Talking Dirty
Page 1
Table of Contents
Sometimes a “Hell No” isn’t enough
The Art of Sulking
What the Hell? Why the Hell?
Sometimes a Good Cuss-out is Needed
Bowlegged Threats Ain’t No Joke
It Sucks Admitting Your Twin Was Right
There Are Times When Talking Dirty Just Isn’t A Good Idea
About the Authors
Talking Dirty
Drea Riley and Nikki Winter
www.beautifultroublepublishing.com
Talking Dirty
Dréa Riley and Nikki Winter
Copyright © 2011 by Dréa Riley and Nikki Winter
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including but not limited to: printing, photocopying, faxing, recording, electronic transmission, or by any information storage or retrieval system without prior written permission from the authors or holders of the copyright.
This book is a work of fiction. References may be made to locations and historical events; however, names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and/or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), businesses, events or locales is either used fictitiously or coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.
Published by
Beautiful Trouble Publishing, LLC
PO Box 61
Colfax, NC 27235
www.beautifultroublepublishing.com
Cover Art: Shara Azod
Editor: Cindy Davis, http://www.fiction-doctor.com/
Proofreader: Novellette Whyte
http://authorgurunovellette.blogspot.com/
Formatter: Jim & Zetta, http://www.jimandzetta.com/
E-book Conversion: Jim & Zetta, http://www.jimandzetta.com/
ISBN: (ebook) 978-1-61788-142-8; (print) 978-1-61788-143-5
To Jayha Leigh, for issuing the “You can’t say that here” speech, then promptly turning it into a challenge. To 3J for the endearing and stomach-curling, insistent chanting of “MEAT CURTAINS,” please stop stealing my DNA. To the ladies and gents of BTP, “BRING IT.” And to the real “Jason Thigpen”—your name gives me so much pleasure. Thanks for being such a damn good sport and for agreeing to be my “big” little brother without me having to break any of your limbs.
And P.S. We didn’t have to do any enhancing of you to make Maxxon alpha. He is in your image. To my mini, I love you, Boo-boo. Always remember, you are the second coming of no one. You are well and truly a giant and an original. And to all the writers who use the “no no” terms. Please, just stop. Crotch Grab and I’m out! —Dréa
Well Jay, all I’m saying is, “I blame you and enjoy said blame.”
Ladies and Gentlemen of BTP, you heard Drea and she said, “BRING IT!” Jason I don’t know you, but dude, your name makes me giggle, so thanks for that. To THE Jeanie, (sigh) your catch phrases are the best. And to Bigger Me, I may not be a second coming but people still blame you and THE Jeanie for my existence, so I’d advise you to keep your DNA away from her and her evil genius. That’s all I have to say, folks. Now I shall very slowly moon-walk my way back to my corner to “Billy Jean.” Cue the Music D! —Nikki
Note about eBooks
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CAVEAT
This work of erotica contains adult language and sexually explicit scenes, which are smoking hot. This book is intended only for adults, as it is defined by the laws of the country in which the purchase is made. Keep this book out of the hands of under-aged readers.
Sometimes a “Hell No” isn’t enough
“TAKE THIS PUSSY DADDY—”
Lyza closed her eyes and counted to five, then read the line again. And again. It was somewhere around the tenth time she’d whispered the words, her heart rate increasing each time, that she was convinced the sentences hadn’t changed. The rage she felt building to a boil in her blood was unstoppable. She even took a moment to try and laugh it off. If I just laugh, I’ll calm down and I won’t commit any crimes. Lyza forced a laugh past her lips—it came out more like a strangled cry. She leaned forward until her forehead touched the cool glass of her desk and held her breath.
Was this seriously the opening line? Did the author truly believe this was acceptable? It wasn’t unheard of to open a book with a shock statement. It wasn’t unheard of to open a book with an amazing sex scene. BUT THIS…this was a work of pure ludicrous-ness. And it wasn’t just the opening line that had her eye twitching. It was the fact that Maxxon had to have seen it before dumping this manuscript on her desk. He had to have known there was no way she’d consent to read this submission.
It had to be a fucking joke, and thus, her killing him by stabbing him in the neck with the heel of her Jimmy Choos would be even more justified. Planting both hands firmly on the polished glass of her desk she rose with purpose. She stretched and tensed the muscles in her shoulders as she prepared herself. She started counting quickly down from a thousand, and got to nine hundred and ninety nine before muttering, “Fuck it, I’m going to kill him,” while snatching the manuscript off her desk and storming from her office.
Vapor trails followed her wake as she made her way down the hall past the cubicles of the many secretaries and file clerks, on her way to the elevator. As if it sensed her foul mood and knew it shouldn’t test her, the smooth doors opened before she could reach out and stab the buttons.
Lyza stepped inside and turned to see various employees standing, mouths agape and eyes wide as the doors closed on her scowling face.
