Cash

by Hildreth, Scott

  My mind went blank of all thoughts, leaving only the kiss – and that moment as he held me against his chest – to focus on. At the instant that our lips parted, my knees went weak. In response, his hands slid to my lower back, preventing me from falling at his feet.

  I opened my eyes.

  He opened his.

  That kiss erased all kisses of my past. With one simple kiss, Cash owned me.

  It was only fitting, considering what happened that night in the kitchen. I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth and swallowed the taste of him. Lightheaded, yet eager to speak, I peered into his fierce blue eyes and smiled.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “I wanna fuck.”

  EIGHTEEN - Cash

  I didn’t want to do anything that would cause her to compare me to her ex-husband, nor did I want to be the man of my past. I hoped whatever happened between Kimberly and I would be different.

  I reached for the buckle of my belt and looked around the room. My mind’s slate was wiped clean of the sexual experiences of my past. With a stomach full of butterflies and a mind filled with hope, I unbuckled my belt.

  I was one mistake away from doing what I’d done for a lifetime. Sabotaging what little I’d developed between us would be easy. Preserving it would require a mindset that was unfamiliar to me.

  But I was willing to give it an honest try.

  Hoping to appear anything but overanxious, I watched with eager eyes as she lifted her dress over her head.

  I pushed my jeans down my thighs and then kicked them aside.

  She unclasped her bra and dropped it at her feet.

  I took off my shirt.

  She reached for her panties.

  I slipped my thumbs beneath the waistband of my boxers.

  We freed ourselves of our last garment as if synchronized. Standing on either side of the bed, naked, we gazed at each other with admiring eyes.

  To learn to ride a motorcycle, a person must risk falling over.

  I embraced that thought, swallowed hard, and lowered myself onto the bed. Hoping I didn’t do anything stupid between the beginning and the end of whatever we were going to share, I rolled onto my side and watched as she climbed onto the opposite side.

  I stared at her with unfocused eyes and inhaled her sweet scent. At that instant, I was no longer in her bedroom. I was in my childhood room, filled with nervous hope that the girl who was willing to give me a moment of her time liked me as much as I liked her.

  I reached for her, hoping this time would be different.

  I needed it to be.

  NINETEEN - Kimberly

  Each of my six senses were dancing excitedly.

  I expected if the time came that we decided to engage in sex, that I’d be enamored by Cash’s muscles, chiseled physique, and interesting tattoos.

  I was dead wrong.

  Despite his breathtaking body, and the presence of muscles I had no idea he possessed, none of those things seemed to matter.

  My eyes were feasting on his angular jaw, steel-blue eyes, and what little scruff had grown along the edge of his cheeks.

  With faultless timing, his hips worked back and forth, filling me completely with each full stroke of his perfectly-sized dick.

  His girth stretched me so wide I feared I’d be torn in two, but it wasn’t so painful I wanted him to stop. His length was such that each stroke reminded me of my physical limitations, but I didn’t wish he had any less dick to give me.

  My sense of touch was slightly overwhelmed, but satisfied completely, nonetheless.

  The absence of sexual banter left the sound of our breathing, the sex, and my noisy bed frame to fulfill my sense of hearing.

  My nostrils flared as I inhaled the sweet aroma of our sex. Combined with his unique musky scent and the smell of my own perfume, the unique mixture drove me wild with passion.

  Although I could still taste him on my tongue, I wanted more. I gripped his shoulders in my hands and raised my face to his neck. Upon tasting the salt of his sweat against the tip of my tongue, I eagerly pressed my mouth against his shoulder and cinched his flesh between my teeth.

  In a sensual coma of sorts, I was incapable of doing anything but attempt to satisfy him with each gyration of my hips. In unison with his movements, I ground myself against him, hoping I could somehow give the same level of satisfaction he was providing me.

  “You’ve got to stop that.” He twisted his neck to the side, pulling away from me. “You’re driving me nuts.”

