by Kim Karr
Behind her, I hike her dress up again and stare at the leopard thong she’s wearing, the one I bought her as a joke when I bought the condoms.
Condoms.
Oh fuck.
I have no wallet on me, which means I have no condoms.
“You wore it,” I growl in her ear, running my fingers down the thin strap along the crease of her ass.
She pushes her ass toward me. “I think it’s sexy.”
My finger circles that forbidden zone. “It is. Someday, I want this,” I tell her.
Her ponytail swings and she twists her head to look at me with those fuck-me eyes that make my dick feel like a rod of steel. “Maybe,” she whispers. “Maybe someday.”
Fuck me. That wasn’t a no. “I can live with that,” I say. “I just want a piece of you no one has ever had.”
That blush she gets every now and then paints her face.
“We have a slight problem,” I admit, sliding her thong down and reaching around to run my fingers along her slick, really wet, really ready-for-me pussy.
“What?” she breathes out, pushing her sex into my palm.
“I’m going to make you come, but that’s all we can do for right now.”
“What?” she repeats.
I slip a finger inside her. “I don’t have any condoms.”
“Fuck me without one. We’ve both been tested. I’m clean. You’re clean. I’m on the pill.”
I add another finger and move them up and down. “You sure?”
“Yes,” she cries out. “Just do it now.”
A sudden roar of fire licks up from my bare feet, shooting through my whole body at the thought of going bareback inside her. Inside Makayla’s sweet, little pussy.
“Cam,” she prods.
Giving her one last finger fuck, I remove my hands and yank down my swimsuit. Then I nudge her legs apart and with my cock in my hand, I find her slick entrance and plunge inside her. Oh fuck, her pussy is so warm, so tight, and I feel like I could live inside her like this forever. “You feel amazing,” I grunt as I thrust.
She moves against my thrusts. “So do you.”
My chin presses into her shoulder and my mouth nuzzles beneath her ear. “Makayla.”
Tilting her head to the side, she allows me full access to her neck.
“Makayla,” I murmur against her soft flesh.
“Cam,” she whimpers back.
My hands travel from her hips to her clit, and I press my fingers to it, applying pressure. “I’m not going to last long.”
“Neither am I,” she cries out.
“Fuck.” I take my hands and put them on her hips so I can pump into harder, faster.
“Fuck,” she cries out, and it only spurs me on. The good girl has a dirty little mouth when she’s turned on. I fucking love it.
“Come for me, Makayla,” I command, my voice gruff with need. “Come around my cock. I need to feel it.”
That hard demand must trigger her release because she cries out my name, over and over and over.
My hands caress the curve of her ass and my fingers dig into her hips as her pussy clenches around my cock. The feeling is unlike anything I’ve felt before and I swear my eyes roll into the back of my head. “Christ, you’re hot,” I murmur. “Like the fucking sun…”
I hear voices from just outside the door, and then the door handle jiggles.
Hard and fast I move. My teeth graze her neck, and I muffle my outcry against her soft flesh. My cock jerks inside her and I thrust one more time, hard enough to push the desk forward.
The voices disappear but I’m not sure if the people are gone as I leave this earth and rocket to climax.
Makayla smacks her head against the cement wall.
“Are you okay?” I ask, squeezing my hands gently against her sides.
She starts laughing. “I’m seeing stars.”
Most people don’t like to laugh during sex, but Makayla and I seem to revel in it. Pulling out of her, I slide her panties up her slim hips. “That was me, baby. All me.”
She flips around and smooths her dress, then runs a hand up my chest. “When you’re inside me I see more than just stars, I see planets and comets and the moon.”
The voices are back and I’m not sure if it’s the beach patrol or beachgoers, so I place a finger over her lips to remain silent.
Still laughing, she bites my finger.
Shaking my head at her, I pull my hand away to tie the string that holds my swim trunks up. When I’m done, I lean down to bite her lip and I think…so do I, baby.