***
“So, anyone want to discuss the submissions that have come in lately?” Maxxon spoke over his steeped fingers. He kept his eyes closed as he waited on the barrage of complaints that were sure to follow.
“I don’t want to discuss shit,” his little brother replied. “I just want you to say what you’ve got to say so I can get the fuck outta here before Lyza—” The rest of the reply was cut off as the door to the conference room was kicked open and then slammed shut.
Ten editors, as one, pushed away from the conference table and tried to plaster themselves to the wall.
Jebidiah finished his previous comment, “…gets here and tears you a new asshole.”
Jeb stood, gathered his folder, walked around the table and looked at Lyza’s twin, Arriana. “Before we all die I just want you to know how smoking hot I think you are. If we live through this, I am going to read you love poems and sonnets both before and after I make you scream my name.”
He winked at Arriana and then did the most amazing magic trick ever—flattened his body so tightly against the wall that he was able to squeeze out the door and past a raging Lyza before he ran down the hall zigging and zagging like a cartoon character, shouting, “Run…run for you lives!”
Maxxon smiled and reclined further back in his seat, then brought his legs up to cross them at the ankles and admire the tips of his polished shoes. “Ah Lyza, so glad you could join us. We were just about to—”
Lyza cut him off, her hazel eyes flashing before she closed them as if to stem the laser beam’s ray. “I’m gonna say this once and once only—if your name is not Maxxon Thigpen, get the fuck outta the room. Like now.” She stepped aside and everyone took off. No one doubted this moment had been long coming. They’d all watched their breath as Maxxon shamelessly poked, prodded and outright baited
the shyer of the two sisters. Everyone knew the old adage about still waters running deep. AND everyone had long been expecting Lyza to finally reach her boiling point.
Arriana looked at him and said “It was nice to know you” before she strolled out.
Lyza, in a low voice asked, “What the fuck in all fucking fucks is this shit that was on my desk?”
Maxxon arched an eyebrow as Lyza tossed the stack of crumpled papers that had been assigned to her department on the conference table and advanced on him. The big bastard had the nerve to sit there like he was completely unaffected by her anger. Just because he was unnaturally large—six feet seven inches of jackass—didn’t mean she couldn’t beat the living shit out of him. His gunmetal grey eyes danced with pure amusement as he stared at her and, if possible, it pissed her off even more.
“I’ve had it with you and your ridiculous bullshit. I’ve endured silky meat curtains, and sopping wet holes. I’ve calmly suffered slobbery vaginas and pulsating fuck sticks.”
She kicked off her shoes before continuing to stalk him. “I’ve even developed the ability to stomach velvet glides and octogenarian swingers clubs, BUT THIS IS IT!”
Maxxon did a mock shiver and grinned. “All those dirty words, Lyza. Is it getting hot in here?”
Did he actually have the nerve to hum the song under his breath? Oh yes, yes this motherfucker did. Maybe she’d have them play some Nelly at his funeral. Hot in here indeed.
She took off one of her earrings. “No, hotter than hell is gonna be when your ass lands there.”
***
He tsked. “Somebody didn’t get their fiber this morning. They have pills for that kinda thing, Lyza.”
She stopped and tilted her head to the side and stared at him. As a slow smirk made one side of her lush mouth tip up, his smile faded and he sat back. He knew that look. It was her “I’m about to do my best to piss you the hell off look.”
Maxxon knew he was right when she said, “That was really funny, Max.”
His temple started to throb before the searing pain spread to the bridge of his nose. He stood slowly. When he spoke, it was through clenched teeth. “How many times do I have to tell you my name is Maxxon, pronounced Ma-son?”
She shrugged. “Whatever you say, Max.”
Maxxon closed his eyes. “Ma-son.”
Her lips poked out as she blinked at him. “If it’s Ma-son then why is there a fucking x in it?” She shrugged. “Sorry but that sounds like Max to me.”
What the fuck? Wasn’t this supposed to be his chance to piss her off? Wasn’t that the whole point of this meeting? Why in the hell did he suddenly feel the need to end her? Summoning as much calm as he could, Maxxon answered, “Its Maxxon Thigpen, and you very well know that its spelled with TWO X’s We’ve been over this a million times. I’m so not letting you get under my skin.” He shrugged. “I know my name.”
She smiled sweetly, then snapped her fingers. “Right, it’s Max Pigpen.” Nodding, her whole frame seemed to relax as soon as his tensed. “That makes perfect sense.”
“What…did you just call me?”
The smile spread, and kept spreading. “I called you your name. Max Pigpen.”
He couldn’t explain what had him stalking her around the table or what had him growling, but within minutes he had Lyza pinned under him with her back on the table with him comfortably fitted between her thighs. Of course his cock decided that was the perfect time to spring up and say, “How do yah do?”
More surprising, Lyza simply raised one brow. “Well, that’s new.”
