Strings (3 page)

“
Are you a serial killer?”
Did I say that out loud?

The driver raises a brow. Shades laughs.
“Only if you want me to be.”

I think the cabbie might be a serial
killer.

I snuggle against Shades’s side. He opens
his pea coat—who wears shit like this besides homeless people?—and
I tug it around my arms. God, I can really smell him now, and he’s
fucking amazing. Like ginger, pepper, pine, and musk all mixed
together. I don’t know jack shit about men’s perfume, but whatever
he’s wearing punches my hormones in the nuts and holds my impulse
control for ransom.

I no longer care if Shades is a homeless
serial killer. I just want to fuck his brains out. He can do
whatever he wants afterward.

Yeah.

I spend the rest of the
drive trying to convince my famished beaver that dinner is coming
soon.
Patience, Gertrude.
Patience
. Seriously, this bitch needs her
own personal air conditioning unit. Maybe an adult
diaper.

Dribble, dribble.

Finally. The cabbie parks in front of the
fancy hotel I normally sneer at every time I drive past. Places
like this are for snobby, rich bitches. Being a scumbag rocker
lends itself more to sleeping in cars and dilapidated vans than the
sophistication of even a one-star roach motel. Shit like the
Armstrong Suites? This is the closest I’ll probably ever get to
fame.

Shades pays the serial killer, and I follow
my “date” out. Once on the blacktop, I wobble and look down at my
badass combat boots. Still badass.

I sneak a glance back inside to see if I
really did leave a wet spot on the seat. Holy shit, I did! I’m so
proud of myself. “Take care,” I call to the driver and flip him off
as he speeds away.

Outside the main entrance, Shades faces me.
His hidden gaze sears a trail down to my open coat and the recently
liberated medium-sized knockers begging to play Got Your Nosey with
his face. His body is big, his stance tight as a wire. He’s both
intimidating and sexy as hell.

I get an anxious feeling, like I want to
know everything about him so I can stalk him later, but the stupid
voice of reason cuts through the tequila haze and hammers my big
toe with a thunderous NO!

Fuck and get out of there. You cannot see
this asshole again. Go fucking wild.

Yeah. That’s the plan.

“
You ready to meet God?” I
ask, bold as balls on the outside but quivering like newborn fawn
legs on the inside.

“
I
am
God.”

I believe him.

Gush-o-rama.

He steps close, yanks my hips to his cock,
and strokes me in front of the whole wide world. Okay, maybe our
coats give us some cover, but anyone paying attention can totally
see he’s got me by the crotch. Surely he feels how wet I am. My
jeans are a hot mess, and my drunk ass wants this guy way too
much.

“
And as the Supreme
Creator of the Universe, I grant you permission to do whatever
dark, unholy sexual acts you want for your birthday—”

I bounce on the balls of my feet and clap
like a little girl.

“—
provided
when it’s
my
birthday, I get to perform upon your person
whatever dark, unholy sexual acts
I
desire.”

I clench my thighs together to keep from
pressure washing the pavement.

“
Sounds fair
enough.”
Considering I’ll never see you
again.
“You’ve got yourself a deal,
Shades.”

Could this night get any better?

I glance to the hotel. Why, yes. Yes, I
think it can.

He wiggles his finger in the valley of my
cunt. Another wave of wetness seeps through my jeans. Holding my
stare—at least I think he is—he pops the finger in his mouth and
blatantly enjoys it.

That’s it. I can’t take any more. I drag him
toward the entrance.

White twinkling lights decorate the small
trees planted around the lot. My guess is they’re not there to pay
homage to the holiday season. These are business-as-usual lights.
Inside is where Father Christmas ate too many cranberries and
broccoli and shat a storm of red and green across every available
surface. Yet, somehow the product of Santa’s colitis is classy and
fragrant.

I wait by the elevator while Shades pays for
the room. Damn, I need more tequila. The buzz is waning. I tap my
foot to the bass line of the song playing in my head, hoping it’ll
hurry shit along. Music is the only thing in my life that calms me,
and I need a three-hour symphony right now.

