by V. Kelly
“I love you,” he says, kissing my forehead.
“You know I could hear you say that a million times and it will never get old.” I breathe out a long, content sigh after his lips meet mine. “Thanks for having me over. What do you have planned for us this weekend?”
“Did you happen to pack warm?”
“Umm, I think I did, why?”
“My parents have a ski lodge up in Aspen, and I was hoping you would come with me. Think about how romantic it will be to fuck each other’s brains out by the fireplace.”
“Sooo romantic,” I roll my eyes. “We just said I love you, and you’re talking about fucking me by a fireplace. My romance meter is off the charts right now.”
“Sorry. The thought of you being naked by a fireplace has my brain on hyper overdrive. What I meant was make love of course.”
“Of course,” I smack his arm. “Let me get that shovel so you can dig yourself a little deeper into that hole you’re sitting in.”
“I’m good at digging myself into holes,” he nuzzles my neck. “So what do you say to an overnight in Aspen?”
“Travis, we live in Florida. How are we going to get to Aspen?” I ask him.
“On my dad’s private jet, of course.”
“Your dad has a private jet?” How did I not know this about him? Travis’s swank apartment isn’t filled with the normal expensive furniture or knick-knacks my mind tells me should be in a rich man’s house. His car is modest, and his spending habits are not luxurious at all. Besides the fancy dinner last night, I’ve never seen him buy anything remotely expensive.
“I can see your wheels turning. I’m adopted, Breeanne.”
“You’re adopted?” This is another new tidbit I should know about the man I love. Why are all these important things just now coming up?
“My father owns one of the largest oil companies in the United States. He spends a lot of time traveling to each of his rigs and therefore has a private jet to get him from point A to point B.
My mother and father adopted me when I was six. I was left home alone by my mother who went out gambling with one of her friends. I ended up wandering over to a neighbor’s house. I don’t remember much about that day, only that I was hungry and the bread we had in the house was crusty like croutons. So I left the apartment, and found myself admiring the big house on the hill. All I wanted to do was look and see if they had a pool in their yard, because it was hot and I was way too sweaty. They caught me lurking about. When my stomach grumbled at the smell of their kitchen, they ended up feeding me an amazingly huge lunch. Mrs. Irving doted on me all day. I guess they had tried numerous times to have children and were never able to. I was like that kid they always wanted.
The Irvings ended up calling the cops on my mother, and I was thrown into foster care. Turns out, my mom popped hot for narcotics and alcohol, and they found a lot of drug paraphernalia in my house after they arrested her.
Anyway, Douglas and Sherry kind of took a liking to me that afternoon I spent with them. They immediately filed to be foster parents and paid the right people to keep me from getting placed in houses where I could get lost in the system. Within a week, I was back in the big house with my own room filled with toys. A year later, I was officially their child.
My mom didn’t even hesitate to sign over all her rights to me. My dad was some one-night-stand she didn’t remember, so I didn’t have a father on my birth certificate that could object to the adoption—not that I would’ve wanted him to. Getting away from my mother was the best thing for me. I don’t even miss her. I also don’t remember anything about her but her backside: an oversized butt in too short shorts, tank tops that were so small they could be mistaken for bras, and long blonde hair filled with knots and kinks because she never brushed it. I didn’t care that she gave me away, not after I met the Irvings.”
“Oh my god, Travis, that’s horrible.”
“Travis isn’t even the name she gave me, either. She used to call me “Little Shit”. I grew up thinking that was my real name, so when the Irvings asked me what my name was; I told them it was Little Shit. Turns out my real name is actually Gandalf Frodo Brooks. My whore of a mother was so out of it when I was born, that she named me after friggin’ Lord of the Rings characters. When the Irving’s adopted me, they named me Travis Allen Irving, after my two grandfathers. I thank God every day for guiding me towards my mom and dad. If it wasn’t for them, I would have been another ‘Little Shit’, roaming the foster care system and probably the streets, too.”
