by K. B. Webb
Ryan must notice because he lets out and uncomfortable laugh and shifts his weight back on his heels. “They’re in the cabinet by the fridge.”
“Got it.” I open the cabinet and grab a bag of Cheetos to go along with my beer. Dinner of champions.
“Hey Jasmine,” my head pops up at the mention of my name. “I just finished working out so I’m gonna go jump in the shower then I’ll be right out.”
Ryan Davis is the shower. Damn, that is something I’d like to see. We could get sinfully dirty together and then wash each other clean.
Right before he rounds the corner to his hallway I hear him call my name again.
“Yea?” I answer and take a step out of the kitchen so I can see him.
“Try not to think too much about me naked while I’m gone.” With that, he walks down the hall to his room shutting the door.
Oh, Ryan Davis, you have no idea the game you’ve just stepped into. I am the queen of sexual tension. Let’s hope, for his sake, that he has a large porn collection and KY supply, because after I’m done giving him the blue balls of his life, he’s going to need both.
My mom used to tell me that I liked to play with fire. I’m pretty sure she was referring to the time I accidently set our couch on fire by lighting tissue paper, but I think that her words apply to this situation too. Having Jasmine Slade and her smart, sexy mouth in my apartment is playing with fire.
After I was caught with my hand in the proverbial cookie jar this morning by her brother, my new boss, I rushed home hoping that Jason would just drop the fact that he found out I fucked his sister last night. I was wrong. I am a grown ass 26 year old man, but when Jason called me I felt like a little fucking boy.
I didn’t argue with him or really say anything besides repeatedly apologizing. He told me that if he ever caught me even looking at his sister like I might want to sleep with her, he would fire me on the spot.
Now, after everything Jason told me I am standing in my shower with a hard on thinking about the tan skinned girl in my kitchen who, just last night, was riding me like I was a prize winning bull.
After calming my dick and getting dressed I meet Jasmine back in the living room. She has a beer in her hand and is staring at the only two pictures hung up in my house. One is of my parents and my brother Colt from the day he graduated high school. The other is of Colt, me, and Molly Scott.
Molly is my best friend, my sister, my Birdie. She was engaged to my brother and pregnant with his child until one nightmare of a day that took not only my niece or nephew from me, but by my baby brother too.
“He looks like you.” I don’t say anything but I smile slightly. Colt and I favored in lots of ways. Same tan skin from spending too much time outside. Same brown eyes and hair. I was a little taller and had more muscle where Colt was leaner, but it was obvious we were brothers. Colt has been dead for years but my mother still has moments where she can’t even look at me because I look so much like him. After Colt’s death, I joined the ARMY to get away from everything and everyone. With one son dead and another refusing to return emails or letters, my parents packed up everything, sold the house I grew up in and moved to Texas to be near my dad’s family. I don’t visit or call as often as I should, but it’s hard to feel like I am constantly living in the shadow of my dead brother. That makes me sound like I am jealous of someone who never even really got the chance to live, but it’s the truth. I struggle on a daily basis with the fucked up feelings inside me caused not just Colt’s death, but the horrors I witnessed during my time in the ARMY.
“I met Colt once.” Jasmine pulls her eyes away from the pictures and looks at me, taking my mind away from the dark and twisted place it was venturing to. “That doesn’t surprise me. Everyone knew Colt. He was one of those guys that was easy to love, but could also me a total shit head.”
She smiles softly at me, “I was only 16 and was a crying drunk mess outside Raylee Collins house. I think I was crying over some guy who I had only gone on like two dates with. He saw me and sat down next me and gave me a beer. He didn’t say anything for about twenty minutes while I cried, but when I finally stopped he said ‘cheer up buttercup’ and patted my knee before heading back in to the party. Every time he saw me after that he would call me buttercup. I don’t think he ever even knew my real name.”
I laugh softly and shift by weight from foot to foot. That sounds just like Colt. I miss him so damn bad.
“He was in a wreck, right?” I can tell from the expression on my face that she thinks she’s crossed a line. I could talk about Colt all day long but talking about his death still makes me stomach churn and my fists clench.
“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry Ryan. I shouldn’t have asked that. I have a really bad habit of words bypassing the filter in my brain before they pour out of my mouth.”
Jasmine seems embarrassed and slightly shy and in some odd way, it’s so fucking sexy. She always seems to have a shield of confidence around her, but right now, it’s gone.
I can tell that she wants to run from my apartment by the way she keeps eyeing my door and picking at the label on her beer bottle.
“It’s OK Jasmine. But yea, he was in a wreck. A wreck that was caused by the fact that he was drunk as fuck. He was almost double the legal limit.”
“My parents are dead.” She shows no emotion when the words leave her mouth. I know what she’s doing because I do it too. When you lose someone close to you, you put up a non-emotional front when you talk about them.
“It sucks.” I say the only thing I can think to say, because, well, it does suck.
Jasmine laughs and walks towards my couch before taking a seat, folding her legs under her ass. “Ya know, you’re probably the first person I have ever told that to who didn’t say I’m sorry. I don’t think that people who say that really get it, because if they did, they wouldn’t apologize. They would say what you just did, that it sucks.” She quits peeling the label off her beer and looks at me when I take a seat down next to her. “You want a beer?”
