Torch

by Roxie Noir

  “Say it like what?” I go on. “Which part isn’t true?”

  Under her shirt, I unhook her bra. She makes a sound in her throat and closes her hands around my belt, pulling me in closer.

  “This is a secret,” I say.

  I push her bra up and run the pads of my thumbs over her nipples. She flexes her jaw and turns her head to one side, like she’s trying hard not to make noise.

  I lean in, my mouth next to her ear.

  “And I am dirty, Lula-Mae,” I whisper.

  She slides one hand over my clothed erection slowly, from root to tip, and a shudder runs through me, a million tiny explosions on my skin, all at once.

  “Found something you want?” I say. I run my hands over her breasts, my rough callouses against her sensitive skin, and she gasps and arches her back, squeezing my cock again.

  “I think it found me,” she says, and squeezes it again.

  I swear my toes tingle, but she pulls on my belt again and my mouth is on hers, my hands up her shirt. I pinch her nipples hard this time and she moans into my mouth, the vibrations running the length of my body. I growl back at her, pushing my rock-hard cock against her.

  “We’re not gonna make it to my room, are we?” she asks.

  “Nope,” I say.

  She looks at me for a moment, then slides out of my embrace and grabs the front of my shirt, grinning. Mae pulls me into the deep shadow of the bucking chute.

  The walls are about six feet high and aluminum except for the gate that looks out onto the dark arena. I can just barely see over the top, but Mae pushes me against the aluminum wall with a bang, and I let her.

  “For all the noise you make I’d swear you wanted us to get caught,” I say.

  She’s furiously unbuttoning my shirt and she nips at my collarbone before she slides her hands along my sides. Her touch is almost electric, and for the moment, I let her be in control as she pulls me against her.

  Mae drags her lips along my chest, softly kissing the scar. Her hands undo my belt and unbutton my pants, and I think all the blood left in my body surges to my cock as she grabs it, shoving my pants down just enough to get it out.

  I groan.

  “Who’s loud now?” she asks, her lips in the hollow above my bellybutton. I’m rigid, because I think I know what’s coming and I can barely breathe with anticipation.

  Now she’s kneeling, her hand slowly stroking my cock right in front of her face. She’s looking up at me, her eyes absolutely devilish in the dark.

  “You looking for the go-ahead?” I say. I’m trying to tease her, but I’m desperate for her to put her mouth on me, as hard as I’ve ever been in my life.

  “I don’t need permission,” she says. “I can’t take a minute and appreciate?”

  I laugh, but it turns into a groan, and I press myself into the cold metal of the bucking chute, glad that there’s something behind me.

  “Appreciate all you like, Lula-Mae,” I said. “You get me so fucking hard that you can do whatever you want. I’d crawl through a meat grinder if I thought your lips might touch my cock.”

  Her hand strokes again, and she laughs.

  “Gross,” she says.

  “It’s true,” I say.

  “Jackson, shut up,” she says.

  Before I can respond her mouth is hot and wet on the head of my cock, and I hear myself groan. I reach up behind myself and grab the top of the chute wall, because I feel like I need something to hang onto right now.

  Mae pulls her head back slowly, sucking hard, and at the end she swirls her tongue around the head once before sliding her lips down again, this time just past the head, her tongue rigid against the underside. She pulls back again, sucking hard, her tongue swirling.

  With every stroke she goes a little further until I can feel the tip of my cock against the back of her mouth, tight and wet and warm.

  “Fucking hell, Lula-Mae,” I whisper.

  She keeps going, but she goes slow, driving me absolutely crazy. My toes are curling and there’s a tightness in my lower belly that feels like it might never let go, not if she keeps this up.

  I look down just as she takes me in her mouth again. She looks up at me as she pulls back, then keeps the head of my cock in her mouth an extra second, swirling her tongue around it. I swear to God she’s smiling at me, and it’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.

  “I’m gonna come if you don’t stop,” I say, but she engulfs me again, and I fight like hell to keep control until she pulls back and looks up at me.

