Dirty Talk

by Lauren Landish

It was all too much, and a month ago, I realized that to process everything, I needed to see a therapist. I didn’t tell Evan at first, unsure how he’d react with his last blowup. But after my first visit, I knew I needed to trust him.

  He was tentatively accepting, and once he saw the progress and insights I was getting with my doctor, he shocked the hell out of me by asking if he could meet the ‘voodoo headshrinker’.

  It’s where I’m going now, jumping into my car after hurriedly changing to drive through town. Dr. Jackson’s great as he’s the only counselor in town who works on Saturday afternoons, which is convenient for us.

  I pull up in front of the unassuming two-story house, pulling around back to find Evan’s Harley. Parking, I go inside, hearing muffled voices coming not from the living room but the kitchen. “Hello?”

  “Oh, hey, Princess,” Evan says, sticking his head out. “Doc said that I could stick around since we knew you wanted to come by after the wedding. How were the nuptials?”

  “Just fine,” I reply, giving him a hug and a kiss. “How was your session?”

  “Evan was remarkably open and honest,” Dr. Jackson says, the most he can say, I know. “Although I think he’s full of shit on his football opinions.”

  “Not my fault you don’t like hard nose football,” Evan says with a laugh before sobering. He takes my hand and leads me over to the sofa, pulling me down to sit next to him. “Really, though, I’ve talked over a lot of my demons. I know it’ll be a long road, but you and the doc are helping.”

  “Well, you have been less growly at people, maybe not exactly nice, but I don’t know if I’d want you being nice to everyone. It’d be like the Twilight Zone or something, and your sweet side is kinda just for me and me alone,” I tease lightly. “Really, though, you’re still you, gruff and growly and rough around the edges. You’ve been shaped by your past, but you’re choosing your future. I love you, but more importantly, I love who you are. I’d even let you hang out in the salon if you let me wash your hair. Doc, you know the worst part of Evan? All this wonderful hair, and he washes the whole mess with a bar of Irish Spring. Honestly, that’s just blasphemy.”

  Both of the guys laugh, and Evan hugs me lightly. “I love you too, and you like the smell, Princess. Admit it.”

  “Well . . . maybe.”

  “McKayla, I agreed to let Evan ask you in here because he told me you two have recently begun living together,” Dr. Jackson says. “Nothing wrong with that, but realize that Evan’s right, this is a long process of progress and retreat, and there are going to be times where things won’t be so easy.”

  “It’s fine by me,” I agree. “There are going to be nights that’ll be long, and maybe we’ll have to spend all night sitting up talking or taking the occasional midnight bike ride. I’m down with that.”

  “Also at the lodge with Earl,” Evan admits. “No offense, Princess, but there are some things that old man’s got insight on that I have trouble talking about with other people.”

  “A lot of us have those same ghosts,” Dr. Jackson admits, and I remember that he’s an Elk too. I nod, knowing it’ll be good for Evan to see guys with some of the same ghosts, especially since they’re doing all right, living happy, full lives.

  We leave Dr. Jackson’s, and outside, Evan pulls me in for a kiss. The new minty Evan is different than when we first kissed, but I’ll take this over Marlboro Evan any day. “Hey, Princess . . . coffee?”

  “You buying?”

  “Damn right,” he says with a chuckle. “Meet me at the diner?”

  I take a look at him in his jeans and light summertime riding jacket, purring. “If I didn’t have to take my car with me, I’d want to ride the Harley.”

  Evan surprises the hell out of me when he reaches into his jeans pocket and tosses me the keys. “Meet you there.”

  Without another word, he climbs into my car, grabbing my spare set from the console, and pulls out. I’m in so much shock it takes me a good two minutes to recover and climb on. He’s only let me ride the Harley in carefully controlled situations, and as I ride back into town . . . it’s like I can feel everyone’s eyes on me as I head up Main Street toward the diner. I can see old Earl give a double-take before nodding, rubbing his big belly while I fly by. When I get to the diner, Evan’s waiting for me, a grin on his sensuous lips.

  “How was it?”

