“Would you have sex with him tonight if he wanted?”
“Hell yes.” She leaned forward and pulled the chip from the bowl of salsa. “I mean, as long as he’s willing to wear a condom. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I dunno.”
“If Tyson wants to fuck you tonight, would you do it?”
“I’m not sure,” I responded, even though I was sure I would if he asked. “Probably.”
She laughed. “Probably?”
If Tyson wanted to, I’d fuck him in the women’s bathroom, but I wouldn’t admit it to Jenny. Being judged for my eagerness to have sex would take an otherwise great night and make it a crappy one.
“Yeah. It just depends,” I explained. “I don’t want to put out the wrong vibe. I don’t want him to think I’m easy.”
She rummaged through the chips. After an awkward moment of silence, she forced a sigh and shook her head. “People get too hung up on sex. Fucking is fun. It should be simple and effortless.” She looked up. “It only becomes complicated if someone complicates it.”
“What complicates it?”
She cackled a laugh. “Falling in love.”
I’d never been in love, but I believed in its magic. According to my mother, my grandmother died of a broken heart.
“Falling in love makes matters worse?” I asked, failing to accept it as true.
“It ruins things.”
“Really?”
Falling in love never ruined things in the books. There was always some kind of drama, but in the end, everything worked out.
“Believe me,” she said. “The woman always falls in love first. When she admits it to the guy, he’ll agree that he is, too. He isn’t, but he knows if he tells her the truth that things will dissolve. So, he agrees, because he wants to fuck her until something better comes along. Maybe not better, just different. So, the lop-sided couple skates through life with her thinking their love is equal, but it’s not. It’s not even lop-sided. It’s one-sided. The guy’s still checking out the asses of every girl in the mall, looking at two-year-old profile pics of some skank he met at the gym, and telling the chick at Starbucks that she’s got amazing eyes.”
I was confused. “If all men are liars and cheats, what does a girl do to keep from being used?”
“Become the user.” Her mouth twisted into a smirk. “Ride that dick every chance you get, keeping in mind that its life support system is a pathological liar and an inevitable cheat.”
I didn’t want to believe her, but she had far more experience with men than I did. I decided to agree with her for the time being and see how things between Tyson and I unfolded.
“Sex should be simple and fun?” I asked in rhetoric.
“Precisely.”
Shawn’s voice caused my spine to straighten. As if caught with my hand in the cookie jar, I pursed my lips, reached for a chip, and gave Jenny a not another word look.
She looked right at the approaching men and cleared her throat. “I didn’t realize guys went to the bathroom together. Did you hold each other’s junk?”
“He’s not strong enough to lift mine,” Shawn said as he sat down. “He’ll need to hit the gym for a few weeks straight if he wants to give it a try.”
Tyson scoffed and took a seat at my side.
Jenny gave Shawn a curious look. “Oh really?”
Shawn nodded. “True story.”
As if having little interest in his response, she nonchalantly reached for a chip. “Quite the hunk of flesh, is it?”
“Every time it goes stiff, so much blood rushes to it that it makes me feel faint.”
“Sounds like a potential issue.” She raised the chip to her mouth and paused. “How long does it take you to recover from this lightheaded state of being?”
“It’s pretty instantaneous,” he replied.
She chuckled a light laugh. “You feel woozy for an instant, and then it just vanishes?”
“The rush of excitement overpowers the dizzy feeling,” he said in a pragmatic tone. “It takes a few seconds.”
Jenny’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The rush of excitement?”
“If I’ve gone stiff, you can bet there’s someone in front of me that excites the hell out of me.”
“Always?” she asked.
“Always.”
Jenny gestured toward Tyson with her thumb and then bit off half the chip. “Out of all the times that you’ve been wingman for your buddy here, you’ve never taken one for the team?”
“Not once.”
“You only bone chicks that excite you?”
“That’s affirmative, Ghost Rider.”
Her brows raised. “Do I excite you?”
