Lunchtime Chronicles: Jolly Rancher

by London, S.

  “Go lay down before you fall, you big grinchy baby.”

  He does as he’s told, but his eyes follow my every move. I can tell he’s ready to leap if I sprint in the opposite direction. Scowling, I approach. Sitting the tray safely on the night table, I lift his feet, tucking them under the quilt. He cuts those bright eyes in my direction, smirking in satisfaction.

  “You know you’re taking advantage of my kindness?”

  Folding his arms behind his head, he relaxes that arrogant noggin in the cradle of his hands.

  “You’re welcome to take advantage of me. Dip the sandwich in the soup.”

  I treat him to a major eye roll while lowering one triangle tip of the toasted bread and cheese into the spicy soup. When I lift it, he shakes his head.

  “Not yet, sweetness. I like it really moist, keep swirling it.”

  The sensual innuendo is off the scales and so is the scent of arousal. I look up at him. One dark lock has fallen over his bruised right eye. I wrestle with the urge to trace my fingers over his skin. He doesn’t look away when I touch his mouth with the sandwich. Slowly, he opens, makes a seal with his lips, and then bites. Diesel groans, and my crazy ass does, too.

  I think I just orgasmed.

  The way he licks his lips after each swallow is pure food porn.

  “More?” I croak, dripping the warm liquid onto my finger by accident. Gently, he takes my hand, raising it to his mouth.

  “I like to lick,” he says, before that big tongue snakes around my digit and my finger disappears into his mouth.

  Oh shit, does this man know how to lickety split. And I imagine him licking my slit.

  The second the bowl is empty, and the hot tea is gone, he shoves it aside, pulling me atop him.

  “Whatever I did to make you skittish, I’ll fix it,” he breathes, eyes focused on my lips.

  I know what’s going to happen before he moves. When his lips touch mine, I open automatically giving his admittance. Of course, his big paw makes a trek to my ass, kneading the globes.

  “Diesel—”

  “Just tell me, woman. I’ll do right.”

  His eyes are so earnest, he’s got me half believing we’re here to remedy what went wrong in our fake relationship. I swear, if he keeps kissing me like this, I’m going to make some shit up just to keep his hand on my ass.

  Chapter Five

  Diesel

  I’ve lost blood, not my damn mind. Amanda wants me as much as I want her little ass next to me every night. She’s a warrior. Determined to care for me, but reluctant to fuck me. Her kisses are scorching, and her body is fire under my command. Never have I encountered a woman who totally snags my attention yet fights with passion to avoid capture.

  I admire her restraint.

  It’s futile, but admirable.

  “It’s late.” I yawn, pulling her tighter against me. It’s quiet here, peaceful. I can’t remember a time in my life I’ve felt this stillness. Maybe it’s this place, but deep in my soul, a port I rarely visit, I think it’s the woman in my arms. My little realtor is tucked into my side, her head in the crook of my arm. One of her bare legs is draped over mine.

  I feel her smile against my skin. “You’ve had a rough day, Grinchy. Get some rest.”

  Slapping her ass, I chuckle when she mutters something about cowboys and spankings.

  “After I put the tip in, we’ll both go to sleep.” In my head, I picture that tight body beneath mine, wet, willing, and wild as firelight.

  She rears up, lips parted to rip me a new one. She looks incredulous, amused, and sexy as hell. Her hair is loose, and her face is bare of makeup.

  “The tip of what?”

  “My cock.”

  Her smile slips. “Diesel, we don’t get down like that.”

  I shove her head back down. Okay, she’s still playing hardball, but why does she look as blue as my balls feel? This time when she raises that pretty face to regard me, I listen.

  “I really am sorry, Grinchy.”

  With care she runs her fingertips over my forehead. The pain has lessened. Now another part of my anatomy aches.

  “About the accident, or refusing to fuck me?”

  Her smile is strained, and her eyes are cautious. Interesting, the warning seems to be more internally driven than of me. What an interesting character Amanda is. I want to know everything about my little gift-wrapped package. She’s absently rubbing her leg around mine. At first, I think she’s being coy, but she’s oblivious to the fact that she’s teasing a tiger.

  “Both, actually. I would never hurt you.”

