by Bijou Hunter
“I would very much like to suck on your tongue,” he says, watching me with a worried look on this face. “Why do you seem like you want to leave?”
Frowning now, I kick off my boots and join him on the bed. “I wasn’t thinking of leaving at all. Do you have abandonment issues?”
“No.”
“Then you aren’t reading my face well.”
“Tell me you want to stay.”
“I want to stay here with you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re hot, and I’m attracted to beautiful things.” Shane allows a smile to warm his face, and I ask, “Did I do my tell?”
“Were you lying?”
“No.”
“Then why would you do your tell?” he asks, full of dark suspicion.
Running my fingers through his beard, I whisper, “What is my tell?”
“I’ll share that later.”
“Why not now?” I ask, almost removing my hand.
“Too selfish, I guess,” he says, watching me very intently to see if I’ll punish him for not giving me what I want. “But you really do want to be here, don’t you?”
“Why are you acting insecure?”
“You’re necessary for my happiness. I’m not sensing the same kind of need from you.”
His words startle me, causing me to babble, “You don’t need me for you to be happy.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Well, I don’t really know you, so I could very well be wrong, but I still think I’m right.”
“Well, think what you want, but you’re still wrong.”
“Are you going to cry?” I tease, stroking the spot under his chin, where his beard ends, and soft flesh starts.
“Maybe,” he murmurs, sounding hurt. “I’m very vulnerable right now.”
Knowing he’s full of shit, I ask, “Would sucking on my tongue help with your emotional problems?”
Shane’s fake pout disappears. “Yes, ma’am.”
Leaning forward until my lips meet his, I savor the flavor of a man far out of my league. I’m not sure how much time we have left together, but that shouldn’t be my concern today. No, I ought to enjoy Shane Campbell and all his many, manly qualities.
THE ROMANTIC
I finally have Ramona in my bed. Just to fool around for now, but she feels right in here. It’s the first time I’ve had a woman in my bed, here or in Ellsberg. I just never had the kind of relationship where I wanted a girl to sleep over. With Ramona, I wish she’d never leave my side.
Tugging my shirt over my head, she straddles me and smiles. “Your body is a work of art.”
Her fingers slide down my chest, making circles around my nipples and teasing my chest hair. I watch her lick my reaper tattoo and then exhale roughly when her lips leave wet kisses along my torso to my belt buckle. Popping the button on my pants, Ramona licks at the bulge I seem to sport whenever she’s around.
“Wait,” I say and keep her from freeing my cock. “I don’t know if we should.”
“Was Ellsberg founded by Puritans?” she asks, kissing the bulge through my jeans.
“No, why?” I ask as the blood leaves my brain until I can barely remember my name.
“You take sex too seriously.”
“I’m not the one who refuses to remove her shirt.”
Shooting me a frown, she nuzzles my dick through my jeans. “I have weird boobs, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” I say and wrap my hands under her armpits to pull her up. With her propped above me, I can cup her weird boobs. “They feel perfect to me.”
“Don’t you want me to suck you off?”
“Always, but I want to make you come,” I murmur as she licks my nipple. “Does your side still hurt?”
“No,” she says and lowers herself on the bed. “Can’t we do that later? I smell meat, and I think maybe your stomach does too.”
If my stomach is growling, I can’t feel it. My entire brain is focused on where she tugs my jeans down just enough to gain access to my very desperate dick. Once she sucks the head in her mouth, I forget about everything else.
Most chicks treat giving a blowjob as a race. After the first lick, they’re gunning for the finish line. Makes sense. I would be in a rush to get it over with too if I was the one doing the sucking.
Ramona, though, bathes my cock with love. Sucking leisurely as she expertly strokes my shaft and teases my balls. No hurried jerking, no urgency for me to get done. Maybe that’s why I come so hard, nearly blinded from a pleasure that breaks me a little.
“You look so relaxed afterward,” she says, licking the last drops from my spent cock.
