CHEAP SMUT: Four Erotic Romance Novels (Boxed Set)

by Scott Hildreth

  “You see her fuckin’ legs?” I asked as I tossed my head her direction.

  Otis nodded his head as he finished his beer. He seemed off his game.

  “You sure you’re alright?” I shrugged.

  He tilted his head back. “My old girlfriend, Sam. Her mother died. Just wanted to try and let it all settle. Just trying to make sense of it.”

  Otis’ only love was Sam. They split up when he was in his early twenties, and she moved away to New York, and married some rich fella. Now hip deep in kids, and living the high life, the last thing Otis needed was to see or think of her again. He never quite recovered from losing her, and whether or not he’d ever admit it, he missed her dearly.

  “Oh shit, your sweetheart? Damn, Brother, I’m sorry. What happened, if I might ask?”

  “Aluminum foil. It was an accident,” he said.

  I shook my head.

  Aluminum foil?

  Hell, maybe she got crushed in a machine at work, I thought.

  “Damn, did she work at the Reynold’s Wrap factory or something?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No, she was cooking and went to pull some aluminum foil off the roll, and it cut her wrist. She bled to death before the ambulance arrived.”

  Shocked at the thought of a woman dying from such a freak accident, and further shocked thinking the woman was Sam’s mother, I stood from my seat and opened my arms.

  “Well, when a deal like that happens, you just got to stand back and realize that this world we’re living in ain’t ours, it’s His; and things like that are just proof of it. His plan’s much bigger’n this,” I said.

  He hugged me and slapped his hand against my back. “Appreciate it, Brother.”

  “See you in the morning,” he said as he stepped back.

  “Long as I’m done with her,” I said as I turned around and glanced toward Kat.

  “Just don’t fuck her in the eye, and everything’ll be fine,” he said over his shoulder as he walked away.

  Thinking of Brother Otis being in pain didn’t set well with me. He wasn’t one to reveal his feelings, nor was he a person who complained about anything. He had texted me and wanted to meet, which meant he was bothered by the death of Sam’s mother, as he should be. Trying to decide if he was more uncomfortable about the death or Sam’s undoubted arrival into town was anyone’s guess, but my opinion was he was worried about possibly running into Sam.

  Either way, Otis never did anything he didn’t want to do - if he happened to stumble onto Sam, he’d react in a manner supporting what he believed was in his best interest. As I lowered myself into the seat and reached for my vodka, feeling guilty for not having provided him a little more ear and a lot less mouth, Kat slipped into the seat across from me.

  “So, what’s your story?” she asked as she sat down.

  I widened my eyes and stared like a sex starved idiot.

  “Who me?” I asked as I pointed to my chest.

  She tossed her hair over her shoulder with the back of her hand. “Yeah. You. What’s your deal?”

  “Deal? I dunno. Don’t guess I got a deal. I’m just a biker who likes havin’ fun, suckin’ down a little beer, and tryin’ to see how much Red Bull I can drink before I have a heart attack,” I responded as I lifted my glass of vodka.

  Her blue eyes were driving me insane, even if they weren’t blue underneath her little contact lenses. As she sat and studied me, waiting for her mind to come up with another question to ask me, I daydreamed about doing the windmill with her. Her long legs and participation in sports would probably make it effortless.

  “My dad’s a cop,” she said flatly.

  “Excuse me?” I snapped back as I spit about half my vodka onto my hand and forearm.

  She nodded her head. “Yep. Wichita P.D.”

  “Well, that’s a nice how do ya fuckin’ do. Damn, where’d that come from?” I asked as I wiped my hand on the leg of my jeans.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know; just thought I’d get it out of the way.”

  “Just had a run in with the cops a week or so ago,” I said as I glanced at the back of my hand.

  “What did you do?” she asked as she leaned forward, and rested her tits on the edge of the table.

