Hot Pants

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Hot Pants Page 8

by Kade, Teagan


  I’m not about to choose option number two.

  As if on cue, my phone rings again. I nearly jump clean out of my skin, the jitters from my previous phone call still very much alive and well.

  This time, much to my relief, it’s Derek. I answer the call, smiling when I hear his voice.

  “Hey you, sorry I had to leave like that this morning. I got your note.”

  “It’s okay, I get it. Fires don’t wait. Got to save all those damsels in distress.”

  He chuckles on the other line. I ask him to come over tonight before I lose my nerve.

  “I’d love that, actually. I’ll see you around seven?”

  “That’s perfect,” I reply.

  We chat for a few minutes longer, then say our goodbyes. I hang up the phone, rising from the bed and walking over to the bathroom to turn on the shower.

  I’ll get ready, Derek will come over, and I’ll get some more information out of him. My mind travels to the night before and I can’t help but smile, memories—albeit foggy ones—of his bed and what we did in it fast filling my thoughts.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  DEREK

  “Thanks for inviting me,” I say, settling onto the bed and taking off my shoes as I do so.

  “Don’t mention it,” Beth says, sliding slowly but intently beside me. “When I heard you wanted to come over, I couldn’t help but agree. I wanted to see you again, you know.”

  I peer down her shirt with a questioning look on my face, notice her cherry red lace bra peeking ever so slightly through her plunging V-neck shirt.

  My cock immediately stands to attention. A dull, throbbing pull settles somewhere between my legs.

  I need to fuck her, I think to myself. It’s a medical emergency.

  I clear my throat, shift my legs so my rock-hard cock isn’t as obvious through my pants, and continue with my train of thought. “So, I thought you might like to know what I found out about the fire,” I begin.

  Immediately, Beth gets defensive. “Why does everyone want to tell me something about the fire?” she says, nearly screaming. “Do you really think I want to know who tried to burn my house down?”

  I look at her quizzically. “Ah, yes. I would think so,” I say gently, trying to talk her back down from the ledge, before realizing there is more to the story than she’s letting on. “Is someone trying to hurt you, Beth? Tell me.”

  She shakes her head violently before leaping off the bed, stripping her shirt away.

  Her little striptease reveals she’s wearing a Cadillac-style bra that pushes her soft, ample tits up to her chest, a matching red garter belt with black fishnet stockings, and a pair of black crotch-less lace underwear.

  Dear God in Heaven, I think to myself, my cock growing longer and harder by the second… and a lot more obvious. Forget the medical emergency. This just turned into life and death.

  “I’m just so tense,” she says in a simpering, almost child-esque voice. “And when I get tense, I get hot. I’m sorry.” She covers up her chest in an almost-mocking gesture of modesty.

  I stand up and take her in my arms, trying to reassure her. “If someone’s trying to hurt you Beth, you need to tell me right now,” I say, sliding my hands under the crease of her butt. “I need you to know that no matter how bad you think it is, I’m going to be here to help you. You can trust me.”

  She sighs and, steadying her breathing, shifts her lower body towards mine. I can feel her pussy pulsating lightly through my acid-washed jeans. There’s no way she isn’t feeling my rock-hard member through the thin lace of that crotchless underwear.

  “I appreciate that, Derek,” she says, her voice deepening an octave.

  She’s definitely turned on, only needs the tiniest of pushes in the right direction to fuck me right here, right now, on the floor of the Mondrian, with nothing but the Hollywood Hills beneath us.

  She smiles slightly, kissing me chastely on the cheek before turning away from me and towards the mini bar.

  She bends down and shows off her flowering sex, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s doing this on purpose.

  Come to think of it, I say to myself, I know she’s doing this on purpose.

  “I just need something to help me through the stress,” she says, rifling through bottles of Jack Daniels, Johnnie Walker, and Jim Beam—The ‘Three Wise Men,’ as we used to call them in college.

