Morrison

by Chelsea Camaron

  “I’m all man.”

  “I bet.” She barks out a laugh.

  “You’re chewing on your lip; your nipples are hard; your pussy is probably soaked…” She doesn’t stop me, so I keep going. “You wanna fuck me just as much as I want to fuck you.”

  “I like to fuck, but again, I want the man between my legs to make me sure that taking off my clothes wasn’t a waste of time.”

  “I’m afraid that, when I reach down there, I might find a set of balls.”

  “Why don’t you come over here and check it out?” she dares.

  It takes me all of ten seconds to have her pressed to the hood of my car. As soon as I reach between her legs, her hand is already on my cock.

  Shit is going down.

  Now.

  Sweatpants remind me of high school, easy access, and I was right—she is soaked. My lips press against her as my finger slides into her hot little twat. She gasps for air, and I kiss her harder.

  Her fucking lips are soft as plush little pillows, and that dirty-talking mouth tastes like fucking more. I want more.

  My tongue pushes into her mouth, and fuck if I don’t taste heaven. She tastes good, smells good, feels real damn good, and I am hard as hell.

  I shove my free hand under her head because suddenly I want to make sure I am not making it bang off the hood of the car. And, motherfucker, it’s not even about the car.

  I need more. My mouth covers hers again, and my tongue plunges into that mouth again. I run it up and down her tongue, slower this time.

  With a voice that rasps like hers, I would have thought she was a smoker, but there is no way in hell. Her mouth tastes like rainwater so clean that it came from heaven right to my mouth without ever touching the ground.

  I lick the roof of her mouth, her gums, her teeth, like I want my tongue to be floss.

  What the fuck is wrong with me? Fuck her mouth. I want to taste that pussy.

  I tear away from her again, then run one hand down her back and pull the other one out of her panties. I suck on my finger and growl when I taste her juices—clean and sweet. As I lift her up, her eyes flutter open, and she looks like a deer in headlights, like she is just as awestruck as I am.

  “You taste good.”

  Her eyes cast down, away from mine, and I fear this moment will go away before I’m finished—before I’ve even begun.

  I lift her by the ass, and my little wild card becomes like a rag doll cat. She goes almost limp in my arms as I walk toward her car and lift the hatch. I set her inside, then pull her sweats and panties down. She is bare except for the landing patch, and my tongue is about to become the airplane going down that runway.

  I push her back and drop down between her legs. Then I go in hard, hoping like hell she doesn’t know how much I already crave her taste. I kiss and nip at her inner thighs while she squirms and lets out soft little grunts that drive me fucking crazier.

  I place my hand on her stomach, holding her still because I know that if just this is making her react the way she is, as soon as I lick between her sexy-ass legs she’s gonna come undone. My tongue traces the landing strip while I draw in a slow, deep breath, taking in her scent. As my tongue parts her lips, her hips buck up, and I grab her thigh in my hand and hold her tightly as I lay my tongue flat, then lick her from back to front over and over. Even though I don’t want to, I avoid her clit, working her up, hearing her grunts while she tries to hold in the cry I know damn well she wants to let out.

  Her hands are now fisting my shirt, causing all kinds of wrinkles, I’m sure, but who cares? I’m tasting the best pussy I have ever tasted—I swear to fuck, I’m gonna come just eating her. She constricts around my tongue as her body tightens everywhere, her little grunts turning into a strangled groan, and I lick harshly at her tiny nub until she cries out, “Caldwell,” into the night.

  When she starts to relax, and I am finally able to tear myself away from kissing and licking her sweetness, I kiss up her belly, raising her shirt with my nose as I make my way to her heaving breasts.

  I look at her face and see that her arm is covering her eyes. I want to know what she looks like sated almost as much as I want to have a taste of her tits, but a horn blares from somewhere and she jumps up. My nose hits the front clasp of her bra, and I stumble back from the pressure.

