Bossy Brothers: Alonzo

by JA Huss

  He leans down and begins to nibble on my earlobe. My fingers automatically thread into his hair, gripping it tight like I never want to let him go.

  I know he’s changing the subject. I have a feeling there’s a much bigger story behind the truth Belinda spilled about the Dumas brothers. But… do I really need to get all the details right now?

  Because good things can be few and far between. You never know when you’re on the edge of a long, hot desert. Or how long it will take you to cross it and come out the other side. You kinda have to take them at face value when they show up. Make the most of them, even if it’s just for a short period of time.

  So… whatever. I let go of his hair and reach for the edges of my demi-cup bra, ready to tug on it. Because I want to play with him. If this life has to be a game I want to play with Lonnie Derringer. “Now I’m pulling my bra down so you can—”

  He slaps my hands away and takes over, yanking my bra down until my breasts pop out. His eyes linger on mine for a moment. And there’s a diabolical craftiness inside them that should scare me a little, but doesn’t. I see the tattoos but I know the man underneath them. And he lives on the same street as his parents, for fuck’s sake. This family is like apple pie and baseball.

  His eyes wander down to my peaked nipples. He licks his lips with desire. “Now what are you doing?”

  “Now I’m unbuttoning my pants so—”

  His hand slides down my belly, deftly pops the button of my jeans, and pulls the zipper down. “Now what are you doing?”

  “I slip my hand inside my jeans. Right down between my legs.”

  He moves off to the side of me. Just a little. Just enough for his hand to obey my order.

  I moan when he makes contact with my clit.

  “Don’t stop now, Tara. We’re just getting started.”

  “I’m playing with myself,” I say, already breathing heavy.

  He begins to rub small circles and I have to close my eyes when a wave of pure pleasure shoots up my spine.

  I never thought we’d really be here. And for a moment, when my eyes are closed, I think I’m dreaming. Or making it up. I’m not really here. He’s not really touching me. We’re on the phone, thousands of miles apart.

  “Tara?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Don’t you want to know what I’m doing?”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN - ALONZO

  Tara Tanner. Here. In my house. Half-naked with my hand inside her pants, playing with the wetness between her legs.

  She is a dream come true.

  But she’s silent in the wake of my question. “What?” I ask.

  “Shhh,” she says. “I’m memorizing this moment.”

  I lean down. Slowly. Never taking my eyes off hers. And I gently kiss her lips. She closes her eyes for a moment, but then opens them back up when my tongue begins to tangle with hers.

  I pull back just enough to whisper, “I’m pulling my cock out of my pants, Tara.”

  And she gets it. She gets me. Because her fingers are popping the button on my pants and just a moment later her palm—her flesh-and-blood hand—is wrapped around my hard shaft.

  It feels so good, I have to roll onto my back and close my eyes for a moment.

  My response makes her stifle a giggle.

  “You think it’s funny?” I turn my head and crack one eye open so I can look at her.

  “No. Not funny. But seeing your reaction makes me feel… I dunno. Like maybe this is real. Maybe you have been dreaming about me the way I’ve been dreaming about you these past two years.”

  I want to make a speech right now. I want all my feelings to spill out as words. I want to ask her to marry me, and have my fucking babies, and show up for Saturday night dinners for the rest of her life.

  And even though I know that’s a very bad idea—we will fuck, but any girl who sticks it out with me needs to know what she’s getting into—I want to say it anyway. I want to explain all the ways we could make it work and forget about all the things that will make it fail.

  But then she says, “I want to taste myself,” and breaks the spell I’m under.

  I withdraw my hand from between her legs, drag my wet fingertips up her stomach, and touch her lips. She opens her mouth and her tongue darts out, licking my fingers. I stick them inside her mouth and she sucks on them.

  Soon—maybe not right now, but soon—she will be doing that to my cock. And it will be real.

  Her hand grips mine and takes my fingers out of her mouth, her tongue playing with the tips for a moment. “Come on, Lonnie. Play along. You’re letting yourself get distracted.”

