by HJ Bellus
Love Sick
HJ Bellus
Belinda Wright
Brynne Hounsell
Diane Holtry
Kristy Shaffer
Lydia Harbaugh
Mayas Sanders
Michelle Cable
Natasha King
Tiffany Williams
Tiffany Woy
Contents
Prologue
1. Two years later
2. Memphis
3. Memphis
4. Raylan
5. Memphis
6. Raylan
7. Raylan
8. Raylan
9. Memphis
10. Raylan
11. Memphis
12. Raylan
13. Memphis
14. Memphis
15. Memphis
16. Raylan
17. Raylan
18. Memphis
19. Raylan
20. Memphis
21. Raylan
22. Memphis
23. Memphis
Epilogue
Lick Her Right Drink Recipe
Acknowledgments
Playlist
Dedication
This one is for the readers!
Prologue
Memphis Love
It’s no damn secret; I’m a dirty dog. The foundation of my childhood sculpted me along with the path Mom carved out for me. The woman put a roof over our head, filled my belly, and made sure I had everything I needed and more importantly, wanted. Our world centered around the two of us.
Like Momma like son, the nut doesn’t fall far from the tree, and whatever else the judgmental fucks in small towns have to say. The irony that I’m still in my hometown and have endured all the stares and hushed whispers that float up and down the main street is not lost on me. The most entertaining ones are the elite businessmen, political office holders, and the good old boys club. Their curious stares and quick aversion once we make eye contact are downright comedic.
See, my mom was a whore, plain and straightforward. God blessed her with the full package from beauty to being a downright genius. She didn’t waste an ounce of it. People are quick to judge her for relying on her sex appeal rather than brain power. The fact is her dedication is like no other and with a work ethic that would put most to shame. It wasn't until my freshman year of high school that I grasped why the men in the town made fools out of themselves to garner her attention and why the women would much rather run her down in a crosswalk in their fancy, overpriced SUVs.
I’m the living, breathing, walking, talking stigma of the town. My presence makes the men question if I’m their son. It pisses off their wives, reminding them of their husband’s infidelities. It ain’t easy being the poster child for a mom who did her job to perfection.
Even though she’s long fled this shit hole, the stigma is alive and kicking. The men are now protecting their daughters from the prodigy child. It’s quite amusing. I strip for cash and now will be adding fucking to that list. It’s my one-way ticket out of here.
Mom landed herself an oil tycoon straight from Texas and has been jet-setting ever since. Shit, the last year she’s been tropical island hopping with Lawrence. The both of them have offered over and over again to pad my pockets to the point of overflowing with money, and this town would never be another worry of mine. I’ve got my pride. It’s the one thing my mom instilled in me. She never let the disrespect get to her. I’d rather use my dick to make the extra cash.
A construction worker by day, professional dick enticing dancer at The Blue Iron Club by night. Both jobs pay damn good and are slowly building up that savings account. Adios, motherfuckers, once it’s padded enough to travel the world.
Day and night, I work side-by-side with loyal dickheads. It was always Rhett, Zane, and myself growing up and giving our teachers and local police hell. After graduation, we parted ways for a bit when I left for college. That grand adventure lasted a whole whopping handful of semesters and when I returned nothing has been the same. Life went on while I was gone and it’s been a bitch adjusting back.
Things are about to change big time. A CEO position landed right on my dick today thanks to Zane. He’s all sorts of pussy whipped now a days since he found his happily ever after. That’s the shit that stings like a bitch. Everyone is moving on and forward except me. And when it hurts, I brush it off and chalk it up to being a pussy.
None of that shit matters because Zane handed over the throne and now it’s time to rule the land of pussy and women with way too much money for their own good. Zane made damn bank off the after-hour clients back in the day. It’s the underground railroad of MILF and cougar fucking that pays the bills.
Rhett lasted a little less than a month working after-hour gigs. He has his sacks all tied up in knots over a woman. The woman he’s trying to hand his nuts over to, Darby, is more likely to chop off the family gems and feed them to him at room temperature. Rhett’s always been a risk taker. Aka crazy motherfucker.
It’s against policy at The Blue Iron Club, but then again we all have the same mindset. What happens after-hours, or in the alleys, stays there.
There are three things in life I’m an expert in. Money, sex, and women. They call me Dr. Love up on the stage and God in the sheets. It’s time for my good looks, rock hard cock, and overtime to start paying off. Failure is not an option.
The massive, intricate carved door swings open to the mansion. My palms are sweaty and my blood is pumping with excitement. Much better than a dirty alleyway or the backseat of my limo for the first time.
Zane and Rhett were shit when it came to filling me in on what to expect. Small talk? Strip for her? Talk dirty? I feel like an acne riddled, teen virgin right now.
“Dr. Love?” One perfect sculpted dark brow flares up.
I nod. “Sure am.”
“I’m Iris.” She reaches out her hand.
I notice her bright, cherry red fingernails.
I step into the foyer of her impressive home, realizing she hasn’t let go of my hand.
“You’re much, much bigger than Zane or Rhett.” She runs her fingernail down the length of my bicep.