I put my arm around him and hold him close. He’s not crying, but I feel like he needs a hug anyway. “I’m so sorry all that happened to you, Travis.”
“It’s okay, but now that the heart-wrenching crap is out of my system, do you want to go to Aspen?”
“Is there even snow up there at this time of year?”
“Maybe a little. I really want us to go for the alone time. Being always stuck in my apartment is getting really old.”
I know that’s a personal dig on the fact he hasn’t been to my house yet, but I honestly don’t care. The last thing I need is for him to meet Max.
“Sure, we can go.”
“Great. I can’t wait. It even has a personal Jacuzzi we can use,” he lifts a suggestive eyebrow.
“Sounds fun!”
“Oh by the way, change into a dress; you’re going to need it.”
He opens the cabin door and leads me into the most exquisite cabin I’ve ever seen. Cedar and oak accents span every wall. I can smell the wood the moment we enter. It’s like being in a lush forest that just soaked up a heavy rain. From the outside the cabin looked small, but once I crossed the threshold, I was met with vaulted ceilings and vast open spaces. Every wall is covered with quaint paintings of heavily wooded forests and vibrant yellow meadows. From the ceiling rafters, large chandeliers made of antlers hang above us. In the middle of the room is a large sectional couch facing an enormous bay window that’s overlooking a lake. For some reason, I didn’t notice the water on the drive up here. I may have been a little busy at the time. A sixty-five inch television is tacked onto the wall above a large, rock covered fireplace, and a plush, purple carpet covers the hardwood floor in the living room area.
“Come on. The bedroom is this way.” He leads me to a back hallway and a set of four rooms that face each other. There is way too much wood in this cabin, and I absolutely love it. He opens the last door, which reveals a huge spacious master bedroom complete with a four post king-sized bed and adjoining bathroom with giant Jacuzzi tub.
“If I had planned this better, that bed would be covered with roses and this room alit with candles. Sorry, I forgot my romance pants in the dryer this morning.”
I laugh, “That’s okay. I don’t plan on keeping you in any pants for very much longer.”
He takes that as an invitation and drops our bags to the ground. His arms encircle my waist. He hoists me up onto the bed, throwing me against the soft down comforter.
Travis’s pale blue eyes meet mine. He smiles, taking a dangling piece of hair out of my face and brushing it across my cheek. “
I swoon as his lips find the exposed skin on my legs. He carefully kisses his way up my thigh until he reaches my underwear and slowly slides them down my legs. The moment the fabric leaves my ankles, he leans me upwards and takes my dress over my head. Now, I’m completely bare except for my bra which also quickly leaves my body.
“God, you’re so gorgeous,” he breathes, nuzzling my inner thighs with his nose. “I’m going to love devouring that sweet pussy of yours.”
I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off by giving my clit a tickle with his tongue. I moan loudly as he pries open both of my legs and exposes my most sensitive area for himself. “Slow and seductive baby. If it doesn’t feel good, you need to tell me, okay?”
“Yes,” I breathe, as his mouth comes down hard on my entrance and his tongue plunges deep inside me. If this is any indication of what’s to come in
the next twenty four hours, I’m definitely glad I packed light, because I don’t plan on ever leaving this room.
“Breezy,” Travis says coming up for air. His eyes connect with mine, and I can feel the love permeating from them. “I love you.”
“I love you, Trav . . .” I finish with a moan. Travis is determined to make me finish; I have no doubt that I will be able to fulfill his request. This man is it for me. I can’t picture another man capturing my heart the way Travis has. I’m hoping this is only the beginning to a series of spontaneous trips and lazy weekends in bed, because from here on out, I’m spending every waking minute with the man of my dreams.
Chapter Six
Max
SHE’S IN FUCKING ASPEN! I read her text message for the millionth time since receiving it, and my heart plunges to my feet. The woman I love is in a different state with her obviously loaded boyfriend for the entire weekend. How can I compete with that? Where do I go from here? Overwhelmed with emotion, I stare into the emptiness of our apartment. For some reason, this guy feels different than her last few boyfriends.
