“You know damned good and well that there’s no one on this earth that’s more important to me than you. It’s a habit. I’m getting better.”
“If you won’t let me smoke one, you shouldn’t smoke one around me.”
“Law says eighteen to smoke one, so it’s eighteen to smoke one.”
She twisted her hair with her index finger. “Everyone at school has one.”
“Maybe they’ve got shit parents.”
“Yeah. I’m sure that’s the case. Anyway. Sadistic. Here’s why it’s sadistic.” She leaned forward, rested her forearms on the edge of the countertop, and locked eyes with me. “A woman wants reassurance that she’s beautiful. She wants…no strike that. She needs to feel that she’s been accepted by the person or persons she seeks affirmation from. That confirmation, that reassurance, when it comes? It builds self-esteem. Now, we both know I’m not one of those girls that has low self-esteem, but a little boost from time to time sure doesn’t hurt. Conversely, when a woman doesn’t get said reassurance of her beauty? It whittles away at the fiber of her being. In time, she becomes downtrodden and oppressed. Then, by the time she’s, I don’t know, say 23 or 24, she’s an easy mark for anyone who will give her a moment’s notice. Your knowledge of my need for said reassurance, and lack of willingness to provide it, is nothing short of sadistic. It leaves me to wonder if you actually enjoy seeing my self-esteem pummeled into a pile of mush.”
“Really?” I cocked an eyebrow. “A pile of mush?”
“Like wet sawdust. Or, remember when we went to Georgia to see your brother? The grits? Remember the grits?”
I nodded.
“That bowl of grits.” She leaned back and gave a quick nod. “That’s going to be my self-esteem if this keeps up.”
“And going on a date with Jonny the football player will fix that?”
“His name’s Richard.”
“You want to go on a date with a guy named Dick?”
She let out an exaggerated sigh. “Richard.”
Eddie had more self-esteem than any other 16-year-old girl on earth. She was beautiful, and to keep her reminded of it, I made it a point to tell her every day. She inherited my height, and stood almost 5’-10”. Tall and lean, her blue eyes and well-developed chest set her apart from the masses at school.
But.
They were a magnet for the testosterone-filled teenage boys.
“Richard, Dick, Jonny, Frank, Pete. It doesn’t matter. Tell him you’ll go out with him. Just set the date a month from now. Hell, tell him your schedule is booked up until then.”
“That’s a ridiculous idea.”
“It’s a great idea.”
She shook her head. “Have you always been this way?”
“What way?”
“Sadistic?”
I grinned. “Most of my life, yeah.”
She scanned me from head to toe, and then looked me in the eyes. “Figures.”
The timer on the stove beeped, saving me from further criticism.
“Go wash your hands,” she said. “It’ll be ready in a minute.”
“I washed them when I got home from--”
She shot me her signature stink eye, a side-eyed glare. “You’ve been handling that nasty vape thing, and who knows where else your hands have been. Wash ‘em.”
“Love you, Ed.”
As she opened the oven door, she glanced over her shoulder. “I love you, too, you sadistic jerk.”
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Two
Sandy
In hindsight, I realized I should have never agreed to it. I was really enjoying our night out – it was riding on the motorcycle that I should have refused to do.
Smoke agreed to go on a date with Cholo and Lex. The men, of course, insisted that we ride on the motorcycles. I didn’t object, but I later realized I should have. With his club brother riding at his side, he was comfortable, and he was different.
He was fun, funny, had a more machismo demeanor, and seeing the differences made him far more attractive. I wanted to despise him for being the way he was about relationships, but I couldn’t.
Oddly, I respected him.
After riding to Chula Vista for tacos, we raced through the sparse traffic on the freeway. The sound of the exhaust, the speed, the laughter, and the friendly goofing around proved to be too much. With each passing mile, I was slowly melting into a puddle of lust.
We excited the highway, and rolled to a stop at the traffic light.