  She turns around to face me, a bottle of Johnnie in each hand. “Would you like a drink, Derek? You look like you could use a bit of stress relief yourself.” She starts to point the bottle of Johnnie in my direction.

  I smirk knowingly and take both bottles of Johnnie away from her.

  Nice try, Beth, I think to myself.

  “You know, Beth,” I say, a slow smile spreading across my face. “I have a better way to relieve some stress, if you’re down for it. It’ll definitely take your mind off your problems.”

  As if on cue, she jumps on me and shoves her tongue down my throat, kissing me with a passion that’s almost violent in its intensity. I return her sloppy wet kiss with one of my own and take it as an affirmative that she does, indeed, want to fuck me.

  Scooting to the floor, I position my head between her legs so that, when I look up, I’m able to see her soft, shaved pussy, now glistening with arousal.

  “Come here,” I say, summoning her to sit on my face.

  She obliges, and I hear her breath quickening as I use my tongue to spread her pussy lips and lick her clit longingly. The tip of my tongue darts from her clit to the middle of her lips, the entire area getting slicker with each flick of my tongue.

  All of a sudden Beth starts grinding her hips in a counterclockwise fashion so my tongue gets the rest of her soaking wet and she gets the full experience of my mouth on her warm, expectant pussy. Her moans ratchet up in volume. I start moving my hand to her mouth to cover it before we awaken our more conservative neighbors visiting from Idaho or Alabama or some other flyover state.

  “Yes,” she moans, using her hands to glide my fingers in her mouth. She begins sucking on them with a fervent intensity, as though she needs to suck on me to simply survive.

  Not that I mind being her savior of sorts.

  I’m just ready for her to suck on something besides my fingers.

  I shift my body so she’s now on the floor, pinning her down with my hands so she can’t move her hips. It only takes a few sweeps of my tongue over her slick heat to tip her over the edge. She comes, bucking hard against my face, moaning in ecstasy as I lick her clean. I take care to be extra gentle around her clit, knowing it’s particularly sensitive after a woman comes—especially when you come as hard as Beth just did.

  Satisfied, I use my advantageous position to shift my pants off my body, and finally free my throbbing cock. I briefly glance down at it, noticing it’s not only pearly with pre-cum, but longer and harder than I’ve ever seen it before.

  Well, what do you know…

  I shift a little so that my cock dances lightly on her slightly parted lips.

  “Suck,” I command.

  Almost immediately she opens her mouth, unlocks her jaw, and—much like Jane did the night before Beth first came into my life—takes the entirety of my cock into her mouth.

  Fuck me.

  Unlike Jane, however, Beth doesn’t gag when the tip of my cock brushes the back of her throat. She’s a fucking pro.

  She just keeps sucking, licking, and taking me down, and I am nothing if not impressed we’re making our own porn movie right here in the penthouse of the Mondrian. The view outside the window is certainly impressive, and I push back the curtains to further look down on the Hollywood Hills, positioning Beth’s body so her spread lips are facing the window, giving the passing planes and wild animals the view of a lifetime.

  “Beth, I’m going to—”

  I go to shift away, but her hand comes around the root of my cock, fixing me in position.

  I let out a groan like a dying bull and release in her
mouth, pumping hard.

  She finishes, pulls back, and wipes her mouth, smiling as she does so. “Is that all?” she asks mischievously.

  I return her naughty, cat-like glance with one of my own. “Question is, can you handle more?” I ask.

  She looks down at my cock and smiles. “Where do you want to put that?” she asks, faking a coquettish accent.

  “I don’t know,” I say, pulling her hips toward mine. I don’t beat around the bush. “I was thinking that beautiful ass of yours.”

  She shifts her hips upward, pointing her ass out towards the tip of my cock.

  Ass it is, then, I think to myself as I spit on my fingers, spread her ass cheeks, and slowly rub inside the delicate area around her anus.

  Next, I add a finger, enjoying the tightness of her hole, the way it grips and sucks the digit inwards.

  I add a second, noting the way she mews and moans in response, her hips rocking back to take more.

