by Savannah May
“Who’s counting?” he snips before heading off to the house.
I wander over to the pool, a freeform shape with an island of rocks and tumbling waterfall in the middle. I still find it amazing how some people get to live their lives.
“Grace Hart of the Chicago Harts,” a voice startles me behind.
I whirl around to see Sophie, wearing a plunging white dress like she’s set to compete with the bride, at her deflowerment.
“I never -” I start to remind her, it wasn’t me that claimed that.
“Or should we call you Sing-sing Grace?” My heart plummets through my lungs, ripping a tear through my core.
“Does Hopper know you’re a felon?” Sophie sneers, looking me up and down like I’m covered with the stinky stuff. “What did you do to worm your way into his life? Or is it too filthy to relate in civilized company? Never mind, tell me anyway I love a good slut story.” “Shut up,” I snap. “Hopper knows what he’s doing and what he wants. It just isn’t you. Probably because you’re such an uncivilized bitch.”
My champagne glass goes flying into the pool as Sophie barrels into me, screeching like a banshee. Her hands are flapping and tugging at anything she can grab, forcing me to respond. She pulls my hair, my clothes in a fury. Her long nails scratch at my bare skin and I fight back, trying to shove her off me. Locked in a rage, we stagger this way and that on our stiletto points.
One sideways hip-check and she wobbles on her towering heels. We’ve worked our way, scraping and slapping to the edge of the pool. Her eyes stretch wide as she realizes what’s about to happen. Her hand tangled in my hair, grips for purchase then she reaches out with the other to grab my sleeve. Next second I’m plunging down under the water, my nostrils filling painfully. I swim well, having grown up on the lakes in Ozark, but I’m impeded from kicking my way back to the surface. Sophie’s hand is knotted into my hair and she grapples at my clothes, dragging me down, pulling us both under.
With a swish, I manage to break free and bolt for the surface. Sophie catches hold of my legs and clings like I’m her lifeline.
I try to kick her off but she digs her nails into my bare legs harder, gripping and grasping until my lungs are burning from lack of oxygen. With a sharp jerk of my thighs, I release from her manic grip and point my way to the light. When I burst from the water, all I want is to haul for breath, spluttering. A crowd is circling the pool, gazing down into the uniquely unnatural shade of blue.
No one makes a move, they just look at the pool like it’s a movie. I look down through the opaque water and see Sophie still down at the bottom. She’s not moving. It can be exceptionally difficult to move through water with clothes sicking to your body.
“Can she swim?” I splutter at the ensemble.
Everyone looks dumbly back and forth, shrugging. No one knows. Why isn’t someone diving in to help her?
For fuck’s sake.
I heave a long gulp into my stinging lungs and flip my legs skyward in a water dive. I tug a stroke with both arms and go down to retrieve my most recent worst enemy.
Chapter 22
Hopper
When I emerge from the house and hear hysterical screaming, I take off at a sprint. Every cell is fired up and on the precipice. I know without knowing that Grace is at the center of something. The furor is coming from the pool and I have to push my way through layers of people all craning to see. I reach the front to see Grace in the water. She’s back stroking with Sophie on her chest, both fully dressed.
“What the fuck?” I bark.
“You miss the catfight?” some callow kid in a white dinner jacket smirks.
“Shut the fuck up, Brat,” I snarl.
I tear off my jacket to go in and get Grace, but she’s a fucking Olympic swimmer and has reached the side already. She hangs on to the freeform edge and cups a bedraggled Sophie under her other arm. A couple of the valets rush over to pull Sophie out while her mother continues her screaming. I push a path through the stunned crowd and bend down to pull Grace out of the water. The adrenaline is pumping so hard through my muscles that she comes flying into my arms, drops of water splashing everyone around us. She crashes into my chest wall with a jolt that makes her startle when she sees it’s me.
“Seems you can’t leave me alone for a minute,” she quips, between gasps, always the humorist.
“I’ll try to remember that next time you decide to go for a dip.”
“She attacked my daughter,” Cassandra Poole, Sophie’s hysterical stepmother shrieks. Pointing a talon at Grace, she storms toward us. I’m expecting another cat fight and seems like the crowd around are leaning in for the same. “We know who she is. What she is.” the woman snarls.
“Screw you,” Grace flares, “She started it and you’re welcome – I didn't see anyone else leaping in to rescue the landlubber.”
I don’t even bother to repress a grin. Grace sure knows how to stand up for herself when it comes to it She’s not remotely intimidated by the snob level of the company. My chest is so swollen with pride at her confidence, I retrieve my jacket and wrap it around her. Despite the warm day, she’s shaking.
But Cassandra isn’t backing off.
“Was it you that stole the bracelet from Maisie’s wedding,” She shouts so that everyone turns to Grace. I can see they’ve already come to a verdict. The entire group among themselves, gossiping in private. Inventing facts that fit their needs.
Grace’s cry of ‘No” is pitiful and rips my heart wide.
“What are you doing with this scummy little hoodlum, Hopper. Slumming it? You can’t find a nice girl of your own kind?”
“You aren’t my kind, Cassandra,” I shout so everyone is in no doubt where I stand. She’s a hypocrite, throwing her stepdaughter at me at every opportunity while she herself gave me a blow job in the bathroom at a museum gala last year.
“And that animal is?” she squeals in fury.
“Actually she is,” I announce.
This could be the fucking end of me if some of my clients here decide they’re too swell to deal with the likes of me, but I don’t care. Grace matters to me more than this bunch of phonies.
“She’s exactly my kind because I too was an animal locked in a cage once.”
