by Shen, L. J.
Now, they had all kinds of ideas.
I’d held back on marriage for far too long. They weren’t going to be happy with anyone less than a Windsor.
And it wasn’t just them.
I had my own reputation to think of.
Being with Tennessee was going to ruin everything I’d built since I’d come back. My reputation, social standing, thriving business, and steady deliveries of homemade pies by grateful clients.
…so why can’t I give a damn about any of those things?
I turned off the faucet, wrapped a towel around my waist ,and stepped out of the bathroom. I found Tennessee flung on our bed, wearing one of the shirts I’d bought for her earlier today, makeup-free and edible to a fault.
She played with a tendril of her blonde hair, looking thoughtful as she peered up at me.
“Feeling better?” she asked.
“Hardly.”
“I thought you weren’t into puns.”
“I have my moments.” I advanced toward our shared closet, tugging out a pair of briefs. I noticed her pillow fort was not in place yet. “Fair warning—I sleep in my underwear, so if that’s a problem…”
“It’s not a problem,” she replied quickly, turning scarlet everywhere visible. “Actually…”
I turned around almost violently, searching her face.
“Yes?”
Eager much, asshole?
“I was wondering…” She drew a circle with her finger on her thigh. “If you could teach me how to make out with a guy. Sorry I freaked out on you earlier. I’m pretty much out of my depth when it comes to the opposite sex. I know we don’t have much time here, but I think you’re right. It’d be nice to get the best out of the situation, seeing as we both know we don’t have any future together and this thing stops as soon as we go back home.”
I yanked the briefs up my legs under my towel. It was an ambitious move, but I’d seen women do something similar with their bras and shirts.
“No one at home can find out,” I clipped, feeling like an asshole, and no doubt sounding like one, too.
In my defense, I’d been so thoroughly rejected by her since age seventeen, I didn’t want to lose one iota of my charmed quality of life for the pleasure of having her as a fling.
“I know.” Tennessee sat up straighter in bed. “Trust me, my parents and sister would kill me a hundred times over if they find out I touched a hair on your golden head. Plus, I’m super damaged. There’s no way I could handle a relationship. I have a lot to lose, too.”
“And then there’s Rob,” I added, dropping the towel and advancing toward the bed, my junk safely covered by the briefs.
There was no way I was letting Gussman think I’d been pining for his ex-girlfriend for decades. That a small, awful part of me had been glad that he’d screwed off the way he had, because that meant she’d never take him back.
And now he was back and what the fuck did that mean for all of this?
“Yeah. Some friend you are.” Tennessee let out a throaty, sexy laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll never tell your buddy you’ve sampled my goods.”
She thought I was doing it out of loyalty to him. Well, the real reason—my fragile ego—wasn’t going to win me any personality points, so I decided to keep it to myself.
“Right,” I said, sliding under the covers.
A fresh rush of desire ran through my veins as my body found hers under the blanket. She looked so young without all the makeup and hairspray, I could almost imagine us as teenagers.
My cock, which had absolutely zero business getting up again not even ten minutes after I masturbated, already poked at her stomach between us, lazily swinging itself from side to side as it tried to catch her attention like an eager puppy.
“Holy cheat-balls. That thing’s huge.”
She touched my crown with the tip of her finger through my briefs, before jerking her hand away, like it was going to clamp its jaws on her.
“Seriously, you can put it on a leash and take it for a walk downtown.”
“Don’t you dare make another Weiner joke,” I warned, playing with the hem of her shirt for no reason at all other than the obvious—I had fondling privileges today.
“That thing has a mind of its own.” She lifted a speculative eyebrow, looking down between us. “Can I touch it again?”
You can take it home, put it in an aquarium, and call it Sally if it makes you happy.
“Absolutely. You can pet it, too. Squeeze. Lick. Suck. Fondle. It doesn’t bite, but it does occasionally spit. I’ll give you a heads-up before it does.”
She looked up at me excitedly, her eyes zinging with exhilaration. “There was a pun there, Dr. Cruz. Good job.”
She just talked to me like I was her preschool student.
…and I just plastered a goofy smile on, also like a preschool student.
Her long, pointy fingernails ran down my six-pack to my briefs, making my skin prickle deliciously. She slipped her hand into the fly, jerking my erect cock out like it was a chicken that was about to become her lunch.
I didn’t comment on the lack of finesse. Didn’t want to make her feel self-conscious.
She stroked it gently, mesmerized by it.
She was so fucking beautiful I didn’t know what to do with myself. Having her touch my dick after fourteen years of imagining it happening, did weird things to my chest.
“Is it good for you?” she murmured.
“It was good about three minutes ago, when you were sitting on the bed, simply existing. Now that you’re touching my dick, we are deep into divine territory, spiraling onward.”
I watched her intently.
She flipped the covers off of us so she could take a better look at my dick. She shifted and sat up straight as she played with it, her yellow hair falling across her face like glittering sunrays.
My cock grew more engorged and heavy in her hand. That bastard had its own pulse at this point.
“I’m going to lick it now.”