“I’ve been on the verge of collapsing from lightheadedness since we met at the bookstore.”
She laughed. “Is that right?”
“It’s the damned truth,” he said. “I’m feeling dizzy right now.”
“What’s your position on condoms?” she asked.
He went bug-eyed. “Excuse me?”
“Condoms,” she said flatly. “What’s your position on condoms?”
He coughed out a laugh. “I think they’re a great idea for guys with normal sized dicks.”
She glanced in his lap and then met his gaze. “You’re telling me you can’t find a condom that fits?”
“A condom that fits, doesn’t fit,” he explained. He turned sideways in the booth and gave her a serious look. “Do you like ice cream?’
She looked at him like he was a lunatic. “Did you just ask me if I liked ice cream?”
“Yep.”
“I love ice cream,” Jenny said. “But I wasn’t done talking about safe sex.”
“Neither was I,” Shawn said matter-of-factly.
A puzzled look washed over her. “What’s ice cream got to do with condoms?”
Shawn glanced at Tyson and then me. He grinned and shifted his eyes to Jenny. “Favorite flavor?”
“Butter pecan.”
“Imagine eating a butter pecan waffle cone. Not at Baskin Robbins or any of the normal three-dollar-a-cone shops. You’re at some specialty shop, eating a fifteen-dollar and fifty-cent cone. This is one of those ice cream shops that buys advertisements in the back of those artsy-fartsy architectural magazines that advertise fifty-million-dollar homes that overlook the coast. This place is as gourmet as gourmet gets. You’re about, hell, I don’t know, six or eight licks in. It’s the best goddamned cone you’ve ever eaten. You’ve got this shit running out of that little hole in the bottom of the cone, down your forearm, and dripping off your elbow. But, you don’t give a fuck. All you can think about is getting another lick in. It’s that good. Half a dozen more licks in, you’re having an ice cream orgasm. All you can think about is that you don’t want this buttery cream pecan-filled goodness to end. You look up from your dwindling cone, and some mustachioed maniac grabs you by the neck and starts choking the absolute fuck out of you. He’s squeezing your neck so fucking hard that your eyes are bulging out. You’re in and out of consciousness, barely clinging on to life. You’re not quite dead, but you’re not really alive, either. Somehow, you’re still clenching that cone.”
He paused, looked right at her, and raised both eyebrows. “While you’re on the cusp of being choked to death, do you think you can enjoy that blissful cone?”
“Do you seriously want me to answer that?”
He nodded. “I do.”
“I don’t like being choked,” she said. “I wouldn’t be able to enjoy anything.”
“Not even the best butter pecan cone in the world?”
“Nope.”
“Well, I love sex. In fact, nothin’s better than sex, as far as I’m concerned. Not even a fifteen-dollar and fifty-cent butter pecan cone. And when my cock’s being choked to death by some undersized condom, I can’t enjoy sex, no differently than you wouldn’t be able to enjoy that cone.”
Straight-faced, Jenny reached for her purse. After rummaging inside of it for a moment,
she tossed a condom on the table, beside the bowl of salsa. “There’s a Trojan. That fits ninety-five percent of the population.”
She threw another one down. “Here’s a Magnum XL. That fits the four point nine-nine percent of that five percent that can’t fit into a Trojan.”
“And this.” She tossed a third condom onto the table. “Is a Beyond Seven, Mega Big Boy XL. It fits the upper echelon of cocks. The point one percent that are packing some real cock magic.”
She slid the three condoms to Shawn’s side of the table. “Go see which one fits.”
Shawn looked at the condoms, and then at her. “What if the Beyond Seven fits? Do I get a prize?”
“That Beyond Seven is a glass slipper,” she said with a laugh. “If that fucker fits, I’ve found my Cinderella.”
Shawn scooped up the Beyond Seven Condom and marched to the bathroom.
I looked at Tyson. “He’s insane.”
He chuckled. “Tell me about it.”
I gestured toward the two remaining condoms. “Do you always carry various condoms in your purse?”