It does creep me out for a split second that my best friends have been balls deep in this. Dollar signs. Money. Escaping this town. I repeat it over and over again to corral my nerves.
Iris taps her chin with a finger like she’s deep in thought. “I’m wondering if you’re bigger everywhere else.”
My body tenses as she trails her finger down my chest, going lower and lower until she’s cupping my dick. The combination of the excitement of the new and unexpected, Iris’s eagerness, and the thought of making one grand tonight makes me hard as a rock. My dick fights to punch through my jeans. Iris’s grip is hard and torturing me further.
Then she drops down to her knees. The sound of a zipper going down fills the foyer then her gel filled lips wrap around the head of my dick. I throw back my head, smile, and know that I’m the damn king of the world. Fucking and making the Benjamins…life is good.
One
Two years later
Memphis
Security is a bitch. The line is a mile long with slow as shit people. I swear old people fuck faster than some of these idiots move. You’d think some of these asshats have never flown before.
It’s a good thing I had Rhett drop me off at the airport, and it happened I was three hours early. He was begging to get out of the house. I’m sure Darby isn’t the easiest person to live with and same goes for Rhett. It’s a wonder they haven’t killed each other yet. I brought up the subject once and was schooled on their angry fuck sessions. I never broached the topic again.
My gaze lands on the sweet, little ass walking in front of me. It’s framed with short, short jean shorts with f
rayed ends cupping the globes of that edible ass. Long, lean, and tan legs accompany the perfect ass along with silky, bouncing blonde curls. When the object of my growing erection turns around, I’m struck dumb as shit.
I can’t remember the last time I tangled up in the sheets with a girl my age or younger. I’ve been the damn cougar tamer over the last two years. I can't complain much because I’m almost there. My savings account is bulging and healthy, which will gives me the opportunity to travel the world and never look back. I’ve failed a lot in my life, but I don’t want to get stranded across the globe penniless. So, I’ve made damn sure to have plenty of money courtesy of my dick, active sex drive, and a few pills here and there. Those old women have vigorous sexual appetites.
Most of them have had plastic surgery on their pussies, fooling my joystick into thinking I’m pounding a virgin. It makes my job simple, like taking candy from a baby.
“Hey.” I bend over and pick up the twenty-dollar bill the blonde bombshell dropped. “Excuse me.”
She must have been digging through her purse because more shit tumbles to the floor. In slow motion, she bends over, not bending at the knees, to pick up a tube of lipstick and her cell phone. I’m struck dumb, staring and fighting to keep my chin off the airport tile floor and not cumming right on the spot. My hands would look like a masterpiece spreading her ass cheeks apart then sinking into her dripping wet pussy. Oh, yes, she’d be wet as hell for me. It’s my profession, and I’m the boss and specialist in the area of making girls drip with want and need. They don’t call me Dr. Love for nothing.
I shake my head, chuckling to myself at the stage name that’s now my brand and brings the bread and butter to the table. I scrub my face trying to wipe away the ridiculous thoughts of fucking a random stranger in the airport. I need to get this gig out of the way and set out on my world travels.
She lets out a rush of air, pops up, and then whirls around to face me. She’s a Goddamn real-life Barbie, fake titties and all. The kind that are fun to play with and become your favorite toys. All efforts of changing my thought process fly out the window.
“Thank you.” She clutches her chest.
“Welcome, darlin’.” The words come out husky.
I watch her melt into a puddle of sex right in front of me, so I add an eyebrow raise Dr. Love style. I could sweep her off to the nearest family bathroom and be balls deep in a matter of seconds. The fact is I’m on a business trip. The reality of my life is it’s always about business even though most would think this is all fun and games.
“Thank you again.” She steps in closer to me, her powerful floral scent threatening to knock me out.
“No problem.” I stride right past her, missing the sight of her perfectly sculpted body.
I’m not a pig and I treat women with respect, but also enjoy all of them from head to toe. I never waste a chance to praise the beauty God created, but it’s all business.
Iris was my first after-hour client and has become my VIP client. The woman likes her dick and me. Sometimes I get worried she has created a vision that there’s something more between us. I brush that shit off and move on. This will be the third cruise she’s taken me on.
The first one was right after our first night together and the second one last year. The two-week vacations were jam packed with sunshine, Iris’s friends, and my overused dick. Just the way she likes it. One day the old bitches are going to break my cock. She’s bringing her friends along to be entertained, but makes it clear to them that she’s the boss. Nobody oversteps the law Iris lays down. Shit don’t get to me. It’s static in the background because money is money.
I’m relieved Iris sent me a few days early to spend some time in Puerto Rico at the hotel near where the ship will take off. It’s little bonuses like this that keep me wrapped around her little finger.
I find a seat and plop down in it then plug in my phone after digging through my black Hurley backpack. I sink back in the chair, spreading my legs wide, kicking out my black Chucks and adjusting my snapback backward on my head. Looking around, I’m the least tourist looking person at the terminal. No floral print, fedora, or flip-flops here. My typical laid back Sunday at the house.
