by Kim Karr
Questioningly, almost unable to speak, he mutters, “My choice what?”
“You won. You told me what you want. I’m not backing down. So pull over.”
Noticing his tight grip on the wheel and the look in his eyes, I know he wants this, but doesn’t want to admit it.
“Dahlia?” he questions.
I finish unzipping his pants and tug at the opening of his boxers, freeing his erection before I teasingly say, “Pull over. I’m not asking you to get off the road because I need to use the bathroom.”
I begin to sketch the outline of his ear with my tongue before biting on his earlobe. Then I come out with, “On the road, or off the road? That is your choice! But the when is now.” I am physically and verbally making my intentions known, making him unmistakably aware that this is going to take place sooner, not later. I am not waiting until we get to his house.
“Fuc . . . he starts to say, obviously opting for my suggestion as he quickly moves from the innermost left lane to outermost right lane, exiting the highway at the first available opportunity.
Before beginning my descent, I glance up at him. His eyes are slightly hooded, his back is pushed against the seat, and his eyes are overflowing with desire. Surprising myself again with what I am about to do, what I never liked to do before, I can only grin. However, deciding that his state of mind right now might hinder his driving, I opt to wait for him to safely park the car before finding my way down to his lap.
I don’t waiver my seduction in the slightest though. I reach back and unbuckle my seat belt as River pulls into an underground garage to an office building, obviously closed on Sundays. As he pulls into a parking space in the center of the lot, he unbuckles his seat belt, pushes his seat back, and grabs for my face.
“Shit, what are you doing to me?” he pants.
Before letting him kiss me, I taunt, “Nothing yet,” but I know he’s not really referring to what I am doing to him at this moment. I know this because I often want to ask the same thing of him. He has undone me so completely, and I think he feels the same way about me.
Capturing my mouth, he passionately kisses me until I am breathless, but I am not waivered. Moving away from his soft lips, I start to trail open-mouthed kisses down his neck, over the outside of his t-shirt down his hard, taut chest. Stopping to lift his t-shirt, I find his soft skin and continue with my kisses over his finely chiseled abdominal muscles, down his deep V, finally reaching my destination.
His legs tremble slightly as my tongue darts to his very tip, circling it before running it down one side to his base and back up. He has his hands lightly gripping my head, and I can hear his erratic breathing. I clench his base with one hand, and he groans loudly as I slide my mouth over his length, moving slowly, up and down. Letting go of my head, he grabs my other hand and starts to suck hard on my thumb.
Passion is bubbling over inside me as I take him in my mouth as far as I can. When his tip hits the very back of my throat, I keep it there moving just slightly back and forth, but this time with my teeth, not my lips. My tongue continues to lick circles wherever it lands and when it rounds his base, I feel him shudder.
His body’s reaction, his groans, his heavy breathing, they’re all stoking the fire already blazing in my body. I want to make him feel good, the same way he has made me feel the past few days, so I suck harder and faster. He releases my hand and I bring it to my other one, completely wrapping it around his base.
He runs a hand down my back in a vain attempt to try to reach the hem of my skirt. However, the angle of my body and the position of my legs are not in the least bit accommodating to his wandering ways. It does not allow him free access to my sex and since this is for him, about him, I don’t move my body.
Giving up, his hands move to grip my hair as he begins to move my head to the writhing of his body beneath me. I follow, taking him all the way in and pulling him out as I bare my teeth gently against his long, hard length. His body stiffens at first before relaxing and I am sure he’s going to lose control.
Groaning loudly, he takes his right hand and slides it back and forth across my back, muttering my name. He exposes the skin between my sweater and skirt and runs his fingernails across it while his left hand continues to tangle in my hair, still guiding me to the motion he prefers.
His breath quickens as I rock my head up and down to his own beat. His right hand now slips under the waistband of my skirt and his fingers splay, and grab my ass, causing an ache to build between my legs. I can feel myself getting wetter; this extremely sensual act is not only turning him on, but me as well.
