Gorgeous Rotten Scoundrel

by Nina G. Jones

  "I'm not talking about this. Okay? I was in a relationship for a while and I took some time off from dating."

  "I knew it! It must have been bad just as I thought."

  "A nightmare. Now can me move on?"

  Heath shrugged and then perked up. "Wait a minute, the healthy chef eats Velveeta?"

  "That's exactly what she does. And I don't need to feel shittier about that than I already do."

  "Well aren't you glad that instead of doing that, you get to sit here in bed with a modern day King Tut?"

  I laughed from my belly. "You might be more famous than King Tut. He didn't have a billboard in Times Square. You should do some avant-garde photo shoot in your casts like they do on America's Top Model."

  "That show is so ridiculous." He feminized his voice: "Today you are going to dress up as garbage men, but you better sell the shit out of it. I want to see the stench of filth in your smizing eyes!"

  "So you do watch it! I always wondered if models watched that!"

  "I think you're my best friend."

  "What?" Heath had a habit of steering conversations with the finesse of a one-eyed, 80-year old woman. He would sometimes blurt out words or phrases that were completely incongruent with what we were discussing or use pronouns to refer to things we spoke about hours ago.

  "You heard what I said."

  "Well, yeah. You just caught me off guard. Do you really think that?"

  "Why, you don't?"

  "I didn't say that. I just...that's very sweet of you. I like you a lot too." Did I just say that out loud?

  "Why does this kind of feel like when you tell someone you love them and then they say 'thank you' back?"

  I rolled over onto my stomach. "Oh, what do you want me to say Heathy?" I said in a baby-voice getting close up to his face. "I think you're my best fwiend too!"

  "You are such an ass. And no one has ever called me Heathy. Ever," he said, playfully mushing my forehead with his less busted arm, which I swatted away. "Ahhhh!" he exclaimed.

  "Oh no, did I hurt your arm?" I asked leaning in. His facial expression quickly changed to a smile as he pulled me in, and when our laughter settled, it started to happen: that stupid pull, that irresistible draw. Like when magnets pass that threshold from a mild attraction to forceful slamming. I looked into those endless eyes, and I knew I was fucked, but I was resisting with any sense I had left.

  Then the stupid whore of a doorbell rang. It's funny that I would call it that, because the queen of stupid whores herself, Illy, was on the other side.

  "May I help you?" I asked, peeking my face out, making sure to keep the door only slightly ajar.

  "I vant to see Heath."

  No hi, how are you on this pleasant evening? No please. No thank you.

  "Sorry, he's sleeping right now. He's very tired recovering from the accident. Maybe you should visit at a more reasonable hour."

  "I have been trying to call him, but he vill not answer."

  "Well, then maybe he doesn't want to see you."

  "He always vants to see me." Well when you introduce yourself pussy first, what guy wouldn't?

  "I'll let him know you came and if he wants, he'll call."

  "Maybe you should tell him now."

  "No, like I said he's asleep and recovering. You can't just drop by like this."

  "I did not know housekeeper made the rules." Stupidbitchwhorecunt. Visions of triple roundhouses to her face played in my head.

  "I'm not the maid. If you'll excuse me..." I motioned to close the door, then she stuck her size 15 between the door and the frame.

  "Fine. I'll be back. I hope you don't think he likes you. You're cute--for average citizen--but, his tastes run very high." You would think someone who makes a living off of her looks wouldn't be such an insecure asshat.

  "Wow. You are such a grade-A bitch. Good luck seeing Heath. Now go look for someone's else dick to suck on while I ride his." Slam! God, she had that coming and it felt so satisfying to finally tell that snotty trashy hellbeast off.

  She didn't even know it, but she lit the match and put it to the gasoline, which ended up setting off a chain of events. Maybe if she hadn't said what she said, it wouldn't have stirred up my emotions, overcoming the last bit of rationality I had left when it came to Heath Hillabrand.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I ran towards the stairs, but then stopped abruptly, made a 180 degree turn and shot to the liquor cabinet, taking down two swigs of tequila. Yup, tequila; just like that night in the sand garden, I needed some liquid cojones stat. The rush of warmth came over me and I instantly felt loose, then headed back up the stairs and busted through the bedroom door.