I pick up my phone and dial Tony’s number. He picks up on the third ring.
“Talk to me, Pudding,” he says without laughing.
“I need a drink. Make that fifty drinks.”
“Uh oh, Buttercup, what’s wrong?”
“Breezy’s new boyfriend is loaded and carted her off to Aspen for the weekend. This guy is special, Tony. This guy has staying power.”
“Has he met you yet?”
Why do people always ask that?
“No, of course not. Breezy won’t allow it. Besides, I’m not sure I can look this one in the eye and not purposely try to get rid of his ass.”
“Don’t you purposely get rid of all the men she dates?”
I think back to all the guys Breezy has dated in the past. Each one of them broke up with her because of me. Honestly, I don’t do anything to scare them away. It’s like they take one look at me and bail.
“No, they all take one look at me and dump her.”
“It’s because you’re a sexy man-beast,” he laughs. “Even I have a thing for you.”
“Damn dude, I thought you hated it the other night when I hit on you? Who knew you had a secret crush on my junk.”
“You’re kinda growing on me, I guess.” Then he laughs. “Just joking, I’ve been having so much sex lately, that it’s put me in a good mood.”
“Sex with who?”
“Emma, she’s like a tiger in the bedroom. I’ve never let a girl be in control before, but once I felt her hand slap my ass, I was all about her dominating me. My ass is so raw from her spanking fetish that I can barely walk today.”
“Whoa dude, please don’t share details with me about your sex life. Besides, the only person who should be spanking you is me.”
“Nah, you’re not rough enough. You’re sort of a pussy when it comes to the spanking department.”
He knows perfectly well I could take his ass any day of the week. “How can you be having so much sex, when we just met her the day before yesterday?”
“She hasn’t left. Not that I want her to. I really like having her around. This girl does things to me, Max. Things I can’t explain.”
“I’m sorry man, but I hate to tell you this . . . she’s a dude, and that thing you can’t explain is a dick.”
“You’re an asshole, Max. I know for sure that she is a girl. I ate that pussy like it was made of beef jerky,” he exclaims proudly.
“Did you really just compare a woman’s vagina to beef jerky? If you’re going to describe it against a type of food, at least call it a peach or something sweet. Beef jerky makes me think of old women with wrinkly vaginas.”
“Hey, don’t knock the cougars. They’re phenomenal in the sack.”
“Why does that not surprise me? How do you handle that sagging boob thing?”
“It’s easy. All you have to do is throw them over your shoulders; that way you don’t have to worry about them slipping all over the place.”
“I think I’m going to throw up,” I’m practically puking over the thought of wrinkly vaginas and snake-like boobs.
“I’m kidding, Max. The oldest woman I’ve been with is in her early forties.”
“That’s still a little too old for my blood.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it,” he says laughing, “So what’s up?”
“I was hoping we could go drinking tonight. No girls. I want a guy’s night. I’m going to invite Dashawn and maybe my cousin Milo.”
“Nawh, Milo is a fucking dirt bag. He’ll ruin my buzz. Call Dashawn. Then we can be the three of the best looking men in the bar. Your cousin looks like a weasel. Plus, he has that flatulence problem.”
“Good point. I’ll call Dashawn. How about Koolka’s at nine?”
“Sounds good, I’m gonna go fuck Emma a couple more times, and then I’ll meet you there.”
“Don’t let her abuse you too much. I want to be able to have my way with you later tonight.”
“You wouldn’t be able to handle my cock, Max. You have a tiny mouth.”
“I’ve never had a complaint,” I quip.
He laughs. “Alright, I’ll see you tonight. Later, Sweet cheeks.”
“Later, Pumpkin.” I hang up the phone laughing. Out of everyone in my life, Tony and Breezy are my two favorite people.
Dashawn is a fellow trainer and probably the only guy friend I have other than Tony and my cousin Milo. Dashawn has a better reputation than I do when it comes to training. Usually, we’re in a constant battle with each other when it comes to our client’s weight loss goals, but since his accident, his heart really hasn’t been into training like it should be.