“Please,” I grumbled, my voice breaking mid-word.
I didn’t even care.
The things I was willing to do in that moment to get her mouth to touch my dick worried me, frankly. Let’s just say Mrs. Warren wasn’t safe from a violent and quick death if Tennessee said the word.
Speaking of the wonderful state, the girl who was named after it lowered her head, holding my cock still as she gave the crown a quick lick.
Stars burst across my vision. I caressed her hair as gently as humanly possible to encourage her. She lowered herself again, her tongue swirling around the crown.
“I’m doing it wrong.” She looked up at me, biting on the side of her lip.
“Sweetheart, even if you danced around it to try to make it rain, it’d still be perfect.”
“I know what I’m supposed to do. I’ve seen enough porn. I just…it’s so big.”
“You don’t have to take the entire thing in. Cover the base with your hand.”
I shepherded her by the wrist, draping her small fist around the root of my shaft. This was so high school, and I was so into it I seriously suspected I’d just unveiled an unexpected kink of mine.
Things had become so boring in bed recently, the Gabriellas and Karens of the world blurring together in a mix of wannabe-porn stars who sought to prove to me that they were the chosen ones, the woman I couldn’t do without.
It never occurred to me that the one I was actually fantasizing about was a woman not acting her way into looking like a pro. A woman who was engrossed in the moment, fully present for the pleasure of it instead of faking it to turn me on.
Refreshing.
Tennessee leaned down, taking some of my cock into her mouth. She gave it a thorough suck before bobbing her head hesitantly to perform oral sex.
As far as giving head went, she had a long way to go, but just the sight of her doing it threw me close to the edge. I was about to come, sitting on this strange bed, watching her suck me off.
Also, I couldn’t stop stroking her hair.
My cock jerked in her mouth, and it was becoming more and more clear I was about to blow my load after three seconds.
“Sweetheart, let me make it good for you, too.” My voice was so thick, it sounded like I’d swallowed a football.
She looked up, a little perplexed.
“It’s not good for you, is it?”
“No. No. It’s great.”
“Then what’s the problem?” She was still holding my dick—hostage, some would say—which wasn’t the best way a man wanted to negotiate his position.
“No problem. You can continue doing what you’re doing.”
“No, tell me.”
“Fine. If you don’t stop sucking my cock, I’m going to come all over that nice oversized shirt of yours, and since it’s new, and since I’m over thirteen, I would very much like it to not happen.”
“Oh.”
“You asked me to tell you.”
“I did. So what else can we do? Now that I’ve learned how to give head.”
She didn’t really know how to give head, but I wasn’t going to correct her. For one thing, it was rude and disheartening. For another, I was already setting up the guy who’d come after me for an awkward conversation, if not complete failure.
I hoped she’d dump him.
Actually, I hoped he’d die before he had the chance to meet her.
I obviously needed therapy.
“There’s a lot we can explore,” I murmured, pushing her backward.
Her head fell on the pillow. I laced my fingers through hers from both sides, pinning her down to the bed, my lips fluttering over her neck.
“Can you do some bodice-ripping?” Tennessee blurted out eagerly, like a schoolgirl at her first theme park outing. “Or maybe just shirt-ripping? Any kind of ripping would be good, to be honest. I’ve always been such a fan of the whole guy-tearing-a-woman’s-clothes in books.”
“Honey, consider it my contribution to society to destroy your clothes.”
With that, I grabbed the collar of the shirt I’d purchased earlier and ripped it in one smooth movement, her perfect, round breasts popping out in front of me. Pear-shaped, with nipples the color of flamingos.
I crashed my mouth over hers, breathless.
My brain still couldn’t comprehend that this was happening. She bucked her hips toward me, moaning, and I moved my lips to kiss her tits, lick around her nipples, dip my tongue into her navel.
“I’m so mad,” she groaned, as I rubbed my stubble all over her inner thighs. “All this time I could’ve enjoyed all of these things without having sex with anyone. What a waste.”
I bit her inner thigh, shooting my arm up to squeeze one of her tits in warning.
“Not all hookups were born equal.”
“No blip, Costello. You think Rob held a candle to what’s happening here the eight months I was with him?” She laughed softly.
My hard-on lowered to a semi just from hearing his name. A cool feeling washed over me, like someone threw a bucket of ice into my gut. I pushed through it, but it was the first time I found Tennessee to be less than absolutely delightful.
Bringing up an ex in bed was a dick move. I didn’t care how inexperienced she was. She wasn’t dumb. She was just so used to fucking up relationships, she didn’t care what came out of her mouth.
Rob’s mention did give the desired result of pissing me off, and so I ripped her underwear from her waist with little regard to the fact they snapped over her skin in the process.
She groused but immediately angled her hips toward my mouth, chasing my tongue.
I pressed my palm against her pussy, lowering her ass back to the mattress, looking up, my eyes meeting hers.
“A few ground rules, Turner.”
She blinked at me rapidly, waiting.
“No ex-talk in this bed. That’s not sporting.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course. Sorry.”
“If something gets too much, just say the word.”
“What word?”
