“A Cobra?”
“Yeah. Only it’s silver. He rebuilt it. It’s got bigger thingamajigs and a closer ratio whatchamacallit, though. He told me, but I don’t remember.”
He sighed. “I miss that car. Never should have bought that pickup truck.”
I cut another section of tuna from the steak and pierced it with the tines of my fork. “Maybe he’ll take you for a ride.”
Jarod scooped up a forkful of rice. “Bet it’s not as nice as mine was.”
“I think it’s nicer.” I lifted the chunk of tuna and waited for the right moment. “He keeps it pretty pristine.”
“Have you ridden in it?”
“I have. Twice.”
“Is it fast?”
“It’s really fast. It makes this horrible whining noise when it takes off.”
“Bet it’s a Terminator Cobra. They’ve got a supercharger on ‘em.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s got one of those.”
“Bet he put a Kenne Bell on it.”
“I don’t know what that means. You’ll have to ask him.”
“When are you going to invite him for dinner?” my mother asked.
I felt that I’d backed myself into a corner. Asking Tyson to come to my parent’s home for dinner was a huge step, and one I was certain he wasn’t prepared to make. Considering Tyson’s near celebrity status with my father and brother, I was going to be pressured until I complied with their wishes.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “One of these days.”
“Sad he’s driving a FedEx truck,” Jarod said. “He could have been making millions.”
My parents had more money than they could ever spend. Oil leases inherited from generations past provided income in the seven-figure-per-year range. Although I could have relied on my parents for financial assistance, I chose to secure loans for my education, and for my book store.
I didn’t derive happiness from wealth, nor did my parents, or my grandparents. Jarod was different. He seemed to view material objects as a means of measuring his successes.
“Maybe he’s happy driving the truck,” I offered. “He doesn’t seem to care.”
“He was set to get a twenty-million-dollar-a-year contract. I bet he cares plenty,” Jarod argued. “Wouldn’t you?”
“I’m happy with what I’ve got. Maybe he is, too.”
“What he chooses to do for a living has no bearing on the man he is, Jarod,” my mother said. She looked at me. “I don’t care if he’s a hobo, I’d like to meet him.”
“Are you going to eat that piece of tuna or just let it sit there until it dries out?” my father asked.
“I’m going to eat it, just as soon as I get up a little more courage. It’s piece number two,” I said with a smile.
My mother winked at me and then cleared her throat. “There’s a fly on your rice, John.”
His eyes darted to his plate. “Where?”
In one fluid motion, I plucked the tuna from the tip of my fork and tossed it onto the rug beside the first piece. After covering it with my foot, I shoved a forkful of rice into my mouth.
Following his fruitless search for a non-existent fly, my father looked up. “Nasty little bastard got away.”
My mother shrugged. “They’re sneaky.” She looked at me and smiled. “How was the tuna, Josephine?”
“You know how picky I am,” I said apologetically. “It was really good, I just don’t care much for fish.”
“It was your father’s idea,” she explained. “He’s trying to lose weight. We won’t have it again. At least not when you’re here.”
“Thank you.”
She gestured beneath the table. “Do you remember when I bought this rug?”
I swallowed heavily. “I do.”
She glanced toward my foot and then met my gaze with raised brows. “Remember the problems we had when it came time to import it? After we returned from vacation?”
The process took months after she’d purchased it and was nothing short of an expensive disaster. I attempted to swallow the rising lump in my throat, but only partially succeeded.
“I uhhm.” I nodded. “I do.”
“I love that rug.” She smiled. “You’ll bring Tyson for dinner soon, won’t you?”
Coercing Tyson to come to dinner was the least I could do to escape the botched fish dinner unscathed.
I pressed my toes against the meat and swallowed heavily. “Yes, Ma’am.”
14
Tyson
Box in hand, I walked the length of Miss Everly’s driveway. As I bent down to set the object on the porch, the door swung open and two fuzzy gray slippers greeted me.
“Good morning,” she said in an exaggerated whisper.
The sound of her voice sent a tingling sensation along my spine. I dragged my eyes up the length of her Barbie-esque frame. She was wearing a pair of wine-colored designer sweatpants and a skin-tight ribbed white tank top, sans bra. Her hardened nipples distorted the thin fabric, commanding the attention of anyone who dared to be in her presence. After a lengthy pause at her oversized assets, I met her downward gaze.
“I’ve been so anxious for this delivery.” She looked me up and down. “Do you have time for a glass of tea?”
I handed her the box. “I should really—”
“I’m going to stop asking if you don’t accept.” She gave the most provocative of innocent looks. “One glass won’t hurt.”
I’d screwed so many women during the workday that I’d been reprimanded for it on two separate occasions. My new route was assigned to me as a last-ditch effort to reform me into a less sexually active – and a far more devoted – FedEx employee. So far, the only changes I’d seen was a new selection of available tits and ass.
I had no desire to disrupt my busy schedule for nothing more than a glass of tea. My intentions were sexual, and she needed to know it. “If I come in, we’re going to be busy for a lot longer than ten minutes.”
“There’s something in this box that may excite you.” She gestured toward the winding stairway behind her. “Follow me, please.”
