A Kiss For You

by Rachel Van Dyken

  One of her hands slid between my thighs, cupping my aching balls, and my eyes rolled back when her fingertips against the space just behind them.

  My hand squeezed involuntarily, pressing my thumb deeper inside of her, and she gasped. The sound sent a shock through me, and my cock pulsed inside her.

  “Fuck, Penny,” I growled.

  Her body moved faster, harder, her skin smacking against mine with every motion. “Say my name again,” she breathed.

  “Come on, Penny,” I said, the words gruff and hard. My abs burned as I watched the lips of her pussy swallow me. “Come for me, Penny.”

  “Oh God. Fuck,” she cried, her voice breaking as her body clenched around me like it wanted to keep me still.

  But I knew better.

  I sucked in a breath through my nose, pounding into her as I pulled her down onto me with a slap and a jolt. And when I came, it was with her name on my lips, her flesh in my hands, her body throbbing around me like a song I never wanted to end.

  I lay back hard as our bodies slowed, our hips still connected, and I rocked her against me, savoring the feeling for a minute longer as we tried to catch our breaths unsuccessfully. My abs were on fire. So was the rest of me.

  After a moment, she sighed and lifted herself off of me before stretching out with her back to the door, looking sated, smiling at me.

  I ran my clean thumb across her bottom lip. “How come this never comes off?”

  “I use a special lipstick that doesn’t smudge if I think I might have a dick in my mouth.”

  I laughed. “Prepared for anything.”

  “A girl’s gotta be.”

  I kissed her nose. “Be right back.”

  I climbed off the bed and made my way to her bathroom, unable to keep the smile off my face. It was the third time we’d gone bareback, having had the whole birth control/clean conversation after she practically begged me to fuck her bare. It’d been years since she had sex without a condom, and though I never asked, I wondered how it was possible that she hadn’t been with anyone long enough to get to this point.

  The thought made me feel like a king and a caretaker. It was a gift I had no intention of squandering. It showed her trust, told me she was letting me into more than her body.

  I cleaned myself up and grabbed a washcloth for her, running it under the warm water before heading back to her bedroom. But I stopped mid stride at the sight of her.

  She lay curled on her side with her back to me, purple hair spilling over the bed in waves, her head on her bicep as she toyed with her hair. My eyes followed the curve of her tattooed waist and hips, coming to rest at the center of her. My gaze hung on the silvery rivulets that streamed out of her, what I’d left inside her.

  I was instantly ready to fuck her again. Needed to fuck her again. Wanted to fill her up with me, every part of me.

  My eyes were still locked between her legs as I approached the bed and sat next to her, folding the washcloth before running it up the length of her, cleaning her tenderly, both hands fully occupied.

  I never did anything halfway.

  She sighed and rolled over onto her back, the chains flowing around her breasts and the curves of her stomach and hips, and I shifted until her legs were open and slung over my thighs. I kept cleaning, and she smiled up at me.

  “Tell me your news,” she said, her voice a little rough.

  “We got a pitch meeting for the game.” I was smiling, grinning even.

  Penny popped up onto her elbows. “Oh my God! Bodie, that’s … that’s amazing! When?”

  “Two weeks,” I said as I went back to work on her pussy, which was as clean as it was going to get. I just didn’t want to stop touching it. “There’s a lot to do, so I might be busy until it’s finished.”

  She frowned a little at that, spreading her legs wider. “Well, just don’t forget about me.”

  I laughed. “That’s funny, Pen.”

  Her frown disappeared, turning into a smile as she watched my hands. “God, I’m so happy for you. You gave up everything to follow your dreams. I’d never be brave enough to take a risk like that. It’s impressive. You impress me.”

  “The feeling is entirely mutual, believe me.”

  She smiled, lying back with a sigh. “Tell me more about the game.”

  “Well, there’s a madame of a pleasure ship, Gemma.”

  “Oh, I love this already.”

  I smirked. “She’s a smuggler, and so are her girls.”

  “Naturally.”