So do I.
21
One Cool Cat
Makayla
Don’t worry, everything is going to be groovy and amazing.
Not my words—really, they aren’t. Something like that would never come from my mouth. It is the slogan for the natural foods restaurant Maggie insisted we try for lunch.
With Cam in New York City, I’ve had a lot more time on my hands and Maggie has been eating it up. Literally. One vegetarian restaurant after the other.
I push my spoon through my acai bowl, which per the menu is made with love. Truly it shouldn’t be that bad. Then again, I did ask for no chia seeds, no green foods powder, no spinach, and no anything I’d never heard of. That leaves me with a bowl of berries and yogurt. And how bad could that be, right? Again, it is made with love.
Maggie gives me a small smile as she sets down her wheatgrass shot and picks up her watermelon juice. “You should try this; it really is so good.”
Feigning gagging, I shake my head. “I tried it at that café we had dinner at the other night. No thank you.”
All this healthy eating is going to help me lose a few pounds. Not because of the nutritional elements, but because I’m simply eating less. Honestly, the food here in Laguna is taking some getting used to.
I squint my eyes and glance across the table. My contact lenses are dirty and need to be changed. Still, it doesn’t take clear vision to see something isn’t right. Maggie isn’t her normal chipper self. Whereas when we first sat down, I thought she might have been hung over, now I think she just looks sad. I hadn’t considered that option until right now.
In her white tank top, Maggie doesn’t have any qualms about the possibility she might drip pink juice down her shirt as she slurps through the extra-wide straw. I watch as she sets the cup down and then pushes her black bean burger around on her plate. She hasn’t even taken a bite. Now that is very unlike her.
“What’s going on?” I ask, scooping the yogurt into my mouth.
She gives me a little shrug. “I told Derek we were over last night.”
Not sure if I’m shocked or just surprised, I quickly swallow my food. “Oh Maggie, I thought things were going so well. What happened?”
She stares down at her plate. “They were. So well that, believe it or not, I told him I thought we should be exclusive.” She pauses a little and laughs. “And he told me he liked things the way they were—unlabeled. In other words, he wanted to keep fucking around.”
Her voice breaks, and I know the hugger needs a hug. Getting up, I round the table and circle my arms around her. “I’m sorry. That really stinks, but at least he was honest.”
Squeezing me back, she takes a deep breath. “Yeah. I could have kept seeing him, but it didn’t feel right anymore. I’m just so tired of sleeping with men who are sleeping with other women.”
Taking a seat, I look across the table at her. “Hold on, Mags—not to rain on your pity party, but isn’t that what you do all the time? Sleep with other men when seeing guys? That’s the definition of not putting a label on it, isn’t it?”
She heaves a heavy sigh. “Yes, I know, but I’m so tired of it. I don’t want to do it anymore. I just want to meet a nice guy, hang out, and have fun. You know, like you and Cam.”
I smile at that. “You can, Maggie. Guys are all over you all day long. You have to find one who is a match for you.”
“Yeah, I know. Much easier
said than done.”
“That is very true.”
She laughs.
“What?”
“Look at you, giving me relationship advice.”
I pinch a berry from my bowl and drop it into my mouth. “Well, I am officially uptight free now that I finished the list.”
A napkin flies across the table at me. “Makayla, you were never uptight; it’s just how you saw yourself because of Sebastian.”
I could argue, but maybe she’s right. Being with Cam has allowed me to be more fun, be freer, and maybe, just maybe, be myself.
Finally, Maggie takes a bite of her cold, pushed-around-her-plate black bean burger. “Mmmm…this is so good. You have to try it,” she says.
Breakup blues are short-lived when it comes to Maggie and I think my job is done here. “No, I’m full,” I tell her, pushing my food aside. That was not yogurt, by the way. “I have to pick up Cam at the airport.”