  “I know,” I say, sighing out the words. “But I just can’t believe it’s really you. I can’t force it to make sense.”

  “It can make sense later. But right now, we’re in this moment. And I don’t want you to miss it.”

  She’s right. This might be the most special moment in our entire lives. We are never going to get to meet each other in person for the first time ever again.

  I don’t want to miss it either. So I keep the game going. “I’m jerking off.”

  Her hand obeys. Tugging on my cock. Squeezing it, Sliding up and down in an even, almost agonizingly slow, rhythm.

  “Well, I’m taking off my pants.” She winks and shoots me a mischievous grin.

  And then I’m totally back in the moment. All those feels can wait. Because right now all I want to do is fuck her into tomorrow.

  I get up on my knees. Her hand never loses its grip on my cock. And I drag her too-big jeans down her legs and toss them aside. Then I rip open her panties.

  Her bra cups are still pulled down, but I leave them alone. I like the way they lift up her tits.

  I straddle her thighs, my cock right above her pussy, her hand still massaging it with those same long, even strokes. “I’m leaving my pants on. Because all I want is to be inside you, Tara. Right now.”

  She pushes my cock down until it slides between the lips of her pussy. I can feel her entrance. The heat and slick wetness. And I want nothing more than to shove the whole length of my dick up inside her and make her scream.

  But I don’t. I take a breath and hold it. Letting her control me the way she’s letting me control her.

  “Tell me what to do.” Her blue eyes blink up at me. Like she is this pure, innocent maiden. I know it’s a lie. I know everything we’ve been doing for the past two years is a lie.

  But if we both believe it, does it matter?

  “Open your legs, Tara.”

  She bends her knees and brings them up to her chest, practically inviting my hands to push her knees up and open and spread her wide.

  She still has a hold of my shaft and I almost growl with anticipation when she begins sliding the tip of my cock back and forth across her clit, spreading the wetness I created with my fingers just a few minutes ago.

  I can’t tell if she’s teasing me, torturing me, or just trying to kill me with that little move. I have to close my eyes, that’s how good it feels.

  She moans a little and then I slip inside her and…

  “Ohhhh, God,” I moan too. Because she is so wet. So ready for me. I slip easily past the tight muscles of her pussy. They grip me as I go deeper and deeper. Further and further inside her.

  I lower my chest down on top of her breasts, my hands reaching under her long, dark hair and gripping and pulling it tight, mimicking the way her pussy grips my cock. My mouth finds hers and suddenly we are hungry for each other, our tongues living a wild life of their own. She bites my lip and I nip her back, making her squirm underneath me. Which only makes everything feel better.

  But I want to watch her move as we fuck. I want to see her face when she comes. So I roll us over, never breaking contact, and suddenly she is on top of me. Her face lights up in a smile, her long hair now tickling my chest.

  “Fuck me, Tara. Right now.”

  She flattens both hands on my chest. Planting them right on the faces of a sailor and the sir
en calling him to his death. Every day when I look in the mirror I see this tattoo. It’s a warning and I put it there to remind me that it will be a woman who brings me down in the end.

  But I do not give one flying fuck.

  If Tara Tanner asked me to spill all my secrets right here, right now, I would.

  I would be powerless against her seductive song and I would spill.

  “Yes,” she moans, breaking the spell and pulling me back into the moment.

  Her hips begin to move faster. Her face right above mine. Her hair dragging along my chest with the rocking motion of her body.

  And that’s it.

  I don’t want to come. I want to stay inside her forever. I want to fuck her into eternity.

  But she comes first and takes away all my options.

  She throws her head back, arching her back. And her pussy clamps down on my cock as she lets out a long, passionate moan.

  I’m done. There’s no way to resist this siren girl. I flip us over again, pull out, pump my cock a few times as I watch her body contract with the orgasm, and then I come all over her tits.

