Six (12 page)

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

“You can thank the doctor for that.”  Thank you doctor.  What would I do without doctors?  Fuck.  They make my life.  I feel the walls of her tiny frame relax as I try to move my entire length inside her.  FUCK YESSSS.  

She’s face up, so this is a different angle.  I can tell I’m hitting her spot because it’s no time and I’ve struck gold.  She pushes me back and squirts all down my legs.  I pull her back and enter her again,  fucking her hard until I get mine.  The other two have moved in and there are mouths and hands everywhere.  I just focus on my dick and that pussy that feels so tight.  Shit, it’s nights like these that I love my life.  

I finish and it takes everything I have not to collapse on the bed.  There are too many bodies below me and I’m sure to hurt someone under me if I do.  

My breathing is loud as I try to catch my breath and regain comprehension.  The smile on their faces tells me I did my job.  I lift up to step away from the bed because I need a fucking towel.

“I want that other piercing before you go.”

“Can I use your shower?”  I decide that will be my best way around this.  

“Sure, I’ll join you.”

It’s a matter of seconds and I’m sharing a huge shower with three women.  The same women I just fucked senseless.  They wash each other and even take charge of making sure I’m thoroughly washed.  Fuck if my dick isn’t still chilling in the background, just waiting to make another appearance.  I slide out of the shower before things get any more aroused.

The clock on her bathroom wall says five o'clock.  Nothing like another all-nighter.

I slide on my jeans and finish drying before they all follow me back into the bedroom.  They were all careful not to get their hair wet.  It amuses me to watch a woman try to maintain her dignity when I’ve just literally fucked screams and creams out of them for hours.  Do they really think I give two shits what they look like after a shower?  But who am I to try to convince them?

“Do you mind doing my last piercing?”

“Nah, I’ll get ya before I head out.”  She sits on the edge of the bed while I get my supplies ready.  

“I think I’d like to get one too.”

“Can you do all three of us?”  I figured this would happen.  Women usually do things in groups.  It’s as if they need the courage from each other to make a step like this.

“If that’s what you want.  I have everything here for it.”  

“Yeah, I’ve decided I’d like mine pierced too.”  I watch for them all to agree.  They do.  

“Lay back.  I’ll start with Mandi.”  My pixie girl gets this first since she was the one brave enough to start the process.  They all listen.  I literally have three pussies opened up for me on the edge of the bed.  Three very well kept pussies that have redness from the pounding they just got from me.

I take my time setting out the equipment that I’ll need for each one of them,  keeping each separate from the other so it can still be sterile.  Clit piercings actually heal faster than the nipple piercings do.  The body has a natural way of fighting infection in that area a little easier.

“You’ll feel the clamp, then the poke of the needle.  Stay as still as possible.”  I pull the gloves on and move to touch her, deciding the exact place I plan to pierce.  She holds her breath as I mark her, knowing what's coming.

“Wait.  I want to feel you one last time.”     

“What?”

“I want you to fuck me right after you pierce me.”

“It’s going to be painful.  I don’t think you realize how sensitive you’ll be.”

“Ok.  I just feel very turned on right now.”  

“Let’s get through this and see if that changes.”  I’ve actually had a few go straight into an orgasm when the needle goes through.  It won’t surprise me if she’s one of those.  

“Mandi.  I can’t believe we’re doing this.  This is something we will always have to remember.”  Well yeah.  I’m sure this will be something they’ll all remember for the rest of their lives.  Something they can tell the grandkids one day.

I insert the needle.  She gasps.  She starts breathing heavily and begins squirming.  “Be still.  I still have to finish.”

“Fuck Jake.  I can’t stand it.  Oh.  My.  God.  I’m going to… Oh… Myyyyy… Godddddd…”  I pull the needle out and position the metal in place just as she grabs my wrist,  squeezing her nails into my skin.  

“Fuck me, Jake.  Fuck me, now.  Please.  I’m holding it back.  Hurry.”  Fuck.  This is mixing business with pleasure.  This night is all sorts of fucked up.  I drop the needle in the bin and yet again find myself ripping off gloves and ripping on a condom…. just so I can shove into her once and throw her straight over the edge.  She literally tightens her entire body and quivers through an extremely intense orgasm.  I didn’t move.  There was no need to.  She had everything she needed.  

Her body falls limp.  She has a lazy smile on her face right before she whispers, “Thank you, Jake,” never opening her eyes.

I look over and the other two are watching with a fucking hungry look in their eyes.  Damn it.  I’ve got to stop doing this shit.  I’ll have bitches lined up for weeks wanting this kind of treatment.   

Just as I pull out, I hear a slam of a door down stairs.  Awe FUCK.  I've been here before.  Bitches forget to tell me they have a man living in the house.  Damn it Jake.  You know better than this shit.  Obviously there's a huge chance this could happen when you're fucking with three women. 

The three women jump up and start putting clothes on faster than I've ever seen.  I slide my jeans up, condom still on, not giving a fuck about anything except getting my ass out of here and making sure my bike is not being fucked with.  I will kill a fucker. 

"Fuck.  Kade is home.  Shit is about to get bad."

"You have a fucking boyfriend?"

"He's my husband." 

"No.  I checked for rings."

"We took them off."  FUCKKKKK.  Are you kidding me?  About that time I can hear more voices.  From what I can tell there's at least four of them.  Shit.  I thought I was done with the days where my dick gets me into situations like this.  I mean it's not like I'm desperate for pussy.  I can get it anytime with just a text to anyone of my staples. 

"Jake, go out this door.  You'll have to jump the fence because the key is in the den."  Damn it.  This shit is all I need.  I toss my backpack on my back and slide open the glass door.  Trying to be as quiet as my big ass will allow, I tip toe around the house and to the gate of the eight foot privacy fence.  I grip the top of the fence and throw my weight over the top until I can toss my legs over one at a time.