Balling her napkin up, she tosses it on her plate. “Oh, that’s right—I almost forgot he’s coming home today.” She points to me. “I should have known, considering that dress has a hot factor of about a fifteen on a scale of one to ten.”
“This old thing,” I laugh.
“Liar! It’s new. I know my mother left it for you the other day when she dropped by and you weren’t around. It looks really good on you, by the way.”
I push my hair behind my ear. “Yes, so maybe it is a Simon Warren and new. I’m just really excited to see him and want to look good for him,” I admit.
While he’s been gone, we haven’t talked that much on the phone. He has been busy with his sister and mother. He did send some dirty text messages, though, and a few sweet ones, too. And like I thought, I have missed him.
Maggie suddenly claps her hands together. “Oh my God, this is perfect timing. Brooklyn asked me to cook him some curry and you guys can come too. I’ll even invite some other people. It will be like a dinner party.”
Okay, nothing about that sounds appetizing, from Maggie cooking to curry. “Hold on, Maggie, back up. Why are you cooking for Brooklyn?” I eye her suspiciously.
Her gaze roams as if searching for something, but then snaps back to mine. “Nothing like that. You know we’re just friends. He’s good-looking, but a little too young and way too assertive for me.”
I have to laugh. She definitely likes to rule the roost, so to say, and Brooklyn does seem to have some alpha tendencies. Besides she always goes for the easy going suits. Always.
“And he didn’t ask me to cook for him,” she goes on. “We were walking through the command center together the other day, and he saw someone eating a bowl of curried chickpeas in the break room from the Indian restaurant down the road and asked me what it tasted like. I couldn’t believe he’d never tried it, so I told him I’d make it for him.”
“But you don’t cook.”
“You know,” she says, her cup in her hand and her gaze focusing on the store attached to the restaurant, “I bet I can find everything I need here. If not, I’m done with work today anyway, so I have time to go to the Indian market.”
Determined as she is, there is no talking her down, so standing up to leave, I just go with it. “Groovy,” I tell her, taking my lead from the logo on the menu. “We’ll be there.”
Taking one last sip from her straw, she practically chokes on her laughter. “Far out,” she mocks and laughs even harder.
Uptight free now, I make the peace sign as I head toward the door.
“Those are rock horns,” she yells.
Oh, okay, so I need to study the hippie dialect a little more.
Still, I think I’m one cool kitten.
Or is it cat?
Yeah, it’s cat.
I’m one cool cat.
Right on.
22
The Purple People Eater
Cam
The Orange County airport is becoming way too familiar.
The plane ride back was nothing like my last one, and the memory of almost joining the Mile High Club only spurs on my need to see Makayla. Laguna Beach and she have somehow settled in my heart. Every time I return to New York, I feel less and less like it’s home and more and more like this place is.
Passing the John Wayne statue, I look around. And around. And around. No Makayla anywhere. This place isn’t as big as LaGuardia, but it is big enough to attract a rather large crowd. Families are waiting for their boarding times. A suit-wearing businessman is checking his BlackBerry. Old ladies with their bags of oranges and palm tree T-shirts are hugging their grandchildren goodbye. But not a single one of them is Makayla.
Finally, I catch sight of her smile and long brown hair coming up the top of the escalator and she looks hotter than fuck in a short purple dress. I haven’t seen it before. It’s sleeveless and has cutouts on the side. I’m already imagining dragging my tongue along the seams and eating through it to get to that sweet pussy.
I stand where I am, trying to catch my breath like a pussy myself. Just as I’m about to say fuck it all and go for her like they do in the movies, she takes off toward me. She’s close to me before I can even move in her direction.
Catching her as she leaps into my arms, I twirl her around, just like every happy, sappy couple does in the movies. Shit, I’m watching way too many romantic comedies. Time for some fright and gore.
Loving the smell of her and the feel of her in my arms, I bury my face in her neck and breathe her in. I squeeze her hard and she squeezes me back just as tightly.
