All Jacked Up_Romantic Comedy

by Mysti Parker

  First up: handcuffs at my place.

  We bought leopard-print, fuzzy restraints like the ones you find in a sex store, but we got them online for discretion’s sake. Goose bumps prickle across my skin as he fastens them around one of the spindles in my headboard. They don’t rub my wrists, which is good, but the sense of not being in control is a little unsettling to me and my Type A personality.

  Jack follows up the handcuffs with a black silk blindfold which he ties gently around my head. Then he settles over top of me. His breath is hot and ticklish on my neck. “Do you trust me?”

  I hesitate, swallow hard, and nod. “Yes.”

  “Good. I have no intention of hurting you…unless you like that.” He nips my skin with his teeth.

  “Ow. Hey, no biting. Have you had your rabies shot?”

  “Actually, yes.”

  I scoot my head away from him. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, we have to get vaccinated in vet school, and get boosters every couple years if we’re in a high risk area.”

  “Okay, that’s good… I think.”

  “Damn right it is.” He kisses his way down my body, pausing to circle my navel with his tongue.

  I laugh then go quiet as he spreads my legs apart and goes down on me.

  The sensation makes me gasp. His hot, wet tongue first circles, then strokes, and then he sucks gently. When he adds the pleasure of a finger inside me, it sends me over the edge. I grip the bed spindles and cry out, remembering a second later that my apartment walls are paper thin. I’m having a hard time caring right now, however, as I feel him sit up and hear him rip open a condom package. He stocked up on several different kinds.

  Hovering over me again, he holds his weight off me with his arms, and glides right in. This condom has a knobby texture that feels strangely awesome.

  I lift my hips to take him in deep as he slowly thrusts. He flicks his tongue over my nipple. I whimper and arch my back, now wishing I could get free of these cuffs so I can grab his ass and drive him even deeper inside me.

  “Like that?” he asks, his breath cool against my wet nipple. Then he licks again, and sucks, and it is so freaking good, I’m about to have a second orgasm in record time.

  But then my wrists begin to itch. “Jack?”

  “Hmm?” He moves to my other breast, but I can’t concentrate on his oral talents. The itching’s getting worse.

  “Can you scratch my wrists?”

  He goes still, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Both of them?”

  “Um, yeah. It’s…” I wiggle my wrists around, trying to alleviate the itch with the furry friction of the cuffs. It only gets worse.

  He reaches up and scratches one, then the other. “Better?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good.” Jack continues his slow plundering of my body.

  I take a deep breath and settle back again, ready to fully commit to not thinking about anything else.

  But the itching returns with a vengeance.

  I groan, wiggling my arms around helplessly, trying to either relieve the itch or escape from the handcuffs, but they’re too tight.

  “Yeah, baby, get loud,” he says, thrusting harder.

  “No, stop!”

  “Don’t stop? You got it.”

  The itching is so bad, I lose control of my senses, not in the good way I had hoped, but in a desperate attempt to get away from the affliction. A swarm of locusts would be better than this. How the hell can you itch under your skin?

  “Get them off! Get them off!” I buck around and scream until he finally gets the drift that it’s not him driving me wild.

  He pulls out with a disappointed grunt, gets the key from the bedside table, and unlocks one cuff, then the other. “Shit, Avery, I think you’re having an allergic reaction!”

  I yank the blindfold off. My wrists are ringed with an angry red rash. I scratch at them mercilessly which only makes it worse.

  “Don’t do that. Come here.” Jack grabs my wrists and leads me into the bathroom, where he turns on the sink faucet and holds them under cold water. It doesn’t stop the itch totally, but the chilling sensation numbs it a bit.

  He digs around in my medicine cabinet and pulls out a tube of something and a bottle of something else. “Whatever you do, don’t scratch. I found some hydrocortisone and Benadryl. Are you having any trouble breathing?”

  “Does it look like I’m having trouble breathing?” I snap back, squeezing my eyes shut and gritting my teeth to keep from clawing the skin from my wrists.

  “Point taken.” He takes one wrist, dries it quickly and slathers cream on it. Then he repeats it with the other side and opens the Benadryl bottle. “Here. Drink some.”

