by Olivia Chase
“What’s your favorite exhibit in here?” she asks me.
“The primates,” I reply instantly.
Her lips quirk. “I should have known. All that raw, animalistic primal power.”
“Let me guess yours.” I press my other hand to my chin as we walk toward the giraffes. They’re grazing on the blossoming leaf buds of tall trees. “You absolutely love…the aquarium.”
She grins. “Nope. Try again.”
“No?” I tilt my head and study her dancing eyes. “What do I get if I guess right?”
“What do you want?” The words sound innocent enough, but the slight huskiness in her tone makes my skin vibrate with anticipation. Red is playing with me. Flirting with me. And damn if I don’t like it.
“I want to make you come,” I say baldly. “With my mouth.” I promised it to her the first time we met.
Her mouth forms a perfect O. She licks her lower lip. “Okay. But you only get one guess.”
“I’d better make it a good one, then, ” I muse aloud. We walk along the path at a leisurely pace, and I think about what her choice would be. I carefully watch her face while we pass exhibit after exhibit.
Each one we pass, Claire coos over the furry babies. The pieces start to come together, and I think I’m ready to guess.
I tug her over to the kangaroos and give her a broad smirk. “I’m guessing your favorite exhibit is…this.”
To her credit, she keeps her face even. “What made you choose this one, if I can ask?”
“Because baby kangaroos are about the cutest thing ever,” I reply with a genuine grin. “Am I right?”
She giggles and claps. “Yes. You are. Well done!” Her sigh of happiness does something to my heart, makes it give a painful squeeze. She looks over at the tiny kangaroos near their mothers, her eyes giddy. “They’re so sweet. I’d love to touch one sometime.”
I stand right behind her, my hand on her lower back, and just absorb the moment. I want to always make her smile like this.
She spins around to face me, and when our eyes connect, the smile fades from her face. In its place, a surprising amount of heat begins to crackle between us. Her lips part ever so slightly, and she leans toward me.
“I believe I promised you a prize for guessing correctly,” she says, and the kick of my heart against my ribcage gets my blood pumping hard for her.
“Come on, Red. Let’s go. Pronto.”
She laughs as I usher her toward the exits.
It’s hard to focus on getting the fuck out of the zoo when I want to be tasting her pussy right now. We weave through the people as quick as possible, trying to get back to the car. In fact, she seems as eager as I am to get out of here.
The fact that she wants me as much as I do her just makes me all the more fucking horny for her. I’ve been anticipating this for too many days and I’m keyed up.
We get to my car, and I open the door to the back seat. “You’d better get inside fast and get those fucking shorts off,” I growl. “I’m taking my prize.”
Her mouth opens but no sound comes out. She does as I ask, climbing inside the car and wiggling her shorts off.
Oh, fuck yes. I had a feeling she might be a dirty girl at heart, and now she’s proving me right. The fact that she can be so sweet and innocent one second and so sexy and nasty the next, is the biggest turn-on imaginable.
I crawl inside after her and close the door. Our breaths are the only sound in the car cab. Luckily, my car’s windows are tinted so we don’t have to worry about anyone seeing what the hell we’re doing right now.
I don’t wait. On my hands and knees, I lean down between her thighs and press my nose to her crotch, smelling her through her cotton white panties. Inhaling her musky, feminine scent instantly makes my dick pulse with a fresh surge of blood engorging the shaft.
I nudge the fabric aside. Red’s pussy lips are smooth, with just a small patch of hair on the mound. Fuck yes.
I can see her cunt lips glistening.
Her fingers slip into my hair, and she gives a soft moan.
“I’ve been thinking about doing this for days,” I tell her, then glide my tongue into her slit from hole to clit with a satisfied groan. God, she tastes like a dream.
Her hips buck under my mouth, and she widens her thighs. “Oh, yes. Wow.”
I feast on her, prying her legs apart as wide as I can, gripping those thighs and owning her cunt. Her juices mingle in my mouth, and I can’t stop myself. When she starts to shudder, her clit swelling to a hard bead, I nibble on her inner labia, sucking the swollen flesh in between my teeth.
