“You actually tried to blow a cucumber?”
“Yeah. I wanted to learn how to do it.” The admission isn’t very easy, so I say it to the crumpled sheets in my hand.
“Look at me, Jenna.”
While the corners of his eyes are crinkled with mirth, there is kindness in them, too.
“Are you going to make big fun of me? Because tell me now so I can prepare myself.”
“Prepare yourself? How’re you going to do that?”
Using my thumb as a directional, I ask, “See that pillow over there?”
“Sure. What about it?”
“I’m going to gracefully bury my head beneath it.”
And that gets the biggest laugh out of him, so I pull the sheets over my head.
The sheets are ripped out of my hands, and his sexy face looms over me. “Do you have any idea of how long I’ve been waiting for this? Do you know how long my dick has been hard for you? I’ve carried a torch, yes torch, for you since—hell, it’s been so long now, I can’t even tell you when. Years. How’s that? So, do you think because your talents lie more in the fucking category rather than in the giving head category, that I care? Honestly—do you even want the truth here?”
“Yes!”
“Okay, I’ll give it to you then. Blowjobs aren’t my first choice, and it’s because most women can’t adequately suck me off. It’s a size thing, I believe. So frankly, I really don’t give a fuck whether or not you even attempt to give me another one. If you want to lick my dick a little, I’ll go for that, but the whole vacuum-tongue swirling thing, just give me a hand job, and I’ll be happy.”
I raise myself up to my elbows so I can be eye level with him. “Are you fucking serious? All this time I’ve been worried that I was inadequate because my stupid tongue acts like my feet on the dance floor when I get super drunk.”
He grabs my wrist, saying, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What’s this about your feet? An uncoordinated tongue is one thing, but feet,” he shakes his head, “I’m not so sure about that.”
It’s his delivery that has me rolling over on my back and pounding the mattress with my fist. I howl so loud, I sound like a coyote.
When I glance at him, a grin covers his face, and I can’t help the way my heart flutters. It sounds so fucking lame when I think it, but it’s the truth. No man has ever had this effect on me except Brandon.
“Show me.”
“What?” I ask.
“Get over there,” he points to an area in my room near the window, “and show me. Dance for me.”
“But I’m sober. You won’t get the total effect of my dorky feet unless I’ve done some shooters.”
“Where’s your liquor cabinet?” There’s barely contained laughter in his voice.
“You can’t be serious?” I ask, shocked from the hair on my head to the ends of my toes.
“Oh, but I am. Where is it?”
I direct him to the kitchen, and in a few minutes, he returns with two shot glasses and a bottle of Herradura.
“Brandon, I have to work tomorrow.”
“I don’t plan on getting completely shitfaced. Only a little. And it’s early—not midnight or anything.”
“All righty then. No limes or salt?”
He trudges out of the room as though I’ve given him the worst possible task in the world. However, he’s naked, so I appreciate the view going and when he comes back bearing a platter that holds lime slices and a saltshaker.
“For you, mademoiselle.” He bows before me. He looks so ridiculous holding all that stuff, I giggle uncontrollably.
After our third shot, he says, “Go for it, Twinkle Toes.”
“But I’m not drunk yet,” I argue. “Besides, I need some music.” I stumble out of bed, and the shots plow into me. In a huge way. Three shots. Hmm. That’s weird. Then I remember I did drink a few mimosas at brunch. Maybe they were lingering. Turning back to the bed, I reach for the bottle and say, “One more, please.”
He obliges and hands me a lime and the saltshaker. Then I hunt my phone and my Bluetooth speakers so I can crank up the music. When things are set to go, I turn on “This Is What You Came For” by Calvin Harris and Rihanna and start to move. My upper body looks fine—I think, but my lower body is disconnected. And then there are my feet. By the time the song is half over, I’m totally into it, tequila taking over any coherent thought in my head. And, of course, I’m naked as a newborn baby, all my bits jiggling here and there. When that song ends, the next one up is Kesha’s “Die Young” and then “Tik Tok.” By the time the three songs finish, my feet contortion has been activated, and Brandon sits on the edge of the bed with a stricken look on his face.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re right. Your feet are terrible, but I gotta say, I love your tits and ass when you dance. And really if I wasn’t checking out your feet, I’d never notice.”