  “What? How much?”

  “There’s only a third of a bottle left. You probably need that and more.” He puts the bottle to my lips and tips it.

  I gulp it down until the bottle is drained and cough over the sink, trying not to gag. I hate the stuff. Always did. Especially the side effects.

  Ten minutes later, the itching has subsided, but now I’m loopy as a kite.

  Somewhere in the dense fog of my antihistamine sedation, I feel my pajama shirt sliding over my head, my pants climbing up my legs, and my fluffy socks hugging my toes. This strikes me as hilarious, and I break into a laughing fit and feel myself swooped up in two strong arms, being carried to who knows where.

  “Woot! Let’s do this!” My voice is echoey like I’m in a garbage can. Like Oscar the Grouch. That thought gets me laughing again.

  “Do what, exactly?” Jack says from somewhere in my garbage can. It sounds like he’s about to laugh, but I’m not sure why.

  “Get married. Like for reals.”

  “Sure. We’ll go to Vegas and get an Elvis impersonator.”

  “Can we really?” I ask, my eyes going wide as I try to look into his eyes.

  His expression is wobbling all over like his face is made of soup. But it makes me cry, thinking about him putting a ring on my finger, and I blubber all over his shirt until I’m lying in my soft bed, my blanket tucked around me.

  “Sleep now,” he echoes, and the last thing I remember is a soft, gentle kiss on my forehead.

  ∞∞∞

  “What on earth, Ave? Did you…?” Glen’s hand goes to his mouth, his face aghast and pale as I get the coffee started in the break room the next morning. “Oh, honey, why didn’t you call me? This guy isn’t worth it. I don’t care how rich he is.”

  “What? Oh….that.” Okay, so maybe bandaging my wrists to hide the rash wasn’t a good idea after all. “I didn’t slit my wrists, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Explain, young lady.”

  “Okay, Dad.” I lower my voice as though someone might hear us, even though we haven’t opened the shop yet. “Jack and I are trying different things, okay? We tried some fuzzy handcuffs last night.”

  “Too tight?” He grabs a coffee cup, pours in a heap of sugar, and fills it a third full with creamer.

  I’m guessing Starbucks isn’t open yet. Glen’s taste buds have been permanently scarred with that wicked brew, so he can’t taste regular coffee without some severe help.

  “No. I had a reaction.”

  He grins. “Isn’t that the goal?”

  “Look.” I pull back one of the bandages. The rash is better but still looks like a red-dotted ring around my wrist. God, this is weird, discussing my pathetic attempt at kink with my own employee. But, besides Leigh, the forty-something gay guy is really the only one I can trust with such things.

  “Oh, I see.” He nods and purses his lips all matter-of-factly. “That’s why you don’t get the cheap shit, Ave.”

  “Oh really, Mr. Sex Expert? What would you recommend?”

  “Sexy Thangs,” Glen says.

  “Can you be a little less vague?”

  He rolls his eyes. “It’s a new store. Right on the edge of town off the interstate. Go there with Jack. You’ll have fun.”

  “
I don’t know about that. What if someone sees us?”

  “The only people you might run into there won’t give a hoot about who you’re with. If you’re going to do this sex-only thing, you need to toughen up. Check out the Nice Skin line of sex toys. They have some awesome dildos with clit stimulators.”

  “How do you know anything about clits?”

  “You think I’ve never slept with a woman? I had a few girlfriends back in the day, before I admitted to myself that I prefer men.”

  “Well, okay, but…”

  “It’s a good line of toys. Jeff and I use the butt plugs and cock rings.”

  “TMI, Glen, seriously. I’m just wondering if it will…you know…” I wave my hand in the air, hoping my meaning comes across.

  “It probably won’t give you any rashes, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Okay, maybe it’s worth a try.”

  After whipping out my cell phone, I text Jack: Would you like to visit Sexy Thangs tonight? Then I chew my fingernail, wondering why I’m such a chicken. I’m a grown woman, for goodness sakes. A sex toy shop shouldn’t be a big deal.

