The Pecker Briefs

by Sawyer Bennett

  I plop my head in the palm of my hand as I watch her walk around my bedroom to pick up her clothes. “I made you come twice tonight. I think that makes us friends.”

  Her laugh is husky. “I’ll give you that.”

  “Or do you prefer I call you Viv?” I ask her.

  Her eyes come to me, and I can see them clearly even though she’s across the room. That’s because even though it’s after midnight, the lights are on in my bedroom. When we had stumbled our way in here, kissing and clawing at each other, I asked her if she wanted me to turn the lights off.

  She had laughed and said, “Hell no. I want to see the goods.”

  I think in that moment, if I were capable of such a thing, it would have been the moment I would have fallen in love with her. I enjoy looking at the goods, too, and let me tell you… Viveka Jones has them in spades.

  I’m mesmerized as she walks to the bed, stark naked and completely glorious in her nudity. She clutches her silky white panties in one hand. Viveka comes to a halt by the side of the bed and I scoot closer to her, staring at the short-cropped hair that covers her pussy. She’s a natural blonde, but I figured as much.

  Given she’s Swedish and all.

  When I finally let my gaze travel slowly up her body, lingering on those hard nipples and wanting like hell to reach out and pinch one, I find her eyes aren’t on my face. Instead, she’s doing her own leisurely perusal of my body.

  I let her study me, not in the least bit self-conscious I have a condom still clinging to my dick filled with what felt like buckets I unloaded just minutes ago.

  When she raises her eyes to mine, I give her a seductive smile. I run a finger up the inside of her leg, hearing her breath catch, but I watch my fingers progress. Goose bumps follow in my wake, until I reach those soft lips with wetness still clinging to her pale curls.

  Fuck, she was drenched when I first put my hand up her skirt in the elevator to my apartment. She only got wetter the harder we fucked.

  I push my finger in and tap her clit lightly. Her hips jerk, and I finally glance up. Her pupils have grown large, obliterating the pale blue like an eclipse.

  “Or, I could just call you ‘V’,” I murmur, giving her pussy a slight rub. “Because this is the ‘V’ I like most on you. Right here.”

  I give another tap, and she moans.

  The hand holding her panties flies out and wraps around my wrist. I can feel the silk against my skin, along with the tight grip of her slender fingers. I think she means to push me away, but instead, she violently pushes my hand deeper between her legs.

  My dick starts to respond, thickening inside the used condom.

  And well, that’s never happened before.

  “I really have to go,” she pants, moving my hand between her legs. “But get me off first. Okay, baby?”

  “Fuck,” I mutter because that is goddamn hot as hell. She came twice tonight, and she wants it again from me.

  She demands it of me, actually, and while I’m the alpha dog in bed—always—I don’t mind a woman expressing her needs. I love being able to give Viveka what she craves.

  I lurch up from the bed, swing my legs out, and plant my feet on the floor. Viveka gives a cry of surprise when I grab her and make her lay over my thighs.

  Her stomach presses against my dick, which is ready to go for another round, but that’s not what interests me at this moment.

  That beautiful round ass sticks up in the air, begging for attention. I give it a light swat, then delve in to push my fingers between her cheeks. They graze over that sensitive little hole I’d like to claim at some point before sinking into her cunt.

  Viveka moans, and my breath seems to freeze in my lungs. She’s soaked. Fucking dripping.

  And she’s a squirmer.

  I bring my other hand to spread wide over her back, holding her down while I finger fuck her. I drive one, then two fingers in deep, all the way to the third knuckle.

  Viveka starts grunting in pleasure. It’s not ladylike at all, but it’s hot as fuck. My dick feels like concrete, and it starts to ache under the pressure her stomach is putting on it.

  I find out quickly, though, that this woman gives as good as she gets. She doesn’t stay in place for long, but rather plants her feet hard onto the floor and pushes slightly from my lap. My dick springs upward, announcing its randy presence. My fingers don’t miss a beat, still lodged into her from behind and pumping hard. She groans and presses the hand holding her panties into my thigh. The other pulls the condom off me.