  I swallow, not wanting to frighten her back to silence. Truth is, I believe her. Amanda talks constantly, but she’s sweet and caring, dedicated to her family and friends. I don’t think I have much of either, by design. Family is complicated and friends are a constant time-sucker.

  “Accidents happen, sweetness. It’s in the past.”

  She twists her lips like a kid in a regrettable situation. “I know, but you warned me. I kind of have a defiant streak.”

  I raise a brow in question. “Hence, the earlier ass spanking?”

  “Naw, that’s just you.” She chucks me on the chin.

  I shift, studying her more intently. For a business relationship, we know our way around each other’s quirks. Which leads back to my original question. “You say you’re not mine?”

  “I’m not.”

  Watching her, I glide one hand over the round globe of her ass, under her scrap of cloth, to her center. I hover above her clit, the nearness heats my skin. My dick instantly reports for duty, ready to put in hard labor. She inhales sharply at the almost contact.

  “You’re wet, Amanda. For me.”

  “I—”

  “Don’t deny it,” I growl. She’s lowered her head, her face hidden in the shadow of the dancing fire. The wood in the grate, slips and cracks, the sound slashes through the air. Neither of us respond.

  “I wasn’t, Diesel. You got my nose wide open.”

  “But not your legs?” I say with humor.

  Laughing, she says. “You’re hurt, Diesel.”

  I spread my legs farther apart, settling her squarely against my throbbing erection. She leans into my hardness, a breathy sigh escaping her plump lips like my dick is the throne she’s been waiting to conquer.

  “You’re horny, Amanda.”

  “Exactly,” she intones. “Hurt and horny is a bad combination.”

  Talking with an irrational woman when she’s hot and bothered is so cute. Her excuse maybe valid, but I’m used to hard work. Getting Amanda requires a bit of overtime.

  “Fact is, my key,” I pump my hips, ensuring she feels the full effect of her body on mine, “turns your lock.”

  She squirming now. Those intelligent brown eyes are searching for a response she can’t deny. With one hand, I tuck a stray lock behind her ear. She wears a coiled ear cuff, and I toy with it absently. Amanda’s eyes drop to half mast, a raspy ahhh reaches my ears before she bites it back.

  “You want me, Amanda.” Rolling my shoulders to shake off a growing fatigue, I move in for the final takedown. “I’ll give you the head, see if that little ass can handle the rest,” I whisper.

  “Oh Grinchy,” she coos. I like the nickname. Another example that she’s mine. “Between my legs is the eternal garden of dick kryptonite. I’m talking, stripped of your superhuman strength. In your weaken state, you’ll probably need physical therapy to make a full recovery. Trust me, I’m making it my business to protect you from yourself.”

  I circle the back of her neck, my hold is sure, but I’m careful not to hurt her. “Only business I need, sweetness... is you riding my dick until it’s broken, or you are.”

  She licks those lips I love sucking, and I follow the trail of glistening wetness with my eyes. If I swiped a finger through her center, my hand would come away with her sweet cream.

  “Our business relationship,” she emphasizes the word business, “is unconventional. B
ut we’re not there, yet.”

  It’s my turn to ride the crazy train. Not only are we there, there’s money in the parking meter.

  “You’re in my bed, titties bouncing, with a scrap of loincloth covering your pussy. And you want to convince me this is calculus? It’s not.”

  “Like I told you. I’m your realtor,” she adds, more grit in her voice. “You hired me to sell this ranch. It belonged to your father. You don’t want it.”

  “Huh.” I frown. “I told you all that?”

  “On the drive up.” She nods. “Yes.”

  “From Baltimore? Where I picked you up?” That means I’m in the driver’s seat. Feels like that would be my approach but doesn’t sound like any realtor-client business relationship I know of. At least, I don’t think it does.

  “Yep, that’s right.”

  Hell no, it’s all wrong. And Why am I feeling drowsy? Amanda’s face is fuzzy, and my lids are two boulders attached to one hundred weights.

  “Realtors don’t juice like you do for my cock, sweetness. Your ass should be a magician, the way you conjured that shit up. Be quiet.” I yawn again, my limbs feeling heavier than the minute before. “Climb on up here, my little story weaver. Your patient needs a sleeping potion. Your body is the perfect prescription.”