He stared down into her face. “Say my name, Lyza.”
“Max... Oh shit.”
The very slow grind he did against her stopped the words from leaving her mouth. “I said, say my name, Lyza.”
“I don’t have to...have to...”
Maxxon pinned her hands over her head and settled himself a little tighter between her thighs. The black skirt she’d been wearing had abandoned its efforts to stay over the curve of her ass and her thighs so he could clearly see the scrap of lace covering her from his view. Did his dick extend another two inches? Indeed it did.
He was supposed to be staying in control but she was rapidly making him forget that fact. If he didn’t get it together he’d have a full-on erection and she’d be pregnant before they could have their first kiss. After a deep breath, he centered himself against her crotch and leaned further into her. “Say it, Lyza.”
“I have no idea why I haven’t killed you yet.” She panted, her deep peanut butter skin was flushed, her hazel eyes wide as they stared up at him.
He grinned and leaned into her. “Because not only are you extremely wet right now, but we both know you want to scream my name.” His hips moved against her; the low moan that left her mouth made him shudder. “I bet you’ll remember it when I’m balls-deep, won’t you?”
“Fuck...”
“Exactly. What is it that you’re gonna scream when I take you over and over again?”
Right before she gave him the answer he craved, the doors to the conference room burst open. Maxxon cringed as his brother and Arriana simultaneously shouted, “Take this, pussy Daddy!”
The Art of Sulking
If the phone rang again she would rip it out of the damned wall. Lyza waited a few seconds, staring at the device, almost daring it to ring.
“One...two...three...” And just like that it rang and rang and rang some more. Of course it would’ve kept ringing if she hadn’t got up from the couch and snatched the damn thing so hard that the cord ripped out and took the phone jack with it. Satisfied with her handiwork, she dropped the now-useless piece of communication onto the floor and climbed back onto her sectional, knowing exactly what would happen next.
It wasn’t but a few seconds before her cell started buzzing all around on the coffee table. It didn’t matter how many times the damn thing rang, or how many texts or messages came in, she was not answering that phone.
Nope. It wasn’t happening. What she was going to do was sit on her couch and sulk, because that was a better plan than thinking about Maxxon, his ability to make her lose control, and his obviously healthy-sized dick. Lyza totally and completely ignored the way her thighs clenched at that. She told her body to shut the fuck up when it screamed about wanting some of what Maxxon had to offer—because she was so not going there. The bastard had embarrassed her, made her forget where she was, had pissed her off and... and...made her want to ride him until he whimpered for a pacifier and curled into the fetal position.
Lyza groaned her frustration. When that didn’t work she grabbed a pillow and slammed it over her face. Then she screamed it until she felt better.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” she asked out loud, and got no answer in return. You want Maxxon. That’s what’s wrong, her mind taunted. Closing her eyes, she lay back on the couch and said, “Shut the fuck up.”
Oh great, now she was talking to herself. Wasn’t that like the first sign of insanity? Maybe it was the second or third. She’d seriously started contemplating that when she heard the jingle of keys right before her front door opened and she was faced with...well, herself.
“Did you just open my door? And walk in like you pay bills here?” Lyza asked.
Arriana rolled her eyes and made herself quite comfortable in Lyza’s La-Z-Boy. “Yes, I did. I came to see why someone who has the audacity to share my chromosomes is holed up like a hermit.”
Sighing, Lyza looked at her twin. “When you say things like that, it makes me wanna slap the identical off you.”
Arriana snorted. “You won’t stop hiding from Maxxon like some punk ass. What the hell are you gonna do to me?”
“Would you like a demonstration?”
“I didn’t come over here to whoop your ass today, Lyza. I came to say that just because you have an ass, which by the way I think is getting bigger every single day, it doesn’t mean you have to act like one.”
“Firstly, you couldn’t whoop
my ass if I was in a coma. Second, you have a lot of nerve referring to how big my ass is when, as disgusting as the thought is, I could set a drink on yours and watch it not move—kinda like one of those mattress commercials. Third, I’m not acting like anything, I’m simply taking a few days of relaxation, thank you very much.”
Her sister shot her a droll look. “Do you not understand that as your twin I have a meter that rates bullshit, and right now it’s screaming louder than you would if you just gave in and called Maxxon.”
“I see. You want me to kill you.” Lyza nodded. “That can be arranged. I mean there are two of us, which means the world can live with just one and be satisfied.”
“Threaten to kill me all you want, which I’m telling Mama about, but it won’t change the fact that Maxxon’s a panty scorcher, and you’re chicken shit because you hate losing control around him.”
Why oh why did God curse her with this sister-person? This person that knew entirely too damned much about her. “That’s bullshit,” Lyza said. Yeah, that was a real nice snappy comeback. Not.
“No, what’s bullshit is you holding up my getting nieces and nephews. I’m starting to take offense to that, and we know what happens when I take offense.”