  “Oh, God, I’m sorry,” she says, pulling up her panties and sweats. She scoots out of the car and quickly closes it. “I have to go.”

  “Go?” I ask, confused. “We just started. Let me take you—”

  She straightens up, the hardness in her eyes returning.

  “Bab—”

  “I’m not your baby.”

  “Easy, tiger.” I reach out for her hand before she can get away, grabbing her and pulling her against me. “I promise you the best day of your life. Don’t go running away now.”

  “I don’t owe you anything,” she hisses.

  I pull her tighter against me so she can feel how hard I am for her. “You don’t owe me shit.”

  “That’s right, I don’t. The fact that you just ravaged someone who has only had one dick inside her ever should be considered a gift, a delicacy, a—”

  “Dayum.” I twist my hand in her hair and pull her lips against mine. My tongue begins tracing the invisible bruises I know I must have caused, and she starts to relax again until another horn shatters the moment between us.

  She pulls back, looks past me, and then pulls away. “I have to go.”

  “Wait up.” I grab her hand. “Dinner later? A drink? Your name?”

  She looks at me like she’s confused, then those hardened eyes are back.

  “Follow me.” She starts walking toward the alley, and I follow. I’m not turning back for nothing at this point.

  She stops and pushes me against the brick wall. “After this, we’re even.”

  “After wha—” She has me unbuckled and is on her knees before I can say another word.

  “Oh, damn. Don’t stop,” I growl.

  She doesn’t. She works me like no one ever has, her tongue tracing my tip, then sliding along my shaft as she pushes my pants down farther. She grabs my balls and moans in appreciation, which makes me hot as hell. She rolls them in her hand as she sucks so hard I am already feeling the heat of my release spreading through me like a wildfire.

  “If you don’t want the Caldwell cocktail, you better stop,” I hiss.

  She sucks harder, and I come, seeing lights brighter than the Vegas Strip. Then I feel her pulling up my pants and tucking me away—a first for me. Awkward? A little, but cool, too.

  “Baby,” I start, and she turns away. “Christ.” I grab her hand. “What the hell is the hurry? I’m still not finished with you.”

  “We’re even,” she says as she starts walking away, her hand still in mine.

  “We’re keeping score, are we?” I half laugh.

  “Checks and balances.” She swallows hard. “Life is all about—”

  She stops when I turn her toward me. I swear her eyes are tearing up, but then again, it could be the fact that my cock was just rammed down her throat.

  “Then I owe you big.”

  Her head cocks to the side as she studies me, but then she turns away and pulls her hand free.

  I follow her to her car and open the door before she can. “Momma raised a gentleman; I got it.”

  She looks at the ground as she gets in her little car. Then I reach in and pull her buckle around her and click it in.

  “I want your name.”

  “I have to go,” she says as she starts the car. “Please shut the door and go move your car.”

  “Just your name—”

  “Call me Hard Luck.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second.”

  “Believe it,” she says in a low whisper as she puts her little car in reverse.

  I let her go because I know she just had a come-to-Jesus moment. I sure did.

  I let her go because I know I’ll see that f
ine ass again. I know where she works—my new favorite casino: Harrah’s, the place you go to get platinum ass.

  I get in my car and turn her over, moving back to watch as her platinum ass pulls out onto the Strip. The radio is playing “Show Me” by Chris Brown and Kid Ink, and I am all sorts of fucking good.

  Chapter 8

  Hailey

  Checks and balances. The scorecard is even with Caldwell. As hard as I try to convince myself that I owe him nothing, however, it’s not working.

  He put his mouth on me, on my body.

  I run my hand over my breasts and down my stomach as my skin continues to tingle from his touch. How much more have I messed up my life in my moment of weakness tonight? How did this all spin out of control so damn fast?

  I smack myself in the face. Snap out of it, Hailey. How could I have allowed myself to be mesmerized by a suit-wearing fucker again?

  If the car hadn’t honked, would I have stopped him?