  She gives me a twisted grin. “Yeah, about that tea you drank. It’s called Sleepytime.”

  My eyes drift close, padlocking together, but not before I whisper. “You’re going to get your ass spanked.”

  Chapter Six

  Mandy

  Thank heaven the tea kicked in when it did, ‘cause you know a sister was about to do a 1-8-7 on an undercover cock. Yes, I was about to kill it, gurl.

  My good angel whispers, I’m on Santa’s Good Girl Mandy list for keeping my legs closed. Diesel hired me to sell this property. That’s my only job, not riding his cowboy. But that’s not the only voice competing for my attention. On #TeamMessyMandy, the devil is chatting Eddie Murphy’s... fuck him, girl. Fuck him.

  Fuck him, girl. Fuck him.

  Diesel Conrad has me off my game, the mean one and this new boyfriend version. I’m down for one-night of fun, but not with a man I really like. And, as cliche as it sounds to fall for your enemy, I am. Those green eyes and handsome face were already working their mistletoe magic. The ass-spanking cowboy vibe definitely has me jonesing, and now, boyfriend Diesel is a cuddler.

  What’s a horny, sex-starved realtor to do?

  With him asleep in the only available bedroom, I relegate my tired butt to the couch. My thoughts are consumed with the man on the other side of the wall. It’s only one night, I remind myself, two tops. I’ll be back in Baltimore. Alone for Christmas. Or, I could stay here, pretending... a rude horse-breeding cowboy who loves his mama and who’s kisses steal my breath faster than a city burglar, is my mine to unwrap.

  Race, or maybe Cristene, have a roaring fire burning in yet another fireplace, and the television remotes lined up like Nutcrackers with red, yellow, and green buttons on a black background. The husband-and-wife team seem to enjoy working together tackling rural life, and under their care, this house really is spectacular. I’ve toured every room except for a locked door off the kitchen, with what appeared to be a storage area beyond a utility room with mounted shelving.

  First thing in the morning, I’m snapping pictures and listing this property. If as to contradict my decision, I hear Diesel’s grunt. He’s probably struggling to reposition that big head of his, and like the scent of warm mulled wine, the desire to offer my assistance beckons my lust-dulled brain to his side. And just like that, I’m wet again and too horny for sleep.

  In an attempt to sedate my hungry kitty, I do what every single woman well-acquainted with the disappointments of twenty first century dating does. I ease to the floor, open my tote, and remove one purple tube of Astroglide lubricant, my Suck Me Up vibrator, and a flask of amber musk scented oil. The drawstring bag of green apple Jolly Ranchers are for later.

  I click the TV power button, searching for something to set the mood. After I massage the oil into my skin, I grab a couch pillow for my head and a chocolate Chenille throw to cover my legs. Remote button in hand, my thrusting-sucking rabbit is set to magic motion level five. The Hallmark Channel plays on low volume in the background. This sister is about to get fucked up, literally.

  The movie is one of my favorites, so the scenes and the dialogue are carved into my memory. Honestly, the heroine should have known that man’s last name wasn’t Firwood.

  When the rotation of the vibrator hits my spot, my legs relax, my knees parting while my favorite toy works out this insane need to have Diesel inside me. I conjure up his face, the feel of his strong body gripping me as we careened through the snow. Fuck, I wasn’t thinking Grinchy was for me. But I want him to give me that big, thick—my breathing increases, as does my heart rate. I rev up the speed, the vibrating buzz essentially muting the television. My sensitized body has a mind of its own. My pumping hips move in a choreographed rhythm with the thrusting toy between my legs. Oh shit, my kitty is making this dildo it’s bitch. I swear, I hear it calling my name.

  Amanda. Amanda.

  I imagine it’s Diesel echoing in his sexy ass timber.

  Amanda. Amanda.

  “Yass, you Grinchy fucker,” I moan, using one finger to strum my swollen nipples. “Say my name.”

  Then the voice morphs. It’s deeper, demanding, forceful. It’s angry Diesel. “Yeah, sweetness, gotcha feigning.”

  The weight of two big hands gripping my knees and pinning them in place startles me.

  “Amanda, what the hell is buzzing?”

  My eye lids pull a roller shade, whipping up so fast, it takes me a moment to focus.

