His Demand: A Dark Small Town Romance

by Hamel, B. B.

  I’m not a shy man. I don’t hold back. Celine is hesitant at first when I take her hips and start to dance up close to her. There are plenty of writhing, grinding couples all around us, but she’s skittish.

  I can feel it in her body as we move, but she starts to loosen up, starts to move to the music. I can feel it in my blood, her body so close, her lips practically inches from mine.

  I haven’t tasted lips like that in a long time. I’ve stayed away from women, kept to myself mostly. The opportunity has presented itself in these last six months, but I’ve always turned it down.

  Tonight, I don’t know why it’s so different. It’s something to do with Celine. I don’t know why I went to Hammy’s so late. I was bored, restless. I wanted a drink, some fresh air, some company, even if it was only for a little bit.

  I didn’t expect to find Celine. I didn’t expect to end up here.

  But if I learned anything, it’s that life takes you in fucked-up directions all the time, and you’d better grab on and ride it hard. Otherwise, it’ll ride you.

  So, I sway with Celine, I dance with her, I lose myself and let her get lost in me. It feels good, being so close to a woman like this. It feels good to breathe in the scent of her hair, feel her hands on my body, feels her hips moving with mine. I haven’t danced in a while, and I almost forgot how much like fucking the whole thing is.

  She looks up at me and tilts her chin to one side. It’s almost like she’s asking a question.

  I don’t say anything. I take her chin, almost her throat, and I kiss her.

  She kisses me back instantly, like this is the answer she was looking for.

  Fucking hell. Instantly all my hunger wakes up again, all my desire comes to life. She wakes me up and lights my skin on fire, a burning intense energy that threatens to overwhelm me completely. If I let it, I know it’ll overwhelm her, too.

  And so, we dance. I let the energy flow through me. Song after song, we grind and move. Sometimes, I kiss her. Sometimes, she kisses me. I feel like we’re doing something dirty, public, intimate. It feels so fucking good, I don’t want it to end.

  But eventually, she tugs me away from the crowd. She says something, but I can’t hear anything. My ears are practically ringing from that music.

  “I said, it’s really late.”

  I frown and check my watch. It’s nearly five in the morning.

  “Shit,” I say.

  “I need to go home.”

  I nod. “Okay. I’ll drive you.”

  She shakes her head. “My car’s still at the bar. Drop me off there.”

  I grunt and lead her back out into the night. Well, I guess it’s nearly the morning now.

  We don’t speak as we get into my truck. I’m tired now, and I can feel the hours of dancing in my legs. All that time blinked past, and now neither of us feel like we need to talk.

  I drive back to Hammy’s and park next to a little beige sedan, the only other vehicle in the lot.

  “That was fun,” she says finally, facing me.

  “Yeah, it was.”

  “I guess I should get going.”

  I nod, although she’s not moving. “Okay then.”

  She bites her lip, studying my face. I smirk and lean back in my seat a little bit. I know what she’s waiting for, but I’m not giving it to her.

  She lets out a frustrated sigh. “You’re not going to try to come home with me?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  She shakes her head. “No,” she says, although she means, yes, but I’m afraid.

  “So why ask?”

  “Guys always do. I mean, when you kiss them.” She hesitates, bites her lip. “I don’t normally do that.”

  “Kiss guys?”

  “Strangers, in a club. You know.”

  I shrug. “First time for everything.”

  “What about you?”

  I smirk and lean toward her suddenly. There’s a flash of fear in her eyes, and I drink it in. “I used to make a habit of it.”

  She blinks and glares at me. “Of course.”

  “Not anymore, though.”

  “What do you do now then?”

  “I only touch what I really, really want.”

  I can hear her breath get a little quicker in her chest. “You’re a strange one, Dawson…” She hesitates. “I don’t know your last name.”

  “Redner,” I say. “Dawson Redner.”

  It’s not my real name, of course. Well, my real first name, but a fake last name.

  She raises an eyebrow. “That’s a good name.”

  “I know.”