Curious about the contents of the box, I stepped inside the spacious home and followed her up the ornate staircase.
Tightly wound tendrils of platinum blond hair danced with each step. Her pronounced manner of sashaying caused her ass to shake from side to side in a hypnotic manner. Her intentions were clear. This wasn’t her first rodeo. Mouthing the words to Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get It On, I fixed my eyes on her velour-clad tush and followed her up the stairs.
Upon reaching the upper landing, she turned toward an open bedroom door. She was all business. I liked that quality in a woman.
She promenaded to a dresser at the far end of the room and placed the box on top of it. She turned around and parted her ruby red lips ever so slightly. Marilyn Monroe. She looked like a Marilyn fucking Monroe.
Only better.
She was sultrier.
“I want you to treat me like a whore,” she breathed in a raspy tone.
I’d spent my entire childhood convinced of two things: dreams didn’t come true and prayers were never answered. The curvaceous vixen facing me was clear proof that I was dead wrong.
If she was the filthy slut that I suspected she was, there was no need for small talk.
“Get on your knees,” I growled. “I’m going to choke you with a mile of cock.”
She fell to her knees. Without an ounce of expressed grace, she ripped off her shirt and tossed it aside. She began massaging her massive boobs. Light moans followed. The kneading of her flesh became more aggressive, as did the sounds that escaped her lips.
Desire shot through my veins like liquid fire.
With my eyes glued to the show, I fumbled to unbuckle my belt. Upon shoving my hand in my boxers, I realized I was as limp as a freshly cooked noodle.
What the fuck?
In my sexual travels I’d been with spontaneous sirens like the one before me. I’d coerced college c
oeds to copulate. I’d had hanky-panky with horny housewives. I’d tickled the twats of twins. One thing I’d never had to deal with, however, was the dreaded dangly dick.
I looked at it, and then at her.
With her chin up and her eyes fixed on mine, she parted her collagen enhanced lips. “I’m such a dirty whore,” she murmured. “Use me up. Cover me in your come. I want to bathe in it.”
At that moment, the only thing I could have used her for was getting me a tissue to wipe my tears. Since meeting Jo, I’d suffered a three-minute lackluster performance and one inability to perform entirely.
Something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
I gripped my limp dick in my fist and attempted to stroke it. I would have been more successful at stroking a handful of mashed potatoes into an erection.
There are very few things in life that we know for absolute certain. However, I knew beyond a shadow of doubt that I wasn’t going to get hard. If anything, my cock was shrinking in size.
It was running away from her.
No matter what Miss Everly did, or how badly I thought I wanted to fuck her, it wasn’t happening.
I shoved my limp dick into my boxers, pulled up my shorts, and buckled my belt. If I played my cards right, I just might be able to escape with a speck of self-esteem.
I shot Everly an exaggerated glare. “You’re a dirty fucking whore. You don’t deserve this dick.”
The nearly inaudible moans that had crept from her lungs for the last few minutes increased in volume.
Tenfold.
“Oh my God,” she moaned. “Please. Give it to me. I need it. Slap me with it.”
“You’re nothing but a slut.” I shook my head in mock disgust. “A dirty, filthy slut.”
“You’re right,” she murmured. “I’m nothing but a dirty whore. Fuck my dirty pussy and come all over my face.”
I’d have loved to use her. Sadly, short of getting her to scramble me some eggs, I had no other use for her.
I turned toward the dresser and grabbed the box. After tearing it open, I retrieved a curved dildo fashioned from golden chrome. Heavy in my hand, and futuristic in appearance, it was a work of art. A quick search of the box revealed a tiny wireless remote control. I pressed the button on the remote. The cock-shaped device shook violently. I pressed the button again. The vibrating lessened to more of a thump, thump, thump. A third press caused it to jolt back and forth methodically.
I turned it off and handed her the golden schlong.
“Stick that in your twat, whore.”
She wrestled her sweats to her thighs, taking her panties with them in the process. After arching her back and leaning against the end of the bed, she inserted the tip of the battery-powered penis past her beef curtains.
I crossed my arms and cleared my throat. “All of it.”
Her eyes fell closed as she began to fuck herself senseless with it. After a few lengthy strokes, all ten inches of it vanished.
I pressed the remote’s button twice.
The sound of her moaning permeated through the room.
I turned toward the door. “Don’t you dare move,” I commanded. “Stay right fucking there until you’ve had six orgasms.” I faced her. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” she muttered.
Refraining from bursting into laughter, I shot her a sharp glare. “I am a Sir. You’ll address me as such.”
A breath of satisfaction shot from her lungs. “Yes, Sir.”
“Six!” I barked. “Nothing less than six. I may give you some cock if you learn to follow my commands, whore.”
Enveloped by the sound of her moans, I gingerly walked down the steps and toward the front door. After setting the remote control on the sideboard, I opened the door and sauntered to my truck.
There was one place I could go to determine if my cock was truly broken.
Admitting there was only one didn’t come easily.
15
Jo
“The Fed Sex delivery man is here,” Jenny exclaimed. “Ho-Lee-Shit, look at this. He’s freaking nuts!”