  The phone buzzes, startling me.

  Glen pours his coffee, sets another cup in front of me, and squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll go open up. You need to stay calm. Deep breaths.” He follows this with a series of exaggerated inhales and exhales until I’m breathing deep and feeling less jumpy.

  “Good girl.” Glen winks and walks out.

  I look at the phone and read Jack’s reply: I thought you’d never ask.

  Chapter Eight

  Avery

  Jack arrives at my apartment at six thirty. “Ready to go?”

  “Sure, just let me get my purse.”

  His eyes rove over me with a hungry look that spells trouble. “Damn, you look good enough to eat.”

  I smile, thankful that he took notice of my tank top, short skirt, and heels. It’s not my usual after-work yoga pants and loose T-shirt. I’m even wearing more makeup than my usual mascara and blush. He looks plumb luscious in a body-hugging Rolling Stones T-shirt. The big red tongue on the front reminds me of what his tongue can do.

  Glen was right. It’s time to toughen up and take some initiative. Before I can second-guess myself, I grab Jack’s hand and drag him inside. He shuts the door. I’m not sure if it’s locked. Hell, I’m not even sure it’s closed as I lead him to my fuzzy living room rug.

  “So no Sexy Thangs?” he asks, laughing.

  “Yes, but first…” I pull him down to the rug, where I lie back and lift my short skirt. Then I pull my thong to one side and draw his head against me to work some magic with that tongue.

  It doesn’t take long for me to lose control. Jack takes advantage of my high and flips me over onto my hands and knees. I hear his zipper, feel his fingers gripping my hips. I hold my breath…

  And in one deep thrust, he’s inside me.

  God, I love this. It’s no inner goddess crap either. It’s primal, irresistible. Jack Maddox has become my addiction. It won’t be easy to let him go, and I don’t even want to think about that. But as he helps me to my feet and zips back up, grinning at me like the cat who ate the canary, I feel the pang of impending loss.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, his smile fading to warm concern that only widens the hollow feeling. I can’t cling to hope that this is any more than what we agreed on.

  “Nothing. Let’s go.”

  On the way to the sex store, my newfound bravery has gone out the window of Jack’s Lotus Elan. Luckily I have my dark sunglasses to kind of sort of hide my identity. Though it might not be likely, we could run into any one of Beach Pointe’s nosier residents, which would not only blow our cover, but would reveal things I did not want to know about my neighbors. Poor Leigh – I don’t know how she sleeps at night, listening to all the weird goings-on of the townspeople.

  The big red sign for Sexy Thangs leers at us from its spot by the quiet interstate exit at the edge of town. There are a few other cars in the parking lot, but I keep my head down, hoping no one will see me.

  “Do I have to go in?” I ask, cringing in the passenger seat as Jack gets out.

  He laughs. “This was your idea, so unless you want to go home with ball gags and butt plugs, I suggest you come inside.”

  “Fine.”

  “We don’t have to stay long, and so what if someone sees us? I doubt anyone will care. Besides, if someone is shocked to see you there, you can act just as shocked to see them. It’s like double blackmail. What goes on in the sex shop stays in the sex shop.”

  “Okay, let’s hurry, then.”

  The smell of latex and the faint aroma of weed hit my nose when we step inside. There’s a girl at the counter who by all appearances is completely stoned. She’s wearing a tight red halter top, a black silk choker, and her hair is an uneven mix of purple, green, and blue. Her name tag reads Jenifor. Maybe her mother was stoned when she named her.

  She smiles sleepily at us. “Let me know if you need anything, mm’kay?”

  “Mm’kay,” Jack answers mockingly.

  She yawns and picks up what looks like a plastic cigar, then takes a long draw and exhales the weed-tainted vapor. I realize I’ve never seen anyone vaping before. Most of Kentucky is still firmly addicted to cigarettes.

  Jack leads me to a section of scanty lingerie. “How about this?” he says, taking a fuchsia lace body suit off the rack. It’s nippleless and crotchless.