“We’re headed home, brother,” Cholo shouted over the sound of his exhaust. “Lex is exhausted.”
“Right on,” Smoke said. “Your turn is one block up, right?”
Cholo checked the light and gave a nod.
Smoke revved his exhaust. “On green.”
Cholo shook his head. “Damn it, Smoke.”
Lex looked at me and grinned. “They do this all the time.”
“No guts, no glory, motherfucker,” Smoke taunted.
Cholo checked the light and then glanced at Smoke. “On green, asshole.”
Lex clutched Cholo’s waist like her life depended on it.
“Hold on,” Smoke said over his shoulder. “Tight.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist and sank my thumbs between the inside of his jeans and his hips. “Okay.”
I watched as the cross-traffic light turned to yellow, and held my breath. The sound of the exhaust bellowed behind us in a deafening tone. When the light flashed from red to green, Smoke released the clutch.
We launched forward like we’d been rear-ended by a truck.
The back tire screeched, the front tire raised up, and we shot ahead of Cholo’s bike by a few feet. Smoke leaned forward, pressing his chest onto the gas tank, and I followed, flattening my boobs against his back.
The exhilaration was something I hadn’t ever felt.
He shifted gears, and Cholo caught up to us. After shifting again, Cholo passed us by a few feet. I took a quick look over Smoke’s shoulder, and noticed we were going over 100 miles an hour.
My heart shot to my throat.
I glanced up. The light ahead turned to red. Both motorcycles, as if pre-programmed, decelerated, braked, and eventually came to a stop.
Smoke cocked his head to the side. “Lucky prick.”
“Fuck you, Smoke.” Cholo said. “My shit’s faster. I outweigh you by thirty at least, and we’re riding two up. That old sled is junk.”
Smoke glared at him. “Two up?”
Cholo grinned. “Yeah. Me, Lex, and the baby.”
The light changed to green.
“See ya, fat ass,” Smoke shouted.
Lex waved, and they turned to the left. Without speaking, Smoke and I rode for a few miles through town. I enjoyed the relaxing ride just as much as the racing, but in a different way. For me, the motorcycle provided three things.
It was a mode of transportation, something very exciting, and it could also be very relaxing.
During our ride, I got lost in the smell of the ocean breeze, the low drone of the exhaust, and the feeling of having my arms wrapped around his waist. And then, he pulled into my driveway.
My heart sank.
I’d told myself this would be the last time we’d see each other, and after having such a wonderful night, I knew I’d have to honor my personal promise.
I thought of never seeing him again sickened me, but it was necessary.
He switched off the engine.
I removed my helmet, clutched it in my hands, and then took a slow deliberate breath.
One last time, that’s it.
He stepped off the bike and reached for my hand. “Sorry about that race, but I just had to.”
With the help of his guiding hand, I carefully got off the motorcycle. “Oh, that’s okay. It was exciting.”
He smiled, revealing dimples that I didn’t know existed. “Glad you enjoyed it.”
He took the helmet, put it in the compartment, and looked at me. His mouth twisted to
one side, and he wagged his finger at me. “You remind me of that chick that sings country and dances on T.V.”
I wondered who he was talking about, but his explanation didn’t narrow my mental search to much less than 10,000 women.
“Oh yeah, her,” I said sarcastically.
“Burlesque.” He snapped his fingers, and then pointed at me. “She was in that, too. Won dancing with the stars a couple times.”
I thought about it, and when it came to me, my eyes went wide. I swallowed hard, and stared at him in disbelief. “Julianne Hough?”
“Yeah,” he said excitedly. “You look just like her. It’s been buggin’ me. Glad I figured it out.”
I didn’t want street races, fish tacos, and panty-melting compliments. I wanted him to be an asshole. I wanted him to fuck me one last time and leave angry after I said something sarcastic, pointed, and shitty.
