by Xavier Neal
The nick of pain forces my cock to a new level of stiffness and I bite the spot under her ear in return. She rolls her hips against me, causing me to whisper, “I’m gonna fuck you fast and hard.”
She moves her face so it’s in my line of vision and asks, “Are you punishing me for wearing this outfit to workout in?”
Seeing her desire to take exactly what I want to give her, I respond, “No, babe. I’m punishing you for not being in my bed this morning.”
I yank her into her bedroom. Within a matter of what feels like seconds, her shorts are off along with my shirt, my jeans are undone, my dick is wrapped, and I’m giving her a hard thrust from behind on her knees. After the first gasp at my invasion her muscles clamp tighter, hugging my cock like the old pal it’s becoming. Erin bounces her ass back against my dick again and again, calling out my name in the process. Each time my hand gives her ass a good pop her pussy muscles tighten, further encouragement to continue. She tosses her head back on an orgasmic howl at the same time I come undone. It takes a few breaths before the two of us start to come down off our euphoric high. After I dispose of the condom in the trashcan beside her bed, I sprawl out on the floor next to where she’s made herself comfortable.
Or is she fucked so good she can’t move? I prefer to think this is the truth and don’t you dare object. In fact, co-sign.
Erin rolls her face over to me as I use my index finger to trace the curves of her gorgeous body for the first time. Noticing the tats I’ve never seen before, I transfer my attention there. “I didn’t know you had these.”
“Well this is the only time you’ve seen me fully naked.” She replies.
Fuck. Is that true?
“I won’t apologize for wanting to be buried inside you.”
“And I’ll never ask you too.” she smiles a soft smile that I swear only I get to see.
“So what do the initials stand for?” I continue tracing the black Gothic heart tattoo that is melting or bleeding depending on how you look at it, the drops leading into the letters N, J, and L.
“Those.” her eyes fall to watch me trace them, “Are for my family, N for Nicolas, J for Jules my mom and L for Luke.”
“And here?” my hand switches to the other side where there’s an identical tat except instead of N, J, and L, it’s M, L, and D. “Is that for Maxx, Logan, and Dean?”
“My family,” She states proudly on a sigh. “I know we haven’t had the Kid that long, but about a week after he was officially adopted I got it added. Some people think it’s a crazy thing to do. Tattoo your family’s name on you like this, but...they are me. They make me whole. I want them on my skin.”
The declaration is strong but emotional, something before now, I don’t think I’ve ever heard come out of her mouth. My lips lower to the one on her left hip and plant a gentle kiss on it. Her breath hitches when I place another soft kiss there before doing the exact same thing to the other side.
When I’m finished, I look up into her brown eyes that are begging for me not to let her close back up. “I think it’s beautiful.” She smiles sweetly again and looks away. I sense she’s about to cut herself off from me completely, so I quickly ask, “What about when the new baby is born? Are you going to add that initial?”
“Most definitely,” her eyes sparkle and I know in this moment if I wasn’t in love with Erin Hart before I am now. “I’ll probably have Maxx or Logan’s initial look like its bleeding a little and drip into the new letter. Same if Luke ever has kids.”
“What about your own?” I question running my finger across her stomach from side to side.
Her eyes gloss over and she looks away.
Wrong question. Why didn’t you warn me!
“I don’t have any brothers or sisters,” I toss out in an effort to keep her talking. “Stuart is the closest thing I have to that.”
“You grew up together right?”
“Not sure we ever actually grew up, but yeah. Same town.”
“And your parents? Alive?”
“Yup. My father is a grade ‘A’ asshole and my mother a certified happy drunken housewife. I’ve always been treated more like an accessory or pawn than an actual person.” The admission causes my own eyes to shift back down to my fingers that are now tracing the tattoos again wishing I had a reason to wear my own family on my skin. “My mother is my father’s second wife. He had to have a son to keep the name going. Growing up I can count the number of times my opinion on my life mattered on one hand. And my mother has always either been too scared to fight back with his decisions or too drunk to care.” Erin doesn’t respond verbally but when I feel her fingers running through the back of my hair I close my eyes, my head now resting on her stomach. “When I was growing up...they’d always throw parties. Always. At the age of four they’d gather all the kids in one room, let one of the nanny’s be responsible for watching us and party until almost sun rise. Back then instead of flipping liquor bottles, it was juice cups.”
It’s okay to snicker. Erin did too.
“I would mix weird combinations and the kids loved it. By the time I was eight, I had taught myself how to handle cartons and jugs. Toss ‘em. Turn ‘em. Pour ‘em to please the crowd I felt I was responsible for entertaining. And by the time I actually started to have parties and throw them, I could teach Bartending School if I wanted. I’m not even a huge drinker. There’s just an allure of the control of the mixes. The escape of reality. The small joy of bringing pleasure to another human being that helps me to forget how unwanted I was most of my life.” Erin’s fingers comb through my hair again. I feel another weight being lifted. “Is that pathetic?”
In a whisper she reassures me, “We all have demons. And we all mask them differently.”
“What are yours?” I question.
Silence falls between us and I get my answer.
Do you blame me for trying?
“Dinner?” Erin asks.