  “Is it real?”

  I laugh. “As real as anything else. What about you then?”

  “Booth.”

  “Celine Booth,” I murmur. “Little Celine.”

  “You keep calling me that.”

  I reach over to her, taking her by the hair. I pull her toward me and kiss her, feeling her tongue slide into my mouth. She lets out a little groan, almost a strangled moan.

  “I keep saying it since it’s true. You’re little, and I like it.”

  “Not that small,” she says, glaring at me.

  “Go ahead and tell yourself that.”

  She bites her lip and tilts her chin ever so slightly. “Are you always such a dick?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Probably am.”

  She sighs and I kiss her again. This time, I pull her across the truck seat. I feel my blood roaring in my ears as she straddles me, her body pressing against mine.

  She really is small, at least compared to me. I’m a big man, always have been. Celine is on the shorter side, although her breasts are firm, and large, and her ass nestles perfectly in my hands. I squeeze and she lets out a little groan.

  I suddenly turn her and lay her down on the seat. I slide the door open and kick it back, stepping half out, tugging her hips to pull her toward me.

  I kiss her stomach, her belly button. I unbutton her jeans and pull them down. She looks surprised as I kiss her inner thigh, fingers teasing her pussy.

  She sits up on her elbows and groans, biting her lip. “You shouldn’t,” she says. “I mean, we’re in public.”

  “Leaving you with something to remember me by,” I say softly. I tug down her panties, and she gasps as my tongue rolls along her clit.

  I lick and suck her wet, delicious little pussy. I haven’t tasted something so sweet in a very long time and I feel myself losing it completely. Her moans, the way she moves her hips, it drives me fucking wild.

  I want to get her off so badly it almost fucking hurts. I want this girl to feel what it’s like when I finally let myself go. I want her to get a small taste of what I can make her feel.

  Because I know she’ll be back for more.

  I lick her clit faster. She grabs onto my hair, pulling tight. I grunt a little, enjoying the pain. I respond by gripping her hips and sliding my tongue inside of her and back up.

  I use my tongue and teeth and lips to work her clit. She rolls her hips, getting into it. I reach up to tease her breast before pinning her down with one hand.

  With the other, I slide two fingers inside of her. She gasps as I slowly stroke her, holding her down and fucking her with my fingers. Her eyes are wide with pleasure and fear and desire all mixing together. I hold her down and start to fuck her pussy faster with my fingers.

  She’s groaning louder, moving her hips. I can tell she’s losing it. “I thought you were a nice girl,” I say.

  “Not always,” she groans.

  “You’re right. Look at you. Dripping wet, moaning out in public. You’re letting a strange man fuck your tight little pussy.”

  “Shit,” she gasps. “Don’t be an asshole.”

  I laugh gently. “Fuck, girl. I’m not complaining. This is the best-tasting pussy I’ve had in a very long time.”

  She glares at me, but I don’t give her a chance to complain. I drop down between her legs and slide my fingers in deeper. I taste her clit with my tongue, and
I can tell that’s exactly what she needs.

  Her body stiffens as I lick her faster, sliding my fingers in and out. I fall into a rhythm, fucking her pussy, licking her clit. Her moans fill the truck, the parking lot, and anyone could easily spot us. We’re not hiding, not being subtle at all.

  The sun’s starting to rise. It’s peeking up, just a little bit. I fuck her pussy faster, pressing my fingers in deeper, spreading her tight little cunt wide. “You’re fucking tight,” I say to her. “When was the last time you took a big dick, huh, girl?”

  She bites her lip, shakes her head, and doesn’t answer.

  I laugh gently. I lean forward and kiss her. I bet she can taste her pussy on my lips as I keep fucking her with my fingers.

  I go faster. I roll them along the roof of her tight cunt, sliding in and out. She’s dripping wet now, leaving a dark wet spot on the seat of my truck. I love it, love how wet she is, how badly she’s dripping for me. I fuck her faster and drop between her legs to lick her.