  I grab him around the neck, kissing him hard. “I think,” I purr, pressing my body against his, “that I need more than coffee tonight.”

  “Oh, really?” he says, running a hand down my back to the jeans I changed into after the wedding, cupping my ass and squeezing. “And what would that be?”

  “I think you know, stud.”

  Evan growls and nibbles my ear. “Then fuck the coffee. You’ve got ten seconds to get anything you need out of the car before we roll.”

  “Ten seconds, huh?” I tease, scratching his chest. “Think you can last that long when we get some privacy?”

  “Nine . . . eight . . .” Evan teases. “Better hurry, Princess, or else I might just give Brad a ride on my hog.”

  I can’t help but laugh as I run to my car. Evan’s gotten so comfortable joking and throwing entendre at Brad that it’s natural. I toss most of my purse inside, knowing the car will be safe overnight, and stick my wallet and keys in my pocket. Slamming the door, I give a little wave to Rose, who’s giving me a shake of her head from a booth inside. Running back to Evan, I swing my leg over and climb behind him just as he finishes his countdown.

  “I’m ready. Let’s roll.”

  Climbing on the bike, we fly out of the parking lot and out of town. I’m right where I should be . . . on the back of Evan’s bike, my thighs straddling the frame, free and full-throttle into a future undetermined and wild.

  One big adventure.

  Epilogue

  Evan - One year later . . .

  Bucking tradition and daring bad luck, we stayed together last night. With the dawn light barely breaking through the light fog covering the ground outside the house, I’m going to risk bad luck again, waking McKayla up in a very special way one last time before she’s my wife. I know Brad will be here soon enough to start getting McKayla prepped for our big day, and I want to make sure we both get our chance to enjoy ourselves.

  Carefully, I pull the covers down her body, not wanting to disturb her yet, and assume my position, low on her body. Easing her legs apart, I take a moment to marvel at the sight in front of me, the smooth, silky lips of her pussy peeking out from the cleft between her legs.

  Grinning to myself, I keep my eyes on her face, gently touching my tongue to her pussy, licking it slowly from bottom to top, spreading my tongue to cover as much area as I can. The first couple of strokes don’t wake her. She’s a remarkably deep sleeper, although she moans a bit and her hips move in response.

  I feel her tight inhale of breath when she does rouse, and she reaches down, running her fingers through my now shorter and soon-to-be styled hair. “Mmm, good morning to you too.”

  She grabs my hair, pulling me to her harder as her hips find the rhythm she wants. I eagerly comply, my cock growing rock hard against the mattress as McKayla fucks my face and takes control the way we’ve become comfortable with. I growl, the vibrations low in my throat as I slide my hands under her ass, cupping the voluptuous cheeks and helping her move even as I bury my tongue deeper inside her.

  “Oh, fuck . . .” she moans as I slurp, drinking in her essence until she’s grinding her pussy against my lips. I pull back slightly to focus my tongue on her clit, little flicks as fast as I can until she convulses, the spasms rocking her whole body as she comes. “Oh, God. Evan!”

  Before she’s even done shaking, I flip us, bringing her over to straddle my hips the same way she straddles my bike when we ride. McKayla giggles, reaching down and taking my cock in her hand. “I get to ride the hog, huh?”

  I thrust my hips up, plunging my cock inside her to feel the flutters still wracking her
tight pussy. “You’re damn right, Princess. Ride me. Fuck, ride me.”

  She sinks down, and I know that even though I demanded it of her, I can’t hold back and let her do it alone. My hips buck wildly beneath her, driving my cock up into her body and meeting her stroke for stroke. I pull her chest down to mine, lightly tugging her hair back so she looks up at me, and I cover her lips with a deep kiss.

  McKayla slithers her body against me, our nipples rubbing together as our tongues swirl and duel, my hands running lovingly through her freshly pink hair, our hips falling into that perfect harmony that we have with each other.

  Holding her tight to me, I tremble, knowing I can’t last any longer. “Fuck, Princess, I love you.”