“Working,” I remind her that it’s Saturday and one of the busiest nights we have.
“Right,” she sighs remembering.
“How about breakfast?” An idea pops into my mind and I lift my head.
Assuming it’s sexual she gets the heated look back on her face. “What’d you have in mind?”
“I’ll eat that too,” I inform her, quickly leaning down to give her beautiful shaved pussy a warm lick. After she moans I lift my face back up. “Actual breakfast when I get off.”
“At 3:00 a.m.?”
Cockily I respond, “You won’t be asleep.” When she goes to argue I lower my tongue and stroke her clit with another lick.
“You’re not fighting fair.”
“Do you ever?”
On a giggle she shoves my shoulder and rolls her eyes. “Fine, I’ll meet you at the bar after it closes.”
“You’ve got yourself a date...” I nod proudly. “Why don’t we seal the deal?” And just like that my mouth finds it’s new favorite flavor to devour.
What can I say? Chocolate is great, but her brand of vanilla could drive any chocolate fan over to the creamy side.
Chapter 12
Erin
Fluffing out the curls on the ends of Jennifer’s hair I look at my handiwork.
I’m a goddamn Houdini with a curling iron not to mention a makeup brush.
“You are like Heaven sent,” she compliments my work as she goes to touch the curl I just finished.
“Don’t touch,” I snap unplugging the device and giving it a chance to cool down while I begin her makeup. “Need the hairspray to settle.”
“Okay,” she giggles in response and I refrain from rolling my eyes.
“You’re much more cheerful than the last time we saw you,” Jess sighs from the chase lounge behind a glass of wine. “Getting laid now?”
“Was getting laid then too,” I plaster a phony smirk on my face.
“Oooo dish!” Jen demands like we’re old gossip buddies.
We aren’t. Should I remind you I get paid to b
e nice to her?
“Nothing to dish about. Just...started seeing someone a couple of weeks ago,” the information leak causes me to smile at just the thought of him.
Ugh. Gross. Stupid smirk. We’ve only been at this whole sex thing for two weeks. And it is just sex before you try to counter. What do you mean how many dates have we been on? Why is that information relevant?
“Is he hot?” Jen questions.
“Is he rich?” Jess, the world’s bitchiest maid of honor by far, counters.
“It isn’t always about money, Jess.”
“And that’s where you’re wrong,” Jess tips her wine glass in our direction.
Jen ponders, “Are you in love?”
“Oh God no,” I shriek applying her foundation. “We’re just two friends having lots of sex.”
“So, friends with benefits?” Jen continues.
“Yeah.”
“Are you sleeping with anyone else?”
“No.”
“Is he?”
“Definitely, no.”
“Are you allowed to?” Her line of questioning is swinging from mildly annoying to invasive.
“We agreed only each other.”
“Uh-huh. I see,” is her response as I smooth out my canvas. “Do you guys go to dinner or anything?”
“Dinner. Movies. Hang out at his place and just watch T.V. too.”
“How is that different than dating?”
Don’t agree with the over hormonal bride. She doesn’t have a valid argument. We aren’t dating...we’re...just exclusive friends who have sex and hang out and oh my God. We’re dating aren’t we? How the hell did I get in this situation?
“Shh,” I encourage applying blush. “I have to concentrate.”
Jen lets out another snicker but thankfully drops the subject. I continue painting her face, turning her into the gorgeous socialite she expects to look like rather than the rather sweet woman she is. Once I’m done, she dresses; I pack up and split, heading home to catch a nap before having to rush to the bar to doll up the Ring Side Girl for the event.
I miss when Maxx was Ring Side Girl. She gave me a little lip about everything but she was definitely much easier to work with than every diva that has taken her place thus far.
Entering the house, I’m not surprised to see Maxx with her head in Luke’s lap as he strokes her hair with Logan at the other end rubbing her feet.
On a small chortle, I ask, “Is it spa day in the Hart-Kellar household?”
Luke looks up at me continuing to rub Maxx’s head. “Whatever keeps her away from the cupcakes.” Glancing down he half heartily smiles. “I think she’s asleep now.”
“Thank goodness,” Logan says in a low voice. “She hasn’t been sleeping much. Little dude inside apparently is a cock block and a kicker.”
“Did you just call your future kid a cock block?” I shake my head in disbelief.
“Yeah. Giant C-block. Went through a good run of lots of sex. I mean lots of sex—”
“Spare us the details,” my brother mutters.
“Then the little dude inside starts kicking ‘round the clock. Rolling around like it’s a hamster on a wheel and my nuts haven’t seen the light of day since.” I snicker and he sighs, “Can’t wait ‘til the baby is out and we can have steady sex again.”
“Six weeks, Kellar,” Luke informs.
“Six weeks of what?”
“Of no sex, ding bat,” I pipe in. “Her pussy is still on lock down for six weeks after the baby.”
His jaw hits the ground. “Or what?”
“Or run a high risk of having another kid before you’re ready,” Luke explains.
“Are you fucking serious?” he shouts and Maxx groans, waking up.
“I don’t know who wakes me up more,” she huffs. “You or the baby.”