  “Then there’s Nate— he’s the airship pirate and a smuggler too. They go on this treasure hunt together and have to team up — he has the map, and she has the key. Of course, the bad guy is after them with an army of goons called Ravens. Basically, they wear these leather masks they wear with beaks and top hats.”

  “Ugh, that is so cool,” she said as I ran the cloth over her piercing softly. “I want to draw all the things — airships and girls in leather with knives and pistols and chakrams. What color is her hair?”

  “Fire-engine red.”

  “A woman after my own heart.”

  I smiled. “So, how was the dress fitting?”

  “Good. Everything was perfect, and we went home with dresses. Ramona cried, which made me and Ronnie cry. I blame the champagne though.”

  I chuckled and ran the cloth over her.

  “So, I wanted to ask you something,” she started, seeming nervous.

  I kept my eyes on my task, hoping it would give her room to say what she needed to say. “Ask away.”

  “Well,” she flexed her thighs, bringing her hips closer to me, “Ramona put me down for a plus-one, but I don’t have a plus-one.”

  I tossed the washcloth toward her closet where her hamper was, trying not to smile. “Oh?” My focus was on my hands as I rested them on either side of her hood and ran my thumbs up and down the line of her center, soaking them.

  “Mmhmm,” she buzzed with her lip between her teeth and eyes on my hands. “Wanna go?”

  My heart leaped. This was beyond a date. This was a wedding.

  This was big.

  I stroked her, opening her up, pressing against the warm pink hole that led to Shangri-la. “Sure,” I said simply, hoping I sounded cool. Because inside, I wasn’t cool at all. Inside, I was fist-pumping and whooping and jumping around like a maniac.

  She smiled and sighed again as I ran my thumbs up to her piercing, slicking it, rubbing it, teasing it. I didn’t want to say anything else about the wedding. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to pretend like it wasn’t a big deal.

  “Good,” was the last thing she said, a soft sound that left her lips on a breath as I worked her body with my thumbs.

  Instead of speaking, I decided to use my tongue for other things.

  I hinged at the waist and kissed her piercing with an open mouth and a sweep of my tongue, but she was a little too close for it to be comfortable, so I hooked her thighs over my shoulders, gripped her waist, and sat up, taking her with me.

  Her shoulders were still on the bed, and her hands wrapped around my legs, nails digging into my skin as she gasped with surprise, then pleasure.

  I buried my face in her, running my tongue up the hot slit I’d been touching. The metallic tang of what I’d left inside her sent a jolt through me, and I delved deeper into her, looking for more.

  She rocked against my face, which I moved from side to side, nestling deeper into her still. Her fingers moved to her piercing, rubbing that bottom ball against her clit as her thighs squeezed, hips bucking. And when I hummed long and deep, she came against my tongue with a warm rush and a pulsing flex. With her thighs clamped around my ears, I couldn’t hear anything but her distant moaning, and I slowed, kissing her swollen, tender clit gently.

  Her body relaxed, and I lowered her back to the bed, my biceps on fire.

  Worth it.

  Her cheeks were pink as she pulled herself up to sit and got on her knees to climbed onto my lap, not stopping until o
ur lips were a seam and her arms were around my neck.

  When she broke the kiss, she smiled wickedly and backed away, ending up on all fours in front of me.

  “Get up on your knees,” she ordered.

  I did, my heart banging, my cock throbbing when she licked her lips and crawled to me.

  Her hand found my base, and her lips opened, tongue extending to guide my head into her hot, wet mouth.

  I slipped my fingers into her hair, tugging off the headband so I could see her eyes as she looked up at me, her body a wave as she took the length of me into her mouth.

  She moaned.

  I hissed.

  Her eyelashes fluttered closed, and she got to work, chains swaying from the curve of her waist and hips, and my eyes traced every line from the tip of her nose to her heart-shaped ass.

  Heaven existed inside Penny’s mouth.

  My hips moved on their own, and she matched my rhythm, her hands on the bed, my eyes drinking in the sight of her on all fours with my cock in her mouth, and too soon, I was close.