When Shades strides around the corner,
everything flips to slow motion. We get in the elevator. He pushes
me against the mirrored wall inside, forcing my arms to the glass
and holding them tightly. His mouth crashes into mine—raw, starved,
intent. I rally against him but can’t budge. Another surge of heat
waters my nether bush. He presses his hard cock into the cradle of
my hips, and I grind against it as his mouth claims me in a long,
lingering, intense kiss. I give up fighting. What’s the point?

I lick his bottom lip and then bite it. The
motherfucker love-taps my face. I slap him back. He straightens,
flexes his muscles, making himself look bigger, like a horny
peacock with something to prove. I clutch his rocks and twist so
hard, his face turns red.

The doors slide open, and I guide him
backward out of the box by the balls. “Where to, lover?”

With a pussy-tickling laugh, he scoops me up
and throws me over his shoulder like a sack of dog food. I squeal
and kick. I smack his ass and then poke his butthole through his
jeans with my thumb. He never breaks his stride. Dude has me
exactly where he wants me.

He sets me down before the last door at the
end of the long corridor. It’s a corner room. Key goes in, door
opens, lights switch on, and I nearly shit myself. With my jaw
hanging and swinging in the breeze, I wander inside, turn in a
circle to take it all in. Jesus jamming with a giraffe, this place
is monstrous. I trot through the suite on a discovery mission.

Kitchen, living area, king-sized bed, huge
bathroom with a hot tub. The hotel “room” is bigger than my entire
apartment. I turn to Shades. “You really are gonna kill me, aren’t
you?”

His lopsided grin triggers another eruption
of twat lava. He sits on the edge of the bed and reaches for his
sunglasses.

I stop him. “Leave them
on. I like them.”
Need
them would be the more accurate phrasing, but he doesn’t need
to know my reasons.

He stares at me. At least, I think he’s
staring.

Uncomfortable with his scrutiny, I unlace my
boots and punt them aside. Wriggle out of my coat and toss it to
the floor. Grab the tequila and down a long swig, wincing as the
burn ignites my throat. I set the liquor on a bedside table. With
my back to him, I slowly pull my shirt up and over my head. Lose
the dangling bra. Cover The Girls coyly with my arms. Turn and blow
him a kiss.

His dick is so hard, I can see its outline
from here. I snatch the bottle up and tease my nipples to attention
with the butt end of the glass. My other hand disappears down the
front of my jeans, and I finger myself. I swirl my passion fruit
juice over a nipple until it’s shiny. Shades shoots off the bed and
latches on.

He’s all fucking man. Heat. Urgency. Demand.
He bites my nipple, teases it with his teeth and tongue, driving me
to the edge of madness. My head tilts up to the ceiling, and I
clutch him harder to my tit. Hot, hurried breath. Those fucking
glasses cold on my skin. He yanks my pants down, and the snap
protests with a loud pop. I barely get off the next heartbeat
before his tongue is on my clit.

So glad I shaved down there today.

He flicks my hood hard and fast. A pair of
fingers gets involved, and I hook a leg around his neck. This is
hotter than any cunnilingus I’ve ever been a recipient of, and I’ve
had a hot lesbian stripper go down on me. Believe me, those bitches
know how to lick a cunt. But Shades is even better. Like he’s got
an extra appendage or some shit.

I look down. Fucking Jesus, it’s pierced.
His tongue is pierced. How did I not notice before?

That’s all she wrote. I watch the ball of
his silver stud going to work, beating on my little bald girl in
her boat. I hiss through clenched teeth as an orgasm hits me so
hard, I lose my balance.

But I don’t fall. Shades has been holding me
up the whole time, arms like metal bands wrapped around my thigh
and supporting my ass. He refuses to stop, despite the climax. I
shove his head away. He goes down on his back with a pleased grin,
and I drop on top of him.

Enough of this, I need some dick and another
orgasm to go.

Shades wears way too many clothes for a
drunk, horny woman to deal with. Belt buckles, buttons, zippers,
chains. Fuck! But hey, no underwear. That’s rather hot. I claw the
shit down to his ankles and unearth his mighty Excalibur.

Thunk.

This beauteous cock is everything I’d hoped
for and more. A good ten inches. Nice and straight. Well-trimmed
bush accents at the base of the trunk. And his balls are just the
way I like ’em. Big and low hanging for optimal clit stimulation
during doggie-style banging. I can’t wait for these puppies to slap
my lovin’ nubbin silly.