She cries out. “I’m getting close.” Her pussy is soaked now, the juices running down her slit. I lap them up. “Jamison, that feels so good,” she breathes. “Please don’t stop.”
Like I could fucking stop now. A meteor could hit my car, and I’d die happy with my face buried in her sweet pussy. I push a finger into her soaked cunt. “I need you to come for me,” I murmur against her apex. I curl my digit to stroke her upper wall.
She begins to pant, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her thighs are shaking, and I feel her pussy opening for me. I don’t stop licking her.
One hand presses against the back of the driver’s seat. The other is clenched in my hair. Red is bucking wildly beneath me now, and I focus all my attention on eating her pussy until she has an orgasm.
She draws in a long breath and then gives a tight moan, and her come gushes on my tongue. “Oh God, yes, yes,” she whispers, her entire body trembling as she falls over the edge.
I lap up every fucking drop of her juice. My tongue is coated. Fuck, I almost want to never wash my face again. Because watching this woman give herself to me in this way, in the back seat of my car while we’re in the zoo’s parking lot, is the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.
Red’s breathing finally steadies, and she releases my hair, sagging on the seat. “Wow,” she says with a light laugh. Her entire body is liquid, and she has a satisfied smile on her face. “I just knew.”
“Knew what?” I sit up, giving her pussy one last swipe, then cover her again with her panties.
“I knew you’d be good at that,” she says, her cheeks growing a little more flushed than they already were. “Something told me you would be.”
I smirk and run my hands along her thighs. Her skin is fucking intoxicating to me. “And something told me you’d love it,” I say.
She shakes her head. “You’re incorrigible,” she says, laughing.
I press a kiss to her nose and squeeze into the driver’s seat, turn the car on. “I sure am, Red. But somehow, I think you love it.”
Claire
My phone vibrates. From my spot on the couch, I glance over and roll my eyes when I see it’s an incoming call from my mom. Yeah, not really wanting to talk to her right now. I turn my attention back to my books. The bar exam is coming up in a few days; I’m running out of time to prepare.
I swear she’s psychic. Lately, it seems like every time I’m in the middle of studying for the bar, she either blows up my phone with nagging calls or drops by my apartment to see if I’m studying. Well, maybe I could focus more if you’d knock that off, Mom.
It’s like she knows I’m seeing someone now. The past couple of weeks, my studying has admittedly declined because I’ve been hanging out with him. But it’s hard to resist spending time with Jamison. Every time we get together, he makes me laugh, showers me with compliments…and his kisses leave me breathless. I can’t fight this attraction I have for him.
The phone stops ringing when it connects to my voicemail. Thank God. I just can’t seem to muster the energy to talk to either of my parents anymore.
Every time I do, I’m filled with resentment.
My phone hums with a voicemail. I don’t pick it up, attempting to push back my frustration and focus on the task at hand. A few minutes later, it vibrates again with a text message. Shocker—from my mom.
For God’s sakes. I lean over and sn
atch the phone up, glaring at the screen.
I hope you’re studying, Claire, and not out messing around. You haven’t checked in with me much lately. D-Day is just around the corner, you know…
I don’t even bother to respond to her. “Oh, I’m doing well, thanks for asking,” I grouse under my breath. Her one-track mind is bothering me deeply. I hate that she still can get under my skin like this. That I can’t just shake it off.
My parents were complete selfish assholes during their separation and divorce. Any time my sisters and I would visit my dad in his new apartment with his new younger girlfriend, he’d make sure to tell us that if Mom asked, he’s doing amazing without her in his life. And Mom would do nothing but speak poison about how Dad treated her and how he was trying to screw her out of everything she deserved, her bitter rants causing me to have panic attacks and mega stress.