  I pulsed in her mouth, my hand in her hair clenching in warning, and she backed away, letting me go with a pop.

  My heart beat so hard it hurt, my breath burning my lungs as she stretched out on the bed and motioned for me to follow, her hands reaching for my aching cock. I crawled up her body, and she took me in her hands.

  “Get up,” she whispered.

  I straddled her waist, leaning over to brace myself on the wall. Her hair was fanned out all over the pillow, her eyes hot as she gripped me with both hands and stroked.

  I was still so wet from her mouth. Her hands, gentle and firm, pumped and stroked, and my pulse raced. My hips sped. And when I came, my heart stopped from the act, from the sight of Penny, eyes closed and neck outstretched, hands around me, angling me to come in hot bursts all over her tattooed breasts, her collarbone, her neck, the chains.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Penny,” I whispered, the words ragged, my brain on fire and body burning from her touch.

  She opened her eyes and smiled, and I fought the urge to ask her if I could keep her forever.

  Wait, What?

  Things I would never in my life forget: the sight of Ramona wearing a penis crown and a greasy, gyrating bohunk in her lap, who held onto his cowboy hat and humped her to the tune of “Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy).”

  I was possibly going to die from laughing, and I had definitely snuck a photo.

  Veronica and I were chanting, Mona, Mona, as we threw money on the stage, which was ridiculous since we’d already paid to have her pulled onstage for public humiliation.

  When the song ended, we all cheered, and the banana-hammocked stripper offered a hand to help her stand and guided her to the stage stairs with a kiss on the cheek. She curtsied as she walked toward our group.

  The night had been a good one — heels were high, laughs were from the belly, and the drinks were cold and ample.

  Ramona was tanked.

  All was as it should be.

  We took our seats at the edge of the men’s stage, and I reached over to straighten Ramona’s tiny veil with bobbling dicks on springs around the tiara.

  She smiled at me, her eyes glossy and wet. “I love you, Penny.”

  “I love you too,” I said on a laugh. “Need another drink?”

  She nodded, grinning now. “Jameson on the rocks.”

  “I know what you drink, pumpkin.” I booped her nose.

  “You always take care of me, even when I’m a drunk bitch,” she said, motioning to herself.

  “Well, you take care of me literally all the rest of the time, so we’re even. I’m the lucky one. And I pay you back in the form of humping cowboys and Jameson!”

  Ramona giggled. “He was so hot. But not as hot as Shep.” She sighed. “How the fuck did I get so lucky?”

  “Well, for starters, you’re a fucking catch.”

  “So are you. And now you got caught by Bodie the fisherman with his giant pole.” She pretended to cast a fishing line from her crotch.

  I cackled, only a little freaked out by the thought. “You are so drunk. Let me get you even more drunker.”

  “More drunker!” she crowed.

  I flagged our waitress, who had on the most epic studded bra, thong, and garter set I’d ever seen. Like, so epic that I’d asked her where she got it and maybe bought it on my phone.

  Once I was settled back in my seat, the music changed as a new stripper came out dressed like a B-Boy. The song was by Machinedrum and totally obscure, which caught my ear and my eye. It was a sexy dubstep song I had on one of my playlists, and he immediately won points for originality.

  He was hot as fuck, gliding across the stage, popping and locking in the sexiest striptease known to woman.

  I sat at the edge of my seat, hands in the air as I danced in place, excitedly singing the words.

  B-Boy Johnny locked onto me with his lip between his teeth. He made his way across the stage to stop right in front of me and pulled off his shirt, rolling his body as he tossed it.

  And just like that, he was planking on the edge of the stage with his feet in the air and his face inches from mine.

  I laughed and sang the words to him, hoping he was harmless and/or gay. He spun away and danced some more, but he kept coming back to me like I was the center point of the universe, like the dance was for me.

  I didn’t even have any dollars for him; I’d given them all to Ramona.

  This fact did not deter him.