  “Goddamn… yes,” I bark out as her hand closes around my cock, which is still slick with my cum from our last fuck. She starts to jack me hard and fast, matching my strokes.

  The noises we’re making are like a symphony for my ears. Grunts, moans, wet skin sliding and slapping. Her ass jiggles because my hand is working her so hard from behind, and her tits sway as she rocks while leaning over my lap.

  Most guys—and hell, I’m most guys—would beg a woman in this position to lean a little further and take my cock down her throat, but this frantic hand job where she jerks my cock roughly is making me see stars. This may be my new most favorite thing.

  Thrusting and pumping and moaning and those grunts… from me… from her. Feels so fucking good we can’t keep quiet about it.

  And then her pussy tightens around my fingers. Arching her spine deeply, she throws her head back as she cries out her pleasure. All that glorious moonlit hair that had come free a long time ago flies in an arc and floats over her back.

  The orgasm takes me unaware, coming on so fast and viciously I can’t even move or make a sound. I erupt, splashing her tits, which are hanging just inches from the tip of my cock as her hand still moves on me.

  “Now that was amazing,” Viveka gasps when I slowly draw my fingers out of her.

  “I have no clue what the fuck that was, but I want to do that again soon.”

  She laughs, straightening to peer down her at her breasts. My cum looks beautiful there but to my disappointment, she uses her panties to wipe it off.

  Raising her head, she gives a lopsided grin that pops only one of her dimples before leaning over to bring her face close to mine. Dropping the panties onto my lap, she gives me a light kiss.

  “You can keep those,” she says as she pulls back.

  I watch her for a few moments as she once again starts to gather her clothes. She pulls that slim black skirt up her legs, and the thought of her without panties is something I like very much. I pick up the white silk laying across my spent dick, then rub the material between my thumb and forefinger as she dresses.

  “Why do you have to go?” I ask, because even though I’m pretty sure I’ve got nothing left in the tank, I just… well, I don’t want her to leave.

  Viveka Jones… Veka… Viv… V… I want her to stay. She’s perhaps the most unique woman I’ve ever met, and I’m not just saying that because we fucked about sixteen hours after meeting this morning.

  “I wish I could,” she says while she slips her blouse on over her bra. “But I’ve got my dogs at home. While my friend went over and let them out for me, I can’t leave them alone all night.”

  I glance at the clock. Getting close to one AM now.

  “Why not?” I ask, turning back to her.

  She smirks as she works the last of the buttons on her shirt. “You’re not an animal person, are you?”

  I can’t help the slight grimace. “I don’t actually have much experience with them. Except my best friend Leary has a dog. Well, she married into the dog. It was her husband Reeve’s before they met. It slobbers a lot.”

  Viveka laughs. She nabs her heels from the floor, and then comes to sit beside me on the bed to slip them on. “I have to say, Ford, I’ve thought everything about you was hot as hell up until this moment. But if you don’t like dogs, there’s just something weird about that. I’m not sure we can sleep together anymore.”

  She’s teasing.

  I think.

&nb
sp; “We’re not sleeping together now,” I point out. “You’re leaving.”

  She smiles, leans over, and pecks me on the cheek. “Okay, you’re still hot. Adorable and hot, but I have to go.”

  Viveka pushes off the bed and I follow, walking to one of my dressers to get a pair of jeans. I slip them on commando while she steps into my master bath. She runs her fingers through her hair, trying to tame it somewhat, but there’s no helping that wildly fucked hairstyle.

  When she turns back to me, she seems surprised to see me getting dressed. “What are you doing?”

  “Walking you down to your car, of course,” I tell her.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Not letting you walk into that parking garage by yourself,” I cut in. “So I either walk you down, or you get your pretty ass back in bed.”