Hearing him suck in a few quick breaths through his teeth, he groans and I know he’s close to coming. I can already read his signs. When I flick my tongue across his tip, circling it, sucking it, he hisses, “Fuck,” and I moan loudly. He lets go of my head and grabs the door, his other hand still rubbing back and forth across the soft skin of my backside.
He’s nearly panting when I hear him mutter, “Yes.” Then as his body stills, his stomach muscles clench and his warm fluid pulses out of him. I can taste the salty sweetness of it flowing down the back of my throat as I swallow.
Raising my head, I can’t help but grin at him. His eyes are still closed, but his face is full of contentment. As he opens his eyes, his breathing slowly returns to normal. I lick my lips, still able to taste him, and his eyes widen. He starts to say something, but I don’t let him speak as I crush my mouth to his.
When he has thoroughly kissed me, he pulls his lips away and presses his forehead to mine. His warm breath brushes my cheeks as he speaks. “I have to say, I really enjoy playing games with you . . .”
Sliding his lips across the side of my face, he presses his mouth against my ear. As shivers ravage my body he continues, “ . . . more than any other games I remember playing with anyone. Ever.”
Pulling back, he kisses me on the nose and chuckles; “I’m going to have to come up with a really great grand prize for you when you actually win one of these days.”
I lean my head back against the headrest as I raise an eyebrow. When I look into his beautiful green eyes, I beam, “Maybe I’ve just been letting you win. I have mad game playing skills you haven’t even seen yet.”
Leaning back and stretching his legs out forward to zip his pants back up, he shakes his head and grins devilishly while reaching over to brush his finger over my lips. “I can’t wait for you to unleash your mad skills.”
I give him a quick wink before I buckle my seatbelt. “In due time. Now let’s go check out this new house of yours.”
HOME
Hold on to me as we go
As we go down this new path
We have each other
And when we get there
It will be clear that we are home.
As we pull up to a very affluent neighborhood in the Hollywood Hills, I am a little surprised at the grandeur of the scene. There is a large iron gate and multiple guards carrying guns that are quite noticeable at their waists. I don’t see any lane designated for the residents to just pull through using either gate openers or bar codes on their windows.
We stop in front of the glass booth and a young, skinny blonde-haired woman in a uniform approaches the car. River nods his head and greets her. Giving her very little information, he flashes his sexy dimples and pearly whites. We are immediately waved through. Obviously, this guard already knows who he is.
Scrutinizing the area, I notice a bunch of young women all dressed the same. They are camped outside the gate. I hadn’t noticed them when we drove in, but I do now because they are yelling and holding up various signs. One has the words ‘autograph for a kiss?’ on it. Another sign is scribed ‘I trade fair’. Interesting. Pointing over at the flirtatious girls shaking their signs in the air along with other body parts, I remark, “Are they your groupies or just groupies in general?”
He glances over to where I’m looking and says, “In general I assume. I’m really not sure. I’ve never
paid attention.”
Pulling away from the guardhouse, he points to the doppelganger group of girls and wryly says, “But they’re basically the reason I moved into a gated place.”
“Oh right. You don’t like fans.”
“I didn’t say that really. I do but in the right place at the right time. Sometimes they forget artists have personal lives too.” He stops as if contemplating what to say next. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the whole signing autographs thing and meeting new people after we perform. It’s the chaos I don’t really like.”
The screaming begins to fade as he looks in the rearview mirror. “Xander says it comes with the job, and they’re harmless.” Shaking his head he continues, “I’m sure they are, but they can be aggressive.”
Pondering that comment, his melancholy tone makes me think about his choice of residence. For some reason, I hadn’t pictured River living in one of the most famous Hollywood Hills neighborhoods. But driving through the quiet winds and turns of the paved roads, I get why he does. It not only provides privacy and security, but it’s also very quiet and secluded, just like the hotel he stayed at in Las Vegas. Like me, he must prefer the quiet and tranquil side of living. Funny, Ben loved the beach, but not the quiet of it like I did.