Their manipulations, their anger and hatred for each other as divorce negotiations spiraled downhill, drove me to hiding in bed and sleeping all the time, missing classes and eventually impacting my grades. I dropped out of law school at the end of year two, feeling like a failure. Disappointed and ashamed of myself for letting their issues drag me down.
Then I moved out. I couldn’t listen to either of them anymore, so I stayed away, limiting most of my contact with the family to just my sisters. I found the job with George and got my own place, then resumed my schooling online, since work ate up too much time for me to attend classes in person. Gradually, through hard work, I pulled my GPA back up. My last class is now done, and I passed with a strong GPA.
All that is in front of me is the bar. It’s the last thing standing between me and true freedom.
During my breakdown, my parents somehow managed to stop their fighting to express their disappointment in me quitting school. So when I rejoined school online, they’ve both made it their mission to ensure they’re each the better parent for me by checking in and riding my ass.
I can’t seem to swallow my attitude when I talk to them, so I’ve been avoiding them as best as I can.
My phone buzzes again, and anger rises in my chest. But when I see it’s Jamison texting me, all the negative emotions vanish in an instant.
Hi, gorgeous. Hope your studying is going well. Gonna be thinking about u tonight. AND I THINK U KNOW WHAT I MEAN. ;-)
I laugh. He’s such a pervert. I told him I had to study tonight and he didn’t give me shit at all. I type back, I’ll think about you too. This life-sized cutout of you that I put in my bedroom will help.
If you ever wanna replace that with the real thing, I’m happy to volunteer. Don’t stay up all night. See you soon?
Absolutely. Will text tmrw. I put my phone back on the table, unable to fight the smile on my face, and dig back into studying, my mood lightened.
The next morning, I sip my coffee and shift in my desk chair as I open yesterday’s mail and sort it for George. Bills, bills, an invoice that was paid, more bills, junk mail, more junk mail.
“Greetings and salutations, Claire,” George says as he enters the office through the front door. He sips his coffee and smacks his lips in pleasure. Today he has on a normal shirt and pants, but his tie is covered with weird abstract frogs. His hair is poofier than usual, probably due to the light drizzling rain outside.
Every morning, George has come into the office in this way—with some strange greeting to me and a massive Thermos filled with coffee. As much as I love java, George is a junkie for it. His caffeine consumption during the course of the day puts me to shame. I restock our coffee supply weekly.
I can’t even imagine how much he goes through at home. He’s a bachelor, so at least he’s buying only for one.
“Hi, George,” I tell him, handing him the sorted mail. “I’ll get started on making calls to confirm client appointments. Oh, and your court date for the McNeely case was moved out two weeks—the judge is sick. I checked your calendar and moved the date, and I already let McNeely know.”
He gives me a nod of admiration. George might be weird, but he does appreciate all my hard work. “Claire, my dear, you’re amazing.”
I grin. “Thanks.”
George goes into his office, leaving me to my tasks. I chug a big mouthful of coffee. I was up late studying, so I’m a little tired today. I’m gonna need to channel my inner George and replace my blood with coffee to make it through the day.
Over the ambient sound of the police scanner in the background, I hear him tapping around on his computer. Then George jumps up and comes to stand in front of my desk, peering down at me, Thermos still in hand. He gives a loud slurp.
I look up at him. “Did you need me to do something?”
“Claire, you’ve done a great job while working for me. You’re taking the bar soon, correct?”
I nod. “That I am. I’ve been studying hard for it.”
George scratches one corner of his cheek right beside his mustache. I can see a fleck of food above his upper lip. George not only devours coffee, he also eats massive meals every two hours. I don’t know how he manages to stay so skinny. His metabolism must be off the charts. “I have a good friend in New York City who runs his own law firm,” he says. “Randall Snyder, of Snyder and Smith Associates. I told him about you and how you plan to work in the city.”
“Oh?” My heart gives a funny leap. In my research, I remember checking his firm out as a possible place for me to apply to. His law firm is huge and impressive, and they’ve done major international work.
“I secured you an interview with him after you complete your bar.” George sips his coffee. Some liquid dribbles onto his frog tie. He doesn’t even notice.
