HOT as F*CK

by Scott Hildreth

  I leave you with the Scrabble game that I built my relationship’s foundation on. Before you refuse to receive it, and I know that’s what you’re thinking, think again. I already talked to Deann, and she wants you to have it. Take care of it, it’s old and ancient, just like I was when we met. I ask that you use it to build the foundation of your relationship, and based on the promise I’m going to ask you to keep, I suspect you’ll do your best to make that happen. Insert a “wink* here.

  Boyd’s Salvage in Encino has a door for your car that’s pre-paid. Call and ask for Rico, he’ll ship it to you, or you can pick it up. Have Brad put it on, it should take him 30 minutes. For him, it’ll sting a little, knowing he’s replacing the door that wrecked his bike, but repairing a car is the kind of shit men do for women they love.

  Last things always come last, and I’ll close in saying this: Kid, I love you. And I know that on the day you showed up, you kicked Brad’s ass, regardless of whether or not you ever admitted it.

  Don’t hesitate to do it again, if he needs it, that is.”

  He set the paper on his desk and looked up. “Brad, your mother has your BB gun and your baseball.”

  He looked at me. “And, Tegan, she has your Scrabble game.”

  He clapped his hands together. “Any questions?”

  We looked at each other, shrugged simultaneously, and both said “no” at the same time.

  As we walked out of the office, Brad looked at me and laughed. “I can’t believe that asshole is making me fix your car.”

  I chuckled. “I can’t believe he’s giving you your BB gun back.”

  “I can,” he said. “He knows I’m a man now.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  “It’s a secret,” he said. “Between him and me.”

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Pee Bee

  She laughed until I thought she was going to pee her pants. After catching her breath, she looked up. “Really?”

  I flipped her my middle finger. “It’s a fucking word.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “You went to college, right?”

  “Fuck off, kid,”

  “P-I-G,” she said. “Six points.”

  “A word’s a word. And six points is six points.”

  “We’re playing for stakes. And, they’re high. Don’t you want to win?”

  I didn’t. I really didn’t. “I’m trying babe. I really am.”

  But, I wasn’t.

  “Okay,” she said.

  She studied the tiles on her rack, twisted her mouth to the side, and then burst out laughing.

  Using an existing U, she spelled a word using all her letters. After she placed the tiles down on the board, I looked at her in disbelief. “What the fuck is that?”

  “That, my dear, is a word worth enough to seal my win, I’m afraid. And, it’s nothing short of a miracle that I had those letters. Truth be told, it sends chills down my spine to spell it.”

  I stared at it. M-U-Z-J-I-K. It made no sense. “You’re making shit up, now. You’ve been challenged.”

  “A muzjik,” she said “Is a Russian peasant.”

  “And if it isn’t in the dictionary, you’re going to be an American peasant.”

  I grabbed the dictionary, flipped through the pages, and found the word. She was right, a muzjik was a Russian peasant. Aggravated, I considered throwing the dictionary down – just to be a shit - but remembered it was fifty years old.

  I placed it in the box carefully, then stood. I took a bow. “Turn relinquished, my dear.”

  “Thank you, honorable sir.”

  In ten minutes, the game was over. After tallying up the points, she declared the score. “502-312”

  “Ouch,” I said. “That bad?”

  She bit her bottom lip, nodded, and then shrugged. “Sucks, huh?”

  “Kind of.”

  “So, what’s it gonna be?” I asked.

  “Haven’t decided yet,” she said. “Let me think on it for a few minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  There was nothing she would assign me that I’d argue with, that was for sure. We’d been playing three nights a week for the last four weeks, and my father was right. Playing Scrabble built an incredibly solid foundation for a relationship.

  If he knew we were playing for stakes, he’d probably laugh.

  In the end, I was sure he’d be pleased with my idea to do it, though. The punishment for the loser was bringing us even closer yet.

  “I decided,” she said.

  “I can’t wait. What?”

  “The upside-down thing from the first night. That’s an awesome trick.”

  Licking her pussy wasn’t punishment, it was heaven. I lowered my head in false shame. “You sure?”

  She nodded eagerly. “Yep.”

  I stood, pulled off my shirt, and tossed it aside.

  She wagged her finger toward my jeans. “Pants, too.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll leave them on.”

  “Afraid not, loser. Get ‘em off.”

  I let out a faux sigh, and then unbuckled my belt. By the time my jeans hit the floor, she was standing in front of me, naked as the day she was born.

  “Bend over the chair, so I can pick you up.”

  She turned toward the chair, bent at the waist, and lowered her upper body over the breakfast table.

  I stood for a moment and admired her. There was no doubt she was a beautiful woman, but it wasn’t confined to her looks alone. Who she was far exceeded what she looked like.

  I stood behind her, pressed my chest against her back, and tilted her head to the side.