  My mind races as I go through the motions. Stopping at a red light, I sit in idle, looking down at my trembling hands, noticing that my ring finger still has the indention from wearing my bands for so many years.

  Have I become the whore my mother was? I promised Marisa I would give her better. Yet tonight, under the bright Vegas lights, I lost myself once again to a man.

  Reaching up, I touch a trembling hand to my swollen mouth, and my mind immediately goes back to the feel of his lips on me. He had his mouth on me. He made my body come alive under him, and I was helpless to stop myself. The sensations…Never, ever have I felt what I felt tonight, even before he touched me. Just working him up in our verbal spar had my panties wet.

  I drop my head in shame. Am I that desperate for attention?

  A horn honking behind me makes me jump. Looking up, I see that the light has turned green, and more embarrassment fills me as I fumble to get my head focused on driving home.

  Home.

  Tears prick at the back of my eyes. The small room Marisa and I occupy is not a home. How am I going to get out of this mess? I need to focus on the hustle. I need to get into a game, not waste time fooling around with a high roller who only wants a roll in the sheets. I cannot allow myself to get caught up again.

  I turn on the radio, needing a distraction, and “Tell Me Why” by Three Days Grace is playing. Story of my fucking life, but I have the one thing I love, and I will protect her with my life.

  Finally home, I prepare for my shower. Turning on the water, I sigh as I run my hand over my naked body, and memories of his touch rush back again. I wash as my body tingles with more need, and finish more frustrated than I was to begin with.

  I’ve made mistake after mistake after bloody mistake. Am I ever going to get anything right?

  I make Marisa breakfast after I wake her up. Then we pack up her lunch and I take her to her preschool.

  She goes half days to a local pre-K for three-year-olds. It has been great socialization for her and a welcome break for me since leaving Monte, allowing me the time to sort out some things in our life. Before, she only went because Monte felt that was the “appropriate” thing for her to do, but of course it was added to my balance sheet, as the school didn’t come cheap.

  “Mrs. Timmons, I don’t know how to tell you this.” Carrie, the school director, comes out from her office to talk to me.

  I give Marisa a quick goodbye, send her off to her classroom, then nod, wide-eyed, at Carrie.

  “Your husband called, and he explained your separation. He also informed us that you would be covering Marisa’s tuition.”

  My heart sinks, my stomach drops, and suddenly my feet feel like complete lead. Checks and balances. Tip the scales to stay in control—that is Monte’s mentality.

  After a moment, she continues, “Mr. Timmons also said you could call him to discuss payment arrangements with him should you need assistance in caring for your daughter.”

  I drop to my knees in front of her as my world crumbles further. Tears freely flow down my face, and I don’t care who sees me. Carrie gives me this, but not for long. She has a school to run, and it’s not good for business to have a mom on her knees in the entryway. Therefore, when she gives my shoulder a firm squeeze, I take that as my silent cue to get my shit straight, and fast.

  Checks and balances.

  Squaring my shoulders, I stand and wipe my tears. Tip the scales all you want, Monte. I will not bow, and I will not break.

  —

  Spending my morning crunching numbers, I find that, as long as we can stay with Jamie for a few months, I can pay the tuition. I can’t make payments to Monte, but Marshall has gotten me an extra few months, which gives me time to get in the game.

  I have to get in one of the games.

  Night comes all too soon, and Marisa drifts to sleep after only three fairy tales. With my mind all over the place, I am thankful for the reprieve.

  With the chaos of the day I haven’t given myself time to think of Caldwell, but as I finish applying lotion to my legs while readying for work, I silently beg not to run into him tonight. I have to get focused on the game and, more important, on the players, not on some high roller.

  A game can be won or lost based on giving away or reading a tell, and I gave up too much to Caldwell too quickly. He could read me. That shit stops now.

  —

  I begin my shift in a daze. With every tip, I mentally calculate my bills. It isn’t long before I feel the burn, the sting of someone watching me. I glance around the casino floor to find him. “Call me Caldwell” resounds in my head, and I squeeze my legs together as I instantly ache for him, remembering when I called out his name.