  “And?” she asks.

  “And I’d rather come fucking you,” I say.

  Mae blushes and opens her mouth to say something, but I reach into my pocket and pull out the condom I grabbed from my room earlier.

  She laughs, but I think her eyes light up.

  “Do you just carry those everywhere with you?” she asks. Her hand’s still on my cock, and it’s a little hard to concentrate.

  “Just when I’m gonna be around a hot girl who’s too responsible to bareback,” I tease.

  She snatches it from my hand and tears it open, and then she’s rolling it down my cock with firm, hard strokes. I pull her up so she’s standing, her mostly clothed and me mostly undone. I can taste myself on her lips as she kisses me voraciously, and it’s sexy.

  Everything she does is sexy.

  I undo her jeans and slide my hand into the warmth between her legs. My fingers get slick with her juices instantly and she makes a noise into my mouth.

  “Did sucking my cock get you this wet?” I murmur. I draw a circle around her clit with two fingers, and I can feel all her muscles tense.

  Mae scrunches her nose a little when I say that, and I chuckle even though I’m breathing hard.

  I take my hand out and spin her around. I push her against the gate that leads to the arena, and she closes her hands around the bars. I reach between her legs again, my head on her shoulder, my body pressed hard against her back.

  “Sorry, Miss Guthrie,” I growl. “I meant to say, did performing fellatio on my erect penis cause you to be so aroused? I know you like those ten-cent words.”

  She turns her head toward me and shoots me a look, even though she’s breathing hard.

  “Shut up, Jackson,” she says, but she’s smiling.

  “I can’t talk dirty to you even if I say it fancy?” I ask.

  “Especially not then,” she says.

  I push her jeans down with my other hand and move those fingers along her slit, and she arches her back, pressing herself against me. It’s an obvious plea, and there’s nothing I want to do more than take her up on it and slide inside her perfect, tight channel.

  “That’s fine,” I say. “Seems like I thought all day about fucking you works just fine.”

  I slide my cock between her thighs, already slippery with her juices. Mae gasps as I rub the head against her clit.

  “I know you won’t say it, but I think you did too,” I say. “I think that’s why I can’t wink at you anymore, because the next time you might just tear your clothes off and come running.”

  She laughs, her voice throaty.

  “I’ve got more self-control than that,” she says, even as she presses herself against me, sliding my cock against her.

  “Do you?” I ask.

  “Not much more,” she says.

  I bend and kiss the nape of her neck, fine blond hairs sticking to my lips. Mae looks over her shoulder at me, her lips curving up into the wickedest smile.

  “Come on, Jackson,” she says. “Don’t tease me.”

  Suddenly, my dick feels like it might pop. I need to be inside her, a need stronger than anything I’ve ever felt. I slide the head of my cock until it’s against her opening and take a deep breath. I force myself to slide inside her slowly, since I’m still a little afraid of hurting her.

  But the moment the head of my cock is in her, Mae arches her back and pushes her hips toward me. In one motion, I’m buried up to the hilt.
<
br />   My vision goes white. She moans, and I’m left breathless.

  She pulls forward slowly and I can feel her pulsing around me, and there’s a moment when I’m afraid I’m just going to lose control completely, right here on the first thrust. Her pussy feels like a fist gripping my cock, except this is ten times better than the world’s best handjob.

  Mae pushes her hips back again and engulfs me. I’m standing still, just watching my cock disappear into her as she groans, because it’s so unbelievably hot that I don’t want to ruin it.

  “Maybe I should stand still and let you do the work,” I murmur.

  I’ve got both hands on her hips, just letting her fuck me. She buries me inside her again and I can feel her muscles twitch.

  “That feels good,” she whispers.

  Good isn’t the right word. It feels amazing, perfect, beyond good.

  I rock inside her, thrusting almost microscopically over and over again, and Mae groans.

  “You like that too?” I whisper.

  “Yes,” she says.