After a few moments I pull back to look at her. It has been only a week, but at the same time way too long. I have a lei around my neck that I bought in a gift shop in LaGuardia. It’s for those people wishing they’d gone to Hawaii but ended up in New York, I guess. Ridiculous, right? Who’d buy something like that? Yet I found myself doing just that. I take it off my neck and wrap it around hers. “For you,” I say.
She looks down at it with a grin and then up at me. “Is this your way of telling me you’re hoping to get laid?”
Having missed that sense of humor and sass of hers, I pull her to me again, twirling her once more just because I want to. While doing it, I whisper in her ear, “That’s the plan.”
She whispers back, “I can’t wait.”
When I set her down, I kiss her, at first softly, then much harder. Lips. Teeth. Tongues. Hands. Bodies crushing. Now this is a scene from a movie.
“Fuck, I missed you,” I tell her.
“I missed you, too. How was New York?”
“Lots of family drama and bullshit, but it was good to spend time with my sister.”
I lean forward to kiss her again, but she holds me at arm’s length, almost studying me. “Want to talk about it?”
I take her hand and head toward baggage claim. Due to the length of my stay, I had to check a bag. I hate having to do that. “Not especially.”
“Would you?” she asks.
I let her go first and follow. “The best news is there were no confrontations with my old man. I kept my distance and he kept his. My sister was a little suspicious and started asking a lot of questions. Except for Brandon’s memorial, we haven’t been all together since I found out he was fucking my girlfriend.”
Makayla shudders.
Yanking her hand to my mouth, I kiss it. “Ex-girlfriend,” I clarify. “But I did talk to him alone.”
She steps off the escalator and waits for me.
“I went to see him about my trust fund, and I told him I wanted it signed over to me. Believe it or not, he did it—no argument, no questions asked about what I have planned for it.”
I’d already told her about the money. How my father’s parents left each of his three children a decent amount of money with a string—that we use it for investing. To make money. Not to spend on lifestyle shit. My father has been managing our accounts. What happened to Brandon’s, I have no idea. Anyway, he turned it over. I have to say, I was shocked.”
We walk toward the assig
ned baggage belt and when we get there, I turn to look at her. “Fuck, Makayla, I missed you so much. All I wanted to do was jerk off to the naked picture of you, but somehow I held off.”
She raises a brow. “Why?”
I raise one back. “I just knew the real thing would be so much better.”
She throws her arms around my neck and whispers in my ear, “I made myself come every night thinking of you.”
Every muscle in my body tenses. “No…you didn’t! Did you buy a new vibe?”
“No,” she laughs. “Just used my fingers.”
“Fuck me,” I say. “Christ, that’s so fucking hot. I want to see it.”
She presses that hot little body of hers against me and breathes in my ear. “Take me home quickly and while you jerk off in front of the real thing, maybe I’ll show you how I did it without a vibrator.”
Holy fucking shit. I lunge for the belt. I can’t get my suitcase fast enough.
Taking the elevator to the garage seems to take a million years. My cock is as hard as steel and more than ready to go. A week of celibacy after a month of nonstop sex has me wishing I could hire a chopper to get us from Santa Ana to Laguna, or at the very least, that I’d hired a driver.
Her bright blue Jeep is parked in the middle of the garage, surrounded by dozens of cars. As soon as I get in the driver’s seat, it’s not the car I want to start, but her.
With the uncontrollable need to feel her sweet pussy, I lean over to kiss her. It isn’t intentional, but all revved up, I can’t stop the reflex reaction to run my hand up her thigh. Higher. Higher still. I fucking love that she’s in a dress.
Easy to get my fingers in her panties.
As soon as I touch that slick flesh, I’m a goner. I caress down the center of her wetness. Just once, I tell myself.
Makayla makes a noise.
And with that sound mingling with my breaths, I have no choice but to ease a finger inside her. “So beautiful, I can’t wait to be in here,” I whisper into her ear.