Another surge of the giggles hits, but I’m wondering if this time it’s because of the Herradura. Who cares? I’m having a blast. And then I think of something.
“Hey, will you teach me?”
He looks stumped. “Teach you what?”
“How to properly suck a dick. Like really do it right.”
He pats his thighs. “Come over here.”
I drop down between his legs, and his heavy cock stares me in the eyes. Hmm, even in my drunkish state, that bugger is huge.
“Grab my balls and squeeze them gently. While you do that, run your tongue up and down here.” He points to the underside of his penis, which is now the topside because I’ve picked up the baby beast. I follow his direction. “Take the tip in and suck, but put your lips over your teeth. Don’t worry about any fancy tongue swirling.”
I’ve got this so far. Squeeze balls a little and suck the tip. No teeth.
“Fist my cock with your free hand, and slide your hand up and down in sync with your mouth.”
“Mmm hmm.” I can’t really talk because, well, you know.
“Yes, like that. Now take some more in.”
I gotta be honest here. There’s not a whole lot more I can take in or the damn thing will be in my esophagus. But I try.
“Keep fisting me. Yeah, exactly like that. And moan a little. The vibrations are killer.”
Who knew? None of my How to Give the Best Blowjobs Ever books mentioned a thing about moaning. But when I do, he grabs my head on both sides and pumps into me. My mouth waters, and I am definitely afraid I’m going to gag by accident. But Brandon must know exactly how deep to go, because I never do. I moan, he pumps, I fist and squeeze, reminding myself continually not to bare my teeth. My lips are going to be so swollen after this.
Not much later, he says, “I’m going to come. This is your out.”
My out? Hell no! This is the first time in the history of Jenna that I’ve ever been able to make a man shoot off using my mouth and he asks me if I want out. Is he crazy? I keep up the action like he instructed, and soon, the back of my throat warms with the spurting of his cum. Making sure I soak up every last drop, I let him go with a satisfied smile.
I lean back on my heels and ask, “Well? How’d I do?”
With a growl, he picks me up and kisses my already puffed up lips. Keeping them tight over my teeth like that really was difficult.
“You okay?” He wants to know.
Touching my lips with two fingers, he moves them aside and checks them out. “Hmm. You really did keep those teeth away from my dick, didn’t you?”
“Well, yeah. I didn’t want to scrape you raw or anything.”
“But, Jenna, look at your lips. They’re all inflamed now. I didn’t mean for you to bruise yourself like that.” And he chuckles. Then laughs.
“Do they look that bad?”
“Let’s go get some ice for you. Let me look at the inside.” He rolls my lips back and proclaims there are teeth indentations on both the upper and lower ones.
I need to check them out so I stand in front of the mirror. “Oh, great. I look
like I had my lips plumped up with that silicone stuff. This is awful.” I can’t keep touching them because it’s hard to believe these are my lips.
“Ice will help.”
He fills a baggy with ice, and we stand in the kitchen while I press the thing to my inflated lips. He nuzzles my neck and says, “That was the best blowjob I’ve ever had, by the way.”
“Aw, you’re just saying that so I don’t get a complex over these inner tube lips.”
“No, I’m heart attack serious. It was really great.”
As we’re standing there, the doorbell rings.
My eyes saucer, and I immediately stare at him because we’re both nude. “Who can that be?” I ask.
“Why are you asking me? I don’t live here.”
I smack myself in the forehead and say, “Oh, yeah.” I sneak up to the door and look out the peephole. Holy mother of God, it’s my mother! I do a quick spin—which makes me dizzy as hell but is actually quite a fantastic dance move—and mouth to Brandon, it’s my mother.
He raises his hands in the universal so what gesture. I run into the kitchen and whisper-yell to him, “What do you mean, so what? She’s going to kill me when she sees I’m drunk and it’s only,” I hunt for a clock to see the time, “seven o’clock.”