  She grabs my hair as her back arches. “Fuck,” she gasps. “Fuck. Oh, fuck. Keep going. Please, Dawson.”

  I keep going, just as the lady requests. I fuck that pussy with my fingers, I lick that clit all over, I make her feel fucking good.

  And she comes for me, nice and hard. Her whole body tightens, relaxes, tenses again. She groans and pulls my hair nice and rough and tight. I keep my fingers pumping in and out, fucking her through it as I look up at her face. It’s twisted in ecstasy, a beautiful fucking mask of pure and intense pleasure.

  I love that look. I fucking love it so much. My cock’s so hard I can barely breathe.

  But we’re finished. The sun’s moving faster now, starting to light things up. The town’s starting to wake around us.

  “Fuck,” she says, pulling up her panties. “Do you think anyone saw?”

  I look around and shrug. “Probably.”

  “Dawson!”

  “I mean, no, of course not.”

  She blushes deep crimson. “I don’t do this,” she mutters.

  “I know you don’t. You’re a nice, Midwestern girl.”

  She glares at me, but I laugh and kiss her. She kisses me back, tongue and lips, body pressing tight.

  She finishes dressing. I walk her to her car.

  “Thanks,” she says, almost awkwardly.

  “For what? The drink or the orgasm?”

  She sighs. “Both, I guess.”

  I laugh and lean forward. We kiss again.

  “Maybe I’ll see you again,” I say.

  “Okay, sure. Maybe you will.”

  “Night, little Celine.”

  “Night.”

  She ducks into her car. I climb up into my truck, fingers trailing along the wet mark she left.

  I smile and watch as she drives off. I know she’ll go home and dream about this. Hell, it’ll seem like a sweet nightmare. The strange man, getting her off in the parking lot.

  But it’s no dream, and I’m hooked. I know I’m not letting her go so easily.

  I’m getting another taste, one way or another.

  3

  Celine

  I wake up around noon and I feel like Dawson Sparks was a dream.

  I get out of bed, brush my teeth, and shower. The slight ache between my legs where Dawson’s big fingers fucked me nice and hard is the only proof that any of it happened.

  I can’t believe things went so far, but as soon as he kissed me, touched my body, danced with me…

  I knew I was willing to go way further than I ever have before.

  I’m being stupid, though. A man like Dawson isn’t the kind of man I should be involved with. I’m nowhere experienced enough to keep up with him, even if I’m good at pretending like I am.

  Truth is, I’ve never been with a guy before. I mean, I’ve kissed guys and we’ve fooled around, but I’ve never actually had sex.

  I’m a freaking virgin.

  It’s my secret shame. I come across all cool and tough, but it’s just a front I put on. Really, I’m just a sheltered girl that grew up with a sick mom. I spent all my time taking care of her. I barely graduated high school, and I was a bartender from the age of eighteen out of necessity. I had to get a job to help pay the bills that kept piling up.

  Taking care of my mom and working long hours didn’t leave me with much time to fool around with boys. I always figured I’d meet one, date him for a while, and eventually have sex with him, but the days slipped past and it just never happened.

  Now I’m twenty-two and still a virgin. And I’ve never experienced a man like Dawson.

  I make some coffee and have something to eat. I need to get back to Hammy’s in a few hours again for another late shift, starting at five. In the meantime, I get online, and I try to find out anything I can about my mysterious date.

  Unfortunately, there’s not a whole lot. Dawson isn’t on social media, so far as I can tell. I can’t find an email address, a phone number, an address, nothing. It’s like Dawson Sparks doesn’t exist.

  Maybe he gave me a fake name. That wouldn’t be too surprising. Or maybe he’s using a new name now that he’s living here in Pine Grove. I thought about doing the same, starting over completely, but I couldn’t leave all that behind, not completely.

  Still, I wish I could find something about him. Dawson’s a mystery to me, a gorgeous man with a dark sense of humor and a tongue that drives me wild. I’ve never gotten off from a guy going down on me like that before, but it was effortless with Dawson. Coming for him was like breathing. It was natural, unforced. It was necessary.

