And he kissed me.
It wasn’t a sloppy kiss, nor was it aggressive, but it was our first. It was the kind of kiss a girl spends a lifetime dreaming about. A kiss that causes your palms to sweat and makes your heart stop beating until a few seconds later when you feel it racing to catch up. It was the kiss that stops time, causing your entire body to tingle during the process; the kiss that sets the standard for every other kiss that might follow it.
Yeah, it was that kiss.
The money shot.
It was November 9th.
The happiest day of my life.
Chapter Two Hundred Seven
VINCE
November 9th, 2014
On the ride to Sienna’s house, it dawned on me that her experience in reading romance, erotica, and BDSM books would more than likely cause her to have a broad range of sexual interests. Not knowing for certain what the night might bring, but fully realizing we were two adults, I suspected sex was on the forefront of her plans for the remaining portion of the afternoon.
The garage door was going closed as I pulled into the driveway, and instead of parking on the street, I pulled up the drive and parked on the sidewalk leading to the front porch. The front door opened as I got off the bike, and she stood in the opening with her hair twisted into a bun and a smirk on her face.
“Well, are you going to come in?” she asked.
“Suppose so,” I said as I pulled the key from the ignition.
It had been five months since we met, and although my former wife and I had sex on the first date, I was glad Sienna and I had been friends for as long as we had without introducing sex to the relationship. There was no doubt in my mind that we were compatible in many ways, and I believed sex would do nothing but bring us closer together.
I stepped past her and into the living room. As I turned to face her, she gazed at me blankly, as if she was uncertain of what to do. Obviously waiting for me to make the first move, she stood in wait, looking far more innocent than I suspected she truly was. As she twisted her hips to the side, I reached for her neck and pulled her into me.
The kiss that followed wasn’t as special as the one in the restaurant, and I suspected none would ever be, but it was apparently enough to lead her to believe I had opened the door, sexually speaking.
She reached for my belt and fumbled with the buckle as we kissed. Quite sure she’d never get it unbuckled without my help, I reached down and pulled against the belt, freeing the leather strap from the buckle.
Now grabbing for the button on my jeans with one hand and rubbing my back with the other, she kissed me as if she believed it would be our last. Within a few seconds my jeans were unbuttoned, and she quickly shoved her hand deep into my pants.
As her hand wrapped around my swollen shaft, she pulled her mouth from mine, leaned away slightly, and widened her eyes.
“Holy crap,” she said as she shifted her eyes toward her hand.
After a few tugs, she freed my now completely rigid cock from its confinement. She began to stroke it slowly, leaned forward, and raised herself up on her tip-toes. Within a few seconds we were well into an extremely sensual kiss, and I slipped my hand along her back and gripped her ass tightly. As I kneaded her butt in my hand, she began to moan wildly.
She pulled away, made eye contact, and exhaled a choppy breath. I either had my hands on one very one wild woman, or she was clearly as sexually frustrated as I was. Slightly confused and a little uncertain on which it may be, I dismissed her elevated sexual tension to a long period of abstinence, which was something I could certainly relate to.
As much as I wanted to perform for her, and as important as it was for me to satisfy her completely, I realized actually being with a woman, and especially Sienna, would be enough of a turn-on to cause me to reach climax pretty promptly.
Still slowly stroking my cock as she gazed into my eyes, she lowered herself onto her knees. There was no way I would last for any length of time if she was going to suck me off, and realized I should object to her doing so, but for some reason the words never came.
I eagerly watched her delicately wrap her lips around the swollen head of my dick. Fighting to pull my jeans further along my thighs as she moved her mouth up and down the shaft, she eventually became frustrated and pulled away. As she softly stroked my throbbing shaft in her delicate hand, she glanced upward and smiled.
“We’re both adults, right?” she asked.
I gazed beyond my twitching cock and fixed my eyes on her. “I suppose so.”
Her mouth was formed into a full-on pout, as if she was truly in need of assistance. “Can you help a girl out? Like maybe take off your jeans and boots?”
“Anything else?” I asked in a sarcastic tone as I pressed the sole of my right boot against the heel of my left one.
She released my cock, stood, and promptly removed her shorts. Before I got my other boot off, she was standing in front of me completely naked. As my eyes met hers, her mouth curled into a smile.
“Yeah, there’s one other thing,” she said as she turned and bent over the arm of the couch. “Make me scream your name.”
Just remember, you asked for this…
Chapter Two Hundred Eight
SIENNA
November 9th, 2014
Reading a book on how to cook may assist with the preparation of dinner, and reading a book about landscape architecture might provide ideas on the development of a great looking flower garden, but no amount of MC Romance novels could have prepared me for being fucked by Vince.
A book hadn’t been written yet to accurately describe how he was making me feel.
“Who’s fuckin you?” he bellowed.
“Vince!” I shouted as he shoved his cock into me once again.
With each powerful stroke, I felt like I was being impaled. Not only was I well out of practice at having sex, but his dick was thick, long, and far beyond what I could describe as hard. As he held himself deep inside of me and ground his hips against my ass, his balls began to massage my clit.