I wanted him to not answer the late night drunken texts that I was sure would follow. I wanted him to eventually get so aggravated with me that he blocked my phone number. I wanted to tell him to get on his motorcycle and ride away. I wanted him to be angry and disappointed with me.
At least if he was it would make everything easier.
Instead, I reached for his hand. “Let’s go in.”
As soon as I extended my arm, I realized what I’d done. I expected him to pull away. In fact, I wanted him to. Filled completely with his compliment, I became lost in that moment. I’d simply forgotten who he was.
The unavailable single hot dad who just so happened to be a sexy biker.
His handsome looks made it easy to forget. In looking at his face, it was almost impossible to see him as anything other than gorgeous.
But, he didn’t pull away.
He simply stepped beside me and followed me up the walk.
And, with each step we took, I lost a little more of my desire to push him away.
If it was going to be the last time, I decided it was going to be my way, or no way at all. He had no idea it was our final night together, and I had no idea of telling him. At least not yet.
I’d walked into the kitchen to get a bottle of water while he draped his kutte over the back of the couch. When I turned around, he was standing between me and the living room, wearing only his jeans and a wife beater.
The jeans were tight enough that they revealed a slight bulge in his crotch. Naturally, my eyes fell to it. The outline of his cock garnered my complete attention. After a moment of admiring his thickness, I took in each muscular inch of his long torso.
Upon reaching his eyes, I stopped.
I swallowed heavily, blindly reached for the counter, and parted my dry lips. “Come here.”
With meaningful steps, he sauntered toward me. In those six strides, his swagger seduced me. Denying his bravado was impossible. When he walked, it was a firm reminder of the sexual beast that dwelled in his being.
“I want your cock.” I said, the words barely escaping my lips audibly.
Without responding, he reached for his belt. With my eyes fixed on his tattooed hand, I watched as he lowered his jeans past his hips. As his thick shaft sprung free, my throat went tight.
I dropped the water bottle.
His jeans and the bottle hit the floor at the same time.
With my eyes glued to his twitching cock, I fumbled to rid myself of my shorts and panties. Like a high school teen in her first sexual encounter, I struggled with the denim fabric for an inordinate amount of time.
“Here,” he said.
I watched intently as he pulled my shorts down my thighs, taking my panties with them in the process. With care, he lifted each of my feet, pulled the shorts free, and then cast them aside.
“Thanks,” I said, but the words were silent.
He didn’t bother standing.
Kneeling at my feet, he stared at my pussy for a few seconds, and then looked up.
I swallowed hard.
His mouth twisted into a smirk.
He buried his face between my legs, took my wet mound into his mouth, and then flicked his tongue against my clit. Again, and again, the tip of his tongue tickled my swollen nub.
A tingling ran through me and my legs went weak. I reached for the counter, found it, and then sucked in a breath. With my head tilted back and my eyes pinched closed, I stood on shaking legs and tried to focus on what he was doing to me.
When he touched me, the feelings he created were new. Convinced he was a master at the art of sex, and that I was his student, I eagerly allowed him to continue, excited to experience whatever it was he was introducing me to.
The licking stopped. My eyes opened, and I looked down.
He glanced up. “Your pussy tastes like honey.”
I couldn’t speak. I simply bit into my bottom lip and nodded.
And, once again, he buried his face between my thighs.
I gulped a breath as he pushed a finger deep inside me. He added another, and I twisted my hips back and forth in response.
While his fingers fucked me slowly and predictably, he began to suck my clit.
Don’t stop.
Please, God.
Don’t. Let. Him. Stop.
With my clit pinched between his soft lips, he began to moan. A buzzing ran through me from his mouth to nipples. Pressure built within me. I arched my back, opened my mouth, and cried out, but it escaped me as a silent gasp.
My eyes shot open and then fell to the floor.
In my kitchen, I had the baddest of bad ass bikers on his knees – sucking my pussy like a boss. For that instant, my life was a dream.