I prop myself up and study her. Ramona’s weird. I know that seems wrong to think, but she’s just odd. What kind of girl doesn’t want to get off?
Is she frigid? I doubt she’d be so willing to suck me off if she had a sex hang-up. Is she on the rag? I sense she’d just straight-out tell me if that was the case. Or maybe when she mocked my Puritan thinking, she was projecting. Is she the one with the sex hang-ups? I mean, the shirt thing is weird, right? Her tits feel perfectly plump in my hands. Her nipples react enthusiastically to my fingers’ teasing. What’s her deal?
“I want to fuck you,” I say, tugging her upward and holding her against my body. “I want to see you come.”
“Later.”
“Why not now? Are you not wet?” I ask, sliding my finger between her legs and under her black skirt. I skim her panties and relish her hot pussy hiding underneath the fabric.
Ramona just smiles, which makes me frown. “You’re more attractive than any man I’ve ever seen. Sometimes, you don’t feel real.”
My frown lessens. I’d think she was fucking with me, distracting from what I want to talk about. Except her expression is too earnest. She admires my face, and then her gaze lowers to my chest and my happy cock.
“I feel like you’re playing a game,” I mutter.
“Why?”
“Because you should want to get off too.”
“I do,” she says, and I sense she’s lying despite her not using her tell. “I just don’t want to strip down and hurry when I know there’s food waiting. I can hang out later, and we can take our time.”
“I want you to spend the night.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t bring anything with me to spend the night.”
“My sister has shit you can use.”
Ramona tries to pull away, but I hold her snugly against me. “I have meds I take at night.”
“We’ll pick them up.”
“No.”
“Why?” I push.
“Mostly because you’re insisting on it, and I don’t want to be bullied.”
“I’m not a bully.”
Ramona smiles first, and then her raspy laughter erupts. “You don’t really believe that, do you? I mean, you’re a smart guy. Well raised and all that jazz. I don’t believe you don’t know that you're a bully.”
“I don’t bully anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”
“You bully me,” she says, losing her smile. “And I’ve been nice to you.”
“Been nice because I bullied you?”
“No, in spite of your bullying.”
“I want you, but I feel like you don’t want me.”
Ramona glances at my still-exposed dick and then frowns. “And if I stay tonight and come for you, will you feel like I want you? Or will you have another hurdle to jump before I’m behaving how you need?”
Yanking up my jeans, I sit up and look at her. “You make me sound like an asshole.”
“You lied when we first met. You keep pushing me to prove myself. I feel like I'm good to you, but you act as if I’m a cold bitch jerking you around.”
Frowning, I immediately know my now-agitated stance is a mistake. Ramona’s confidence deflates, and she looks submissive. She thinks I’ll hurt her. I see the fear in the way she lowers her gaze. My mom gets the same way wh
en people scare her. Shelby calls it Mom’s turtle move. Mom pulls her body tighter as if creating a hard shell to protect herself.
Pushing Ramona now will get me what I want, but I’ll also know she’s only giving in out of fear.
“I am a bully, I guess. But I feel as if you need me to take charge. That’s probably wrong. I’m a virgin when it comes to caring about a woman like this.”
Ramona peeks up at me, but she’s lost her earlier relaxed demeanor. I got greedy, and she got scared. I keep doing that shit.
“I’ve never been afraid of losing someone,” I say in the softest voice I can manage, “and I’m afraid you aren’t into me like I’m into you. I don’t want to look like a fool.”
Studying my face, Ramona wants to give in because she feels bad for me. She can’t help wanting to make me feel better, even if doing so makes her feel worse. I take her hand and hold it gently in mine.
“You do something to me, Ramona. Like you awoke something inside, and I need to feed it by being close to you. But I’m constantly worried I’m losing you. First with the stuff with Kelsi and Fuse and then with how I lied. It seems like I’m close to fucking things up for good. But I hate fear. Anger feels better. When I’m upset, I get angry. I take charge of a problem and make it submit.”