I’m never going to make it. The head of his dick feels like it’s pounding against the bottom of my heart. I’m going to die right here and collapse on the couch, death by a cock induced heart attack.
“And whose big fat cock is in that sweet little pussy of yours?” he asked as the palm of his hand came down sharply against my ass.
I gripped the cushion of the couch in my hand and squeezed it tightly as I opened my eyes and glanced over my shoulder.
We had been fucking for longer than I cared to guess, and my legs were weak and felt like rubber. Much to my surprise, he hadn’t reached orgasm, and I wondered just how much longer he could make it.
He widened his eyes and raised his hand. As it hovered above my ass, I grinned and waited. My tingling clit provided all of the mental support I needed to stay right where I was for as long as he would allow me to.
“Whose?” he growled.
I blinked my eyes and silently studied his muscular torso. He was covered in sweat and every muscle was tensed. I was truly in heaven, and Vince was my big dicked biker angel. After a few seconds of eye contact, his face washed with faux anger and his hand came down.
Smack!
I winced in pain as his hand slapped against my butt cheek. I truly loved being fucked doggie style, but not being able to watch him was sheer torture.
“Say it!” he shouted.
I turned, lowered my head into the edge of the couch and bit into the cushion.
“Vince’s,” I said through my teeth.
“God damned right it is,” he grunted as he began to fuck me again.
The sound of our sweaty flesh colliding was music to my ears. Something I had yearned to hear for almost six months, and now was quite sure I would never be able to live without, it provided me a reminder of just who was in charge.
And it was time he took charge and ended this escapade before he killed me.
“Fuck me, Vince!” I screamed into the
fabric of the pillow.
His pace increased, pounding his hips into my ass and slowly driving the couch an inch or two across the floor with each thrust of his hips. The smell of his sweat, cologne, and the sweet scent of sex filled my nostrils, bringing me closer to orgasm, and undoubtedly closer to collapsing.
“Fuck me, Vince!” I shouted again, the sound muffled by the pillow my head was buried into.
As he continued forcing himself deep into me, I felt a slight tug against my hair. As I wondered if he was going to actually pull it, he began to. My one true weakness, at least that I was aware of, was having my hair pulled. If a man knew how to do it, and do it right, it was about as pleasurable as anything…
Oh dear God. Ding, Ding. Ding.
It was immediately obvious Vince knew how to do it right.
My back arched and my neck craned as he filled me with dick and continued to push the couch toward the wall.
“No, fuck me!” I wailed.
And that was all it took.
He began to powerfuck me, pulling my hair the entire time he did so. After a few seconds, there was no sound, no smell, only the feeling of him inside of me and our two bodies becoming one mechanical sexual machine. After a few more seconds of him fucking me and forcing me and the couch across the floor in the process, I was about to come loose at the seams. As my entire body began to shake and my legs began to tremble, the couch hit the wall.
And he continued.
“My little pussy,” he grunted as he held himself deep inside of me.
My clit began to tingle and my nipples ached as I reached a level of climax I never knew existed. At the same time I felt myself contract around his shaft, his cock began to swell. I arched my back, allowed a moan to scape my lungs, and almost immediately felt him explode inside of me. His groans of pleasure confirmed he felt the same way I did.
The labored sound of his breathing continued for a moment as I attempted to collect my thoughts. Within a few seconds, his chest pressed against my back and he released my hair from his grasp.
I felt his mouth kiss along the back of my shoulder, up along my neck, and eventually reach my ear. His warm breath on my neck was a relaxing change to an otherwise intense sexual romp.
“Whose pussy?” he whispered into my ear.
“Yours…” I breathed.
And there was no doubt what I said was true.
My pussy, my heart, and my soul…
All belonged to Vince.
Chapter Two Hundred Nine
VINCE
November 14th, 2014
I knew from the first day we met that Sienna was different, but I had no real idea of how changing our level of commitment to each other would affect me. There was no doubt she was exactly what I had been missing in my life, and from what little she shared about her feelings, she felt exactly the same way about me. Her having changed how I felt about women was quite an accomplishment, but nothing or no one would ever change who I was.
After locking the door of my truck, I walked around the corner and studied the front of the house. Based on the size and the amount of windows, my guess was that there was one bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen, and a small living room. The Sedgwick County property listing had it detailed as a residential one bedroom family dwelling, but accuracy by our state and county government was something that really didn’t exist.
One late model Nissan coupe sat in the driveway, seeming clearly out of place in the rundown neighborhood. Dressed in jeans, a loose-fitting long sleeved pullover, and my boots, I looked the part of someone the homeowner might trust enough to open the door.
I tugged at the bottom of my untucked shirt, making sure it covered the pistol hidden in the holster on my hip. After checking the side of the house for additional cars and seeing nothing, I stepped onto the porch and knocked on the door.
“It’s open,” he responded.
It wasn’t the greeting I anticipated, which led me to believe he was expecting someone; and there was no doubt in my mind the person he was expecting wasn’t me. I glanced over each shoulder, cleared the pistol from the holster, and held it behind my right thigh. As I turned to the right, exposing my left side to the door, I gripped the handle with my left hand and pushed the door open.