  “Late for a meeting with the fellas, was going about a hundred and a half down Kellogg, resisted arrest, got Tased, cuffed, hauled to jail, and then kicked the shit out of a skinhead gang while I was locked up. Typical weekend for me,” I said.

  Still leaning forward on the table, she glanced up and blinked her eyes a few times before answering.

  “I’m not even going to lie, I love bad boys,” she cooed.

  “Well, I’m about as bad as it gets. Now, you spilled your guts about your pop being a cop, I guess I’ll just cut right to it, you know, eliminate all the guesswork so to speak,” I said as I lifted my glass of vodka and peered over the top.

  Still pressing her tits into the top of the table, she batted her eyelashes a few times and smiled. “Okay. You’re not going to scare me.”

  “We’ll see,” I said.

  I took a sip of the vodka and chased it with a swig of Red Bull. As I sat the can down to the side, I leaned onto the edge of the table and curled my index finger into my palm, hoping she’d scoot a little closer to the center.

  I wanted to smell her while I spoke to her.

  She did just that, and as I inhaled a whiff of her perfume, I decided she must have sprayed a little more on herself while she was away. Maybe this was just meant to be.

  “I don’t commit to anyone, and I’ll never be anyone’s exclusive anything, or whatever you call it nowadays,” I whispered.

  She gazed at me as if hypnotized.

  “Okay,” she breathed.

  Well, that went fairly well. Let’s see how long she lasts…

  I inhaled a short breath, exhaled, and glanced over each shoulder. The bar was still empty, and in fact, had two less people than the four who were in it when I entered an hour before. I turned to face her and inhaled through my nose.

  Couture La La. That’s the scent.

  I grinned at my recollection of her perfume, and continued. “I’ve got maybe a six-inch tongue, and a twelve-inch cock about as big around as your wrist. I don’t believe in love, I think marriage is a fuckin’ joke, and I don’t like cops. I’ve always wanted to fuck a cop, but never found one willin’. Lookin’ at you now, I think I’d settle for the daughter of a cop, but that’s all you’re gonna get. Fucked. I can promise you it’ll be fun, no strings attached, and we can keep doin’ it for as long as you want, but it’ll never be nothin’ more than fuckin’. You in or are you out?”

  She didn’t blink an eye. As the edges of her mouth curled upward, she fought against it and began to speak.

  “I like bad boys, and I hate my cop father with a passion. He despises people like you; which makes me like the thought of your twelve inch dick that much more. I’ll challenge you on the tongue, because I don’t think any human has a tongue that long, but the thought of it excites me. I’ve never been on the back of a bike, but I’d like to, and until now, I never really thought I’d even talk to a real biker. The bottom line, Biscuit, I’m in. Your move,” she said in one uninterrupted sentence without so much as becoming short of breath.

  Still positioned in the center of the table no less than eight inches from her face, I sat and stared.

  Fuck, I like this girl.

  For once in my life, I was at a loss for words. To mask my sudden stupidity and buy some time to come up with something to say, I reached for my glass of vodka.

  “First things first,” I said as I sat up straight.

  “It ain’t a dick. It’s a cock. Little boys and short dudes got dicks. Mine’s a cock,” I said as I raised my glass to my mouth.

  I took a short drink, more for theatrics than for the need to take a drink. I slid the glass to the side and widened my eyes slightly.

  She reached for my vodka, slid it across the
table, and lifted it to her mouth. As she peered over the rim, she tipped it up and drank the remaining liquid from the glass. After she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, she grinned and set the glass to the side.

  “I’ve been off work for ten minutes. From here on out, the d-word will be off limits. Now, you think you and that third leg of yours are up for a ride?”

  She batted her eyelashes and waited for a response.

  I swallowed heavily and raised my right hand in the air.

  “What’s a man gotta do to get a bar tab in this joint?” I hollered.

  She grinned and leaned back into her seat. As I studied her face, and continued to stare at her overly blue eyes, the bartender slapped the tab onto the table.

  “Here you go,” Crayon box huffed.