Ramona’s hand squeezes mine, and I think she gets what I’m trying to say. “Why does everything have to mean so much?” she asks in a small, submissive voice. “Why can’t we just have fun when we’re together?”
I run my thumb across the bridge of her nose. “I can’t pretend as if we’re enjoying a relaxed relationship when I know people are giving you shit about us dating.”
“But,” she nearly whispers, “when you worry, it makes you tense. When you get tense, it stresses me out. Then we can’t enjoy our time together. What’s the point of getting shit from people if I can’t have fun with you?”
The sensation that I’m losing her hits me again, and I blurt out, “I need you to want me like I want you.”
“I don’t think that’s possible. We’re different. You want something and force it into submission. I give up when things are too hard. We’re wired differently.”
“Do you want to be here, or are you here because you think you have no choice?” I ask, having a hard time reading Ramona suddenly.
“I’m here because I like you. I worry that’s not enough. You want me to need you like I can’t survive without you.”
“But you need someone to take care of you.”
“Why?”
“You get this look sometimes as if you’re drowning. I want to be the one who pulls you to safety.”
Watching me as if I’m nuts, she chooses her words carefully. “But you don’t know me, Shane. If you did, you would understand that I don’t need to be pulled to safety.”
“Then why do you look that way?”
“Because I have issues,” she says and shrugs as if self-conscious. “I’ve always had them. Throwing me a life jacket is nice, but it won't fix me. I’m wired wrong.”
“Because of your parents?”
“Because of a lot of things. But mostly I don’t process shit right. Things bother me that don’t bother other people. When I get bothered and feel low, I can’t lift myself up.”
“That’s why I’ll lift you up.”
“But it’s not a one-time deal,” she says, holding my gaze. “It’s all the time. I’m a lot of work.”
Frowning, I struggle not to roll my eyes. “I feel like you and I could be special. I can learn to do whatever you need.”
Right now, Ramona’s face is no longer an open book. I can’t read her every thought. However, I can clearly see she’s changing tactics even before she opens her mouth.
“Talking about this isn’t helping. I guess it’s good to know you bully because you care,” she says, and I realize she’s teasing me. Once I give her a grudging smile, she continues, “But I don’t do this with my friends. This talking about things and spelling everything out. I just chill with them. We have fun. We keep things calm, and that keeps me calm. Why can’t you and I just have a good time? I mean, if you really want to save me or whatever, that’s how you’d do it. Just relax and show me your house and let me meet your friends. Then we can fuck later. Not because I’m in desperate need of an orgasm. Just because fucking is fun, and we’re attracted to each other, and it feels good. I don’t know if you can relax like that, though.”
“Just have fun, huh?” I ask, feeling like that’s not enough to make things right with Ramona.
“Can you do that?”
“I do that all the time with everyone else.”
“Then why not do it with me?”
“I feel like I—” I pause and realize talking more isn’t what she wants. It’s what I want. I expect Ramona to reassure me that I’m special to her, and I’m making her happy. I’m the one acting as if I need saving.
Ramona told me what she wants. I believe she’s telling the truth too. She didn’t use her tell, and I sense she’s being square with me. If she needs me to relax, I can relax.
THE LEGACY
I get the feeling Shane wants to hide me in his room rather than join his friends. He keeps kissing me on the bed long after his stomach rumbles loud enough for us to laugh over.
I find myself wondering if Shane worries that I’ll get one look at River and swoon so hard that I’ll forget all other men. Kelsi said River is the best-looking man she’s ever seen. Earlier, I saw Maverick, who’s supposed to be the second best-looking man she’s ever seen. He was hot, for sure, but Kelsi has a thing for blonds. I don’t share her bias. Fuse was blond. When I was a kid, I thought he was handsome. But that was just from my mom always saying he was sexy and smart and a million other compliments. She babbled about him constantly. I used to think she was weird for not shutting up about Fuse.