The bell rings again.
“Oh, fuck. What am I gonna doooo? Let’s hide.”
“Hide? Where would we hide?”
“Under the bed. Come on.” I try to drag him into my room, but he won’t follow.
Then she pounds on the door, which is so unlike my mother, and yells, “Open up, Jenna Rhoades. I know you’re in there. I see your car out here.”
“Oh, shit. I am so fucked. She’s going to ground me.”
Brandon cracks up, like this is the funniest thing in the world. Then he says, “Let’s get dressed and let her in.”
“Let her in?” I squeak. “We can’t let her in. She’ll see that we’ve been having intercourse and fellatio and that I’ve been indulging in liquor.”
Brandon bends over in half and is laughing so hard, I want to strangle him.
“This is so not funny.”
“Jenna, I’m giving you two minutes, and then I’m using my key.”
“Oh my God, she has a key.”
“We best get dressed, Cupcake.”
I skedaddle into my bedroom, throw on my dress, and don’t even pay any attention to what Brandon does. I leave him in there. Don’t ask me why. It was stuuuupid. Then I run to the front door and open it with a silly grin on my face.
“Hi, Mom. What brings you here?”
“Jenna! What have you done to your lips? Oh, my God. Have you gone to one of those fly-by-night silicone injection places? My God. If you wanted your face worked on, why didn’t you say something? And we need to discuss this issue with Kenneth. You need to reconsider this engagement.”
“Ah, fuck.” Only my state of inebriation would’ve allowed me to speak this way in front of my mother.
“Jenna, for God’s sake. Watch your mouth. That is so unladylike.”
“I will not reconsider the engagement. Kenneth and I are finished. We are over. For-fucking-ever. Understand?”
And then the ultimate happens. Mr. Dark and Inky walks out of the bedroom, shirtless, of course, and asks with a sinful smile, “Is there a problem here, Cupcake?”
To say that there are two totally speechless and shocked Rhoades women in my house would be a complete understatement.
Sixteen
BRANDON
Jenna’s mom gazes at me then her eyes slip down to my chest. It’s then I realize in my drunken rush, I forgot to put on my shirt. Shit, those shots have hit me hard. I chuckle to myself, thinking of me being hard and…
“Who are you?” her mom barks.
Blinking a few times, I finally come back to myself. Wanting to take my cues from Jenna, I focus in her direction. That doesn’t help. She looks like a sexy marionette without her puppeteer, opening and closing her mouth without any words coming out.
No other choice, I step forward and hold out my hand. “I’m Brandon Connolly.”
Seconds tick by in fives up to twenty before her mother totally dismisses my hand and turns to face her daughter.
“Why is there a half-naked man in your house? How do you expect Kenneth to take you back if he thinks there’s been impropriety on your part?”
“Impropriety on my part,” Jenna spits, ready to blow. “He’s the one who cheated on me!”
“Men will be men.”
Her mom’s statement makes Jenna so red-faced, I glance around for a fire extinguisher. I have to shake my thoughts back into focus when Jenna speaks.
“That’s exactly right. Some men do men, too, even when—”
“Stop mumbling, Jenna. I taught you better than that.”
My girl tries to shift and cross her arms over her chest to look menacing. Only her balance is for shit. She teeters to one side, and I hold my breath ready to lunge to break her fall if I have to. As she said, dancing drunk is not her forte, or anything on two feet while drunk.
“Kenneth’s not interested in me,” Jenna begins again. Out of the corner of her mouth, I see her mumble, “Or any of my parts.” Then she speaks clearly, and I have to check myself. How did I even notice that as I’m barely standing upright myself? “He only wants to marry me because, like you and Dad, his parents are pressuring him to.”
Her mom covers her heart, and her mouth opens ready for flies. Secretly, I wish some were buzzing around.
“Jenna, we would never pressure you. You’ve been dating the man for years. You just needed a push. And why would you say yes if you didn’t love him?”