I open wide and take his dick as deep as my
throat will allow, which is actually pretty damn deep. I make it to
within an inch of his balls, and his body loosens. “Fuck,” he
groans.

Who’s God now?
I smile inwardly. That last inch won’t go to
waste. I flatten my tongue, which is currently clamped like a
magnet to the underside of his length, and make room. I push
forward, and my lips meet the only kind of nuts I’ll eat.
Score!

He grabs my hair, twists, and jerks. I
maintain my position, slowly moving my tongue from side to side
under his shaft. He releases his breath, and tonsil fucking
commences.

With each thrust, I take his cock all the
way down. Swivel, suck, devour. Spit and pre-cum leak from the
corners of my mouth, but I don’t gag. I could do this for days.
They don’t call me Letty “Deep-Throat” Dillinger for nothing.

Goddamn, those balls are calling to me.
Palming his dick with one hand, I face-dive into his twin jet
engines, tonguing the sensitive line in between. My fingers cradle
and caress his sac. Curl my tongue around and suck a hunk of nutty
goodness into my mouth. Give it a little nip on its way out.

“
Fuck. Me,” he
says.

“
Gladly. But let’s have
another drink first.”

Naked and not afraid to admit it, I head to
the bathroom, snag a towel, and grab the tequila on my way back.
After smoothing the towel over the plush carpet, I lie down on it
and spread my legs. With two fingers, I open my pussy lips wide and
pour in the tequila. He doesn’t wait for an invitation.

I close my eyes and rake my fingers through
his hair as he imbibes. He slurps loudly, purposefully, like he
wants me to hear how much he’s enjoying me. I tilt my hips to give
him a better angle and force my pussy hard against his mouth. He
sucks my clit, ladles tequila from my cunt with his studded
tongue…

I’m about to come again. No. Too soon.

I sit up. Fuck, I need his cock inside
me.

He lunges for my mouth, pins me to the floor
with his body, which I notice for the first time is rather ripped.
He’s not stacked like the hot gay guys I’ve seen outside the gym
near work, but he’s wiry. A scrapper. Lots of ink. I don’t have the
time or inclination to catalogue everything at this particular
moment, but I like what I see. And feel.

His arm flails beside us. Through our sloppy
drunk bites and hisses, he manages to dump out the contents of the
brown bag and open the condom box one-handed. A shower of little
blue packets falls next to us. I grab one, tear it open with my
teeth, and spit the wrapper aside. Shades rises up, and I roll the
rubber over the head of his cock.

He resumes his position on top of me, his
weight divine. The tequila bottle is empty. The room spins. I’m
invincible.

I grab his latex-sheathed dick and stare
through his glasses as best I can. “I want you to fuck me until
you’re ready to come. Then you’re gonna pull out, and let me finish
the job. You got it?”

He flashes a lopsided grin. I stroke a
random tattoo. I’m so wet, I could fuck a cantaloupe and three
bananas without batting an eyelash. Taking his pink soldier all the
way down into my pudding trench is no biggie. But damn, it feels
amazing sliding against me. I focus on that feeling, the raw sexual
power darting between us. He controls the thrusts, but I control
the climax.

Just how I like it.

Shades doesn’t look at me as he bangs me
balls-deep, which is good. I grind my hips, push my tits against
him, squeeze his dick. Thank God for those Kegels I do at work when
I’m bored.

Where are those toys? I feel around between
grunts and kisses until my fingers hit cardboard. He drops his head
to my shoulder. It’s hard to concentrate with his breath tickling
my ear and his beautiful cock clubbing my meat curtains like a baby
seal, but I manage to rip the shit open.

Sweet fucking Jesus, Shades is a man of his
word. Strap-on? Check. Dildo? Check. Lube? Check.

This motherfucker is going down.

I crack open the lube and blindly grease the
silicone dick with one hand. I’m sure I’m ruining the carpet, but I
don’t care. Once properly oiled, I tease the dildo over my nipple.
“How’s it going there, buddy?”

“
Aw, you know, just
enjoying my daily dose of random cunt.” His slow grin kills me.
Pure pleasure. Pure abandon. Pure sex. Gawd.