by Peyton Banks
"Are we talking about the same thing?" Tandy asked.
The girl really knew how to get to her. Always had.
"Probably not," Keisha held out a hand to her cousin to pull her up. "Time for bed."
The wicker made loud noises as Tandy got up.
"You know, we should probably think about replacing this set," Keisha said. "These sound like a bowl of Rice Krispies."
"Nah," Tandy waved a hand dismissively. "That’s just character."
Keisha chuckled as they headed inside.
“Ohh...yeah...right there,” Keisha moaned, spreading her legs to give Rick better access to her pussy.
“You like that, baby?” Rick’s blond hair was mussed due to Keisha grabbing it, in order to mash his face into her mound. His lips held the traces of her own juices. As she watched, he licked his lips deliberately and shot her a devious look. He was so fucking hot.
“Oh, yes, Daddy,” Keisha moaned and rolled her hips. “Please don’t stop!”
“Such a bossy little girl,” he chuckled. “And impatient! Hold still, and let Daddy take care of you.”
Rick dived back into Keisha’s pussy, licking her from taint to clit, sucking her into his mouth, and she responded by panting and keening.
“Ohhhhh soooo gooood!” Keisha’s scream was long and drawn out. He was driving her crazy. She wanted more of him, but his pussy-eating game was so strong that the sensations were almost too much to bear.
She tried to keep still, but her hips bucked all on their own.
“Now, what did I say?” Rick peered over her mound and wagged a finger at her. “If you can’t hold still, I might have to...restrain you.”
Keisha blinked at him. Because who wouldn’t want to be restrained by this golden-haired man?
“And if I have to tie you up, I’ll have to punish you first,” he said, giving her pussy a sharp spank to emphasize his point.
Her eyes went wide. “Um...okay,” she said. However, she had no idea how she would be able to hold still when the man was soooo good at taking care of her pussy. She was willing to give it a try, though.
She settled back into the crisp, white sheets and gave herself over to the moment. There were no sounds other than her moans and the appreciative grunts Rick made as he slurped and nuzzled her pussy. And an odd electronic warbling she heard distantly.
She focused on enjoying all the carnal things Rick was doing to her, but the warbling got louder. And louder. And even louder.
Keisha’s eyes popped open to a Facetime from her mother. She fumbled for her phone, accepted the call, and looked at her mother’s smiling, round-cheeked face as it appeared on her phone screen.
"Mom?" she said, voice heavy with sleep. She had been having such an... interesting dream. It must have been the chocolate-chip cookies that caused it. There could be no other reason why she’d be dreaming of RA III.
"Hi, baby!" her mother trilled. She was a little too perky, her voice too bright for the early hour.
"Whassup, mom?" Keisha slurred.
"Baby, you won't believe who I ran into at Richards Hardware!" Her mother's cheeks were bright with excitement.
Keisha literally had no idea. She had no idea who it might be, and she had even less idea of why her mother felt the need to call her at...she consulted her phone for the time...9:17 am? On a Saturday?
"Mom, I worked last night..."
"This will only take a minute," her mother breezed along, barely acknowledging her daughter's words.
Keisha peered at the phone screen, wondering where her mother was. Outdoors, it appeared. She looked to be sitting in her little Corolla...on Main Street. Keisha could see the steps of the Blue Heaven City Hall behind her.
City Hall was just a few steps from Richards Hardware.
"Mom...when did this happen?"
"Hmm? That's not important, Keisha." Her mother looked impatient. Cranky.
"Mom, are you still at Richards?"
Her mother waved a hand at her dismissively.
"It was Peter Dunlop!"
Oh, shit!
"Uh...Peter Dun—"
"Peter Dunlop! He's just moved back to town! And he asked about you!"
I'll bet he did...
"Peter Dunlop...my prom date?" Her mind conjured an image of a tall, thin, nerdy boy with pimples. He was a nice boy, quiet and shy, but to the extent that two virginal teenagers could experience such a thing, there had been no "spark."