  I take a deep breath and pull out more before I rock back against her, over and over again. I want to fuck her slow so I can watch her writhe and moan for a long time. I want her in ecstasy for as long as possible, because when I watch her come it turns on a part of me I’ve never felt before.

  “This?” I ask.

  I thrust deeper, longer.

  Now Mae’s just moaning, her forehead against her upper arm. Her hips are moving in time with my thrusts like she’s hungry, desperate for as much of me as there is.

  I keep going. I try to take it slow, but God it’s hard. I’m fighting not to lose control as Mae moans and writhes in front of me. I swear I’m afraid that I’m going to wake up from a dream any second now, because this feels almost impossibly good.

  Suddenly she takes one hand off the gate and reaches backward, twisting her torso around. She puts her hand on my arm and then kisses it softly. I sink myself inside her as far as I can, watching her eyes fill up with pleasure.

  “Jackson,” she says, pushing back against me.

  She blinks, like she’s not quite sure what to say, and she bites her lip for a second. I bite her shoulder, because even now, totally inside her, I have the urge to mark her as mine.

  “Yes, Lula-Mae?” I growl. It feels like the world is dissolving.

  She pauses, then half-laughs. Like she’s embarrassed about what she’s about to say.

  “Harder,” she finally whispers, and blushes.

  My balls tense up. The knot inside me tightens, and I feel her squeeze around me.

  “You want me to fuck you harder?” I ask, my lips brushing against her ear.

  She swallows and nods, looking at the ground.

  “Lula-Mae, I am balls-deep inside you right now,” I whisper. “You’re moaning like there’s no tomorrow, and in a minute, you’re gonna be shouting down this whole building, if last night is any indication.”

  I bite her earlobe, and then thrust into her once, hard, and she groans.

  “You don’t have to be embarrassed if you want me to fuck you harder,” I say, and I curl my fingers into her hips and thrust again, driving hard and deep.

  “Oh!” Mae shouts.

  I keep going, each stroke fueling the fire inside me hotter and hotter.

  “Oh god, Jackson,” she whispers.

  I think her knees buckle, because the next thing I know, we’re unstable, leaning against the gate, and then moments later we’re both on our knees in the sand. I feel almost like an animal, like this is the purest, rawest expression of lust I’ve ever felt.

  Right now I don’t care if someone comes in and we get caught. I don’t think the National Guard could stop me from finishing, from making the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen lose her mind and come so hard she screams.

  She’s hanging onto the gate and I’m hanging onto the gate, and it’s banging back and forth on its latch.

  “Slow down,” she gasps.

  “Make up your mind, Lula-Mae,” I growl, but I do what she says. I’m squeezing one of her hips in one hand, and I feel like I’m holding on by a thread but I keep going. At the end of every stroke she pushes back against me and moans, louder and louder.

  “Jackson,” she gasps. “I’m gonna come.”

  “Say my name again,” I tell her. “I like the way you say it when I’m fucking you.”

  “Jackson,” she says, and this time her voice has a raw, desperate edge to it. “God, Jackson. I’m so close. This feels so good.”

  My cock twitches, and I know I’m not gonna last for much longer. Not if she talks like this, fucks me this enthusiastically.

  Mae whimpers, and now her muscles are tightening around me. She’s panting for breath.

  “Let me feel you come,” I say. “Lula-Mae, I need to feel you come.”

  “Oh god,” she says, and then her muscles clamp down around my cock. My vision gets blurry.

  “Jesus, Jackson,” she says, louder this time. “Jackson, goddamn!”

  Now she’s nearly shouting, but it’s just sounds. Her muscles are contracting around me and I get swept under, still desperately thrusting into Mae. I come so hard I think my ears pop but I can’t even tell because Mae’s biting her hand and shouting anyway, her eyes squeezed shut.

  I feel like I come forever, like she’s draining me. I’m still moving a little, long after I’ve finished and gone soft, my lips against her shoulder, my arm around her waist.

  We’re still on our knees. Mae leans her forehead against the metal gates and takes a long, ragged breath.