  Tara reaches up, her hands covering her breasts. Cupping them and squishing them together.

  I sit back, then lean all the way back until I’m resting against the side of the couch.

  And I just stare at her.

  Every filthy bit of her.

  This is the girl of my dreams. The girl on the other end of the phone. The girl who sends those dirty texts, and plays those dirty games with me. She is real, she is here, she is beautiful.

  I get to my feet, the muscles of my legs still a little weak from the climax, and stand over her. She grins lazily up at me, one eye open.

  I reach out to her with one hand. “Come with me, Tara.”

  She opens both eyes. Looks at my hand for a moment. Then takes it.

  I pull her easily up to a standing position, then turn and lead her towards my bedroom.

  “More?” She giggles. I lead her past the bed and into the master bathroom. “Oh. This is perfect. You have no idea how dirty I feel right now. Three days on the road, two shitty hotel rooms, Vann’s clothes.” She makes a face. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  I have a lot of questions about those three sentences. Some of them are about this Vann dude and the sleeping arrangements for the past three days. But mostly I want to know how one gets themselves mixed up in a two-thousand-five-hundred-mile road trip with no clothes.

  I hold up a finger, slip my phone out of my pocket, and press Jesse Boston’s contact.

  Jesse picks up on the first ring. “Lonz! My bro. What’s up? Did you boss her? Everything good? Need any more pointers?”

  “Jesse?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Shut up and listen to me. Go into Mom and Dad’s house, up on the second floor, third bedroom on the left. Emma’s room. Grab me something cute for my girl Tara here. She doesn’t have any clothes. You got me?”

  “I got you.”

  “And leave it on my porch. Do not knock, or bother me, or call me, or—”

  “I got it. Leave it on the porch. You’re welcome.”

  I end the call and swing my gaze over at Tara. She’s staring at me, almost naked. Her bra is still on. Sorta. And her t-shirt is ripped down the front. But it’s technically still on too. “That was the new brother-in-law?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s bringing me your sister’s clothes.”

  “Yeah. She’s not here. She’s in Europe on business. Jesse Boston is a billionaire loser with no actual job, so…” I throw up my hands. “Hey, if he wants to spend his time helping me out, who am I to turn him down?”

  Tara makes a face. “Jesse Boston. Why does that name sound familiar?”

  “Forget about him. Let’s take a shower.” I reach for her, but she puts up a hand.

  “Hold on. I’m thinking clearer now. Thanks for the sex, by the way.” She sighs. “But… you haven’t explained why you lied to me.”

  “Do we have to do this now?”

  She throws up an incredulous hand gesture. “What the hell else are we gonna do?”

  “Take a shower? You have my come all over your tits, your bra is in a spectacular arrangement of just-fucked disarray, and your t-shirt is ripped down the middle. The rest of you is naked. Is this really how you want to have this conversation?”

  She takes off the t-shirt—which is more like a vest at this point—wipes the come off her tits, throws the shirt at my chest, and reaches behind her back to unclasp the bra. It drops to the floor. She shoves it aside with a flick of her toe and then plants her hands on her hips. “Better, Lonnie? Because I do not give a single fuck about what I wear when we have this conversation.”

  “OK. But—”

  “Oh, no, buddy. You don’t get to have this conversation wearing pants. Take them off.”

  I laugh. “What?”

  “You heard me. Take off your pants.”

  “Fine. They’re half there already.” I slip my jeans down my legs. I’m commando today. Perks of a day off.

  My cock is still half hard and my hand automatically reaches down and begins to tug on it.

  Tara looks down at my hand, then back up at my eyes. “It’s not going to work.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sunshine.”

  “I’m good now, Lonnie. I feel pretty good. Not even horny. Barely a tingle. So you can jerk off in front of me all you want. You’re not getting out of this conversation.”

  “I’m not even trying to get out of it. I’m just… doing what comes naturally.”

  “Mm-hm. OK. Why did you lie to me?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Start from the beginning.”