  "Who was it?" Heath asked, bewildered by my rough entrance.

  "Just the FedEx guy. I was expecting a package." Oh god. That line sounded straight out of a terrible porno.

  "At this time? Why are you so out of breath?"

  "Shut up."

  "Huh? What?"

  "Just shut up before I change my mind."

  "Wha--okay." I whipped off my shirt so that all I had on was a bra and silk pajama short-shorts. "Woah."

  "Let's do this. That is if you want to." There went my self doubt kicking in. I should've had another swing of tequila. Why can't I just be that sexy vixen in all the books?

  "May I speak again?"

  "Yes."

  "Hell to the mother fucking yes."

  "Okay," I said, taking a deep breath and removing my shorts so that all I had on was a bra and thong.

  Heath kind of melted in his spot on the bed. Having this insanely hot man do that at the sight of my body shot me with a jolt of confidence.

  "You are fucking awesome. In every way," Heath said, with a smile from ear to ear.

  "Oh really?" I said, unclipping and removing my bra. Now, I'll admit, I am rather well-endowed thanks to my Italian grandma. Gratzi Nonna!

  "Wow. Your tits are fan-fucking-tastic. You need to come over here, like yesterday."

  "Okay, here I come," I said as seductively as I could muster.

  I crawled in from the foot of the bed, instantly realizing this was going to be a failed attempt at sex appeal, knocking into his casts several times.

  "Ahh," he sighed under his breath.

  "Oh god, I am so sorry. Maybe I should come around sideways," I said fumbling over his giant encased legs as I doubled back.

  I walked over to the side of the bed, using my fingertips to pick up his sling from the bed, and flung it. Heath smirked as his eyes followed its arc across the room, then they came back to me as he licked his lips. He reached his hand over to me and gently glided his fingertips along my waistline and down to my hips, I squirmed.

  "You're ticklish too."

  "Very."

  "I would come to you, but," he tilted his chin down and raised his eyebrows to remind us of his mobility issues.

  "That's okay. I can come on you--to you."

  "Why don't you take those off first," he pointed to my thong with his nub.

  "Certainly, Mr. Hillabrand."

  "Ooh, I like that...Mr. Hillabrand. I never commanded the respect that I should have as your boss. I think it's high time."

  I slid off my underwear so that now I was completely naked in front of him: exposed, bare, in the exact position I promised I would never allow myself to be when I first met him. But I should have known better, some people just have to fuck, it's in the stars or something. I reached my left hand into his boxers. He was already firm. I knew his sexual appetites were large and that my one handjob left him craving much more. I could certainly tell based on how hard he was.

  I grabbed his firmness all the while thinking to myself I cannot believe I am about to fuck a Calvin Klein model. He grabbed a handful of ass.

  "Are you going to make me wait any longer?"

  I carefully mounted him. "Is this okay? Does it hurt?" I asked.

  "Even if it did I wouldn't give a shit. I have been wanting to do this ever since I first saw you on the o
ther side of my door."

  "You mean when you had just finished fucking Illy?"

  "Fuck Illy. Get down here." I leaned over and my breasts grazed his chest, hardening my nipples. We were nose to nose for a moment, our eyes locked, but it was different than it was the night of the party when we kissed. Now we knew each other. When I looked into his eyes, I didn't just see aesthetic perfection, I saw him, I saw the small creases that formed when he smized. He IS a model, they have smizing down to a science. It made me suddenly meek, because this wasn't a purely physical encounter, we were committed to each other, at least until he got better. We binge-watched TV, took long walks, ate our meals together, laid on his bed and discussed nothing at all for hours sometimes. And he saw this in my eyes, because he grinned that fucking grin, the one that makes my stomach turn because it's so damned cute and then we both laughed, nose to nose. I turned my chin down as I tried to hide my girlish smile. I'm not a sex kitten, I don't wear my sexuality on my sleeve. It's not that I don't think I'm attractive, but at heart, I am just a girl who likes to cook, I'm simple that way. But occasionally I meet a guy who makes me think pretty much exclusively with my pussy and then all I can think about is rubbing it all over him. He was that person times a thousand.