She didn't have a problem with Peter, really, he seemed like a nice guy. No, it was her mother's meddling that bothered her. This was just another example.
"Yes, he owns a company that builds amusement parks. Can you believe that?" Her mother's eyes glowed with excitement. "He's going to build one here! In Blue Heaven!"
Now that was interesting.
"Wow, that's great!" Keisha said, sincerely happy for him.
"Anyway, he's staying at one of the cottages at the Inn of Blue Heaven while the old Shipley place is being renovated. He plans to move here permanently," her mother crowed triumphantly, as if she were the one who orchestrated the move.
"That's great!" Keisha said unenthusiastically. She was barely awake, and her mother’s call was coming at her from left field. "You'll get to see him again next month!" her mother finished, eyebrows up in anticipation.
"Next month?" Keisha echoed with a frown.
"The wedding?" Her mother's eyebrows came together, her expression bleak.
That’s right. Her sister Imani’s wedding. Keisha was giving a reading, in fact.
"Don't you dare try to get out of it!" her mother said with a stern expression.
Keisha winced. She hadn't requested the long wedding weekend off from work, but she made a mental note to do so.
"What was that face?" her mother chided.
"Ummm... it's nothing, Mom," she said, schooling her features into an acceptable expression and injecting enthusiasm into her voice. "I'll definitely be there! But I don't need a date."
"Oh!" Her mother’s eyes lit with excitement. "Are you seeing someone? Already have a date?"
"Yes, I do," Keisha blurted.
The words came to her almost without thought, a lie that spilled from her lips with the force of a geyser. She didn't realize what she had said until her mother's expression changed to one of beaming pride.
"Ohhhh... tell me all about him!" her mother exclaimed.
The lies kept coming when Keisha said, "Uh... mom, I need to confirm with him. He might have a work conflict..."
Shit, shit, shit!
Not only did she have an imaginary boyfriend, but her boyfriend had a demanding career that kept him busy on the weekends.
Keisha half listened as her mother prattled on about how she couldn't wait to meet her new boyfriend, how beautiful the wedding was going to be, and about the wedding festivities. It was a few more minutes before Keisha got her mother off the phone. She flopped on her back and stared at the ceiling.
"I am so fucked," she said to the empty room, now wide awake at too-early on a Saturday.
2
Richard Alvin Brantley, III was getting impatient. He paced in front of the nondescript, low-slung yellow brick building that housed the Dallas Emergency Services regional office. He was flanked by two large, intimidating bodyguards with mirrored sunglasses and impassive expressions, his personal protection detail. Rick also wore mirrored sunglasses, both to protect against the glare of the day, and also, to go incognito.
Rick was waiting for the three pm shift change that would have one Keisha Williams, the angel who encouraged and soothed him during his recent ordeal, arriving at work for the evening. It was unseasonably warm for May, and heat shimmered from the baked sidewalk, only adding to his impatience.
"What time is it, Geordie?" he asked one of the big-ass bodyguards. Geordie was a big bastard, about 6'5". His muscles strained against the fabric of his suit.
"Five minutes later than the last time you asked," the man said in a bored tone. He crosse
d his arms over his massive barrel chest and frowned. Geordie always seemed a little put out.
At Rick's haughty, wealth-privileged glare, Geordie relaxed a bit and said, "Five minutes later than the last time you asked.” Then as a nod to their employer-employee relationship, Geordie added, “Boss."
Rick pursed his lips with irritation. William, his other bodyguard, maintained a stoic expression behind his sunglasses.
Rick was dressed for success in a sport coat and lightweight silk trousers. Rick was one of the many heirs to the Brantley Composites family fortune. The multinational conglomerate founded by his grandparents revolutionized the recycling industry. Their signature products were made from composite, which was a raw material that could be chemically bonded to a variety of post-consumer waste products to make a wide range of products.