I shake my head. “Naw, I’m good. I’m on duty tonight.”
“Duty? Are you a cop and I didn’t know about it?”
“Nope, but I do try my best to save lives.”
“Well, now you must elaborate.”
“Well, occasionally on Saturday nights I have whoever is bartending Ricky’s call me when some drunk dumb ass tries to drive themselves home. They say they’re calling them a cab, but they actually call me.” Ricky’s Bar is kind of a hole in the wall in our small town. There are plenty of fancy clubs where college kids go to dance their asses off, but Ricky’s is where everyone goes to just lay back and have a beer. My oldest and closets friends, Molly and Wynee, work there, along with Jasmine’s best friend, Dani.
“And you what? Give drunk guys a ride home?”
I smile slightly at her, “I do a little more than that, but that’s the basic version of it.”
We talk for a few hours and I end up cooking a frozen pizza. Jasmine is laid back and has a really foul mouth, but I like it. She laughs at my jokes and isn’t afraid to eat pizza with her hands then wipe them on her jeans. There is something endearing about a girl who is so comfortable with herself. Jasmine doesn’t try to say or do anything to impress me, she’s just being her, and that impresses me.
Around 12:30 my phone rings and Jasmine jumps for it.
“Ryan Davis’ phone!” She looks a little too excited and mouths ‘it’s Ricky’s’ at me.
“Got it! We’ll be there soon!”
She stands from my couch, sliding her shoes on and grabbing her phone.
“Well come on Superman, we got lives to save!”
“We? Wait, you’re coming with me?”
“Well yea! I have to see you in action!”
“You’re going to waste the rest of your Saturday night by riding with me to give a drunk guy a ride home?”
She raises an eyebrow at me and crosses her arms over her chest. It makes her tits rise slightly i
n her shirt. Damn. I really wish I could fuck her again.
“No, I’m not wasting my Saturday night. I think this is a perfectly good way to spend my night. Now come on damn it. I was not blessed with patience.”
“That bossy mouth of yours in going to get you in trouble one day. You know that right?”
“I make trouble fun. Just shut up and come on.”
I grab my phone, keys, and wallet and follow her out the door.
When we make it to my truck, I open the door for her and hold my hand out to help her in. My truck sits high and most chicks can’t seem to get in without help. She gives me a sideways glance and bypasses my hand, using her upper body strength to pull herself inside. I laugh at the proud look she has on her face, shutting the door and walking around the driver’s side.
“I have to admit, that was fucking sexy. I also don’t think that this truck has ever had such a fine ass on its seats.” Playing with fire, that’s exactly what I’m doing right now.
“Oh I don’t believe that. You sit in here every day.” She can definitely give me a run for my money in the flirting department. This should be fun.
“Well I got a very good look at your ass last night when I had you bent over. You remember that right Jasmine? I think you said it was the best sex of your life.”
She turns so that her body is facing me. “I remember that. I also remember the way your eyes rolled in the back of your head when I sucked your dick.” I feel myself getting hard just thinking about her wet, warm mouth.
She inches closer to me, leaning over the center console so that I have a direct view down her shirt. Oh fuck me, she’s definitely not wearing a bra.
“I also remember the way you said my name when I rode your dick.” This girl is going to kill me and if she doesn’t kill me, her brother will.
I chew on my lip and continue driving, trying to keep my eyes on the road, but that’s almost impossible when Jasmine’s tits are just inches away from me.
“You want to fuck me again Ryan? You want to hear me scream your name again?”
“Jasmine. Don’t. This is not fair.”
“Just answer the fucking question.”
“Yes and yes, but you already knew that.”
She smiles, satisfied with herself. “I did. Too bad you can’t fuck me though. God knows I want you to. Anyway, you wanna go get pancakes after we take the drunky home?”
“Pancakes? What the fuck? You were just talking about sucking my dick and now we’re talking about pancakes? Do you know how hard my dick is right now?!” I sound angry at her, and in a way I am. You can’t push a guy like that with no intentions of following through.
“Oh I know it is. That’s payback for the shower comment earlier. If you want to play a game of who can get who more sexually frustrated, then I’m all in. But I promise you, I will win.”
“You play dirty.”
She winks and smiles at me, “You have no idea how dirty I can be.”
I pull into the parking lot of Ricky’s Bar and throw my truck in park before unhooking my seatbelt and turning towards her. I quickly lift the center console and slide myself right next to Jasmine, unhooking her seatbelt. In one swift movement, I pull her on top of my lap and grab the back of her hair bringing her mouth just inches away from mine.
“You want me to fuck you Jasmine? You want me to fuck you right here in my truck while you scream my name?”
She arches her body so that her tits press into my chest and she grinds against my dick. “I want you to fuck me so bad Ryan. So bad.” Her voice is laced with need and I almost do what she wants. I almost fuck her right there and say to hell with my job, but then I remember why I did this. Why I put us in this position.
I place my lips directly besides her ear, licking the spot on her neck right behind it before whispering to her, “I can play dirty too.”