  I didn’t even bother to turn around.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “You leaving?” she asked Kat.

  Kat nodded her head. “With him.”

  “Like your beard,” Crayon box said.

  “Like your hair,” I lied as I reached for my wallet.

  “Thanks. Just got it done,” she replied.

  I pulled a fifty dollar bill from my wallet and pressed it on top of the thirty dollar tab.

  “Keep the change,” I said.

  You can use the tip to fix your hair.

  “Ready?” I asked as I stood.

  She stood and nodded her head. “Yep.”

  As I watched her turn toward the door, I began to wonder if I was ready. Something about Kat made me feel like if I was ever going to meet my sexual match, I’d just done it.

  If her willingness to perform was equal to her ability to talk a quick line of shit, I guessed it wouldn’t be long and I’d know for sure.

  And I was more than ready to try and find out.

  KAT

  I had been raised under the thumb of my overly protective police officer father, and never allowed to live life with the feeling of being free. Everyone I dated, hung out with, or even had a cup of Starbuck’s coffee with was placed under a microscope and examined. None stood up to his expectations, and if I didn’t remove them from my life, he made their lives so difficult they decided to leave on their own.

  Going to college was the best thing to ever happen to me, and although the campus was only forty miles away from my parent’s home, I opted to stay in the housing immediately off campus, claiming the drive back and forth from their house was more than I could handle when combined with my homework.

  I could never decide for sure which it was, but either my hatred toward my father’s strict rules, the fact he was a cop, or my mother’s subservient nature caused me to have a desire to only date bad boys, and the older the better as far as I was concerned. Until I had spent some time talking to Avery, I never really considered a biker, and typically migrated toward military men.

  My first three years of college were spent with a former Marine ten years older than me who was the most controlling, overly abusive, and mentally exhausting prick to ever walk this earth. Even though we broke up six months prior, he insisted on kicking my door in every time he got drunk and all but raping me upon entering the house. Finally, after beating the girl he had as a side piece for our entire relationship, he was arrested and thrown in jail for battery and domestic abuse.

  Now free of his grasp, I felt a need to spread my sexual wings, and see what else the world had to offer. A relationship was the furthest thing from my mind, considering my difficulties with Kyle. I wanted a bad boy, sans the abusive behavior. I’d seen the Sinners in the town I lived in on a daily basis for the last three years, and although I viewed them as the baddest of bad boys, I hadn’t really looked at any of them as a viable option until recently. Avery’s explanation of the club, the men, and their loyalties sparked my interest; and Biscuit’s arrival in the bar with Otis couldn’t have come at a better time. Now half-drunk, horny as hell, and standing in Biscuit’s living room, I wondered if I had possibly let my alligator mouth overstep the abilities of my hummingbird ass.

  Standing on one side of the island in his kitchen while he stood on the other, I watched his mouth move as he spoke. The words made very little sense; it seemed my mind’s focus was on his lips and beard. He’d claimed in the bar that he had a six inch tongue, and when I questioned him later, he said he knew how to use it quite well. I’d never considered myself to be one of the women who was intrigued or turned on by beard porn, but with him standing a few feet from me, each minute that I spent studying him caused me to be more and more attracted to the thought of him licking my pussy – something Kyle had never done. As he finished saying whatever it was he said; he began to laugh.

  Naturally, I laughed in return.

  “So, what do you think?” he asked.

  I think I have no idea what you just said, that’s what.

  I grabbed the bottle of beer and squeezed it in my hand. It was luke-warm and not of any interest to me. I released the bottle, inched a little closer to the island and grinned as I lowered my hand to my waist.

  “I think my leg itches,” I said as I bent down slightly.

  He stood on one side of the kitchen, and I stood on the other. Hidden from his view by the island in front of me, I slid my finger beneath the fabric of my shorts and along my pussy – just to check.

  Holy shit, I’m soaked.

  Attempting to hide the joy of finding my wet pussy, I reached for the beer with my left hand and lifted it to my not so willing lips. As I drank the warm filth, I scratched the inner part of my thigh and raised my right hand to the bar.