  When I’m sure she’s ready, I take hold of my cock and slowly feed it in.

  It’s so fucking hot it takes everything I have not to release my second load.

  I feel her hand take mine and guide my fingers into her pussy, moaning.

  I match each of my cock’s thrusts with one from my fingers, marveling at both the beautiful view outside the window and the beautiful view of her spreading, glistening pussy, and wide, perfect ass in front my eyes.

  “Harder, Derek,” she demands, moaning, barely able to form complete sentences. “I want it all. Put it all inside me.”

  She shifts her body again, allowing me to shove yet another finger inside her pussy. I groan as the last inch of my cock is swallowed up by her ass. She’s taken me whole.

  Breathlessly she lifts her ass off my cock and stands up slightly, the tender lips of her sex swollen and cherry red. “Go clean up,” she commands.

  “Why?”

  “Because I want your cock in my pussy.”

  I don’t have to be told twice. I head to the bathroom and grab the first thing I can find to clean down my cock. When I jump back onto the bed she climbs over me, turning her hips around in a reverse-cowgirl position. “The other way now,” she says, trying desperately to catch her breath.

  “How do you mean?” I ask, trying to make sure I understand her. “Just to clarify. You want my cock in your pussy?”

  She nods, violently, in approval. “And I want your fingers in my ass,” she says, before obligingly placing my fingers against her asshole.

  I can’t even protest before she’s sunk down on my cock, the silky heat of her sex a thing of beauty.

  I press two fingers together and slide them forward deep into her ass.

  She begins bouncing up and down my cock, grunting and moaning in delight.

  I look down at my fingers in her ass, my cock in her pussy… It’s fucking sensory overload, the sights, the sounds…

  I’m so turned on by this sight that in the middle of it all, I pull her off my cock drag her up to my face. I lick her from front to back, returning to concentrate on the tight bundle of nerves at the top of her sex while she grinds down on me.

  I bury my face deep inside her pussy, unable to get enough of her taste, the sweet arousal running from her core.

  She reaches down and grips my hair tight, screaming aloud as she comes again, arousal running fresh and free from her sex, my cock desperate to be back inside her.

  She convulses, pulling at my hair until she’s spent.

  But she’s not done.

  She walks down my body and takes hold of my cock, sliding it back into herself, grinding and rocking until I can’t take a second more. She senses it, lifting herself from me and jerking me off.

  “Come,” she says, eying me, “come all over my face.”

  The words are enough.

  I give a pained cry and release with unnatural force, shooting ribbon after ribbon of silky cum over her open mouth and tongue, her cheeks, coating her with my desire.

  It seems endless, but she smiles through it, her tongue whipping up to lick her upper lip. “Mmmm,” she moans.

  Holy. Shit.

  Post-orgasm, I usually deflate, eager to get whoever’s in my bed out as soon as possible, but there’s none of that here with Beth. It occurs to me this is more than sex, as great as it is.

  Shades of Mary come to my mind—the first girl I thought I loved, the “nice Irish girl” Chief Hardy mentioned when we met to discuss Beth’s house fire. I realize that whether I like it or not, I have never experienced love until now. I am falling hopelessly in love with Beth.

  Or, at least I think I am.

  “That was amazing,” I say as she wipes her face with a damp washcloth.

  “It was,” she says. “But I just have one question now, Derek.”

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “Can we do it again?” she asks lasciviously, motioning her mouth towards my cock.

  I don’t think I’ve ever heard a better question in my entire life.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ELISABETH

  Oh, no.

  I’m starting to think I like Derek.

  Sure, he was an ass at first. Still kind of is. But he didn’t need to go to my house looking for clues and he definitely didn’t need to tell me what he found. I don’t even think he’s told Officer Brady about the curtains soaked in nail polish remover. Surely that insensitive jerk of a cop would have brought it up the last time we spoke.