  “We’re even,” I breathed.

  “Second time I heard that tonight,” he said.

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind.”

  He pushed himself into me fully, paused, and then gazed into my eyes. “Does that feel good?”

  “I love it,” I cooed.

  “Your pussy is ridiculous.”

  The look on my face must have caused him to rethink his statement. Before I could ask for clarification, he gave one.

  “Good ridiculous, not bad ridiculous.” He withdrew his entire length and then shifted his eyes between my legs. “You’ve got a pretty little pussy, but it feels even better than it looks.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered. “I’m glad you like it.”

  Slowly, he slid his length inside me until the tip met the soft tissue of cervix. I drew a choppy breath and closed my eyes. “Jesus. That feels good.”

  He let out a sigh. “Tell me about it.”

  Lying flat on my back, I raised myself onto my elbows and peered toward the action. His chiseled torso was pressed tight to mine, preventing me from seeing anything but the eight-pack of abs that he’d undoubtedly spent a lifetime developing.

  “Can you raise up a little bit so I can watch?” I asked.

  He arched his back, lifting his torso in the process. As he raised his cute little ass in the air, I watched his shaft pull free, exposing one glistening inch after the other. When the tip slipped past my pussy lips, I unconsciously drew a shallow breath.

  “Do it,” I whispered.

  “What?”

  I looked at him, and then between my legs. “I want to watch you fuck me.”

  He grinned a sly grin. “Okay.”

  Slowly, and rhythmically, he began. I raised my hips and gazed between my legs. In and out, his entire length traveled, bringing me closer to climax with each stroke. Seeing his girth stretch me open was nothing short of a miracle, and I found it fascinating.

  Every woman wants to believe her pussy is tight. I knew mine was, because for the last five years, sticking one finger inside of it caused me to come repeatedly.

  Watching his thick dick disappear inside of me over and over was driving me insane.

  “Faster,” I breathed.

  He increased his pace slightly. With it, each stroke became fractionally more intense.

  I fixed my eyes between my legs. “Faster.”

  I watched his slippery shaft as he pulled his hips back, then held my breath with every forceful thrust. Each time his hips slapped against my inner thighs, the breath shot from my lungs.

  I glanced up. “Harder,” I begged.

  Washed with intensity, his face wore a slight – yet satisfactory – grin.

  “Okay,” he said.

  He pounded himself into me, slamming the soft skin of the tip of his dick into my cervix with each powerful thrust. Every stroke brought with it a savage grunt. Having seen all there was to see, and knowing I was on the cusp of bursting, I closed my eyes and relaxed onto my back.

  “Bite my titties,” I begged as I collapsed onto the bed. “Please.”

  Maintaining his pace, he fucked me like he was mad at me, which was exactly what I had hoped for. His mouth moved back and forth between each boob, sucking and nibbling until the combination of everything simply became too much for me to handle.

  My body tensed, my eyes opened, and my pussy clenched his dick like a vise.

  “I’m gonna--”

  He lifted his head. “That makes…two…
of us.”

  With his eyes locked on mine, and his hands caressing my breasts, he worked his hips back and forth methodically until my body began to tremble.

  A tingling ran through me. Overtaking my senses and leaving me brainless, it shot though me from head to toe. Incapable of doing anything but enjoying the fire that burned between my legs, I moaned. I shouted. I sank my fingers into the flesh of his muscular back.

  And, I came.

  Repeatedly.

  I felt his shaft swell. Two strokes later, he erupted inside of me.

  A period of time passed. A period I couldn’t identify. Still on my back, but now with his chest against mine and his head on my shoulder, I held him in my arms. Satisfied that he’d fucked me mindless, I simply held his body against mine, hoping the moment could last forever, but knowing it never would.

  Fearing that he’d stand and put on his clothes at any instant, I closed my eyes and hoped he’d give me at least a few minutes of enjoying our bodies being pressed against one another.