I step around the front of the house and see a guy standing near my bike.  Fuck.  I hate when I have to punch out a fucker who doesn't even deserve it.  Damn bitches.

I walk in the shadows watching him the whole way.  He has no idea I'm three feet from him.  I guess he thinks I'm going to come out the fucking front door because that's where he's watching. 

Poor dumb ass.  I take my last step, loading my punch just as he turns.  One hard ass upper cut and he's eating the concrete.  I can hear the yelling coming from the house, so I don't stay around any longer than it takes to pull his body out of my way. 

Stepping onto my bike, I start to walk it down the driveway just a few feet, before I rev up the engine and get the fuck out of there.  Now I just have to wait until one of these guys recognize my bike on the street one day and decide surprise me.

That's it.  It's time to start enforcing a few ground rules again before I get myself killed.

Ask if they have a fucking husband.

Safety first.

Never take them home.

Kick them out right after.

Don't fuck them again for at least a few weeks, if ever again.

No strings attached.

Always be honest and never lead them on.

Don't Close Your Eyes

Chapter One

Olivia

These bags are extremely heavy.  I should've asked Michael to help me, but I'd hate to inconvenience him and his new wife.  There really isn't anyone else to call for help since they've all stepped out of my 'crazy' world; the sudden changes I made scared everyone off.  I can still hear their comments about how unstable I am.  'Who quits their job to write a book?'  Yeah, well bitches, I did.  I've written five novels in a series and I have plans for so many more, but none of them know that.  They seriously think I sit here in my apartment and grieve. 

I didn't become a New York Times bestselling author by crying myself to sleep at night.  I don't have time for tears; there are places to go and people to meet.  I'm headed to a book signing in New York City.  It's a privilege to even be invited to this event.  A part of me is excited and another is dreading this day. 

I just wish I could have one more day with him.  I'd love to show him that I'm doing it, even though our friends and family have zero faith in me.  He always believed in me and supported me in everything I set out to do.  Very few people find a person who truly comes through for them when they have off the wall ideas.  You know, like work as an accountant for six years and then one day decide you'd like to write a book.  I guess it didn't help that I decided to do that exactly one month from the day he died. 

He would’ve been one hundred percent behind me, but he's not here, so I go it alone.  Don't get me wrong, I miss him like crazy, but that won’t bring him back to me.  As for everyone else, they stepped away from me when I needed the support the most.  They got off this crazy train and it doesn't circle back around to pick up passengers who jump ship.  Michael’s the only one who has had much to do with me since I 'went crazy'.

To be honest, my emotions were so out of control that it took me spilling it all onto paper for me to be able to cope with everything.  I miss him so much and everyone wants me to 'talk' about it.  I just can't and it's easier to work through my demons on my own.

I finally work my way past airport security after checking my luggage.  Obviously, security isn't getting any easier to pass through because I had to be scanned separately from the others.  It's probably because they sense the 'crazy' that the others speak of.  This loneliness is partly my fault, but it would've been nice for them to believe in me a
little
.    

The flight is full of people and should be interesting.  I haven't been in a crowd of people since the funeral almost a year ago.  This is a big step for me, though.  A book signing in New York City is huge for an author to attend, never mind the fact that I've always wanted to go there.  James and I talked about traveling there together many times.

I sit in my window seat and hope for the peace I need to stay focused on my inner strength to get through this weekend.  My ear buds begin to blare one of my favorite Hinder songs and I pull my magazine out of my bag to stay entertained for the non-stop flight across the states. 

The passengers keep piling in and I begin to wonder just how large this airplane is.  I paid extra money to fly First Class in hopes of staying under the radar of any chatty passengers and kids that don't mind their parents.

I’m trying to stay focused on my article while someone is reaching over my head to load his luggage, completely distracting me.  I really should’ve purchased the seat next to me. 
Why didn't I think of that before now?
  Even with the help of the flight attendant he has to force the bags into the compartment. 
How the hell much stuff does he have?

I purposely don't make eye contact with him after he flops into the seat right beside mine.  His leg pushes against mine a few times and he seems extremely restless.  I'm not sure if it's intentional, but it seems that way. 

We begin to prepare for take off so I pull out my ear buds to hear all of the safety information.  Watching and listening to the flight attendant give her instructions kind of overwhelms me, but I'm sure it'll all come to me in case of a true emergency.  It's not like we'll survive if this huge bird has a real emergency anyway.

I slip the buds back in for take off and begin to read again.  It isn't until he presses his leg into mine again that I begin to get irritated.  His posture is slouched and he's noticeably oblivious to the fact that he's invading my space with his huge legs spread open like that.   

"Excuse me."  I yank out an ear bud and let it fall against my chest while I use my hand to gesture toward his leg.  I'm sure my face is telling him exactly how I feel, because it never lies.  I have a very shitty poker face.

"No worries.  You're not bothering me."  The shock on my face from his audacity has him smiling. 

"You're bothering me.  So if you don't mind, please move your leg."  I sit back in hopes of him doing as I ask and grab the ear bud to reposition.

"Nah.  I don't mind.  Sorry, ma'am." 
Ah HELL NO.  He did NOT just call me ma'am.
  That makes me feel so damn old.  I choose to attempt to ignore him and move to plug my ear again, but
hell
if it doesn't bother me.  His stare begins to heat my skin—you know, like the weird feeling you get when you can tell someone is watching you.  I shift so that I'm turned more toward the window and try to enjoy the view of the landscape below.  The feel of his leg brushing up against mine again causes me to pull further away from him.  I notice the touch of his finger on my shoulder and everything inside of me wants to stand up and scream for this creep to get off of me.  My head whips around to glare at him when I notice the attendant staring at me in the aisle.