  She falls over the edge with me, gasping out. “I love you too,” she cries as her pussy clamps around my cock and I fill her with my seed. We ride out the moment, matching smiles on our faces. “Hmm . . . that’s a great way to wake up. Do you know what I dreamed of last night?”

  “Waking up to exactly this?” I tease, and McKayla shakes her head, her eyes serious. “What, love?”

  “That this . . . that I’d have a baby in my stomach soon. Brad could tease me about getting fat, and I could try out all sorts of stretch pants. Silly, I know, but . . .”

  “But exactly what I want too,” I murmur, kissing her lips again. “Soon, my love. For now, though, I think we need to go get ready. If we’re late, you know Brad’s going to go nuclear.”

  “He did tell me that a sleepover the night before the wedding was a surefire way to be late. I don’t care if we’re late or not, though. It’s not like they can start without us.”

  I watch the sway of her ass as she disappears into the bathroom, my cock stirring even if it was just where it wants to be. But that ass, though . . .

  Before she can shut the door, I hop up to stand in the doorway. “I need a shower too. Together would be faster.”

  I love her laugh, but damned if she doesn’t shut the door in my face anyway. “No way, mister. We’ll get sidetracked and never get ready.”

  “And tell me why that’s a problem?”

  She opens the door a tiny bit, one eye visible through the crack. “I need to get ready so I can strut down that aisle and become your wife, asshole. Besides, Brad would kick in the door and drop dead of a jealousy-induced heart attack seeing what I’ve got for the rest of my life. Now leave me be.”

  Best reason I’ve ever heard, so I slap the doorframe, agreeing with her, giving a playful growl. “Then hurry it up because I’m ready for a fucking suit too! I gotta shave . . . my balls!”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  “You okay?” TJ asks quietly as the organist plays. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Thank God that thing is tie-less.”

  “Yeah, well . . .” I mumble for the hundredth time. My brother’s getting a kick out of this, I can tell. This whole thing is just so us. Sure, we’ve got an organist, but for most of the music, we’ve also got an electric guitar player, and other than me, nobody’s wearing a suit, with TJ even borrowing a motorcycle jacket from me. Earl’s somehow squeezed himself into his old dress uniform, although I’m wondering if he’s going to pop one of those buttons and put someone’s eye out with the damn thing.

  “Just relax, Bro, she ain’t going anywhere,” TJ reminds me as the organist finishes. The guitar player takes over with The Wedding March, and the doors to the church open.

  The first thing everyone sees is Brad, who insisted on being the ‘flower bitch’ and looks like only Brad can with his hair styled into some swooping shape that looks like it came straight out of a cartoon and wearing a white . . . I’m gonna be generous and call it a kilt . . . with a pink silk shirt. He prances, tossing handfuls of rose petals in the air. “Fabulous, fabulous, I’m so glad to see you all.”

  Rose follows him, dressed a lot more like you’d expect a bridesmaid, and McKayla appears a moment later like a pinup fantasy vision at the back of the sanctuary. Everyone gasps at the stylized satin poured over her curves, dipping low in the front and skating tightly to below her knees where it flares out into a wide pool of light pink on the floor around her. It’s daring, it’s sexier than anything this church normally has, and it’s totally my Princess.

  She walks toward me, her eyes never leaving mine. She looks at my suit and her eyes say all I’ll ever need to know as every dirty thought she has races across her face. I doubt that she’s going to let me wear this thing ten seconds after we get into the limo.

  I spread my feet a little wider, crossing my arms in front of me, knowing that I look imposing and that she loves it. I can see her breathing pick up, her tits rising dangerously close to the neckline as she comes to stand beside me.

  I can barely keep track of the ceremony, vaguely noticing that the priest keeps darting glances at McKayla’s cleavage. I’m not upset. I’m amused. Someone’s going to need a little extra prayer before they deliver the sermon tomorrow.

  I take McKayla’s hands when it’s time for the vows. We go the traditional route, simply because we both agreed that what we really want to promise can’t be said in a church. After we say ‘I do’, I lift McKayla’s veil. “Well, Princess, you ready?”