  “Have you got anything you need to do?” he asked, his tone soft and flat.

  “No,” I whispered.

  “I don’t want to seem like a weirdo,” he said. “But can we lay here for a while? Just like this?”

  I didn’t move. I didn’t squeeze him, kiss him, open my eyes, or do so much as draw a breath. I simply gave my response.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  I remained motionless, holding onto him – and to that moment – for an immeasurable amount of time. At one point, he hummed softly for a moment, reassuring me that he was awake, but he didn’t speak.

  Then, as my eyes grew so tired that they began to flutter, he twitched.

  Then, he fell asleep.

  TWENTY - Cash

  I’d spent all my days searching for anything to lead me believe that the life I lived was worthy of my existence. I went as many places as I possible and did as much as I could to justify my presence on earth. I was convinced the more I did, the more valuable I was.

  During the week I’d spent ‘living’ at Kimberly’s, I learned that an enjoyable life could be as easy as simply existing.

  With her head resting on my shoulder, and her knee laying on my thigh, Kimberly remained motionless. We’d spent the last several days doing nothing to speak of, but I enjoyed every second of the time we spent together.

  I’d always been one to rise early and go to bed late. Now? I couldn’t wait to go to bed. Getting up in the morning was torturous.

  “I don’t know what the fuck’s wrong with me, but I’m not interested in getting out of this bed,” I said. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the sex, but laying here with you is almost as enjoyable.”

  She nestled against me. “I agree, wholeheartedly.”

  “I think it’s because it’s so comfortable.”

  “It’s a bed in a box,” she said. “A ‘Green Tea’ mattress. I got it on Amazon. Your side’s new.”

  I wasn’t speaking about the bed, but her response caught my interest. “What do you mean, my side’s new?”

  “You’re the only one to sleep on that side of it.”

  I don’t know that I should have, but I felt proud to be that person. I tilted my head to the side and grinned. “No shit? Your ex never slept on this?”

  She lifted her head slightly. “Everything in this house is new, and it’s mine. I walked away from everything he and I shared. He was the breadwinner in our house, and he bought everything, so I left it with him. I didn’t want anything he’d so much as touched, anyway.”

  “I like it that I’m the only guy that’s slept here.”

  She grinned, and then gently rested the side of her face into perfect position against my shoulder. “Me, too.”

  I gazed up at the ceiling for a moment, and then cocked my head to the side. “Wait. You’ve been divorced for how long?”

  “Four years.”

  “How long have you had this bed?”

  “Four years.”

  I was sure of the answer, but felt the need to ask, nonetheless. “But, you’ve had sex with someone, right? Just not in this bed?”

  “I haven’t.”

  It wasn’t the first time I’d been wrong. In complete shock, I sat up, bringing her with me when I did.

  “You haven’t had sex since the divorce?” I asked.

  She seemed embarrassed. “No.”

  I gasped. “Holy shit.”

  “What?”

  I swallowed heavily. “Nothing. That’s pretty cool.”

  “Do I even want to know?” she asked.

  I immediately regretted asking and preferred not to respond. I gave a response that wasn’t too revealing but wasn’t a complete lie, either. “That’s not something I talk about.”

  “Fair enough,” she said.

  I never would have guessed it, but at that moment, I couldn’t see myself having sex with anyone but Kimberly. Our bodies seemed to fit together perfectly, whether we were having sex or not.

  “All that matters is from this day forward,” I said.

  She pressed her hands against my chest, forcing me to down onto the mattress. “I’ll only listen to you if you’re laying down.”

  I relaxed onto my back and waited. Like my mother’ cat finding the perfect spot on the couch, she wiggled around until her head was right back where it was. Then, she rested her knee against my thigh.

  I shifted my eyes to the digital clock on the night stand. It was ten am. I hadn’t been to the clubhouse in the past week for anything other than attending the weekly meeting. My time had been spent fucking, eating, showering, and sleeping.