“Yeah,” Jenny said. “Don’t you?”
I was on birth control, but I really didn’t need to be. It wasn’t like I ever relied on it, or anything. I damned sure didn’t need to carry an assortment of condoms in my purse.
“No,” I said. “I’m on birth control.”
Jenny looked at Tyson and cocked an eyebrow. “Do you feel like you’re being choked out when you wear a condom? Or was he just talking shit?”
“Personally, I hate wearing condoms,” Tyson replied. “But, I wear ‘em for birth control.”
“Does it feel like you’re being choked out?”
Tyson shrugged. “Not if they fit.”
“I’m not even going to ask,” Jenny said.
Shawn strutted down the aisle toward the booth, whistling the entire way. After taking a seat at Jenny’s side, he tossed her the condom’s empty wrapper. “There you go.”
Her brows raised. “Well?”
He grinned. “Got it on now.”
“Does it fit?”
“Like a little glove.”
She took a precursory look around the restaurant. “Should we have the waitress bring the check?”
“You two can leave if you want.” Tyson placed his hand on the inside of my thigh. “But we’re going wait to fuck until after we eat. Considering what I’ve got planned, I’m going to need some nourishment before we get started.”
My face flushed. As if aware of my condition, Tyson’s hand crept toward my tingling pussy.
I glanced in my lap. I couldn’t have placed the spine of Colleen Hoover’s new release between the heel of his palm and my clit. It was the closest I’d been to sex in six years.
I looked up. Completely unaware that my clit might be brushed by the edge of a human hand, Jenny and Shawn were talking quietly.
Tyson’s hand inched closer.
I looked down.
There was one sixteenth of an inch of space between his hand and the thin layer of black polyester blend that protected my tingling clit from further stimulation.
Admitting out loud that Tyson’s nourishment remark pushed me over the edge of the sexual decision-making cliff wasn’t going to happen. There were other ways to express my willingness to have my clit massaged while Jenny double-dipped her chips into the community salsa.
With my eyes fixed on Jenny and my waist hidden from view by the table’s edge, I gripped Tyson’s wrist and pulled his hand firmly against my crotch. If that wasn’t enough of a gesture, maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. I cinched my thighs together, preventing him from making an easy escape.
If he didn’t get the message, we weren’t speaking the same language.
Although I’d read that some women’s clits were difficult to find, locating mine was a simple task. It was the diameter of my pinky finger, and always peeking out of its hood. Stimulation required nothing more the wind blowing.
I relaxed my thighs and said a quick prayer.
He lifted his hand. The prayer had been answered. My heart sank. He was done.
As the first of what was sure to be many rejection-fueled tears began to well in my eyes, he nonchalantly slid his hand beneath the waist of my slacks.
Guilt shot through me. A tingling sensation followed. My eyes darted back and forth between Shawn and Jenny, wondering who would be the first to figure out that Tyson’s hand was touching my cootch. In the amount of time it took my brain’s receptors to receive the signal of what was happening, the tip of his finger was parting my pussy lips.
My nipples hardened to a point that I feared they’d rip through the fabric of my silk shirt if I made any sudden movements.
After wetting his finger with my juices, he began massaging my throbbing love button with a precision that I’d spent a lifetime assuming only women could master. The restaurant’s dining area started shrinking. Voices became dull and distant. Then, everything went quiet.
Completely consumed by the thought of reaching climax in the booth of a public restaurant while two people sat across from me, my eyes fluttered a few times.
I was seconds away from having an orgasm of epic proportions. I had somehow been cast between the covers of one of the many books that occupied my shelves, and I was loving every excruciating moment of it.
His fingertip circled my clit. Harboring hope for a memorable climax, I channeled my focus on the mountain of pressure that was building between my legs.
Then, it happened.
An orgasm nearly a decade in the making exploded from deep within me, shaking me to my very core. Small electric shock waves followed, rippling throughout each of my Jell-O-like limbs. The euphoric rush paralyzed me completely. When the climactic finale slowed to a dull roar, my eyes opened.