He’s still recovering from a brutal break up with his ex-girlfriend Janelle. That bitch actually stabbed him with a kitchen knife when he tried breaking up with her. He was lucky she missed his heart; she ended up stabbing too high up and driving the knife just below his shoulder blade. I never understood why he didn’t press charges against her. His response was that she wasn’t worth it, but I think deep down he still has feelings for that crazy girl.
Dashawn and I are alike in a lot of ways. We both have a thing for the underdogs, the girls that normally don’t get a lot of attention. Janelle is a three-hundred and fifty pound, crazy town chick, who spends more time with her hand stuffed into peanut butter jars than caring about her appearance. I never really understood their relationship. Dashawn is, as Breezy describes, an “Ebony God”. She says he’s the most gorgeous black man she’s ever met. That’s the main reason I don’t allow her at my gym.
If being stabbed wasn’t enough to keep him from work, he has also been having trouble with his grandmother’s health. She fell and broke her hip, so now he’s taken a sabbatical to stay home and help her recover. It’s been the longest month of my life, and I’m ready for him to get back to work and keep me on my toes.
I’m sure he needs a break from everything, so when I call him, I’m not surprised by how eager he is to get out of the house.
The bar is filled with people when I finally arrive. Tony and Dashawn are already at the bar surrounded by a group of ladies. It never fails. I can say it’s a guy’s night, but there will always be women hanging around us by the end of the night. They’re like cockroaches with the way they spill out of every corner. I guess I’ll be choking on perfume and estrogen once again.
Tony is taking a shot with a sexy brunette in a tight black dress. Dashawn has his arms around two blondes. At first I thought they were twins, but upon closer inspection, I realize they are just best friends who happened to be dressed in the same cute, floral dress with their hair identically styled. Six other women flank them. Each woman has the same look on their face—an eagerness to go home with one of my friends.
When I come up to the bar, both Dashawn and Tony are grinning proudly. “So much for guy’s night, boys.” I flag down the bartender and order a beer. I feel someone come u
p behind me and a hand fit in my pocket. I’m surprised to see a girl with bright orange hair, wearing jeans and a rock shirt, standing by my side. She’s not my usual type, but I wasn’t really looking to score tonight, anyway. She looks up at me and smiles. Her face is dotted with piercings, and I notice her left arm is sheathed in tattoos.
“Max, it’s about time you got here,” Tony says, taking another shot. “Let me introduce you to the ladies. This sexy brunette is Carrie. Those two sexy blondes nibbling on Chocolate’s neck are Brooke and Cory,” he tells me. He points to the six other women and starts naming them off. None of them are as attractive as the women both of my friends are hogging. “Piper, Trixie, Gina, Denise, Quinn, and that beauty in orange is . . .” his voice trails off as my pin-cushion companion speaks.
“My name is Yasmine, but people call me Yazzy.”
That sounds way too close to Breezy. I didn’t want to think about her tonight. The moment I hear Yazzy’s name, I’m instantly picturing Breezy in that crumpled, purple dress after the night of passion she had with Numbers Man. I try to remove myself from the vice-like hold Yazzy has on my jeans, but she won’t shake off; I finally give up. At least if she’s hanging on me, I don’t have to worry about other girls trying to hit on me. Tonight, I want to drink and nothing else.
An hour later I’m toasted. Most of the girls have left. Yazzy, the two blondes whose names I’ve already forgotten, and the sexy brunette that Tony has his eye on, are the only girls that remain.
“Max, do you have any tattoos?” Yazzy asks. I’m not sure when her twin joined the party, but I’m having trouble focusing on one girl, let alone two.
“Nope. Not yet. I’m saving my skin for my children’s names.”
“Oh, you want kids?”
“Eventually, but only with the right woman.” I forgot how much my mouth runs when I’m drunk. Tony and Dashawn obviously notice because they’re both laughing. I hate not having a drinking filter.