  My cheeks ignite. All I can do is shake my head, glancing over my shoulder, paranoid that someone I know will see us in here. I know at least two of my sisters have sex on a somewhat regular basis. They might have customer loyalty cards here for all I know. Yes, I know I’m a grown woman and all, but holidays get awkward real quick when one of your family members has seen you holding a butt plug.

  “If we’re going to do kink, you can’t blush at every crotchless panty you see,” Jack says, admiring a few more items that look like nothing more than strings with silk patches that leave nothing to the imagination.

  “I know, I know. Let’s just go back there.” I nudge him toward the back of the store, where it’s less likely someone will catch me off guard.

  We round a corner of condom displays and find a whole freaking wall of dildos.

  “Nice. How about one of everything?” he says, gazing in wonder at the many fake phalluses in every color of the rainbow.

  “Are there any Nice Skin ones?”

  “Like that brand?”

  “I don’t know. Someone recommended it.”

  “Who? Leigh?”

  “No…” Should I tell him I’m getting sex advice from a gay guy? What the hell. “Glen said they were good,” I mumble.

  Jack laughs. “He’s probably right. Let’s see.” Jack scans the selections and takes down a pink one with a knobby thing that looks like a horn at one end which must be the clit stimulator. “What about this?”

  “Let me see it,” I say, yanking it out of his hands to check the back of the box to see if it says anything about allergens. There’s a pic of a naked chick with bloated, fake boobs holding the dildo to her cheek, lips parted like she’s already having an orgasm with it. False advertising, anyone?

  He holds up his finger. “I’ll be right back.”

  I wait by the dildo wall and check out the other selections. They have things that vibrate, spin, shake, and suck. There are even some glass ones that have pretty colorful swirls and graduated bulbous ends that go from small to ain’t-no-way-that’s-going-in. How can I be so inexperienced in the world of sex toys at twenty-four? Even Leigh has a bunch of these, and she’s only been with one guy.

  Jack’s voice carries from the front of the store. He’s talking to the sleepy-stoned checkout girl.

  “You’re looking for what?” she drawls.

  “For hypoallergenic sex toys, handcuffs – that sort of thing.”

  My mouth drops open. I’m not sure how much to make of it. Is Jack more concerned about my wellbeing or
our sex plans?

  “Um, I don’t know, sir,” the girl says. “Is that like hypothyroid? My mom has that.”

  Taking off my sunglasses, I peer around the corner just enough to see him between some lingerie racks. Jack sighs and scrubs a hand down his face.

  “No, it’s not… Never mind. Thanks.”

  He returns a moment later, shrugging. “So much for that.”

  “Thanks for asking.”

  His lips curve up into a gentle smile. He tucks some hair behind my ear and kisses my cheek. “I don’t want you to regret anything.”

  All I can do is nod. It sure as hell sounds like he cares about me. But, as usual, I can’t trust my cognitive abilities when emotions are high. Taking things to heart is on a whole different level for me.

  I swallow past the lump in my throat and laugh nervously while checking out a row of Ben-Wa balls. “These look like something you’d hang on your rearview mirror.”

  Just then I hear a familiar voice – a couple of them actually. Jack’s heard them too, because he peeks around the corner of the dildo wall and jerks his head back again, eyes wide, finger to his lips.

  “Leigh and Jesse?” I mouth to him.

  He nods.

  What are they doing in here? And then of course I know why – it’s the same reason we’re here. Talk about awkward. I’ve told Leigh, of course, but the way Jack’s acting, I doubt he’s said anything to Jesse.

  We’re cornered back here. There’s no way out without going right past them. I’m sure the store manager built it this way to cut down on shoplifters.

  There’s an exit sign on the back wall.

  “Go,” I mouth to Jack, pointing to the exit. We hurry to the door.

  “Avery, it’s –” Jack says, but I rush past him and push it open.

  Next thing I know, an ear-piercing alarm screeches above us. A strobe light flashes blinding light into my eyes.

  A freaking emergency door? How stupid can I be? Stupid enough to stand there until the store employee finds us cringing like two fugitives.

  She has her cell phone in hand. “Okay, I gotta call the cops. You can’t steal that.”