  “I’m going to tongue fuck you until you pass out,” I whispered into her ear.

  “Do it,” she breathed. “Loser.”

  I pressed my mouth against hers, and kissed her. It seemed I only kissed her two ways. It was either a peck on the lips, or it was my best attempt to replicate the kiss we had in the burger joint.

  And this kiss was the latter of the two.

  After a few long, hard minutes of kissing, I pulled my mouth from hers.

  “Holy crap,” she said.

  “Holy crap is right,” I whispered into her ear.

  I grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her into the air in front of me, upside-down.

  She straddled my shoulders with her thighs, backed her ass against my face, and pressed her pussy against my willing mouth.

  I gripped her upper thighs with my hands, spread her pussy wide with my thumbs, and shoved my tongue inside of her as deep as I could.

  After a few minutes of precision pussy-licking, I pulled my mouth away and began to concentrate on her clit.

  A few seconds into sucking her swollen nub, she began to moan.

  “Babe, you’re killing me,” she whined.

  I flicked my tongue against her clit while I massaged her pussy with both thumbs.

  Rhythmically, predictably, and with the precision of a surgeon, I concentrated on circling her clit with my tongue, and then sucking it. Circling it, and then sucking it.

  As she often did, she sucked my cock on and off, forgetting I even had one.

  Don’t get me wrong, she played plenty of attention to my cock, just not when I was sucking her pussy. It seemed when my tongue was inside of her, she simply lost focus.

  Still hoisted in the air with her pussy pressed to my face, I nibbled her clit lightly while I fingered her.

  Her mouth found my cock.

  I closed my eyes, found my happy place, and began to circle her clit with my tongue.

  She lifted her head.

  “Cum in my mouth,” she said. “Before you kill me.”

  She’d had multiple small orgasms, but nothing noteworthy.

  I felt her mouth encompass me entirely. With her hand on my balls and my cock down her throat, she forced the tip against the back of her throat repeatedly.

  In response, I fingered her and tortured her clit.

  Her scent filled my nostrils, and drov
e me into a pussy licking frenzy.

  Within seconds, her body began to quake.

  I felt my balls tighten. An aching ran through me, warning me of my limited time. If she didn’t stop sucking, I was going to come down her throat. As much as I knew that was what she wanted, I wanted hers down my throat more.

  I focused on her clit, fingered her with passion, and carefully sucked her clit with precision.

  As she began to release herself into my willing mouth, I had every expectation of her lifting her head, but it never happened.

  Instead, she buried my cock deeper in her throat.

  I returned the favor, pressing my tongue into her.

  As I released my orgasm into her warm mouth, she did the same for me.

  Together we moaned, groaned, and came like two people who were madly in love with each other.

  And that was exactly what we were. Two people, madly in love.

  In a relationship with a foundation formed from the results of a taped together game inside fifty-year-old cardboard box.

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Tegan

  “Beat your ass like a fucking drum tonight, huh?” He said in a sarcastic tone.

  I gazed down at him.

  His hands were behind his head, his biceps were flexed, and he was laying comfortably on his back. His face was covered in a smug grin.

  Me?

  I was the loser of the night, and I was riding his cock in cowgirl position.

  And with Brad’s dick inside of me, in that position, I felt like I was being impaled.

  I bucked my hips wildly, taking his complete length inside of me with each cycle of hip’s movement.

  “I asked you a fuckin question, loser!” he bellowed.

  I wished I could have responded, but doing so was impossible. With his hands pressing down against my shoulders and his muscular legs thrusting upward against my down stroke, talking while riding his cock wasn’t even an option.

  He stretched his arms wide, and then reached for my boobs.

  Oh God, yes.

  He caressed my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, while he cupped my entire breasts in his massive hands. I arched my back and continued my search for just the right angle.

  A tingling ran through me from my nipples to my clit. I’d found it.

  “If you don’t cover my balls in come,” he said. “I’ll make you go again.”

  I was exhausted. We’d had sex twice already. Losing was one thing, but the punishment shouldn’t last an entire afternoon, even if it was sex.

  I closed my eyes, concentrated on the feeling of having him inside of me, and hoped I could finally end the afternoon with one last mind-blowing orgasm.

  His hands slid down along the outside of my torso, his thumbs grazing along my ribcage, and his fingers dragging along the small of my back.

  My hips continued their seemingly endless task of riding the entire length of his dick, and my mind began to spin from exhaustion, dehydration, and malnutrition.

  I felt his fingers pry my ass wide – which always drove me insane – and then…

  A finger slowly pressed its way deep into my ass.

  Oh. My. God!

  Another finger slid into my pussy, alongside his massive girth.

  Oh Lord.

  I gyrated my hips wildly. The time for precision was long gone, I was frantically fucking him without regard for any style or finesse.

  I felt fumbling around my throbbing – and well worn – pussy, and then…

  ANOTHER finger.