  He lifted my chin up. I could see in his eyes he was wincing, but he wanted to do this. He wanted to make sure I looked into his eyes, and so I didn't kill the moment by asking if he was okay. He was a big boy (in more ways than one) and he knew what he was doing. He kissed me. This time it was slow, it lingered, it was sweet like honey. Instantly, it calmed me. I didn't feel that nervous pit of performance anxiety or fear that I would not live up to the many models he's fucked. That kiss told me he was exactly where he wanted to be.

  Then I really leaned in. I wanted to consume him, I had the first bite and now it was game over, I wanted all of him. His right arm, trapped in its cast, rested to the side, but that only meant his left arm went double time, running his fingers through my long hair, grabbing a fist full and pulling it at the roots so he could access and suckle on my neck. Omgthisisreallyhappeningdotcom. Then he pulled harder, while clenching his jaw, so I would elevate further and he softly kissed my breast at its peak. At this point my crotch was on fire, in the best possible way. Then he stopped, directing my head back down so my eyes would meet his.

  "I owe you something."

  "Wuh?" All my blood was in my clitoris at this point, so understanding sentences was very difficult.

  "I'll need you to do me a favor though and sit on my face. Would you do me the honor?"

  I nodded, wide-eyed, and slid myself over his perfect face, resting my hands on the headboard.

  "Mmmm..." he said before kissing her softly, tauntingly. Then he guided his tongue through my lips, gliding the tip from the back end up to the clit. I moaned, losing myself in the moment. It had been a long time since I had been with a guy, about a year in fact. Between the eye candy, the excitement, the pent-up sexual frustration, and the physical stimulus, I was about to blow a gasket. His mouth and my pussy just had a party down there. I mean New Years Eve level party: the sucking, this kissing, the licking, all done in perfect ratios and tempos. This is when it helps to fuck a slut--they have had tons of practice to get it right, like the Carnegie Hall of cunnilingus.

  Honestly, I came really quickly, almost embarrassingly so, like a boy who nuts in his pants while playing seven minutes in heaven. But really, that was just the appetizer (I love food metaphors, can you tell?), because I still wanted him inside of me. Seriously, it was like all "fire in the hole!" and the only way to put it out was with his cock. So I slid back down and kissed his lips, which were made even softer from kissing my other lips.

  I grabbed his cock, rubbing it against my wet labia, readying it to slide inside of me. All I could think about was riding him and releasing all the tension I felt inside my body and thoughts. Then Heath's voice broke through: "Sadie...maybe we should--well, we should--wrap it up?"

  "Huh?" The prospect of sex with him plummeted my IQ and innuendo did not seem to be working with me. It was like my attraction to him had lulled me into some sort of sex-induced mania.

  "Ya know, we wouldn't want the child soldiers planting a flag on Mount Ovary if you get my drift?"

  Wait--did he just say what I think he said? Mount Ovary? Lord help us. "Oh, of course! Yes! Duh." I said, as if I had been thinking about that the entire time. I had right? I wasn't just about to do him raw? That's what irresponsible and reckless people like Heath do.

  Except he was the one reminding ME.

  "It's not you. I do this with all of--" He realized he was about to refer to all of the women he sleeps with and surprisingly, had the decency to stop himself.

  "Do you...?"

  "Yes, right there in the nightstand."

  I whipped it open and fumbled with a long, purple, shiny trail of condoms, ripping one off at the perforation, and using my teeth to open the foil. I pulled it out just as Heath and I had a moment of eye contact. His eyes were turned down at the sides, asking a question without words.

  "Oh...you need me?" I pointed at myself then at his dick standing at attention as if it was eagerly waiting for me to shroud it.

  "Yeah, if you don't mind," he said shrugging his shoulders. "It's not like you haven't had your hands on him before," he said with a satisfied look on his face. I am going to fuck that stupid grin off of your face in about two seconds.

  "Just so you know, I'm on the pill. Trust me, I have no interest in procreating with you," I said, as if trying to regain some sort of credibility in this situation.