  A few minutes in, I felt a little squirmy — he was definitely not harmless or gay — so I turned to Ramona to give her all my attention, hoping he would get the hint. Instead of ignoring me like I wanted, he flipped off the stage and landed right in front of me, dancing in my direction until he had me pushed all the way back in my seat and was straddling me. So I let the man give me a lap dance like a good girl, slipping a couple of bucks someone had shoved in my hand into the waist of his pants.

  I mean, the guy had to eat, right?

  He spent the final two minutes of the song in my lap, taking my hand to run it down his chiseled chest and abs, and we laughed at the brilliant awkwardness of it all.

  A month ago, I probably would have gone home with him. But tonight? Tonight I wasn’t interested at all, and I couldn’t stop assessing him.

  He was tall but not as tall as Bodie. And he had a great smile, but his bottom teeth were a little crooked where Bodie’s were almost unnaturally straight, thanks to his orthodontist and those braces that had helped hide him from me years ago. Plus, B-Boy Johnny was missing that dimple that made me crazy. No way was he as funny as Bodie either. I knew almost without a doubt that Bodie ate better pussy.

  So I endured that lap dance like a champ as well as a little kiss on the cheek he gave me before he gathered up his clothes and cash and disappeared behind the curtain.

  Another guy came out, a gigantic, jacked motherfucker, who smirked and danced across the stage to R. Kelly, and I zoned out. Not my type. He was too … brunette.

  I frowned.

  He was too Not-Bodie.

  I was instantly uncomfortable, which instantly surprised me.

  Never in my life had I been with a man who no one could match up to. I’d never been with a man who was so easy to be with that I found myself on a date with him without even realizing it. I’d never been with a man so much over such a short period of time and not gone insane or driven someone else insane.

  The whole thing was baffling and made me so uneasy that I needed to get up. To walk. To change the scenery.

  So I leaned into Ramona and grabbed some of her singles. “I’m gonna go get a drink. Be back.”

  “Don’t we have a waitress?” Her face quirked up like a cartoon character.

  “Yes, but I forgot something. I’ll be back. Just watch that.” I pointed to the stage, and she smiled.

  “Okay, hurry up!” she slurred, not taking her eyes off the stripper.

  I nodded to Veronica to
make sure she knew she was in charge before heading deeper into the club.

  It was co-ed — really, most of the club was women with just a small stage for the wang. And as I walked through the club, I zeroed in on a girl with a superhuman bootie who was working her way up a side stage pole. When she did the splits with her crotch an inch from the ceiling and the pole wedged between her tits, my mouth hit the floor, and I cheered, hurrying over.

  “Shut up and take my money!” I called, waving a stack of dollars as I took a seat on the edge of her stage.

  The woman defied gravity. Her hair was long and curly, and she spun around that pole like it was easy, which I knew to be an absolute lie. I’d tried it once on a dare and had pole-burn for a week.

  I had no idea how long I sat there, but let me tell you this; when she got down on her knees in front of me and booty-clapped to 2Pac’s “Hail Mary,” my life was forever changed. I swear to God, I found Jesus in her G-string.

  Ramona materialized at my side. “What the fuck, Pen? What are you doing over here? You know I depend on you for supplementary entertainment at these things.”

  “Because, look.” I grabbed her by the chin and turned it so she could see the Booty-Clap Queen speak the gospel.

  Her eyes widened. “Oh my God. That is incredible,” she said reverently.

  “I know. Plus, those guys were just meh.”

  “Just meh?” she asked, turning to look back at me like I was nuts. “You’re kidding, right? That breakdancer was hot enough to have made the cut for Magic Mike, and he wasn’t even gay. I’m about ninety-six percent certain he wanted to impregnate you.”

  I laughed. “I mean, he was okay. But he wasn’t like this.” I gestured to my new hero as she spun down the pole like a goddamn sexual siren.

  She giggled and grabbed my hand. “Come back over. It’s almost time for Annika’s lap dance, and you know the look on her face is going to be so fucking worth it.”

  I sighed and followed her back to the men’s stage, but she’d let my hand go before we got close, so I hung back for a second, watching my friends from afar.