  “The beginning is… ambiguous.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “It is, Tara. I’m not trying to dodge your question. It’s just… when I met you on the dating app I didn’t ever think it would go anywhere. Just some sexting. Maybe a phone call. That’s it. So that’s the beginning of us. But the beginning of the lie? That started back when I was eighteen. I’ve been telling that lie for so long, it’s not a lie anymore. And before you ask me what the fuck that means, I can’t tell you. OK? I… think I love you, and I want you to stick around, but that doesn’t mean I have to spill all my secrets, Tara. I don’t owe you that. I owe you an explanation about why I lied and here it is. I didn’t think we’d be anything serious, I didn’t think you were telling me the truth either—that’s kind of how you play the online dating game, right? And, if I’m being honest, I kinda like being Lonnie the accountant. He’s a simple dude with primal needs. It’s not a bad way to live a life, if you ask me.”

  She crosses her arms and stares at me for a few moments, clearly not convinced.

  “So… you wanna tell me why you just went on a three-day road trip to my home town and showed up without luggage?”

  She doesn’t say anything.

  And that’s when I know. I mean, I kinda knew before. Even though I checked her out pretty thoroughly when we first started dating and I made her take all those proof photos. I knew she was hiding something. People without secrets don’t date like this. I always knew she was like me. And her silence right now just proves it.

  “No?” I ask her. “Nothing to say? That’s fine with me.” I close the distance between us, erasing about three feet of space, and place both my hands on her shoulders.

  She tilts her head up so she can look me in the eyes. “I have a lot to say about that, actually. But not yet. Because I have good reason to guard my secrets too. Especially when I just found out you’ve been lying to me for two whole years. We fucked. We needed to do that so we could think straight. And now we are thinking straight, so…” She shrugs. “I dunno what comes next. A shower, obviously. Since we’re standing naked in a bathroom.”

  She looks around at it for a moment, taking in the marble tiles that cover the walls from floor to ceiling. The hazy beams of sunshine
streaming through the skylight above the shower. The bench where I’ve jerked off to the image of her I’ve built in my mind over the years.

  “Which, by the way, is inappropriately luxurious for such a small house with absolutely no personality. Your question about white or black marble the other day when we were phone-fucking makes a little more sense now.”

  “Why does everyone say my house is boring? Jesse said that too. Don’t you guys get it? I’m the personality in this house. Me.”

  She looks at my body for a moment. Not my dick, either. My arms, and chest, and shoulders.

  My tattoos.

  My mermaids and monsters.

  My sailors and sirens.

  The oceans of ink that cover me.

  Then her eyes find mine again. “You are that. No doubt.”

  “You don’t like them? The tattoos?”

  “What’s not to like about them? Your body is a work of art. I love them. They’re beautiful. But Lonnie the accountant doesn’t have tattoos. I mean, maybe he got drunk one night in college and his buddies talked him into a tramp stamp—”

  I guffaw.

  “—of a butterfly. I could possibly see that. But this?” She stares at my chest, which depicts a scene of a Viking-type sailor and a woman who is maybe a mermaid or maybe a Valkyrie. “Never in a million years would Lonnie have a tattoo like that.”

  “Well, to be fair… you aren’t really a librarian, are you, Tara?”

  “I am a librarian. You have so much proof of who I am.”

  “OK. But before you were this person you were someone else too, weren’t you?”

  “Isn’t everybody someone else at one point? So what? I didn’t lie about my job, or my life, or the fact that I had a whole family down here in Key West. I feel like a fool, Alonzo.”

  Hearing Tara say my real name shocks me in a small, but not insignificant way.

  “I feel like… an idiot. Because Belinda kept telling me it was a lie.”

  “Belinda?” I say it too loud and the word echoes in the bathroom. “Her fucking name is Rosalie. And she’s from here. She used to date my brother Tony before she disappeared. And I don’t know what she told you about us, but it’s all her fault.”