Tyson’s lust-filled gaze pinned me in place. I slumped in my seat. A few involuntary sounds sputtered past my lips, escaping in the form of nearly inaudible moans.
Nearly.
“Are you alright?” Jenny asked.
I realized my eyes had gone closed again. After an unsuccessful attempt to straighten my posture, I opened them and nodded eagerly. “I’m uhhm,” I muttered. “Yeah.”
“Looked to me like she had a fuckin’ seizure,” Shawn said. “Her eyelids were fluttering and then dribble started oozing down her chin.”
I wiped my mouth with the web of my hand, retrieving an ounce of drool in the process.
With his finger resting against my pussy lips, Tyson gave me a mock worried look. “Are you okay? You don’t need to go home, do you?”
He was giving me an opportunity to change the evening’s course. I weighed my options.
Food.
Or.
A night of sex.
“I hate to ruin our evening.” My shoulders slumped. “But maybe you should take me home. I think I might be getting sick.”
Shawn chuckled. “What happened? Eat a bad tortilla chip?”
I glanced at Tyson and then at Shawn. “Probably.”
I knew Jenny wouldn’t care if I left. Nonetheless, I looked at her and mouthed the word sorry.
“If you’re not feeling good, we should probably go.” Tyson slid his hand from beneath my slacks and stood. “I guess it’s a good thing Shawn and I both drove.”
I edged my way out of the booth. Shawn nodded toward my seat. “You might want to grab your glasses,” he said through laughter. “They fell off when you were having that orgasm.”
Embarrassed, but not as much as I would have expected, I decided to own the fact that I was fingered into oblivion while Shawn and Jenny watched. After finding my glasses in a blind search of the booth, I draped the temples over my ears and slid from my seat.
“Thanks for pointing that out,” I said. “I would have missed them later when I was playing the naughty secretary role.”
“Librarian,” Shawn responded. “You’re the naughty librarian.”
10
Tyson
&nb
sp; Locked in a passionate kiss, I pressed Jo’s body firmly against the front door. My right hand rummaged for the key while my left massaged her surprisingly ample breasts.
Obviously more interested in kissing her than opening the door, I fumbled aimlessly with the lock. Thirty seconds later, the door was still locked. Jo was dry humping my raging hard on. Ready to abandon my idea to go inside and prepared to fuck her on the front porch, I gave the key one last twist.
The door flew open. Tangled in each other’s arms, we stumbled across the floor until coming to a stop against the end of the loveseat.
I broke the embrace and drew a breath. A quick look at her revealed smudged glasses, smeared make up, and disheveled hair. Sexual tension hung in the air like an early morning fog. I reached for my zipper.
She did the same.
In a flurry, shoes flew, and garments followed.
Within seconds we stood before one another stripped of all clothing. Rendered speechless at the sight of her remarkable body, I stood silently and stared while she gave me a quick once-over.
Sexual fervor shot through my veins. If I waited one more second to fuck her, I was going to explode. “We’re fucking.” I wagged my finger toward the arm of the couch. “Right here. Right now.”
She glanced at the loveseat and then at me. “Glasses on, or off?”
I was thrilled that she remembered how much I liked them. I grinned. “On.”
Without argument, she complied. My eyes fell to her clean-shaven mound. Her wet folds glistened with desire.
It was all the invitation I needed.
Brimming with the eager excitement of a teen during his first sexual encounter, I guided the tip of my throbbing cock between her legs. As soon as her tight warmth encompassed the swollen head, I knew I was in trouble. After a few failed attempts to penetrate her, I retracted my hips and stared at her pussy as if it were Chinese math.
“No, no, no,” she complained, exhaling an uneven breath. “Don’t…stop.”
Her pussy was so tight I feared I may rip her in two. I gazed down at the milk-colored skin of her lower back and repositioned my hands on her hips. “Is it always this tight?”
The Fed Sex Man: Hot Contemporary Romance Page 8