  Viveka stares at me a moment as if weighing the words in her head. Something about my offer has taken her by surprise, but I don’t see why. It’s plain good manners, and something any man should do for his woman—I mean, his current fuck—if he’s got a pair of working balls.

  I pull a t-shirt over my head, and she still just stares at me from the bathroom.

  “What?” I ask curiously.

  She gives a small shake of her head, as if I’d pulled her out of some deep thoughts, and gives me the sweetest of smiles. “You can call me Veka or Viv if you want.”

  “V it is,” I tell her with a smirk.

  “Okay… V,” she agrees with a laugh.

  I put on a pair of tennis shoes, but I don’t bother lacing them. I walk her down to the parking garage, right to her very old Volvo station wagon. She insisted on following me here with her car, which was smart on her part. It offered easy escape in case things hadn’t gone all that great between us.

  But Jesus… it had been so great. So much so I consider begging her to stay.

  She won’t, though. I could see it on her face and hear it in the tone of her voice. Her dogs are an important obligation to her, and she won’t budge.

  After she unlocks her door, she turns to me and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. I’d think it’s a nervous gesture, but her gaze is confident as she looks me in the eye. “Tonight was totally unexpected, but I really had a good time.”

  “Me too,” I tell her. I use my fingers to brush back her hair on the other side of her face, pushing it behind her ear.

  “I need you to know something,” she says softly, and it’s the first hint of vulnerability I’ve heard from her since I’ve known her, which has been for about half a day.

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t do this,” she says, waving her arms outward.

  “What?” I ask teasingly. “Stand in a parking garage at one AM?”

  “Fuck virtual strangers,” she corrects sternly.

  “No judgment here,” I assure her.

  “I didn’t say that because I was afraid of judgment,” she corrects, and I blink at her in surprise. “I told you only because I regret nothing about today. I think coming to your apartment was one of my better decisions.”

  “Oh yeah?” I ask her, slightly confused by this admission, but not put off by it in the slightest. Some men might think that was a woman getting a little too close… a little too serious, way too fast. But I love her honesty and confidence.

  Viveka nods. “Yeah.”

  And that’s all she’ll give me.

  Despite her height, we are not eye to eye, so she goes to her tiptoes and presses her mouth to mine for a soft kiss of goodbye. When she drops back down, she says, “See you in court on Tuesday, stud.”

  “See you then,” I reply.

  But deep down inside, I already know I don’t want to wait that long.

  CHAPTER 4

  Viveka

  My eyes drift from my computer screen to the front window that looks out on the street. My law firm is very small. As in, I’m the only one employed here. I didn’t need much room when I hung my shingle eleven years ago after I moved to the area with my now ex-husband Adam. Because my office is sandwiched in between Do or Dye on my left and a bail bondsman on my right, the only windows in the space are the front lobby. As such, I parked my desk there to have some natural light, even if the view wasn’t all that great.

  It consisted of a similar strip of offices across the street, all the same as the one I occupied. Dulled and yellowed brick that was once white but is no more. Black shutters to the sides of the front windows, the paint cracked and peeling on the edges. The doors are commercial glass with aluminum handles to pull them open, with the business names painted on the glass windows.

  When I first moved in, Adam surprised me by having my front window painted with fancy gold block lettering trimmed in white.

  Viveka Jones, Esquire

  Animal Rights Lawyer

  Eleven years later, the paint is peeling just like the shutters and I don’t have the money to have it freshened up. Besides, any person who needs to hire an attorney of my ilk isn’t going to be checking to see how fancy my office is.

  I turn back to the computer screen, my eyes scanning the outline of the brief I’ll be handing in to the judge on Tuesday when I ask for the injunction against Landmark Builders to protect the vulnerable and totally cute red-cockaded woodpecker to be made permanent. Ford will be submitting his own brief in opposition. In my twisted mind, I’ve dubbed these documents The Pecker Briefs.

  Of course, every single time I’ve thought about woodpeckers or the word “red-cockaded,” I naturally think of Ford.