Except that last night, I babbled for thirty minutes about Shane. His hair is so soft. His dark eyes see right into my soul. His dick is somehow huge yet not bulgy.
“You could say all that about me,” Hugh muttered while doing pushups on the ground. “Well, not the dark eyes, but I see your soul just fucking fine.”
Kelsi and I laughed at his bravado as we shared a wine cooler and watched old MTV videos. I knew I was stupid to act as if I’d never liked a guy before. But Shane Campbell is just fucking gorgeous in a way that doesn’t seem real.
That’s why I’m not worried that I’ll go gaga over River Majors. I’m breaking a lot of my personal rules and pushing myself beyond my comfort zone for Shane only. When he and I break up, I’m not looking to jump on another biker dick.
Shane is it for me. I wasn’t interested in dating before him, and I don’t see me wanting a guy after him. This is my shot for a fun romance. Afterward, I’m keeping my head down, hanging out with my friends, and surviving one day at a time. Nothing more complicated than that.
“I’m hungry,” I finally tell Shane just so he’ll stop hiding in his room. If he’s nervous about me soaking my panties over his friend, I plan to shoot down that concern.
The opportunity to take care of me gets Shane focused immediately. Opening his bedroom door, he reaches for my hand. We return downstairs, where “Gold Digger” plays in the backyard. Shane glances down at me and sighs.
“My sister fell in love with this song after hearing it at a strip club.”
Outside on the back porch, Shelby shakes her ample ass to the beat. Nearby, Maverick sits with Taylor. They watch Shelby while wearing blank expressions. Lounging in a patio chair, River turns to say something, spots us, and gives Shane a sly grin.
“Thought you might not want to share,” he taunts.
“We’re here for food.”
Shelby turns around and smiles at her brother. Then she focuses her bright gaze on me. “Did you wear him out?” she asks. “He’s like a toddler. If he doesn’t get a good workout, he’s impossible to put down for the night.”
Shane gives his sister a dark frown and then
tenses when a smiling River approaches. They’re screwing with him, and he’s on edge. I also sense they act like this a lot, and I shouldn’t take it personally.
“You’re all a bunch of weirdos,” Taylor says and stands up. “No manners, either.” She reaches out, takes my hand, and introduces herself. “I like your show. You should play more AC/DC, though.”
I just nod since people always ask me to play something different. It’s like how people ask doctors about weird growths. They can’t help themselves.
“This is Maverick. He’s a mute,” Taylor says and gestures toward him.
The long-haired blond barely reacts to our words. He just nods and goes back to staring at Shelby. I don’t think he sees her since his gaze doesn’t move when she leaves her dance spot.
“I’m River,” the president of the Reapers says and reaches out to shake my hand. He also flashes me a helluva smile, likely meant to fuck with Shane.
“You were the one who beat up Fuse, right?” I ask, and his smile instantly disappears.
I know I just got River’s back up, but I didn’t like him even pretending to flirt with me. Shane is standing right here, and he’s the only guy I want smiling at me like that.
“That was just business,” River says, and I sense he uses that reasoning a lot.
“For Fuse’s family, it was personal,” I say, holding his gaze and wondering if that earlier joint made me suicidal. “But I’m the black sheep of that family, so I don’t care if you made him cry.”
River exhales uneasily and looks relieved. “Well, he didn’t cry.”
“Not in front of you, but I’m sure he had a good bawling fit once he was home with his old lady.”
Taylor smiles while Shelby looks worried. I don’t know if she isn’t paying attention. Her gaze is super focused on Shane, who stares back at her. They might be having a duel of some sort.
“My mom said that the wives got the shitty part of a man while the sweet butts enjoyed the best parts. You know, the fucking mainly.”
River still looks awkward. “I didn’t kill him, you know?”