  I doubted the fellas would understand, no matter how I tried to spin it. How Kimberly made me feel was proof enough that I was in the right place, doing the right thing.

  And, that was all that mattered.

  TWENTY-ONE - Kimberly

  “That was crazy how you jumped out of bed last night. Scared the shit out of me,” he said. “Is that a common thing?”

  I had no idea why the nightmares of going to the morgue and identifying my parents returned. It was something that happened repeatedly when I first lost them. After a few years it stopped. Since I started seeing Cash, I had two of the nightmares.

  All I could think of was that I subconsciously feared losing him, and that fear brought back the horrible dreams.

  “Must have been a weird dream. I don’t even remember it,” I lied. “I don’t know what that was about.”

  “Crazy,” he said.

  “Yeah.” I shrugged. “Who knows.”

  It was time to change the subject. I opened the carton of eggs and stared at the white oblong spheres. “How do you want me to cook them today? All I’ve done is scramble them. Is there a better way?”

  “Better?” he asked.

  I’d eaten more scrambled eggs in the last eleven days than I’d eaten in a lifetime. I glanced over my shoulder and hoped he hated them as much as I did. “Is there a way you prefer to have them cooked? If you got to pick?”

  He lowered his coffee cup. “How do you like them?”

  I preferred over medium, but doubted he’d agree. I’d scrambled them since we began eating breakfast together, hoping he found them suitable. But I was sick of them.

  “Hard-boiled,” I lied. “How about you?”

  “Boiled is okay. If I was in a restaurant, I’d go for over medium.”

  “With toast to soak up the yolks?”

  “Fuck yes,” he said.

  “Let me see what I can do,” I said.

  I cooked the bacon, fried the eggs in the grease, and toasted four slices of bread. It wasn’t the healthiest of breakfasts, but it was what my father cooked for me nearly every morning, and it was what I’d grown up enjoying.

  I set a plate in front of Cash and watched for a reaction.

  He looked at the eggs and smiled. “Looks just like Rudford’s.”

  “Rudfords’s?”

  “Place right off the Eight-oh-five in North
Park. Been there since nineteen forty-something. Best breakfast this side of my mom’s place.”

  I tore the corner off a piece of the toast. “I’m sure I’m not up to par with Rudford’s or your mother’s, but hopefully this will be a good third place.”

  He carefully lifted one of the eggs, placed it on top of a slice toast, and cut the half the display into bite-sized pieces. After devouring the chunks, he lifted the remaining portion and ate it in two bites.

  He wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “Cook ‘em in the bacon grease?”

  “I did. Is that okay?”

  He chuckled. “My ma keeps bacon grease in a coffee can on the back of the stove.”

  “My father used to keep it,” I said, recalling the porcelain dish he kept it in. “But my mother would toss it out with the trash.”

  “If I tossed my ma’s grease, she’d whack my knuckles with a spatula.”

  “She sounds like a hard case.”

  He chuckled. “She is.”

  I nodded toward his plate. “So, you like them?”

  He tore the corner off the remaining piece of toast. “Love ‘em.”

  I watched out of the corner of my eye as he poked the piece of toast into the yolk and stirred it around. After eating the yolk-covered piece, he repeated the process.

  I smiled to myself.

  Because I was alone, there wasn’t much on most days to reminded me of my parents. Eating breakfast was one thing that did. It was a tradition that my father maintained throughout my childhood and continued whenever I’d pay them a visit.

  Since Cash and I began eating breakfast together, thoughts of my parents had returned. Instead of feeling sorrow for their loss, I’d been grateful for the memories that had surfaced.

  “My father taught me how to cook.” I looked up. “This was how he loved his eggs.”

  His face washed with confusion. “Is he…is he not around anymore?”

  It suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t told Cash about my parents. It wasn’t something I’d consciously kept from him. It seemed I assumed he knew.