  “Lula-Mae Guthrie, you are gonna be the death of me,” I murmur.

  She exhales, her belly tightening under my arm.

  “We shouldn’t have done that,” she whispers.

  “Now you’re whispering?” I whisper back.

  “Better late than never?” she asks.

  17

  Mae

  Jackson kisses my shoulder again, through my shirt, and then pulls out. Even that sends a tiny shock through me, and I stay still for another moment, forehead against the cool metal.

  I think I’m shaking. I’m not sure I can stand. I know for a fact that I’ve got a half-ton of rodeo sand in my pants right now, since they’re around my ankles.

  I hear the snap as Jackson pulls the condom off, then zips his pants.

  “Be right back,” he says, his voice low, and then he walks out of the chute.

  I grab the next bar on the gate and stand slowly, half pulling myself. I take a deep breath, run my hands through my hair, and then shake the sand out of my jeans as well as I can, considering I’m still wearing them.

  When Jackson comes back in, I’m re-fastening my bra, and he watches as I reach through the neck of my shirt and re-arrange my boobs.

  “What?” I ask, but I’m laughing.

  “Nothing,” he says, tucking his shirt back in.

  After a second, we survey each other, and I nod at him.

  “Like you just took a walk,” I say.

  “You look like you’ve been taking pictures for three hours,” he says.

  “Good,” I say.

  This was unbelievably dumb, but I can’t think about that right now. I still feel like I’m floating away on clouds, like I just want to curl up next to Jackson and feel his body next to mine.

  Not in the cards.

  He steps closer to me and slides a hand down my back. I tilt my face up and then he’s kissing me again, slowly and gently. Almost thoughtfully, like he’s considering my lips carefully.

  When we finally pull apart he kisses my forehead.

  “Maybe tomorrow we ought to get a fleabag motel somewhere else,” he says. “You can wake up those neighbors all you want.”

  I laugh and feel myself blush.

  “Sorry,” I say.

  He just chuckles.

  “I don’t mind at all, Lula-Mae,” he says. “It’s the rest of creation who you’re waking up.”

  I have no
idea where this is coming from. I’ve had boyfriends. I’ve had casual hookups. I’ve had good sex before, but I’ve never been a screamer.

  Until now, I guess. Apparently Jackson’s dick turns off the part of my brain responsible for keeping the volume down.

  We stand there for a long moment in each other’s arms. I turn my head and look out the gate toward the sandy arena, and I think: tomorrow’s the last night.

  I go home the morning after, and Jackson goes... somewhere else, and that’s it. This is a casual sex relationship with a clear end-by date.

  “You get enough pictures?” he asks, his voice rumbling through his chest.

  “Yeah,” I say. “There’s only so many you can take of an empty place.”

  Then I look from him, to the dark arena, and back. The whole pavilion has a roof but the sides are open, and the moonlight is just starting to slice in from one side, cutting across the sand.

  “Wait,” I tell him. “Stay there.”

  I detach myself and walk to my camera, still mounted on the tripod. I set it by the entrance to the bucking chute. Jackson watches me with his hands in his pockets as I mess with the settings and switch from one lens to another.

  I take a test snap. It’s Jackson, just watching me, and the second I see it I know I can never, ever show it to anyone else.

  He’s not looking at a photographer. He’s looking at his lover, and it couldn’t be more obvious.

  Technically true, just not fit for print.

  “Did you always want to take pictures?” he asks.

  “No,” I say, still fiddling. “Not until college, actually.”

  “What did you want to do before that?”

  “I was gonna be a lawyer,” I say.

  “Why a lawyer?” he asks.

  He tilts his head and I take another shot, trying to get the balance right between the moonlit sand, the gate, and Jackson in the shadow.

  “Lawyers make a lot of money and people respect them,” I say. “It was that or a doctor, and I’m a little too squeamish to be a doctor.”

  “You’re covering a rodeo and you’re squeamish?”

  “Not that squeamish,” I say. I hit the shutter again. “But I don’t think I’d like reaching into peoples’ guts all day.”