She doesn’t get a chance to respond, I shift her off my lap and slide back to the driver side stepping out of the truck. As I shut the door I hear her call me a mother fucker.
And that, Jasmine Slade, is how you play dirty.
I walk into Ricky’s with a smile on my face. If I’m going to play with fire, I am definitely going to have fun doing it. I just have to make sure that Jason doesn’t find out.
“Hey Ry!” Molly Scott walks towards me, throwing her arms around my neck when she reaches me. I instinctively hug her back, wrapping my arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground.
“Hey Birdie, any clue who I’m here to get?”
She laughs and starts walking towards the bar, motioning for me to follow her.
“Well, let’s just say you aren’t going to like this one at all.”
Before I can ask her what she means by that, we stop walking, right in front of Charlie Landers.
Charlie and I went to high school together. He always thought we were in some kind of unspoken competition, but what he could never get is that I don’t compete with anyone. He was always trying to one up me in every sport we played and with every girl I messed around with. He never succeeded, except for once. Our senior year of high school he fucked my ex-girlfriend, Holly, the day after we broke up. I really didn’t care. We didn’t break up because we hated each other or anything like that, we just realized we were better off as friends. So, like I said, I didn’t give a shit when he slept with her. What I did give a shit about though was him telling our entire high school that Holly was a whore and gave it up on the first date. True or not, he didn’t have the right to talk shit about her, and when I punched him right in his shit talking mouth he took it as me being pist because he stole Holly from me. He didn’t steal shit, but I never argued about it. He never talked about her again, so I had gotten my point across.
Now, 8 years later, Charlie was the assistant coach of our old high school’s football team and currently shit faced.
“Well, well, well, look who we’ve got here. Long time no see Davis.”
“Get your shit Charlie, it’s time to go.” I have no patience for his bullshit tonight. I am trying to do something good and I will be damned if all that effort is lost on a dick head like him.
“Wait, the bartender said she was calling me a cab. Do you drive a cab now Davis?” He laughs loudly and chugs the last of his beer before standing, trying to stretch his 5’11 frame to be the same height as my 6’3 one. It didn’t work in high school, and it doesn’t work now.
“No, I don’t drive a cab, but I’m your ride. Come on.”
I turn and start walking to the door, not even checking behind me to make sure Charlie is following. At this point I really don’t give a shit. I know Jasmine wanted to see my ‘Superman act’, as she called it, but I’m not wasting that on this guy. No, no super hero bullshit tonight. He’s going straight home.
I jump in the truck and see Charlie start to get in the front seat until he sees Jasmine sitting there. My fuse is already short, so if he dares to say anything to her, I will probably lose it.
“Who’s your friend here Davis? She looks too pretty to be hanging out with you.”
“Oh I am way too pretty for him, but hanging out with him counts as community service.” Jasmine shrugs her shoulders and I feel a smile play on my lips. Smart ass.
“What’s your name sugar?” Charlie is so drunk that I can smell the whiskey on his breath every time he opens his mouth.
“Well it’s not sugar, it’s Jasmine. And what’s yours? Or should I just call you drunky?”
Charlie laughs one of those obnoxious drunk laughs and it makes me want to stop driving and throw him out. This really wasn’t a good idea.
“Name’s Charlie.”
Since Jasmine has no clue about my past with Charlie, she turns around and smiles at him, extending her hand. “Nice to meet you Charlie. I think I’ll still call you drunky though. It fits.”
“You are seriously gorgeous sugar.” Jasmine smiles sweetly at him, but I know she is annoyed about the pet name. Jasmine Slade doesn’t seem like the type of he
r girl who does pet names.
“Say, what are you mixed with?”
Shit. I know Charlie is drunk as fuck right now, and I know this is the south where, unfortunately, racism is still alive and well, but never is it ever OK to ask someone what they’re ‘mixed with’. I also know that Charlie isn’t asking her in the stereotypical racist redneck way. He’s just a dumb ass who is even dumber when he drinks too much.
I begin to say something to him, but Jasmine beats me to it. She is quickly unbuckled and turned all the way around her in her seat, facing Charlie.
“What did you just ask me?”
“I asked what you were mixed with, cause, ya know, ya look mixed.”
Jasmine takes a deep breath in and I can tell she’s trying to gain some composure before she responds.
“Well, I’m not mixed because I’m not a fucking cake. If what you were trying to ask is if I’m biracial, then yes. I am biracial.”
“Oh you know what I meant. Mixed, biracial, same thing.” In that moment, I decide to not take Charlie home. As drunk and dumb as he is right now, maybe taking to him to somewhere that is sacred to me will actually get to him. Or maybe not, but I know I at least have to try. Not for me, not for him, but for my baby brother, for Colt.
I reach our destination and put the trunk in park just as Jasmine starts laying in to him.
“Well, to me, they aren’t the same thing. I’m biracial, as in my mother was Caucasian and my father was African-American. I get your drunk right now so I’m not going to get pist at you, but it’s pretty fucking disrespectful to ask a stranger what they’re mixed with.”
Charlie doesn’t seem to get it, because he keeps talking. “Well, that’s what I thought. That your momma was white and your daddy was black. I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”