Brantley Composites was a tremendously successful business and had made the Brantleys a family with wealth on par with the Waltons or the Kochs. Rick was one of eighteen grandchildren, so his personal fortune was only in the billions. At least, it would be, once he received his trust fund. Rick could have anything he wanted— buy anything he wanted. Except the emergency operator who didn’t seem at all impressed by him.
Uncle Jonathan had not been pleased with Rick borrowing his car without permission. His uncle did say he was glad Rick hadn't been seriously injured. At least he'd said so.
All in all, it was hard to blame Uncle Jonathan for being annoyed.
Uncle Jonathan accepted Rick’s apology, but insisted Rick make things right. Uncle Jonathan demanded Rick dig deep into his shallow soul and figure out how to make amends. True amends.
Rick had done some soul searching. He had dug deep, as Uncle Jonathan had told him to, and with that in mind, for the past several weeks, he eschewed his tabloid behaviors: the drinking, the gambling, the womanizing. True, it had only been a few weeks, but it felt surprisingly good to do.
He found he wanted to give back to those who helped him. Really give back. He’d researched the needs of the Dallas Fire Department and had made a sizable donation to the widows and orphans fund.
He was doing something good for the DFD, creating something lasting for them. Sure, they still had the issues of any big city bureaucracy: lack of funding, the need for technology upgrades, and so on. But at least he could help in his own small way.
But he really wanted to help the person who kept him going. Who kept his darkest hour from overwhelming him? Unfortunately, emergency representatives were not part of the police or fire departments. They were independent contractors working under the auspices of the Department of Emergency Services.
His research into Ms. Williams’ background revealed a hard-working young woman, one who supported herself as an emergency representative while finishing a master's degree in creative writing remotely at a prestigious university on the East Coast. Originally from the small town of Blue Heaven, she had moved to Dallas some years prior with her cousin, Tandy Lopez, who was also from the same town. Tandy managed a vintage clothing shop in Deep Ellum.
Keisha also appeared to be an independent woman. She had replied to his message and requests for an in-person meeting to personally thank her for comforting him in his time of need with a firm, yet polite, no.
He was determined to meet her. The more she resisted him, the more he wanted to get close to her. He felt it was his duty to make her life easier. To that end, he planned to track her down, and give her whatever her heart desired. Perhaps he could offer to pay for her tuition? Did she need a car to get around? Or maybe she had a charity he could donate to on her behalf?
Whatever it was, he would do it for her. The truth was he owed her a debt, one he intended to repay. And after he repaid her, he would let Uncle Jonathan know he had in order to get back into his good graces.
It was now almost three pm. Keisha Williams should be arriving soon for work. Rick scanned the area in front of the support center, an expansive space on which large planters made of composite, no doubt manufactured by his family's company or one of its subsidiaries, dotted the plaza.
At 3:03 pm, he spotted her. She approached the building in almost a dead run, and Rick supposed it was because she was late for her shift. She was wearing a pair of dark leggings, a t-shirt, and a lightweight blazer over the entire outfit. Her hair was straight and fell to her shoulders. She was taller than he expected, about 5' 9”, long and lean. She had a nice rack and lean, athletic thighs. Her complexion was close to the color of a pecan shell.
She was so focused on getting into the building that she breezed right by Rick, Geordie, and William without noticing them. Rick blinked, unsure of what to do next. He frowned.
"Maybe you should catch up with her?" Geordie suggested, cocking an eyebrow.
"Uh, yeah," Rick said. He jogged after her, catching up just as she was badging into the employee entrance.
He touched her arm, and she turned her startled gaze on him, her pouty lips parted.
Up close, she was a great deal prettier than he'd remembered. Her complexion was so smooth his fingers itched to touch her. Her eyes were an unusual shade of green that was close to olive. She looked confused and curious. He detected the moment she recognized him because confusion morphed into annoyance in a flash, and her luscious lips set in a straight line. She squared her shoulders.