I gripped his head firmly in my hands and commenced to fuck his mouth, hoping he wouldn’t object.
His moaning continued, growing more prominent with each thrust of my hips.
My knees buckled.
I struggled to remain standing, forcing my pussy hard against his mouth in the process. In return, his fingers pushed deeper.
My muscles tensed, and then relaxed. Every ounce of emotion that had slowly built within me exploded.
His fingers continued, in and out of my wetness. His tongue teased my clit. His free hand gripped my ass, pulling me into him firmly.
The orgasms continued, one after the other, until my legs collapsed.
He caught me before I hit the floor, and lifted me into his arms. While he carried me into the bedroom, I studied his face.
I wished, with each step that he took, that things could be different between us.
But, they couldn’t, and I knew it.
Knowing it saddened me.
As he laid me on the bed, I decided to live in that moment, and that moment only, realizing it would be our last night together. It had to be. I couldn’t continue without falling in love with him, that I was sure of.
He tossed his shirt aside while I recovered from my trip to sexual outer space, and then he rolled to the side and looked at me. He’d already seduced me with his walk, and now he was doing so with his eyes.
“I want to ride your cock,” I whispered.
His mouth curled into a guilty smile, and he gripped his cock in his fist. “Come get it.”
My pussy was dripping wet. I straddled him, and then watched as he guided the tip of his swollen cock between my legs. As it disappeared into my wetness, one thick inch at a time, my breath escaped me and my eyes went closed.
Once he was inside me fully, I opened my eyes and gazed into his.
He was perfect.
But he was unavailable and incapable of becoming attached.
This is it.
One last time.
I wrapped my hands firmly around his calves, arched my back, and then rode his stiff cock like I was trying out for the sexual Olympics.
When it was over, and he was long gone, I wanted him to realize just what he was missing. I hoped to convince him that I was different, and the only way I knew to do so was by fucking him like he’d never been fucked before.
I wanted him to want me no differe
ntly than I wanted him.
I released his legs, and dug my fingers into his thick chest. His eyes went wide as I sank my fingernails into his flesh, bucking my hips wildly the entire time, milking his thick cock with each complete stroke.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he moaned.
“You like my tight pussy?”
He squeezed my tits firmly in his hands. “Fuck yes.”
“I. Love. Your. Fucking. Cock.” I said, barking out one word with each thrust of my hips.
He gazed directly into my eyes, and then grinned. “I. Can. Fucking. Tell.”
I allowed myself to become immersed in his eyes, which for some reason seemed to have turned from blue to grey. With his gaze fixed on mine, I writhed and bucked my hips, hoping to find that perfect position.
The one that would send me to the moon.
I rolled my shoulders, arched my back, and ground against the length of his thick shaft.
Oh fuck.
The tip of his dick rubbed against my g-spot. I closed my eyes and exhaled heavily. While I got lost in the feeling of his cock against the most sensual spot I possessed, his hands kneaded my boobs with perfection.
Firm enough that I knew who was in control, but not so harsh that it was uncomfortable, he squeezed my tits masterfully. Every few seconds, he’d pinch my nipples between his thumb and forefinger, and when he did, a tingling sensation ran from my boobs to the tip of his perfect cock.
I lifted my hands, arched my back further, and reached for his ankles.
Oh my fucking fuck.
Fuck yes.
Don’t. Fucking. Move.
My eyes rolled back so far it hurt. My lips parted slightly. “Don’t. Change. Anything. Don’t move.”
With my legs spread so wide I ached, I forced my ass against his thighs. The smooth skin of the head of his cock continued to torture me, grinding against my g-spot. I moved my hips ever so slightly, sending an electric shock through me with each movement.
I bit against my lip and closed my eyes.
I felt myself reaching climax.
Like a volcano preparing to erupt, the pressure built within me until it could build no more. And then, at that instant when the act of fucking goes from physical to spiritual, his cock swelled.
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