Feeling guilty, he immediately apologizes, “Maximus I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. Yeah,” she brushes him off and manages to make it onto her feet. Giving me a good stare down, she does something that I hate. She looks right through me. “We need to talk.”
“Do we?” I act innocent.
Unimpressed she sighs, “Do you want to be added to the list of people I don’t like at the moment?”
“Is Logan at the top?” my joke causes him to complain again, but his voice drowns out as I exit the room with Maxx.
Once we’re in my room she shuts the door behind us and demands, “What’s eating you?”
“Nothing,” I deny dropping my makeup case on the floor before flopping on the edge of my bed.
“Spare this pregnant woman your lies. My patience for life is very thin thanks to your brother and my husband not to mention my son who got caught feeling up a girl on the class field trip to the history museum.”
I erupt in laughter.
Join me, please. Join me.
“Apparently making history is more fun than learning it.” She sighs. “Just do me a favor and tell me what’s bothering you.”
I hesitate but quickly realize if I can talk to the client about it, I should have no issues talking to my best friend about it, even if I think she’s bias.
“Are C.J. and I dating?” Puzzled she just stares back at me. After waiting longer than I care to, I grip the edge of my bed. “Are you blinking at me in Morris Code?”
“I’m sorry I must’ve blacked out during the idiotic question.”
Her pregnancy hormones are really starting to get on my nerves.
“Of course you’re dating!” she yells.
“See I don’t think so....”
“That’s because this isn’t your domain any more than it was Logan’s,” her comparison of us makes me fall backwards onto my mattress.
“I’ll do the math for you. Does he take you to dinner?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you go to the movies?”
“Once or twice.”
“Has he taken you for drinks or dancing?”
Growling I mumble, “But it was Salsa night at La Luna!”
“Spend most of your day texting each other?”
“I text you too!”
“Okay. Fine,” Maxx caves and I know better than to believe it’s over that easy. Suddenly her face is leaning over me. “Answer me this. Since you started sleeping with C.J. have either of you slept with anyone else?” My lips form a hard line. “Exactly! And if you want to add a few sprinkles on this cupcake of cuteness, I’m pretty sure neither of you have slept with other people since you started this little struggle for dominance.”
It’s not a struggle. I dominate. Well I did dominate. With most guys I take the reins and enjoy being in control, but there’s something about the way he takes over without instructions and fights for the right to give me an orgasm that is so fucking sexy. Is it normal that he gives me butterflies or whatever those feelings in your stomach are?
“Well whatever is going on....we only agreed to do it for a month.”
“And now you are realizing that you wanna keep doing it until you don’t want to anymore.”
“I said no such thing,” I point a stern finger at her.
“Didn’t have to, aside from the fact it’s been written all over your face for the last couple of weeks, face the facts, Erin. You were falling for the boy long before you had some of his banana milkshake.”
I don’t know what irritates me more. That there’s a good chance she’s right or that she compared C.J.’s dick to ice cream. Never mind that it tastes better.
“Why do you keep making food references?”
“I always make food references.”
“Yeah, but more than usual. Are the boys denying you sugar again?”
“Oh my God, I’m going to kill your brother,” she violently responds. “Now he’s trying to convince me certain fruits have too much sugar in them and to make it worse he’s got Dean and Logan in on it. I swear if I have to hear one more lecture about the dangers of everything I put in my body I will—”
�
��Grab the candy bar from the second drawer in my nightstand.”
“Oh! You’re like a sugar angel,” she giddily giggles and goes to retrieve it.
Sugar angel by day, sex temptress by night. Hell, even by day, C.J. and I are constantly at it so often I’m beginning to think we should invest in the condom company in an attempt to make some of our money back. Strangest part is we’ve yet to have sex in a bed. I know. I know. Crazy, yes but true. Walls. Floors. Couches. Kitchens Dressers. We’ve broken more than just his lamp and that cup. We collapsed his coffee table a couple weeks ago. Put a hole in the drywall by his front door and dented my bedroom door. We’re like two magnets. Put us in the general vicinity of each other and someone will end up on top of someone.
***
Fight Night goes as smooth as it always does. Ever since Maxx was hired to coordinate them, they’ve gone off without a hitch. Even though she can’t physically be here to monitor every little detail, she designed a system that works pretty flawlessly and Tony, who’s in charge of social media as well as being her assistant keeps an eye out for her.
Once upon a time, he had feelings for her, but they’ve gotten to the point where not only are those feelings gone, it’s hard to believe they ever existed at all.
Tony comes to stand beside me as the Ring Side Girl takes the stage. Stuart is circling around taking shots, while Tony takes the candid photos with his cellphone. After a click he sighs, “Feels like just yesterday that was Maxx.”
“Right,” I respond pulling my red corset top up that’s a little loose.
Any chance all the sex has caused a little weight loss? Is that possible?
He takes another photo and I lean over to check it out. “Miss her, don’t you?”
“Don’t you?” he counters.
“Touché.”
“It’s alright though. I see her plenty during the day.”
“She’s not supposed to be working more than a couple days a week.”
“Well she does,” he gives his black fitted long sleeve shirt a tug. “In fact we just signed up to help throw this huge retirement party for a judge.”