"Mr. Brantley," she said, holding up a scolding finger. "You really need to stop this. You've already said thank you.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she kept right on talking, her eyes flashing with irritation.
“Also, you didn’t need to bring,” she gestured at William and Geordie at the curb, “Tweedle Big and Tweedle Bigger to accost me when I'm going to work."
She turned on her heel and went to go into the building.
"Keisha." His fingers tightened around her forearm, and her eyes dropped to his hand on her arm. He snatched his hand back. "Ms. Williams."
She gave him a chiding look.
"I'm late, Mr. Brantley," she said, her brows knit with annoyance.
Even annoyed, she had the kind of face that made him want to look closer. He was used to women whose looks were on the surface; socialites who could access the latest and most expensive beauty treatments. Everything a man might want to know was obvious, and therefore, there was no need to be curious, no sense of there being hidden depths.
But there was so much more to Keisha. He just wanted to get closer, to learn more about her. He wanted to touch her so badly he clasped his hands together to avoid grabbing her. Her green eyes flashed with fire. He wanted to touch the flame.
He was at a loss for words. He had planned to turn on the charm, but no amusing quips came to mind. Instead, all he could muster was complete sincerity.
"I really want to talk to you," he stammered. "I want to thank you for... caring about me the other day."
His face went hot, and he blushed to the tips of his ears.
Her face went soft with grudging understanding. She crossed her arms over her chest, and waited for him to say his piece.
"You've been on my mind since that night and… well, I feel compelled to thank you for… taking care of me." His voice cracked with emotion he didn't know he had been feeling.
Keisha continued to look up at him, but her expression was no longer suspicious.
"Please, meet with me tonight. You get off at eleven, right? I could come back and give you a ride home?" he said hopefully.
She seemed to be considering what he said. She frowned, pursed her lips, and nodded her head slowly.
His heart thumped against his chest with elation. And weirdly, his cock thickened in his slacks. He smiled broadly. The desire to touch her came over him, slammed into him, actually, and he tapped a foot with agitation to hold himself back. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and she managed a small smile. Revealing a pair of tiny dimples on one side of her mouth. Just on the one side of her mouth.
"Okay," she said, relenting. "I'll meet you tonight when I get off. But,
um, I don't think we need your goons," she told him, nodding at Geordie and William.
He thought about this. He could ask his guys to wait in the car.
"Sure, no problem," he shrugged and smiled even harder. The knot of tension in his stomach uncurled, and it seemed like the air between them vibrated. "I'll be back at eleven."
"Okay," she said again. Her bottom lip trembled. She chewed it again, until it went pale, then released it, and he watched the blood flooding back. He was seized with the desire to chew on her bottom lip. His strong attraction to her startled him.
Did she feel the vibration of attraction, too?
"And Mr. Brantley, I'm glad you're okay."
She smiled again, the tiny dimples popping, and his heart dropped into his belly. The next thing he knew, his body glided toward hers until her face was a hair's breadth from his. She held her breath and nibbled on her puffy bottom lip again.
Surely, she was doing that on purpose, to drive him bananas. He needed to step back. He needed to walk away.
His eyes dropped to her lips and all reason left him. He stopped trying to keep his hands to himself and lost his damned mind. His hands slid under her blazer and went to her waist. He pulled her body flush with his, then his lips connected with hers like a magnet to metal.
3
Keisha made a sound like "mmmph" and knew she should object to this kiss, but she didn't seem to have the will to push Rich Asshole, III away.
He smelled good. And now she knew he was also a good kisser. A really good kisser. A really good kisser with inappropriate timing, who apparently thought nothing of placing a lip lock on a total stranger in front of her place of work.
She felt the rasp of his stubbly whiskers against her mouth, smelled the light musk of his cologne, and curiously, the bumps of his taste buds. He tasted wonderful, like mint and water, but this was madness. Kissing him was madness. RA III was a player. A womanizer and party animal. A guy who made sex videos and had an assistant, but no job. So wrong for her. So very, very wrong.