Like a fly on the wall, I wait for movement. This could get very interesting.
“Mother, I love you, but this needs to be said. You’ve been running my life forever. But not this time. I only said yes to Kenneth because you wanted me to, and not for any other reason. And now I’m saying no. No! No. No. I am not marrying him, so let it go.”
I swear the earth begins to shake under her mother’s glacial glare.
“Let it go? No, Jenna, I won’t let it go. You will not embarrass this family.” She points a finger at me. “You still haven’t explained who this man is.”
It could have been the sternness in her mom’s voice, but I watch as Jenna begins to wilt before my eyes. There are many things I could have said to help. I could have said I’m the plumber or any sort of maintenance man to explain my presence. I could have said I was a mechanic. Instead, I hope based on what happened earlier, things have changed between us.
“I’m her boyfriend, Mrs. Rhoades.”
The slow way her mother’s head rotates on her shoulders reminds me of a horror movie where a clown doll comes to life.
“Boyfriend?” she spouts like a geyser going off. “Jenna Margaret Rhoades, you will not dishonor this family. I understand you were hurt by Kenneth’s dalliance with some other woman.”
Jenna purses her lips, and it shouldn’t be funny given the gravity of the situation. But her mouth looks like a miniature pink inner tube on her face. I blame the liquor I consumed for chuckling. Her mom’s face only makes matters worse. It’s screwed up comically. Jenna relaxes her lips, stopping anything she is about to say. That allows her mom to continue with her rant as if she only paused for a second mid-stream.
“And trying to get that bee sting look so many women are after was also a bad idea. Obviously, the doctor you went to did a shoddy job. You have tiny creases in them that resemble bite marks.”
A laugh escapes me, and I try to cover it with a cough. I remember Jenna and her first attempt at a blowjob. I tried to endure, but it was that bad, that painful. Finally, I had to get her off of me because it felt like she was dragging my dick over sandpaper or trying to chew me instead of blow me.
Though she’d been so damn cute with her confession of having no skills. When she asked me to show her how to do it, as much as I cringed, I had to let her t
ry again. And that time had been pure heaven.
Jenna’s mom is still talking as I’d slipped into the memory.
“And shoddy doctors will be all you get in the future if you humiliate this family. The Balfours are one of the oldest families in Charleston. Your opportunity to get out of this was before you told Kenneth yes and had an engagement party. Now is the time to suck it up!”
One glance at Jenna and we both snicker.
“I’ve done that, Mother,” Jenna says.
Our joke over her words doesn’t go unnoticed. “Stop being flippant. Senator Balfour is graciously coming over for Sunday dinner. Kenneth has promised me he’ll do whatever to make this up to you. You will come and smile. You will make peace with Kenneth. And you will marry him.”
She spoke slow and deliberate. Every word had been enunciated to drive the point home.
“I will not,” Jenna declares.
I want to kiss her in that moment.
“Your trust fund is not irrevocable,” her mother says.
Alarm covers Jenna’s face. “You wouldn’t.”
“We all will have to do what it takes if you decided to date…” She glances at me. “Who are you again?”
“Brandon,” I say.
“Ah, yes. Brandon. And what is it that you do?”
The way she says it, the only thing that might impress her is if I say I’m former President Kennedy’s long-lost son or the president of the United States.
“I’m a mechanic.”
“Ah, fabulous.” Her words are then aimed at her daughter. “You’ve had your fun. You got Kenneth back for what he did to you. But now is time for forgiveness. You and Kenneth can work something out.”
She glances at me and then at her daughter.
I wait for Jenna to stand up for herself like she did before, but there is panic on her face. And talk about total buzzkill. She isn’t going to say anything. She isn’t going to stand up for us. I can say something to even the playing field, but I don’t.
Her mom faces me when Jenna remains mute. Jenna shakes her head at me, and with that gesture, my fears are confirmed. She doesn’t want me to say anything more, to make things worse, I guess. She means more to me than my happiness, so I do what I can to fix things for her.
The Cruel and Beautiful Series Boxset Page 94