My chest tightens up. “Are you serious?” Their firm is the largest one I was researching, and I had them on the bottom of my list due to their exclusivity. It’s notoriously hard to get in with them.
“Yeah, he and I go way back.” George says casually. “Truth be told, I helped him pass the bar. He was quite the partier back in law school. Called in a favor and told him that you have excellent potential. He’s looking forward to meeting you.”
I’m moved. My eyes burn with tears, and I suck in a breath. “George. I can’t believe it. Thank you.” I can’t believe it.
George gives a curt nod and saunters back to his desk. I just sit there, staring blankly at my computer screen. How the hell did he do that? And why would he do that for me? The gesture is so unexpected it makes me bite my lip in an effort to not cry from happiness.
What a strange turn of events. Who would have guessed George knew Randall Snyder? George, living in our small town, happily going about his way, chasing ambulances with not a care in the world. He could have gotten himself a job with Randall.
But he’s giving the opportunity to me.
George loves our town. Time and again he’s declared he’d never leave here. While I may be itching to go, ready to flee the grip of my family, I admire his dedication to Rock Bridge. He’s eccentric, but he does care about this town.
And then it hits me again, twice as hard.
Oh my God. I’m going to have an interview with a major firm in New York City.
Jamison’s face comes to mind, and I try to not let my excitement dim. Of course I like him…but this has been my goal for years. If he cares about me, he’ll understand me moving away, won’t he?
Still, maybe I’ll wait to bring it up until after I finish the bar. He already knows I want to move out of here and has teased me about my big-city aspirations.
Who knows, maybe we’ll continue to date long distance. Lots of couples do. And if we continue to get along well and get serious, he might even be open to considering a move.
Right now, I’m gonna try to not worry about it. What matters is that my years of hard work are paying off. I wrap my arms around myself and hug my torso tightly, biting back a squeal of excitement. I’m finally getting my big chance.
“So tell me a funny story about your childhood,” I say to Jamison. I sip my red wine
and study him across the table. We’re at an Italian restaurant on the corner of town, and I’m happily stuffed from the Fettuccine Alfredo I devoured. Though I’m surprised I found time to eat in between all the talking and laughing we’ve done tonight. “I can’t imagine what it was like growing up having four brothers. I’m sure you guys were trouble.”
Jamison is gorgeous as always, and slightly dressed up for the occasion. He can’t hide the broadness of his shoulders, or all of his tattoos. But he looks more like an actor or a model playing the role of a tough guy, and I can’t help but notice all of the women who continually shift their gazes to peak at him around the restaurant.
It’s so weird that I’m with that guy—the one who gets all the attention. I never thought I would be, never cared about that sort of thing. And yet here I am.
Jamison tilts his head and thinks for a moment, then chuckles. “Sometimes I’d drop a bean bag chair on top of Hale and sit down on it, then start playing video games. He didn’t like that too much, as you can imagine. When he was a kid, he was super skinny and short. Puberty didn’t hit him until well into high school.”
“Oh my God, you’re bad!” I say, picking up a small piece of bread and dipping it in the sauce on my plate. I nibble. “That’s so mean. Is that why he’s a fighter now?” I tease him.
Over the course of our dates, we’ve shared a lot about ourselves. He talked about what it’s like in his neighborhood, the iron bars on the windows, how his dad had guns hidden all around the place in their house. I couldn’t imagine growing up that way. I’m almost embarrassed about my family’s middle-class living.
I never had to deal with the fear and violence that he’s had to wrestle with in his life.
Jamison gives a slight shrug of his muscled shoulders. “Nah, I don’t think my bean bag trick pushed him over the edge. He actually learned kickboxing from a kid in the neighborhood, and it bolstered his self-confidence. People don’t fuck with Hale.” He pauses and eyes me, his gaze sliding down to my cleavage. “Enough about my brothers though. Did I tell you how sexy you look tonight? That dress is incredible.”