  And his pecker.

  Cock.

  Dick.

  Shaft.

  Eight inches of make-me-wanna-scream his apartment building down.

  Last night was intense. I was impetuous, rash, and bold in my decision to sleep with him. True to my word to him last night, I regretted not a minute of it. Ford is the absolute sexiest man I’ve ever been with. He’s completely unfettered in his sensuality, and he made my body do things last night I didn’t even know was possible.

  I certainly didn’t know it was possible to come twice just with cock and no stimulation to my clit. I’m thinking the thick eight inches had something to do with that.

  Of course, my only comparison is to the three men I’d been with prior to Ford. The first was a nineteen-year-old male model I lost my virginity to when I was sixteen. I fashioned myself in love with him. He’d just wanted to bust a nut, and it wasn’t a good experience at all. Three thrusts and he was done.

  The next was a guy I dated while in Florida getting my undergrad. We lived in the same dorm, and we were together for two years. The sex was mediocre. Of course back then, I thought it was the best ever. We broke up when I went off to law school, and he went off with another girl he’d been banging behind my back.

  The last was Adam. I met him at Emory during my first year of law school. He was in his second year of medical school there. It worked out nicely since we both graduated at the same time. Adam really liked Emory and accepted his residency there. I wasn’t so crazy about Georgia, but I loved Adam.

  I took the Georgia bar exam and went to work at a slick corporate firm, because Adam felt that type of law would be a nice complement to him being a neurosurgeon. He was all about appearances. I was in love with him, so I let it be about appearances for me, too.

  That all changed one night on my drive home from work. We lived in a relatively nice neighborhood given we were just newbies in our careers, but it was full of professional-type people just like us. It was summer, and there was still plenty of light as I drove slowly down our street. Three houses before I reached ours, I saw a man on the sidewalk trying to walk a reluctant dog. The dog was pulling back—almost in fear—from the man.

  To this day, I can remember the cramp of pain that hit my chest over the look in that dog’s eyes. And then to my utter disgust and shock, the man hauled off and started hitting the animal. Hard blows to the dog’s head and back, until the dog just rolled over and went belly up
on the man.

  Later, Adam told me he’d never seen me so mad in his life. I don’t remember much about the entire incident, but from what neighbors told Adam, and from what he, in turn, told me, I stopped my car in the middle of the street, jumped out, and went after the man. I had my briefcase with me, and I pulled it out of the car. It was one of those hard ones with sharp corners, and I started whacking the man on the back as hard as I could.

  He stopped beating the dog. Only by the grace of another man who was jogging down the street did I come out unscathed, too. He apparently had to pull the man beating the dog away from me. I wasn’t cowed or scared, though. I merely picked up the dog’s leash and told the asshole, “I’m taking your dog.”

  He screamed and cursed at me, threatening to call the police.

  I told him to “bring it”.

  He never did come for the dog, but he did threaten Adam with a lawsuit since I’d hit him with my briefcase.

  I didn’t care.

  I had a dog, and I named him Stanley. He loved me beyond measure, but he never really warmed up to Adam. And from that day forward, I knew I wanted to be an animal rights lawyer.

  Adam was not happy, but when he transferred residency to Duke two years later and we moved to the Raleigh-Durham area, I talked him into letting me venture out on my own as a solo practitioner seeking justice for all sorts of furry and feathered animals.

  But I never really had his full support. It was more of a “pat me on the head” and tell me to have “fun with my little hobby.” I didn’t care, though. I was doing what I was meant to do. I moved into this dingy office eleven years ago, and Stanley came to work with me every day until he died.

  As always when I think about Stanley—my very first furry child—I get a little misty-eyed. I’m immediately blinking back the tears when the door opens, as it is never very professional for a potential or current client to see me crying.

  Luckily, it’s just Frannie strolling in, so I don’t worry about it. She takes one look at me and says, “You’ve been thinking about Stanley, haven’t you?”