The first chick breathes out her question. “Will you marry me, Travis? I love you so much.”
“Sure,” I say because I’ll tell them what they want to hear, but in my heart I feel almost stricken.
You’re too late. I’m a mess, and I’m taken.
Once I get her out of my system, I’ll be fine. Once I’ve had her—tasted every inch of her and had my fill—it’ll cure this weird, savage addiction that seems to have taken over my life. Then I can move on.
I hope.
Somehow, I already know it won’t be enough.
I’m driving way over the speed limit. Good thing my goddamn car corners like it’s on rails because I take a hairpin curve and barely manage to stay on the road. Shit, I’m going 120.
I could have had her already, when we were on the rock by the pond. When she was pressed up against my cock as she came. I could have easily positioned her and slid inside all that slick, snug nirvana all the way to the hilt. She would have been willing, mostly. Now I wish I had. Maybe then I wouldn’t have this hard-on that’s become a goddamn permanent fixture in my life. People probably think I’ve started stuffing my jeans with socks or something. The problem is, the package is real and fully-loaded and ready to fuck like a maniac. I’m so hard I feel like my lust is leeching into every part of me, reaching deeply into dark corners of my twisted-up soul.
I’m almost home. I’m later than I thought I’d be. Roxie cornered me with some studio offer for our next album that she thinks we should consider, with a new label. The money’s ridiculous. But I told her I’d need to think on it and today’s not the day.
I pull into my driveway, screeching to a stop in a huge cloud of dust. I slam the door of my car and walk to the house in ground-eating strides.
I go inside.
She’s here.
I can feel her.
I can smell her. I don’t even think she wears perfume, but she’s in the air. That fresh, sunny whisper.
She’s not in the kitchen.
I go upstairs and I can hear the shower running on the third floor. I take the steps in threes.
She’s taking a shower.
I go into the bathroom.
And open the glass door.
I kick off my boots and somehow remember to take a few things out of my pockets. I step into the shower. I don’t care that I still have all my clothes on. Because she’s here and she’s naked and wet and simply the most beautiful thing I have ever fucking seen. Her breasts are full and mind-blowing. Her eyes are wide and her eyelashes are spiked with water in curled designs. Her lips are soft and parted. She smiles shyly. But there’s more than shyness. She’s happy to see me. I fall to my knees and hug my arms around her and rest my head against her thighs. I don’t remember ever feeling this relieved or this good.
Just being near her is so damn comforting to me I can hardly stand it. She’s safe. She’s with me now. I’ll kill for her. I’ll do anything.
This lust is fiercer than anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s clawing into me, digging deeper than I can ever remember anything digging.
Her hands are on my head. Her fingers gently weave into my hair.
“Travis,” she says softly and I look up at her. “You’re here.”
The perfection of her face makes my chest ache. A sprinkling of golden freckles. Pale pink lips. Her long, shimmery hair hangs almost to her hips in dripping coils. Tiny rivers cascade from her breasts like she’s some sort of otherworldly nymph.
All I can do is sort of stare up at her like a besotted wretch.
“I missed you,” she says.
And there, so close to my mouth, is her pink, candied pussy. She’s not just wet from the shower. She’s plump and glistening and ready. For me.
Help me.
I have to do it: I kiss her pussy and just about black out with my desire for her. She’s as sweet as nectar. My cock is a hot, rigid inferno. This has gone beyond passion into something else altogether. Need. Raging desire. Obsession.
Gently, slowly, yet with all the greed of a starving man, I hold her hips and lick into her, sucking on her clit, eating into her until she’s moaning. She’s got fistfuls of my hair and I love this. I’m hers. I want to be hers. All hers.
I lick lower, deeper, but I can’t get as deep as I want. She’s standing, so I turn her around. “Lean over,” I growl and she obeys, putting her hands on the tiles and widening her stance to give me what I want. She’s offering herself to me in a way that’s making me more fucking feverish than I already was. She leans forward and arches her back for me and I thrust my tongue into her pussy as I finger her clit, rubbing gently, working her pleasure. I lick her everywhere. My tongue touches the cove of her ass and she squirms but I hold her there, licking in time to the play of my fingers. I suck on her clit and she comes for me, crying out my name. The sweetest sound I ever heard. I can feel the rippling compressions of her body, the soft, fluttering rhythm. I wait for the waves to begin to calm. Then I turn her to me.
The look in her eyes kills me. It’s not manic adulation, like I’m used to. It’s a quiet, vast tenderness, a beauty that’s the most addictive pull I’ve ever known.
I stand up and kiss her soft mouth. “I missed you so much, baby.” I sound like a love-struck fool. I don’t give a fuck what I sound like. I only care about telling her how I feel. I want to tell her how important she is, how rare this feels. How monumental.
“I couldn’t wait until you came home.”
“I came as soon as I could.” I pull my soaked shirt off.
She stares at me with wide eyes. She always seems sort of amazed, like she’s not used to anything about me. “How was work?”
This makes me smile. She’s making polite conversation. “Work was fine. But I couldn’t concentrate. All I could think about was doing this.” I lean to lick her nipple. I take her breasts in my hands and I suck a taut peak into my mouth. I feel like I’m drinking from her, a spiritual, sexual sustenance that calms me and makes me start coming a little. I’m so close. I suck harder, playing her nipples with my tongue and my teeth. “That feels good,” she coos, and the edge of shyness almost sets me off.
“I want to make you feel good. Let me make you feel good.”
I take off my jeans. She sort of gasps when she sees me. How hard I am. How fucking engorged and huge and painful my life is right about now. My ten inches could quite possibly have become eleven or twelve under her influence.
“Will you let me wash you, Travis?”
“I’ll let you do any damn thing you want to me, darlin’.”
She takes the soap and tentatively runs it across my chest, working up the suds. She washes my shoulders, my arms. I just stand there and let her.
She’s washing my stomach.
I’m so close I feel like I need to warn her. “Ruby, baby. I’m probably going to come real hard and very soon. You have some crazy effect on me, sweetheart. I’m not usually so ready to fire away but I’m in agony over here and there’s no way I’m going to be able to hold on to this.”
Control has never been a problem for me before. This is different. I’m about to come. As soon as she touches me, it’ll be all over.
She’s smiling lightly. Her hands are little slippery miracles. “I want you to come. I like touching you. I want to make you feel good.”