  With his cock and two fingers in my pussy, and a finger in my ass, my eyes shot open. Wide.

  The same smug grin covered his face.

  He was a gorgeous man, there was no doubt. Having him as a permanent part of my life, even if there wasn’t anything to tie us together except our love, satisfied me.

  I arched my back a little more, and pressed my pussy down the base of his shaft, and ground my hips against his balls, and every digit he had stuffed me with.

  And it came.

  My eyes rolled back in my head.

  A tingling shot through me.

  And, finally, I could speak.

  Kind of.

  “Holy Craaaaaap!” I wailed.

  As I began to come, his girth swelled to two-fold his normal size.

  It drove me into the most intense orgasm of my lifetime, sending me into a mindless frenzy of bucking my hips, crying, and blubbering out incomprehensible jibberish.

  Half way into my orgasm, he released inside of me, which drove me into another orgasm altogether.

  Within thirty seconds, I’d collapsed onto his chest, a fraction of my former self.

  I closed my eyes and rested my head against his chest. “I’m…done.”

  Both exhausted, and afraid to move for fear of upsetting the other, we lay motionless at each other’s side.

  “You alive,” he asked after some time.

  “Barely,” I said.

  “Wake the fuck up,” he bellowed.

  “I can’t.”

  “So, you’re worn the fuck out?”

  “Yep.”

  “You’re going to put up minimal resistance?”

  “Uh huh.”

  I realized what I was opening myself up for. “Please, don’t fuck me again,” I murmured.

  “I won’t.” he said. “But I’ve got something I’ve got to do really quick. I just wanted to see if you were going to put up a fight.”

  “No fight.” I muttered.

  He rolled off the edge of the bed. In a moment, he returned.

  He rolled back onto the bed, at my side. After a few seconds, I smelled a familiar musty odor. I opened my eyes.

  The Scrabble box was at my side.

  I blinked. “What are you doing?”

  He cleared his throat. “A wise man once told me that the foundation of a healthy relationship was formed by playing that game. Or, something like that.”

  I grinned. “He told me that, too.”

  “Open it.”

  “Brad, I’m so tired, I can’t--”

  “Open it.”

  “Seriously, Brad. I can’t even lift--”

  “Jesus fuck, Tegan. Open the fuckin’ box. One more game, for fun.”

  He sounded more and more like Bradley every day. I liked that about him. It allowed me to do so much more than cling to distant memories of his father. Bradley may have left the earth, but he didn’t leave me. A little of him came into my life through the actions, words, and expressions of his son.

  I was grateful for their similarities, and for their differences. Win, or lose, I now loved Scrabble even more than before.

  I expected Bradley was peering down on us as we argued about Scrabble, and I felt terrible. I mustered enough energy to open the box, and sighed at the thought of another game. But I didn’t really mean it.

  After all, Scrabble was the foundation of any good relationship.

  I raised my head, rested it against my palm, and lifted the worn lid from the box.

  I lifted the velvet bag, loosened the drawstring, and dumped the letters out on the inside of the lid. As I spread the tiles about and flipped them over, something glistening caught the attention of my tired eye.

  I reached for it, and then paused.

  It can’t be.

  I blinked. Repeatedly. My heart worked its way into my quickly tightening throat.

  I looked at Brad.

  He smiled, and reached toward the tiles. “The same wise man once told me, when you know, you just know. And, that day in the burger joint, I thought I knew. But, when I kissed you a half hour later, at your house, I knew. It took me this long to gather the courage to ask.”

  He pinched the ring between his fingers, lifted it for me to see, and looked me in the eyes. “Tegan, I love you. You’re one of a kind. And being with you make me feel like I’m one of a kind. I love you, and that will never change. Will you make today and all of our tomorrows special by agreeing to be my wife?�
��

  I nodded and murmured my response. “I will.”

  With a shaking hand and a dimple producing grin, he slipped the ring onto my finger. “I love you.”

  I arched my back, looked up at the ceiling, and winked.

  I kept my promise.

  I met Brad’s gaze. “I love you, too.”

  And somehow, I knew that this love would last a life time.

  Dedication

  Three words.

  Jen. Campbell. Rocks.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, are coincidental.

  DIRTY 1st Edition Copyright © 2017 by Scott Hildreth

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author or publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use the material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author at designconceptswichita@gmail.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Cover model: Alfie Gordello

  Photography by: Reggie Deanching @ R+M Photography

  Cover design by Jessica www.creativebookconcepts.wordpress.com

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  Prologue

  Lex

  Three weeks before my twenty-first birthday, I was kidnapped on my way out of the 7-Eleven. Whatever preconceived notions I may have had of being ripped away from the life I was living were all promptly thrown out the window, because what happened after they took me was much worse than anything I’d conjured up, even in my vilest of nightmares.