I almost forgot she was the most literal geek in the whole, entire world. With her undiagnosed ADHD and puns and aversion to profanity. I thought about it for a moment.
“Banana.”
“All right.”
“And promise me one thing.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I won’t fall in love with you.”
My chest tensed, but I threw her an offhand smirk.
“Cute, but what you choose to do with our mutual attraction is none of my business. You’re a big girl. No. I want you to promise me you know I will not let you get pregnant, so don’t worry about it. Just let me make it good for you.”
She hesitated, her eyebrows pinching together.
“I don’t—”
I shook my head. “I’m not Rob.”
“You just said no ex-talk in bed.”
“This trumps all the rules. I’m not him. I’ll never do that to you. Or to myself. Or to our hypothetical baby. Trust me that much, at least?”
She gulped, her eyes dancing in their sockets. I could tell when it happened. When she decided to put her trust in my hands. To let go.
Her hazel eyes shone, and her lower lip trembled.
“Yeah,” she rasped. “Promise.”
“Good girl.”
I sucked her entire pussy into my mouth.
She whimpered and sank her fingernails into my skull, so deep I could almost feel them digging into my brain.
I made her finish first, got another orgasm out of it—because I was that kind of gentleman—then ascended over her body, dropping kisses and bites along her skin as I glided one finger in and out of her, pressing my hot, swollen erection against her stomach.
I filled her mouth with my tongue again and every inch of her skin was chasing mine.
“I’m going to get a condom now, sweetheart. I’ll put it on, then I’ll make sure to pull out before I come, too, okay? I’ll do both. I promise.”
I would promise her my whole house, newly mortgage-free, if she said yes. So I made sure to highlight how much I was going to be careful about it.
She shook her head, still kissing me. “No, no. I’ll do anything else. Just not that.”
Anything?
I wasn’t bastard enough to suggest anal, although let the record show it did cross my mind.
“Sweetheart…” It wasn’t the sex she was scared of, it was pregnancy. But—
“Banana! Banana, banana, banana!”
She grabbed my shaft between us and squeezed at the root, moving her hand up and down, trying to get me off. I wanted to try to convince her one more time, but she said the safe word, and even though I was attached to a dick, I wasn’t one. “You’re supposed to stop when someone calls the safe word.”
“Here,” she mumbled into our dirty kiss, not stopping her hand. “I’ll get you off, too.”
The worst part was that my cock, which was not known for its astuteness, was absolutely okay with the deal. It sprang in her hand happily, bobbing along each time she gave it a thorough stroke.
I could feel my balls tighten and knew I was going to come all over her chest. I ripped my mouth from hers, looking down between us as she jerked me off, my cock angled between her tits.
I didn’t want to miss it when it happened.
“Am I doing that okay?”
“Maybe go a little faster.”
She did.
I closed my eyes, dropping my head backward.
“Faster?”
She went faster.
I was at her mercy.
I was never at women’s mercy when it came to sex. I dated good old-fashioned belles who did what I told them to do in the bedroom. Took instructions well, always over-performed, and never suggested anything outside the box.
“Shit, sweetheart, I’m close.”
“Awesome,” she breathed underneath me, and I could feel the tips of her tits bouncing to the rhythm of her movements.
And then it happened.
My cock shot white congratulatory confetti at her breasts for making me come. This was hands-down the best orgasm I’d ever had. And I’d had many.
I plopped beside her, jerking her into my arms and kissing her forehead.
“That was amazing.”
For the next few minutes, she didn’t talk. Just pressed herself against me.
After a few moments, her breathing became slow and shallow, and I realized she’d fallen asleep.
In my arms.
It was almost romantic, if it wasn’t for the soft snores coming from her little nose.
Or for the fact that my cock was now completely happy, but something else inside me sure wasn’t.
My entire life, I’d never slept in.
My body wasn’t programmed to sleep beyond six-thirty A.M.
From a young age, I’d had school, football practices, Sunday mass, summer jobs, volunteer work. You name it, I woke up early for it.
So, of course, the one and only time I slept in, something catastrophic happened.
The first signs of disaster occurred around the time I realized there was someone who was not Tennessee inside the room, while I was lying on my stomach, my ass completely visible to whoever was there.
“Hello, Mrs. Costello! We have good news for you and your husband.”
“You do?” I heard Tennessee ask. “What is it? Did Mrs. Warren have a stroke?”
I turned my head slowly at the same time I dragged the cover over my ass. Not that I wasn’t proud of my buns of steel, but flaunting them was pure vanity.
The staffer let out an uncomfortable giggle.
“No, Mrs. Warren is fine. Your husband has expressed his desire to leave the cruise early and move from the Elation to the Ecstasy. We told him that it might not be doable. Well, we are extremely happy to inform you that it is. We’ll be making a stop at Green Turtle Cay in a few hours, where you will be able to switch cruises. I took it upon myself to check with the control center aboard the Ecstasy personally, and they can accommodate you. We only ask that you check out by eleven, so we can get all the paperwork ready.”
There was a brief silence, followed by the sound of Tennessee clearing her throat.