  “Grinchy, don’t sneak up on me.” Diesel’s green eyes are narrowed, his nostrils are flared, and his hold on me is unrelenting. Ah, my orgasm is so close. “Give, give me a minute,” I pant, my breath coming in short, broken notes.

  “Woke up to find you gone,” he barks.

  Oh, oh, boy, my orgasm pulls a full court press snowballing downhill at Diesel’s touch.

  “Go back to bed. I’ll come in a minute.” Oh, that was a bad choice of words. I feel beads of sweat forming on my nose, and my legs are trembling. Please, don’t cum. Don’t cum.

  “No,” he says a little too slow. My leg jerks, and I clinch my butt muscles trying to stop it. My kitty kat vice grips, pushing the suction harder against my clit.

  “Oh, shit,” I hiss, my eyes rolling back in my head. The toy is working my button better than a sugar daddy with a new fix. I accidentally depress the thrusting suction max button. “Mmm, mmm, mmm.”

  Diesel’s touch sears my skin through the blanket. He doesn’t have to move a muscle. Just his looming presence, his potent energy has a tidal wave of release ready to break free. He needs to g-o.

  He frowns. “Amanda, what—"

  Keeping his eyes on mine and one hand on my knee, he lifts the material covering my lower body. A muscle along his jaw ticks, but lust clouds his gaze. He’s angry and aroused. Oblivious to the big man with the menacing scowl, my silly rabbit is thrusting, thrusting, stroking the kitty to purr. I’m actually growling.

  “You mindfucking me. Watching a boyfriend movie?” His voice is a low, sexy rasp.

  “Diesel, I’m horny. Everything isn’t about you,” I manage to push out between moans.

  “This is,” he growls.

  Suddenly, my protective covering is yanked away. I’m pulled from the floor. Back propped against the couch, Diesel places me face down across his spread legs. My ass is in the air, and the rabbit is sucking and thrusting away.

  “This is highly inappropriate,” I shriek, arching my back to roll away.

  “Yeah, so is fucking a hot pink fake cock while I’m in the next room with a twist tie on my nut sac.”

  “Sorry, not sorry.” My shirt keeps me from touching every inch of his skin. A part of me wishes he had ripped it off. Maybe, later.
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  “You’re going to be.” He grabs my hand. “Give me that damn remote,” he grumbles, snatching the thumb drive-sized controller from my fingers.

  “Hey!” I yell, and that’s when it hits me. His hand, that is, on my bare ass. The slaps land one after another—left, then right. The blows sting and are deliciously erotic. Biting my lip doesn’t keep the pleasure contained.

  “You’re bad ass needs a spanking on the regular.”

  Can I get an amen. Finally, a man who speaks my language. I can’t escape Diesel’s scent, his touch, his heat. My senses are on overload, I’m dizzy with awareness of how well we fit together. Close to begging him to make me come, I’m glad he can’t see my face.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m bad,” I mewl. “Mmm, don’t stop, Grinchy.”

  As the blows continue to rain down, I’m babbling some incoherent non-sense.

  “No more fake cocks. Say it.”

  “Well...”

  The next blow is harder, making my kitty roar. My mind is a garage of voices.

  Eddie is chanting, fuck him, girl. Fuck him.

  “Say it,” Diesel demands.

  “If I do, you better deliver!” I scream.

  A Jumanji drumbeat plays in my head as I hump my hips against his legs, my body moving to the rhythm. I grip hard calves in hands, holding on for dear life, and my skin sizzles with an erotic burn.

  “Your dick is right here, Amanda.” He takes my free hand, placing it on his rock-hard cock. His dick is huge. I stroke him through the cotton. I’m too spaced to do my usual recognizance mission. I run my fingers over the mushroom head.

  “Ah, fuck,” he groans.

  The length of his thick shaft is ridged with pulsing veins radiating heat through the pads of my fingertips like water through a pipe. The man is hung with pussy-wrecking hardware. Yay, me.

  “Yes, Grinchy,” I whisper, “you’re coming with me.”

  When the blow lands this time, I gush all over him. My release takes me up, up, and away. This is the best orgasm me and rabbit have experienced.

  One of the doors I didn’t open earlier, squeaks. My head shoots from my position on the floor. The faint glow of a small lamp frames a woman’s figure.