  It’s true. For all his faults Derek really does care about my safety. And who knew his skills in bed could also cure a panic attack? Part of me is glad he’s already left for work. Thinking about everything that happened last night makes my body flush with delicious heat. I glance at my phone. It would be so easy to send a quick text to Derek asking him to come back for another tumble in the sheets.

  But you can’t, the tiny voice of reason in my mind squeaks. And the voice is right. The truth is I don’t deserve to take comfort in Derek. I’m using him. However noble my reasons are, it’s wrong. He might be a womanizer with an ego the size of Texas, but he isn’t a bad person. If anyone is bad in this situation, it’s me.

  The realization hits me like lightning. Yes, I am the bad person in this situation… but I don’t have to be.

  I can come clean about everything. I can call Officer Brady and tell him I lit the fire. I can also tell him why I did it. Derek might hate me for it, but I can’t stand the thought of repaying his kindness with deceit. He’s a good person, or at least, he’s trying to be. Hell, he might even be trying for me. I can’t do this to him. It’s simply not right.

  It’s decided. I doubt Derek will ever want to see me again after he finds out, but he deserves honesty. The thought of never seeing him, talking to him, or sleeping with him again puts a dull ache in the center of my chest. I’m falling for him too hard to build our relationship on a bed of lies.

  Maybe I should tell him before I tell Officer Brady. I don’t know. I’ve never committed a crime before. I don’t know how this is supposed to work. Why did I never watch any of those cheesy crime shows on TV? Maybe if I did I would have known how to cover my tracks, or at least keep a fire under control.

  Regardless of whether I tell Derek or Officer Brady first, there is one person who deserves to know before either of them—Mom. After all, it’s her life on the line. She will need all the extra time I can give her to come up with an alternate plan.

  It takes me a few minutes to work up my courage, but I eventually punch in my mother’s phone number.

  On the first ring, I want to hang up.

  On the second, nerves bundle into a tight knot in my stomach.

  On the third ring, I fear I’m going to throw up.

  “Beth, honey! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you!” she greets me like I always wished she would. Like she’s genuinely happy to hear from me. She sounds like a proper mother. Guilt twists hard in my gut.

  “Hi, Mom,” I say quietly. The word doesn’t taste right on
my tongue yet. I’m afraid it never will, especially not after the conversation that’s about to happen.

  “Is something the matter, sugar?” Amazing. It’s as if she’s suddenly developed a mother’s intuition. What is going on in the world?

  “Actually,” I say, working past the lump in my throat. “Yes, there is something wrong. I don’t think I can go through with this.”

  “What the hell do you mean?” Her voice is like flint, all that motherly warmth gone in an instant.

  “I wanted to help you, Mom. I need you to know that,” I say. “But I don’t think this is the right way. I almost died. Now I’m just digging myself into a deeper grave with every lie. I’m not a professional arsonist. There are clues all over the house indicating I’m the one who set the fire. I think it’s better if I confess to what I’ve done, keep it simple.” It all comes out in a rush. By the time I finish, my lungs are burning and my heart is pounding. I take a deep breath to steady my nerves as I wait to hear how my mother will react.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” My mother’s voice is a cold hiss. Suddenly, I’m a child again being scolded for something I did wrong.

  “I—”

  “Do you know what happens when you confess?” She demands.

  I’m almost grateful when she cuts me off. I hate how weak and pleading I sound. I’m being flung backwards, away from the woman I’ve worked so hard to become and returning to the trembling child I used to be.

  I shake my head, realizing after the fact my mother can’t see the gesture. But that doesn’t seem to matter to her. “I’ll tell you what will happen. They’ll put your picture in the paper,” she says. “And on the news so the whole wide world can see you’re nothing more than a dirty, lying, two-bit criminal. Then they lock you up. You’re pretty enough, so you might just get probation and community service.” She spits the word ‘pretty’ like it’s a slur.

  “Confessing is better than lying and getting caught,” I argue weakly. Whatever punishment I would face in light of my confession would be considerably lighter than if Officer Brady figures everything out. No, not if, when.

 

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