  “Probably a fuckin’ mosquito. They’re bad this summer,” he said.

  All I saw was tongue.

  “So is your tongue really six inches long?” I asked.

  He wiped his hand along his beard and stretched his jaw a few times, opening his mouth wide as he did so. A few seconds later, he stuck out his tongue. If he so desired, it appeared he could lick his eyebrows with it. After twirling it in a circle and curling the tip of it while holding the remaining five inches still, my mind wandered away to all of the possibilities. I imagined him bringing me to climax with it.

  My knees buckled slightly.

  “Oh my,” I said.

  “Wanna try it out?” he asked as he shrugged his shoulders slightly.

  Do I ever…

  Incapable of speaking, I simply nodded my head.

  “Go into the living room and lie down on the couch,” he said as he pointed toward the room behind me.

  All I heard was lie down.

  I turned toward the living room, walked briskly to the couch, and flopped onto my back. As my head rested into the rather comfy decorative pillow, I bent my knees and rested my feet against the cheeks of my butt. In hindsight, I probably looked like an overeager prostitute.

  “You might want to take them shorts off,” he said as he walked into the room.

  I rolled off the couch and removed my shorts and panties with one good tug. Still wearing a shirt and bra, but not really worried about anything but feeling his tongue inside of me, I jumped back onto the couch and made myself comfortable.

  “Where do you want me?” I asked.

  “Right there’s fine,” he responded as he knelt down beside me.

  “Now you ain’t gonna freak out and start comin’ by here odd hours of the night or anything are ya?” he asked.

  “Not a chance,” I responded as I shook my head from side-to-side.

  “You sure?” he asked.

  “Promise,” I responded.

  “Deal,” he said as he placed his hand against my inner calf.

  As he pulled my leg to the side, I closed my eyes and waited. His soft beard slowly slid along my inner thighs and toward my embarrassingly wet pussy. As the tip of his tongue lightly touched my pussy lips, my entire body tingled and I almost sprung from the couch.

  “You’re fucking soaked. Were you standing in the kitchen thinking about this?” he asked.

  I nodded my h
ead.

  Please, please, do that again.

  The tip of his tongue slowly began to work its way from the bottom of my pussy to the top, stopping at my clit each time. After flicking against my clit a few times, he’d start over. With my eyes closed, my ass pressed into the couch, and my pussy against his face, I slowly slipped into some weird sexual bliss.

  As I focused on his very predictable pattern of licking, he stopped.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  Having no idea what he was asking, but ready for whatever it was he was willing to offer, I responded, “Uh huh.”

  I wasn’t.

  I wasn’t even close.

  No one could have prepared for what he did.

  He shoved his tongue deep inside of me. With it fully inserted into my vaginal cavity, he curled the end of it, flicking it against my g-spot. With each flick of his tongue, my body went into shock. After three or four flicks, my eyes opened wide and I prepared to explode.

  “Oh my…” I wailed.

  He raised his hand in the air to silence me, but never stopped doing what he was doing.

  As he steadily fucked me with his thick tongue and tortured my g-spot with the tip, I wondered if there was any way I could convince him to be my boyfriend. If there was a heaven, and I had never been quite sure there was, I was now in it and a few seconds from meeting God.

  I stared at the ceiling, arched my back and bit my lower lip.

  My body began to convulse into the craziest feeling I had ever felt. To describe it as an orgasm wouldn’t do it justice; I had orgasms a thousand times, and this wasn’t one of them. It was more like an experience than a feeling. As I bucked my hips and released my lower lip, I began to wail.

  As my cries increased in volume, he moaned into my pussy as if to encourage me to continue.

  The tip of his tongue continued to stroke my g-spot as he tongue fucked me into a state of semi-consciousness. I bellowed out into the room as my body shook and my mind attempted to catch up to the feeling inside of me.

  In and out his tongue worked.