Nate crossed his arms and laughed loudly at us, still grinning that cocky smile.
“It’s okay. Save your friend.” He closed the door and mouthed the words “see you later.”
The cab started pulling away. I watched him disappear as we made a left turn, heading back toward my dad’s house.
“I liked him,” Lydie said after a second. “He was a good donkey.”
“A donkey?”
“Yeah. I rode him. Like a donkey.”
“Okay, Lydie. How drunk are you?”
“I’m drunk as fuck, bitch. What more do you want? It’s spring break!”
“No, it isn’t. It’s summer break.”
I laughed to myself and watched as the beach flew by the window, the cab driving into the wealthiest part of the Outer Banks.
I’d never done anything remotely like that in my whole life. I couldn’t believe how badly I wanted to taste his salty pre-cum, how badly I wanted to feel his hands on the back of my head as I made him come into my throat. He was incredible, getting me off with just his hands. Maybe he was the exact type of guy I needed to lose my V-card to.
He was definitely totally unlike the pretentious, preppy assholes my dad loved to parade around me whenever he got the chance. Nate was gruff and dirty and confident like nothing I’d ever seen.
And I wanted him more than anything I’d ever known. I was annoyed at Lydie for pulling me away.
Suddenly, as the cab pulled into the driveway, it hit me like a ton of bricks.
“Shit!” I said after we paid the cab driver and began to struggle up to the front door.
“No, puke. I shit earlier today,” Lydie slurred.
I made a face. Gross.
“No. I mean, I never got that guy’s number.”
Lydie looked at me suddenly, as if she were totally sober. “You done fucked up then, girl. He was hot as hell.”
“I kissed him.”
“You total whorebag!”
And then she turned to the side and puked into the bushes.
That was a great way to end the night. I helped Lydie inside, trying to stay quiet so we didn’t wake up Dad.
I got into my own bed, my head swimming with visions of my mystery man.
2
Nathan
I still felt the ache in my thigh every single day where the bullet had torn right through the meat and the bone. I rubbed it absently, trying not to think about that particular mission. I was on leave, after all, and should be getting piss drunk, not moaning about some terrorist asshole that got lucky enough to put a bullet in me.
Besides, the U.S. government owned my ass for the foreseeable future, injury or no. It didn’t matter if I was shot or beat up or burned to a crisp; I still had a job to do. The scar was just another badge of honor.
I got out of the cab in front of the piece of shit motel I was staying at for the next few weeks and climbed slowly up the stairs. I kept thinking about the girl from the club, Claire, and my cock began to stir all over again. I had to grind my jaw to keep it under control as I unlocked the door and went inside.
I wasn’t usually the type to keep thinking about a conquest. Normally on leave, I’d find the easiest piece of ass possible and fuck her until she had nothing left to offer, and then I’d move on to the next one. Rinse and repeat until I was recalled to base for a mission. I’d fuck so hard and fast that my past couldn’t keep up with me. That was how I had to live as a Navy SEAL, always one foot in the grave, a single step ahead of death himself.
And I never kept thinking about those chicks. This girl though, there was something about her. Normally I would have left her and her drunk-ass friend to fend for themselves, not wanting to get caught up in their stupid bullshit drama. But the way she had looked at me, practically dripping wet on my fingers, biting her lip, I couldn’t help myself.
I needed to fuck that girl. I needed to feel her tight pussy grip my dick. I needed to watch her pretty, innocent face take my cock between her lips and suck it hard. I could tell there was something dirty under that prissy, good-girl exterior, and I wanted to see exactly how dirty it was.
Except I never got her damn number. Grumbling, I turned on the shower and decided to rub one out while thinking about her. I had to go see my insufferably crazy mother the next morning, and it was always a bad idea to go into a mission half cocked.