“Boarding flight five twenty-four, nonstop to San Juan, Puerto Rico. First class passengers may begin the boarding process.”
First class is another bonus courtesy of my dick and fine tuned sex skills. She treats me like a king. There’s a Jack and Coke on my tray table before the entire flight has the chance to board. I down it in one long swallow, feeling the effects of the Jack making all of my apprehension disappear. My stress eases along with the internal war over ethics.
The free drinks keep coming once the big bird is up in the air.
Two
Memphis
The air, sand, and vibe are all electric in Puerto Rico. The resort hotel is everything you see in brochures. Of course, Iris would set me up in the best of the best. She loves pampering her playboy. I’m no fool, she needs me well rested for her greedy pussy.
It’s funny how shit all works out. You’d think the fact women use me for my body would affect me in the beginning, eventually dulling out to not feeling anything, but the opposite happened. It was exciting and fun in the beginning, rolling in the easy cash and is now starting to feel more and more like a job.
My long legs slide into my favorite worn pair of blue jeans and decide a steak and a Jack and Coke will be perfect to settle the mood. The hotel bar and restaurant are humming with festive music, and all sorts of patrons excited to be on vacation makes me feel like a fraud. Loved ones sit together at tables and families are laughing and making memories.
I tamp all that shit down and take a seat in the corner. A server more than eager to serve me has a chilled, frothy beer in front of me and my steak order already placed. I relax back in the chair, spreading my legs wide, observing my surroundings. Of course, I find myself scoping out all the gorgeous women in my age range. The damn idea of taking one back to my bed has my mind going the wrong way down a one-way street.
The picking is ripe and my dick is stirring with the mere thought. I slam my fist down on the tabletop frustrated that all I’m hyper focused on are chicks my age. I ain’t talking ring, marriage, and all that happily ever after shit, but fun in the sheets. A bit of dating. Someone to enjoy life with.
“Shit.” I hear the voice squeal out before the cold liquid tumbles over my shoulder and right down my half buttoned white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to my elbow.
I don’t have the chance to respond before a woman falls in my lap, giggling and mumbling out her apologies.
“The fuck.” The two words slip out as I take in the scene.
“Raylan!” A chorus of voices come my way.
One of the girls steps up. “I’m so sorry, sir. She’s clumsy as hell.”
“I am not!” the girl in my lap who I’m presuming is Raylan spits back to her friends.
My gaze goes between the women as they bicker over the fall of all falls. Raylan claiming it was the damn wedge sandals her friend forced her to pay for and her friend claiming it was her clumsiness.
“Really, Raylan, the bike incident that was heard around the world when you were eight?”
“Jesus.” Raylan slaps her palms over her face, not trying to move from my lap. “Fine, maybe I’m a wee-bit, slightly-ish clumsy. Shut up, Brenna.”
What the hell is going on? I peer back down to the woman in my arms. Holy mother of titty land. Her right tit is completely exposed from the top of her black sundress. I lick my bottom lip without thinking about it. My dick is resembling the Eiffel Tower in my jeans. It's fucking pain like I’ve never felt before. My balls are ready to explode at any minute.
“Your tit,” the other friend blurts out. “Not even a headlight warning, but full blown girl out of the sack alert.”
Raylan peeks out from her hands confused until she tilts her head down. The poor girl goes crimson red. I’ve never seen someone mov
e so damn fast. She flies into a tuck, roll, and dash action. She’s out of my lap and out of sight with her two friends trailing behind, roaring in laughter.
The smell of her drink is lingering long after. It’s something sweet with coconut, pineapple, and rum. The feel of her still in my lap is haunting me. Then the damn sight of her did something to me and more with her carefree attitude. At first, I thought the girl was trashed and trying way too hard to get down my pants. I was wrong.
She’s innocent, clumsy, and as genuine as they come. The vision of her cappuccino hair highlighted with caramel pieces fanned out in my lap cascading over her shoulder will forever be burned into my memory. Her mysterious jade colored eyes sucked me in without a second thought. Screw it, this island is turning me into a damn pussy. Because there was an undeniable vibe radiating from Raylan that I can’t shake off.
The steak and Jack don’t go down easy with the former events. After finishing it, I head back up to my room, knowing I’ve had enough excitement for one night. The sweet smell of Raylan’s drink is an evil reminder of her perfect body that fell into my lap. I scrub my face. Jesus, she fell right into my lap. First time for everything.
The hotel room is stunning to anyone else, but to me, it’s empty and barren. Raylan fucked with my head tonight. For a few minutes, she reminded me of my old self. The one who used to live and had a life. Not the shell of a man working his ass off to get out of a one-horse town.
“Last job. Ten thousand dollars to pad my account. You’ve got this, Memphis. You’ll be a world traveler soon,” I say to the empty room.
Everything I touch is sticky. On instinct, I wipe my hands down the front of my shirt, making the situation worse. That smell of that damn drink is driving me insane. It takes me a good five minutes to figure out how to turn on the damn shower. I’m a simple man who just requires one shower head.