  “You’re damn right,” she says, yanking me close for a deeper kiss than I think anyone’s ever done at a wedding. “My man.”

  “Princess . . .” I murmur, my voice deep and growly with emotion as I tilt her chin up toward me and kiss her again, ignoring the polite cough from the priest and TJ’s low laughter, because I know that McKayla’s saved me.

  Maybe I saved her once from some mental jerk, but in the big picture of life . . . she’s the one who saved me. She’s the one who let me emerge from my long night, the one who’s held me when the ghosts still want to talk, or stays up when I have to pace the floor until they’re now gone.

  And I’m so fucking glad. Because I’m ready.

  I’m ready for whatever wild adventures my Princess has in store for me . . . right after the reception when we head out for our honeymoon on my bike that I know TJ and Earl are going to tie a shitload of tin cans on ribbons to. I can’t stop them from that.

  But nobody’s going to stop us from taking the honeymoon we want. The one we decided not to plan, just to pack a few things and go wherever the road takes us.

  We’ll be back. Eventually.

  Want to read about Rose? Continue on!

  Excerpt: Baby Daddy

  by Lauren Landish

  A single night changes everything.

  I go from town to town, never staying in one place for long. I’m always chasing the next deal, the next adrenaline rush and thriving in the great outdoors.

  Until one fateful trip, one chance encounter. When I meet her... my beautiful Rose.

  It was only supposed to be one night. No strings attached. Our chemistry was off the charts and we didn’t fight it.

  But ever since then, she's all I think about. Replaying the perfect night over and over and thinking about what could've been.

  Now I'm back in her town, and it could be my one chance to claim what should have been mine forever and not for just one night.

  I've got it all figured out. But as soon as I see her, I come to a screeching halt. What's with the anger in her eyes? And whose baby is she carrying?

  Am I too late to make her mine?

  Rose

  I flip through the rack of dresses, looking for the sparkly black one I know will be perfect. My boutique has a lot of things, but one item that I do better than anyone in town is dresses. Proms, weddings, engagements, whatever . . . you want something unique for that special day, I’m the woman you see.

  The problem is, I think to myself as I go through the next rack, I’m running out of space to keep everything on the floor. Prom dresses aren’t exactly like selling lingerie. They take up a lot of space.

  Just when I’m about to grunt in frustration, I see it. I’ve got a sorting system for all of my dresses . . . I just have a problem re
membering what, exactly, that system is at times. “A-ha!”

  “Find it, dear?” asks my customer, a lovely middle-aged woman who’s been trying on dresses for an hour now in preparation for her twentieth anniversary. She wants something special, and as I pull out the hanger, I know she’s going to be happy. Slinky but not skintight, with a spray of jewels on the left side of the top, it’s perfect for a woman who wants to look sexy without showing too much skin.

  “Found it, Mrs. Alameda! You’ll have to pick your husband’s jaw up off the floor if you wear this on your night out.”

  I slip the dress past the dressing room curtain, a smile taking over my face as I hear her gasp in delight. It’s a good dress, one I picked up online for a lot less than it should have been from a designer who sells one-of-a-kind pieces on Etsy. I’m not one to care about names, but if the dress looks great, I’ll snatch it up for myself or for the store.

  “It’s perfect! Thanks, Rose!”

  She comes out of the dressing room, and I’m impressed. She’s rocking that dress like nobody’s business. “Whoo-whee, you wear that and you’re going to be getting the attention of more than your husband. Hope you know you’re going to be causing whiplash.”

  Mrs. Alameda blushes, running her hand through her long, thick black hair, and she shrugs a little. “Well, as long as John enjoys it . . . but I feel like—”

  “Like we need some accessories,” I finish for her before she can start the negative self-talk. Sure, retail therapy isn’t as good as a shrink, but I try my best without screwing my customers. “I know just what’ll go with this.”

  A little more rummaging around, and I find a long necklace with pearl accents that goes great with the dress, and a pair of peep-toe booties too. “What do you think?”

  “I think,” she says, grinning, “that I’m going to have a really good anniversary.”