The floorplan was pretty much what I expected. After a wide-eyed and more than likely drug induced squeal, he jumped from his seat at the dining table and started to run toward the small kitchen. He was half-naked, obviously scared, and skinny, but he was fast.
I took aim and barked out my demand.
“Freeze, Motherfucker. I’ll drop you dead right where you stand,” I shouted as I kicked the door closed with the heel of my boot.
He stopped, turned toward me, and narrowed his gaze. His shoulder length hair didn’t look like it had been washed in a month. He was in his late twenties, obviously strung out on much more than weed, and may have tipped the scales at a hundred and fifty pounds if he was fully dressed and soaking wet. At my guess of six feet tall, he looked pretty fucking unhealthy. Barefoot, and dressed in jeans and nothing else, it was all I could do to look at his scab-covered malnourished body without offering him a much needed meal.
If I didn’t kill him first.
“Fuck, I uhh…”
“Save it,” I said. “I’ll make this easy for you. I’m here to collect the debt you owe Jimmy Weed. Thirteen grand. I’m not leaving without it. You got that much here?”
“Awwe, fuck, man. No. No, I got maybe five hundred,” he responded as he began to dig his fingernails into the side of his neck.
“Five hundred? You sure that’s all you got?” I asked.
“Uh huh,” he responded as he continued to scratch along his lower jaw.
“I’ll cuff your ass, stuff a sock in your fucking mouth, toss you in the tub, and tear this place apart,” I said as I held the pistol rock steady, pointed directly at his chest.
He stopped scratching and began to stammer. “I got maybe…I mean…yeah… maybe…uhhm…five…oh, fuck, Dude, don’t shoot me. Yeah…like five hundred maybe.”
“You’re sure?” I asked.
He started scratching again. “Yeah. Way sure.”
“Sit down,” I demanded.
“Where?” he asked as his eyes darted around the room.
“Right where you’re fucking standing,” I barked.
He dropped to the floor as if someone had kicked his legs out from underneath him.
“So how the fuck did you plan on paying this debt?” I asked as I pulled the vintage chrome legged chair away from the dining table.
“I uhhm…I was gonna…I…fuck, Dude, I dunno,” he said.
“You reached an agreement with Mr. Weed, and he honored his part. You, however, didn’t honor yours. Do you understand that?” I asked as I waved the pistol in his direction.
“Uh huh,” he said.
I glanced around the house. Spongebob Squarepants played on the flat-screen television that was sitting on the floor beside the only couch in the small living room. The place was a disaster, and smelled like a combination of piss and pizza.
I shifted my eyes from the living room to where he was sitting. “And you understand thirteen grand is a lot of money?”
“Uh huh,” he said.
“You also understand it really doesn’t matter if it’s thirteen grand or thirteen cents, you made a promise. And you broke it. You understand that?” I asked.
“Yeah, I guess. We were gonna…I mean I…”
“Shut up. Jesus fucking Christ. You understand you broke a promise, right?” I asked.
He scratched his face and stared blankly in my direction.
“You’re never going to make it if you don’t change the way you’re doing things, kid. Show respect, get respect. Understand?” I asked.
He nodded his head.
“Where’s your phone?” I asked.
He narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his brow. “Huh?”
“Your fucking phone, dipshit. Where’s you
r phone? You’re expecting someone, and I need to see who. Where is it?” I asked.
“Think I knocked it on the floor,” he said as he pointed underneath the table.
I glanced down at the floor. A phone sat a few inches from the chair I was sitting in. I leaned down, picked it up, and attempted unsuccessfully to unlock the screen. Growing increasingly frustrated, and wondering when and if his friend or friends were going to show up, I stood from my seat and walked in his direction.
As I stepped to his side, I pointed the pistol at his head and held the phone in front of his face.
“Reach up, unlock the screen, and do it slowly. If you reach for this piece, I’ll blow what little brains you have all over this fucked up green carpet. Understand?” I asked.
“Yeah, Dude,” he said as he reached for the phone. “How’d you…uhhm…how’d you, oh fuck man…”
After he pressed a series of buttons on the screen and nodded his head, I raised the phone and opened the text screen.
After a quick study of his text messages, it appeared Lamar was on his way. I glanced at my watch, realized it was definitely not three o’clock like it depicted, and glanced at the screen of the phone. If Lamar was going to be on time, and most drug dealers never were, he was five minutes late.
“Lamar carry a gun?” I asked.
He stopped scratching his neck and glanced in my direction. “Huh?” he murmured.
“Does Lamar carry a fucking gun?” I asked as I walked to the table.
“Uhhm. No, Dude,” he said.
“If he walks in here strapped, I’m going to shoot you first, and then I’m going to shoot his dumb ass. Does he carry a gun? I asked again.
He widened his eyes and shook his head from side-to-side. “No, Dude, I swear.”
“When he gets here, you’re going to tell him just what you told me, understand? No more, no less. ‘It’s open’ is all you’re going to say, understand?” I asked.
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