  Heath didn't say anything. He just watched me with an amused look on his face as I rolled out the condom meticulously, making sure there were no air bubbles, trying to prove what a steward of safe sex I was. But that didn't last very long, because his dick was so hard and thick and as pretty as the rest of him and I needed it in at least one of my orifices in the next ten seconds.

  I was so ready, because I slid right onto his cock as we both let out a collective sigh. If the oral was New Year's, his dick was like Chinese New Year, dragons, parades, acrobats and all. He brushed my hair back, and smiled at me in such a genuine way. I thought back to his question earlier that evening, this was a gazillion times better than licking orangish-yellow imitation cheese off of the bottom of a bowl.

  I wanted to ride him like a unbroken stallion, but he placed his hands on my hips and with a smirk said: "slower babe." Oh that's right, about 40% of him is broken and did he just call me babe? I'm glad he slowed me down because it allowed me to really appreciate the feeling of him inside of me. I leaned over him, my hair cascading on either side of his face, so close I heard his shallow breathing, felt his warm breath against my skin. He cupped one of my breasts in his hands and gently pursed his lips around my nipple, placing just the right amount of pressure with his gentle tugs.

  That triggered the fireworks portion of the parade in my cooch.

  "Fuck," I moaned as I felt the tension build around his throbbing hardness. His dick seemed to hit every possible erogenous zone inside of me.

  Again he fisted my hair, tilting my head back, sucking and gently biting all along my neck. I moaned louder.

  "Sadie, god your pussy is so sweet," he said, his breathy voice so much heavier than his normally light and carefree manner.

  "Heath..." I begged.

  "Come for me. Let my dick make you come." His mouth returned to my breast at the exact moment it all went off like a burst of lightening, and we came together with a chorus of fucks, I'm comings!, Sadies, Heaths, war cries, and oh gods.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I rolled off of him, a panting, quivering mess. Oh my god that was everything and then some. Then out of the corner of my eye, I looked over at him, at his satisfied smirk and I wanted to stab myself in the eye.

  What the fuck Sadie? Fuckfuckfuck. You just fucked your boss. Not a handjob, or a kiss, or a flirtation, you just fucked your temporarily handicapped boss ten w
ays from Sunday and six ways from Saturday! You just gave him what he always wanted. All it took was a couple of weeks and you were spreading your legs wider than Illy's cavernous, used-up vagina.

  My body wanted me to lay there, hell maybe even roll over and snuggle with his arm cast, but I had to disappear. I had to salvage any dignity I had left, let him know the ball was still in my court.

  Fuck Illy, he said. Trust me, that sent a jolt through me like you couldn't imagine. He didn't make an excuse or defend her, she wasn't even a thought. But I am sure if Illy was wrapped around his dick, he would have said the same about me. Suddenly, I found myself angry at him over this hypothetical conversation I had just created in my head. I imagined Illy's loud, callous, man-laugh filling the room and Heath turning over to look at me in slow motion, saying "fuuuuck Saaaaadie muahahaha" (don't ask me how I would be there to see it).

  Before Heath could open his mouth, which knowing him, was an inevitability, I rolled over and dismounted off of the bed.

  "Where are you going?" he asked. His confusion seemed so genuine, I almost felt sorry for him.

  "To bed," I said, collecting fragments of my wardrobe from various parts of the room. I felt more naked than ever.

  "You don't have to go."

  "That's okay. Bye," I said as I slipped through the doorway, only opening the door to the precise amount needed to slide out.

  As I marched over to my room, I caught myself smiling. Stop that dammit. Then the next second, I was balling up my hair at the scalp, wanting to pull it out of my head, then smiling to myself again. And then my heart sank recalling the moment I lost myself, like some sort of moron: I almost forgot to use protection with this skankwhore! Normally, I would already be calling the CDC for a spraydown ala Outbreak, but clearly he seems to be more mindful of this kind of stuff than even me. My stomach swirled with an uneasy feeling thinking about how he made me act so out of character. Heath Hillabrand is bad news...no, he's the worst news. But the way he kissed me, it was almost tender. The way he could make me feel like I was the sexiest woman alive, made him irresistible. This couldn't all be a coincidence, could it?