  He smiles and winks before turning back to his game, the chips lined up in front of him showing he’s clearly winning. Knowing he is here, I feel like the temperature has gone up about a hundred degrees.

  So much for not ever seeing him again.

  Of course, I couldn’t be so lucky. No, I am still stuck in the life of hard knocks and probably always will be.

  Desperation fills me, making my chest tighten in anxiety. I don’t make it five steps before he is beside me.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine,” I mutter, trying to make my way to another table.

  “Got a room here. Why don’t you come by and have dinner with me?”

  I look up at him, and for a moment, I get lost in the depths of his blue eyes. He uses this to his advantage and takes my hand, but I jerk away as though he’s burned me.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  He trails a finger over the name tag pinned to my left breast. “Hailey, calm down.”

  “I have to work,” I whisper, then take off to the back to give myself a moment.

  His touch ignites something inside me that I never thought possible. Desire? Could it be? It’s all new. I have never allowed myself to feel anything. My life has been a repayment—never before have I experienced excitement and, dare I say, sensuality.

  Pushing through, I continue my shift, completely distracted by him at every turn. When I make a call home to check on Marisa, Jamie laughs at me and my frustrations over Caldwell.

  “Girl, live your life, for the first time ever. It’s one night. Have your time and leave his ass in the morning before he gets up. I got Ris Priss. You haven’t ever had a chance to fuck around. Once, babe—just once fuck him and know that Monte definitely doesn’t have the scale tipped in his favor.”

  I get off the phone in shock. No way can I freely fuck around. Then my mind immediately goes back to the feeling of his mouth on me, and I tremble as I make my way back to the floor to finish my shift.

  As I clock out, my mind is on removing this outfit and getting into some sweats. Preoccupied, I am unaware of his approach, and I stumble as I try to get out of his path. When he extends an arm and holds me up by my biceps, I automatically tense at his touch.

  His eyes search mine, and shamelessly, I can’t hide my expression. I didn’t tense because I am afraid
of him. No, Caldwell’s touch has the ability to make my heart skip a beat, then break into a thundering rhythm that makes me feel like it could burst right out of my chest. His presence is undeniable, his pull magnetic. He consumes me without even trying.

  Without a word, his lips crash against mine, and the second his tongue invades my mouth, I start thinking of his mouth on other places. Then the noise around us dissipates, and the only thing I can think of is the sensation of his lips against mine as his tongue dances deliciously in every corner of my mouth.

  He nips, he sucks, and he laps as we somehow make our way to the elevator and then to his room. It all happens so fast I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to try. Clothes are flying as he electrifies me further with every touch. My shirt: gone. My skirt: gone. His shirt now lies on the floor, with buttons scattered everywhere. My nipples are so tight that, when the air hits them as he removes my bra, I feel like I could explode with desire. He backs me to the wall, and I moan.

  Needing contact, needing him, I wrap a leg around his and practically climb him as he encircles my head with one hand, messing my hair up, while his other scoops my ass and I wrap both legs around him.

  Ecstasy. He hasn’t even fucked me yet, and I am in pure ecstasy.

  His hand slides inside my panties. He reaches my center, and I throw my head back against the wall as his fingers slide in and out, my inner walls beginning to tighten around his digits. He inserts another finger, and I can’t stop myself as my body builds, working to a release. This should be considered criminal.

  I tense as my body keeps climbing higher and higher. Inhibitions go out the proverbial door as I grind down against him, seeking my release. He laughs lightly in my ear before he licks my neck, then sucks on the sweet spot behind my ear. Then his head drops to my breasts, where he takes my nipple in his mouth. He licks, he sucks, and I am gone, my orgasm washing over me.

  As I come down, he carries me to the bed, where he gently lays me down as if I am some prized possession. Before I can clear my mind, his mouth is on mine in a kiss that is full of passion, need, and desire, all untamed and unbridled.