As River drives deeper into the community, I laugh to myself thinking buses probably stop out front as part of the ‘Homes of the Rich and Famous’ Tour. This is a neighborhood Ben would have referred to as the homes of the irresponsibly rich and ass-famous. Ever since he investigated Mark Hines, the famous football player who lived somewhere up in the Hills, he was irrationally biased toward any famous person from this part of LA. Ben had been the journalist on the team that investigated the money-laundering scheme derived from illegal betting. Mark was such a douche, as Ben put it, that he never confessed to his part in the ill deed but rather pushed the blame to his agent. Because of this, he was allowed to continue to play football. Ben felt Mark used his money and fame to hide his part in the scheme. He also felt it was because of his celebrity status that it worked.
Ben’s attitude may have stemmed from a mix of his love for football, the injustice itself, or maybe a little jealousy over the power Mark held; I was never certain. Either way, whenever I mentioned any well known person who lived in the Hills, his comment was always a derivative of that fucktard this or that fucktard that. He was never jealous of the amount of money a person had, this I knew because both of our families were financially secure. I think he was jealous of a celebrity’s status, being recognized just by name. Even though Ben never actually told me this, I know he had hoped to be a household name one day, like Anderson Cooper.
Ben and I didn’t live extravagant lifestyles like most Hollywood Hills residents appeared to live. We grew up on the beach where there were no facades. There was never pressure to ‘keep up with the Joneses’ so to say. We lived our lives easy and carefree for the most part; it was the way of life on the beach. As I look around, I have to remember—that is not my life anymore.
I should have an open mind about being in the city where River grew up, the place where he’s actually known as a musician. Maybe not known or recognized by undaunting fans yet, but I have no doubt he will be soon. I hadn’t thought of him like that, until now, but being here brings it all home and Ben’s words reverberate through my mind.
Noticing my distraction, River asks, “What? You don’t like it?”
His voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I can’t help but laugh. “Of course I do, silly!” Then I say, “You just didn’t tell me you were one of the rich and famous.”
He chuckles and replies, “I told you, I got a great deal on this house.”
Grabbing my fingers, he continues. “The previous owners got divorced and just wanted to get rid of it. Xander is friends with the ex-husband, and he hooked me up.” He kisses my hand and sets it on his lap. “The view from my backyard is amazing, and that’s what sold me on the house the minute I saw it.”
Smiling hugely at him, I couldn’t help but think how much we really did have in common. “Funny, the first thing I do whenever I go anywhere is check out the view.” Then I couldn’t help but joke, “In fact, I think I checked out your view the first time I saw you.”
Laughing at me, he retorts, “Oh? You’re finally going to admit you were staring at me?”
“No, I didn’t say that. Don’t get carried away,” I quip as I pinch his leg.
Passing by acres of houses, all isolated on their own plains in the Hills, I briefly look out the window, but I can’t even see most of the front doors because the houses are so well hidden. I’m not really even that interested because my view inside the car is way more appealing right now.
“You don’t even want to start that kind of game,” River says, lifting up my hand and gesturing to where I just pinched him. Then he releases my hand and reaches over to tickle me.
I shift in my seat and start squealing. I’m very ticklish but don’t want him to know this, so I try to quickly subdue myself. Grabbing his hand, I attempt to move it away, but he’s relentless and continues his tickling assault. “You’re driving! Put both hands on the wheel. Please!” I yell out with tears of laughter streaming down my face.
Braking at the stop sign, he takes his hand back to grab the wheel and hits the turn signal with his other hand. He cocks his head to look at me, and a devilish grin appears on his face. “You didn’t seem that worried about my driving ability an hour ago.”
“Actually, I was. That’s why I waited for you to park the car first,” I respond with a sly grin of my own.