Immersed in a book order, I looked up. Tyson’s FedEx truck was cutting across four lanes of traffic in the middle of the busy street. After screeching to a stop directly in front of the store, he leaped out of the truck’s open passenger door.
Upon seeing him, I stood and turned toward the door. Wearing a straight-faced expression, he rushed past Jenny, offering her nothing more than a wave of his right arm. Before I cleared the edge of the desk, he was standing in front of me.
Without so much as a greeting, he gripped my biceps and leaned into me. As his face came to rest against my neck he drew a slow breath.
Goosebumps rose along my upper arms. I pressed my jaw against his cheek. “What are you doing?”
He pulled away and looked me over. “It’s a good thing you’re wearing a dress.”
I was lost. The look of confusion plastered across my face was proof. “Huh?”
“Grab my cock,” he said flatly.
My face flushed. “Tyson!” I whispered. “Not here.”
“Grab it,” he demanded. “Squeeze it.”
“Jenny’s right behind you,” I said in protest.
“I don’t give a fuck.” He gestured toward my hand with his eyes. “Grab it.”
“Are you serious?”
“I need you to do this for me,” he pleaded.
His back was facing the door. For the time being, no one could see his front side but me. I glanced toward the entrance. Unaware of her surroundings, Jenny was busy practicing the steps to a line dance.
I pressed my palm against his crotch and gripped his girth in my hand. Instantaneously, it began to grow. Within seconds, his FedEx shorts were stretched to their limits.
I raised my brows. “Now what?”
“Tell what’s-her-name to watch the store.”
“Why?”
“I wanna fuck.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
My eyes darted around the store. “Where would we go?”
“I don’t care.” He coughed out a laugh. “I’ll bend your sexy ass over that fucking desk and shove you full of dick right here.”
My entire body began to tingle at the mention of it. After a few seconds of erotic thoughts, I came to my senses.
“Right here in front of her?” I argued. “What if someone comes in? That’s crazy.”
“You got me hard, now it’s your responsibility to take care of it,” he said as if it were a known fact.
“Says who?”
He glanced at his cock. “That’s the rule.”
I had no idea if it was a rule or not. I’d never heard it, but then again, I possessed nothing more than a thimble full of sexual wherewithal.
I scrunched my nose. “Really?”
He nodded. “It’s common knowledge. If you make it hard, you’ve got to get me off.”
I considered complying with his wish and wondered if there was a place where we could pull it off. A small storage room or the mop closet were the only two viable options that came to mind.
My dripping wet pussy believed that getting fucked in either location would be the epitome of hotness. I glanced at his crotch. His rock-hard dick was parallel with the floor, holding the material of his navy-colored shorts outstretched like a sideways tent.
I scanned the length of his muscular frame. A light scruff of whiskers peppered his strong jaw. His hair appeared that he’d combed it with a brush of his hand. His eyes gleamed with sincerity.
The corners of his mouth, however, were curled up slightly and struggling not to spring upward any further.
“You’re full of shit,” I insisted. “There’s no rule.”
He popped his neck and then grinned. “Maybe there isn’t.”
It didn’t matter. I wanted him to fuck me. It could last three minutes, or thirty, I didn’t care. Opportunities like this weren’t presented to girls like me with any regu
larity.
“Rule or no rule, I’ll do it.”
His eyes lit up. “Where?”
The storage room was at the rear of the store, behind the last bookcase and off to the side. Although the entrance was visible to anyone who might meander past, the room itself – as long as the door was closed – was hidden.
“Storage room.” I turned toward the back of the store and glanced over my shoulder, at Jenny. “We’ll be back in a few minutes!”
Still dancing to a song that only she could hear, she didn’t even bother turning around. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Giddy about mid-day sex – even if it was going to take place in an eight-foot square room – I led Tyson to the back of the store. Upon opening the door, my heart sank.
The small space was filled from floor to ceiling with donated books, swag, and other miscellaneous items, leaving very little room to do anything but stand face to face between the stacks of boxes.
“It’s a little more…it’s…there’s not much room,” I stammered.
He rested his chin on my shoulder, peered inside, and then sighed. At the instant I expected him to declare screwing in the overstuffed room wasn’t a possibility, he turned me to face him.
His hungry eyes scanned me from my head to my feet and then back. Upon meeting my gaze, he grinned.
I glanced at Jenny and then at him. “What?”
“You make my cock hard.”
“I’m glad I can—”
He kissed me deeply, sucking the remaining words from my lungs before I could speak them. Caught completely off guard by the kiss, I stumbled backward until I came crashing to a stop against the corridor wall.
I no more than realized his hand was sliding up my thigh, and he’d already slid his finger beneath my panties and penetrated me. My heart palpitated. He fingered me into a frenzy, then began to rub my clit feverishly.
My legs wobbled. The kiss continued, as did the teasing of my clit. After swirling his finger around my swollen nub long enough to produce a few micro-orgasms, he tugged against my panties. Although I probably should have, I offered no opposition whatsoever.
The Fed Sex Man: Hot Contemporary Romance Page 11