As I got out of the shower and dried myself off, my thoughts kept drifting to Claire. I wondered if her daddy was just another rich asshole with a big house and figured that was probably the case. But girls like her usually didn’t give me the time of day, at least not in public. They were normally too busy trying to get roofied by one of the rich dickwads that went around acting like they owned the place. In private, though, they loved slumming it, and I loved making them come harder than their limp-cock boyfriends ever could.
Which was usually fine with me. I’d pick up a girl that actually knew that she wanted a man. The rich douchebags thought they were better than me because I didn’t drive a Ferrari, but that never bothered me. I’d seen and done things that would make them puke their guts up, because I was a real warrior. They could posture and strut around like peacocks with their nuts cut off all they wanted. I knew what I was.
I was a killer. I was a trained Special Forces operative for the United States Navy, a SEAL with all my training and battle experience. I didn’t need the approval of anyone, let alone effeminate, polo-wearing assholes.
Claire though, she seemed to know right away the kind of man I was. At the bar she was practically oblivious to all the looks those douchebags were throwing at her, until I showed up at least. She just needed a man to take control, to show her exactly what could be done.
I smiled to myself, slightly annoyed that I was still thinking about this girl but interested anyway. I hadn’t gotten her number, but that had never stopped me before. I knew her name and her friend’s name, and the Outer Banks weren’t that big. I was pretty confident that I’d run into her again, and sooner rather than later.
I got into bed and poured a shot from the whisky bottle next to my bed. I knocked it back and shut off the light, feeling drowsy. I didn’t feel like sleeping much, since the next day I had to meet my mother’s, Lucille’s, new rich husband, but there was no avoiding it. I could try to skip, but she’d throw a fucking fit and I’d never hear the end of it. As pushy and shrill as she could be, she was still my mother.
Besides, I was used to this by now. This was rich husband number four, or at least I thought it was husband number four. Hopefully the guy was smart enough to make her sign a prenup. I could still remember the phone call I got, the day after I got out of the hospital. She kept saying over and over that this was different, that she really loved him, and that he made her happy.
Which, if it was all true, would be great. I’d love to see Lucille happy. It would help keep her off my fucking back and maybe help relax the branch that was constantly shoved up her asshole. For most of my life, I was the disappointment, the child star that never panned out. She wanted me to be a professiona
l athlete or a singer or some other bullshit, but the United States military beat any notion of stardom out of my head. Now, the only thing I loved more than pussy was fighting for freedom.
Still, I had to try my best to be nice. Even if Lucille was pulling her usual bullshit.
I closed my eyes and started to drift off to sleep with thoughts of Claire’s full ass in my hands.
I was up at 0600 the next morning, ignoring the tinges of a hangover, for my usual run. I wound my way along the beach, my breath coming in deep and heavy, my body drenched in sweat.
There was nothing better than running early in the morning along the beach. I loved the smell of the ocean and the feeling of the sand between my toes as I pushed my body to its limits.
Afterwards, I showered and dressed. It was 0900, and Lucille would be expecting me by 1000 for breakfast, or brunch, or whatever the shit she was calling it. Then I’d meet her new man and his daughter, smile and be all polite and shit, and then hopefully get the fuck out of there to start hunting down the girl that had promised to suck me dry.
I did some quick body-weight drills, getting my muscles back into shape after the long stay in the hospital. My leg ached still, but I didn’t mind a little pain. Sometimes the pain just made all the good stuff that much sweeter.
Finally finished, I hit the road, walking into town. I was supposed to meet her at this little uppity restaurant to catch up first before meeting her new man, probably because she wanted to feel me out before bringing me back home. That was typical of my mom, always expecting me to fucking embarrass her. Which was ironic, because I spent most of my life either trying to ignore her or feeling embarrassed by her shit.
I found the place around 1010 and started to walk inside. The skinny blond man with a thin mustache standing at the station out front gave me a huge frown when he got a look at my sneakers, tattered jeans, and tight black T-shirt. However, Lucille caught my eye and waved me over before he could make some comment about their dress code. I gave him my most winning smile as I walked by.