“Well, I’ll stop for now but only because you asked so nicely,” he tells me in his most adorable voice.
He starts to slow down as he approaches a cul-de-sac. He indicates with his chin a house I can just barely see at the end of the street. “Here we are. Home sweet home,” he says as he pulls into a long upward sloping driveway.
The house has a smooth white stucco finish and looks to be a 1940’s style ranch. It’s suspended high above the city with a large modern circular stucco staircase leading to a beautiful pair of art deco style double doors. The landscaping is modest but neatly kept; eclectic rocks surround the palm trees. River hits a button in his car, and the large wooden door opens.
The garage is located under the house. As he pulls in, I can see a wide staircase in the back right corner, which must lead into the house. Once he puts the car in park, he switches the ignition off and shifts to face me. “Remember, I already warned you what to expect. I just moved in.”
He seems slightly nervous, so I bestow a little reassurance. “It can’t be much worse than my house, and I’ve been in transition for way longer,” I say, not explaining why but letting him know I’m cool with unsettled space.
As he opens his door, he turns back to look at me. He’s wearing a huge smile and his eyes sparkle. “Not sure if I mentioned this, but since I lived with a bunch of dudes I didn’t bring much. The previous owners left a few things, but really it’ll be like camping until we hit some stores.”
Shaking my head and rolling my eyes at him as I reach for the door handle, I ask, “Are you trying to tell me we’ll be sleeping on the floor?”
Chuckling as he exits his door, he responds, “Pretty much.”
I get out of the car and glance over at him. “Well then Mr. Rock Star turned Boy Scout, show me the way.” I can’t help but laugh; thinking about how similar our carefree domestic attitudes are.
He points his finger at me and says, “Don’t laugh. I told you I just moved in.”
I approach him as he waits at the front of the car for me, and he takes my hand, leading me up the stairs. Once we reach another small bank of steps that lead to the landing, he ushers me forward. When we get to the top, he reaches above the door and removes a key from the ledge.
Turning around, I notice the key in his hand and quickly jest, “Hey River, first rule of a new house never let anyone know where you hide your spare key!” As I look at h
im, my breath catches from his close proximity and my pulse starts to race when I notice his muscles showing through his t-shirt as they flex and roll with his every movement. Unashamed, I continue to watch him as he reaches around me to unlock the door and reaches again to put the key back.
Before I can add any further words of wisdom to my already expressed thoughts, I notice his eyes drift down to my skirt. His fingertips lightly brush the hem before his hands brace the doorframe on both sides of me. The sunlight is peaking through a small round window behind him, only highlighting his extreme attractiveness.
He dips his head so we are eye-level. “Since we’ve already established you’re not a stalker, you knowing where I hide the key just makes it easier.” He laughs and thinks for a moment before slowly slipping his tongue out of his mouth and dragging it across his lower lip. Leaning in, he places his knee in between mine and kisses me hungrily. He kisses up and down my jawline and neck, almost as if trying to find my pulse. It should be easy, since it’s racing. He returns his lips to mine and we continue our kiss. This kiss isn’t just any kiss; it’s a kiss very much full of need. Not just his, but mine. It’s a kiss that leaves me breathless and wanting more.
I wonder how is it that one-minute we can be having a normal conversation and the next minute I want to strip down in his garage and fuck him right here? This need is completely new to me. My inability to control my libido around him is making me a little nervous, and I decide to escape this situation. Lowering my head, I turn around and duck under his arm, reaching for the doorknob.
“Easier how?” I finally manage. Without glancing back, I open the door and pass by his overwhelming sex appeal.
Putting his hand over my eyes as I start to walk into the house, he whispers in my ear, “I’ll explain later.” He kisses the side of my neck, and I can feel his smooth skin as he says, “After we finish what you started in the car.”
Fumbling around my words, I say, “Oh, did I start something in the car?”