  Just thinking about him makes my stomach tingle with excitement.

  I sigh and close my laptop lid. I sip my coffee and cross my legs, looking out the window of my crappy apartment. I can see the strip mall across the street with two empty storefronts and a grocery store that looks like it’s on its last legs.

  But all I can think about is him. And I know that I shouldn’t, but when I get into work tonight, I’m going to find out as much about Dawson Sparks as I possibly can.

  “Who?”

  Mae looks at me with a little frown.

  “His name’s Dawson Sparks,” I say. “He came to town like… six months ago.”

  Her frown deepens. “Green eyes?”

  I nod, perking up. “That’s him.”

  She sighs. “Don’t know much about him,” she says. “Sorry.”

  I can’t help but show my disappointment. “Really? You never talked to him or anything?”

  “Keeps to himself,” she says.

  I sense the hesitation in her voice and hope blossoms a little bit. “But you know of him then?”

  She sighs and glances over her shoulder. “Look, he came to town one night, no explanation, no job. Bought a nice house in the middle of town with cash.”

  “Cash?” I raise my eyebrows.

  “Half a million, I hear,” she says, and shrugs. “People don’t ask questions in Pine Grove. I bet you noticed.” She gives me a pointed look.

  I sigh. “I get it.”

  “It’s why folks come here, to run away from whatever they’re running away from.”

  “I’m just curious about him.”

  Her expression softens. “I bet you are. He’s a pretty man.”

  I blush a little. “Weird way to describe him, but okay.”

  She laughs. “He’s a city boy. That much is obvious. But folks don’t like going around him much.”

  “Why not?”

  “Bought a house in cash. Doesn’t go out much. These are warning signs, honey.”

  “Of what?” I press.

  She raises an eyebrow. “I ain’t gonna spell it out for you.”

  “You think he’s dangerous, though?”

  “Probably, but most people out here are, so who knows.”

  I chew my lip, thinking back to last night, trying to see if there were any warning signs, any reasons to feel worried.

  But there are none. Sure, he was cocky and intense, a
nd he knew what he was doing when he went down on me, but nothing that suggests he was dangerous.

  “Thanks, Mae,” I say, and she nods.

  I head back to work. I try not to think too much about what she said, but I can’t help myself.

  I keep coming back to him buying a house in cash.

  What kind of people have that much cash on them?

  The kind of person that would need to run from something. The kind of person that would come to this tiny little town, escaping their old life in the big city.

  Shit. Maybe he really is dangerous.

  Or maybe he just made a ton of money on Bitcoin and doesn’t want to pay taxes. There are a hundred reasons why he’s laying low and paying in cash. I can’t just assume he’s a bad guy just because of some townie rumors.

  Guess I can’t help myself. I’m no better than the small-town people around me. I’m reaching for gossip about this guy, trying to find any scrap of something bad about him.

  Instead, I should just give him a chance, right? I mean, he’s a person.

  As the night wears on, I can feel myself slowly justifying seeing him again. Everything points toward staying away from this guy, but I’m not seeing it. Instead, I’m making my own mind up, and my mind is stupid.

  Really, really stupid.

  But his hands on my hips while we danced, his mouth between my legs, his handsome face, his cocky grin…

  Crap. I’m so stupid. This isn’t what I came here for.

  And yet here I am, still thinking about that guy.

  Mae leaves around nine and I’m left alone. The regulars are thin tonight, the crowd a little more subdued than normal. I’m a little bored, cleaning up where I can, but mostly thinking about Dawson. Time slaps past like honey until midnight drips past and one o’clock rolls around.

  When, of course, he walks in through the door.

  I don’t know what I expected. Maybe I thought I might not see him again, or at least not for a little while.

  But there he is. He comes in and all eyes instantly jump to him, although he doesn’t seem to notice. He walks up to the bar and sits down, a little smile on his face.

  I walk over, drying a glass with a rag. “Fancy seeing you here,” I say.

  “I hoped you’d be working.”