A collective gasp goes around the crowd – like they’re all so squeaky fucking clean. Every last one of them has more secrets than they’d like to get out, a good percentage of them illegal.
“People get into bad situations, that does not make them bad people,” I shout, feeling like a political orator or some shit. “And believe me being locked in the system, doesn’t automatically mean you’re guilty.”
Grace is shivering way too much under my wing. “You’re OK baby, I’m getting you out of here.”
I start to push through the throng who part like we’re toxic contamination. When we reach the edge of the gaggle, I turn to them with one final announcement they can gossip over once we’re gone.
“You’re all demonstrating exactly how small minded you are with your self-righteous brainwashed judgment. For all your fancy private schools you haven’t had an original thought ever. So if you don't want to accept my girlfriend Grace, then you don't want to accept me. Just let me know and I won’t expect anymore of your invites to boring thousand dollar-plate dinners.”
I’d love to stay and tell them some more of what I think of them but I’m concerned at Grace’s shaking. I have to get her out of her wet clothes. I lead her across the grass and toward the cars parked at the front. Her legs are wobbly and she’s hopping along one-legged because she’s lost a shoe. In one move, I sweep her up into my arms and carry her bride-style against my chest.
“You’re all wet,” she whimpers as her hand rests on my pec, the shirt stuck to my muscle.
“You too,” I grin with a filthy undertone. Checking just how dripping she is is going to be my one focus.
“Sorry,” she mewls.
“Don’t be,” I burr, “You were spectacular.”
“I’m too mouthy,” she says, apologetic.
“I’ll be the judge of that. I have to get you out of these clothes right now.”
“Please,” she whimpers.
“Please what?” I grit. Her other hand curling around the back of my neck, her breasts pressing into my pec muscle is more than I can stand.
“Please strip me out of my clothes. I’ve been dying for you to say that for a month.”
“Really?” I croak. “I thought we were strictly hands off.”
“That was before you put your hands on me.”
“I think it was because I put them on you if I remember right,” I say with a grin as I recall our first meeting, my out of order behavior. “Which I know I do, because it was unforgettable.”
“A girl can change her mind,” Grace whispers, her lips tremble whether because she’s cold or burning hot I can’t be sure but I think it’s the latter.
“Have you?” I husk.
“About you? Yes.”
I don’t need to hear another word and I’m not about to wait for her to change it back again. I duck back around to the other side of the pool, the part hidden by huge bushes covered in bright pink flowers. I kick open the door to the pool house, step through and heel it shut.
I throw Grace down on the bed and reach to loosen my pants. My wood is beating an agonized drumroll, but Grace pops right back up. My jacket falls away from her shoulders as she gets to her knees then climbs up my body. With her limbs clasped around my frame, we’re all hands everywhere at once. I need to touch every part of her and don’t know where to start first. I want it all. Now.
Grace is tearing at my shirt buttons. The wet fabric hinders her unfastening so I take hold of the collar and rip the fucking thing. The buttons fly off and go popping around the room.
Grace gasps and giggles.
“Tarzan,” she mutters.
“Your turn, baby.”
I rip the dress down her shoulders barely any less roughly. The drenched fabric sticks to her curves making my balls clench with urgent desire to have them bared and in my fists. I tug it down to her waist but her body calls too loudly to my cock, my mouth. Her nipples are prodding through the wet lace bra and I tear that from her too so her tits bounce free.
“Fuck, you’re delicious Baby,” I grit out, the lust making my voice croak.
I have never wanted to be buried deep inside a woman as much as I want Grace’s wet pussy clasping my solid shaft. I palm the underside of her tit and shove it roughly up into my mouth. Grace undulates with a low moan as I nip at her nipple, alternating with laving my tongue across the point. Her shivering has taken on a different tremor now. From shock and chill and outrage, she’s shifted to breathy lust.
“I want a taste of all of you,” I add, shoving the wet bunched fabric down over her hips.
She’s tearing at my pants too so we’re in a tangle of hands and kisses and soaked material. But the most soaked are her panties. Sodden of course from the water, but also glistening with the juices pouring out of her. I can’t restrain a feral growl at the sight of her bare pussy. I rise back to standing, pick her up and deposit her on a console table, sweeping the shit decorative objects to the floor. I push her thighs apart and gaze on her pink pussy, flexing eagerly with desire for my dick, or my fingers, or my mouth. I don’t know which to giver her first.
“Fuck I’ve waited for you so long, I can’t wait another second.”
“Don’t wait,” she whimpers. “I want you inside me right now. I need your cock filling me hard.”
Her hands have pulled my belt apart and I give her some assistance with the pants fastening so she can free my raging cock into her grasp. The jolt of pleasure from her touch lands directly in my balls. I grasp the root and move my burning shaft toward the only place it wants to be.
I find the hollow of her pussy and swirling the head into her entrance, almost blow my load right there she feels so incredible.
“I need a taste of all of you first, Princess,” I growl, shocked at the low feral tone in my own voice, completely out of control. “I taste like pool,” she resists. I will eradicate her shame if it’s the last task I ever perform.
“You taste like you,” I husk, “and it’s fucking nectar.”
She moans out a long sigh as I lap across the length of her from her ass, across her spread entrance and her hard little clit. As I lick circles around the point Grace gasps and her entire body trembles.
“You like that?” I look up from between her thighs.
Her eyes are rolled up half delirious in her head. As answer she threads her fingers into my hair and tugs my face back down on her spread pussy. Happy to oblige I lick and bite at her folds, sucking the ravenous hard triangle between my lips before plunging my tongue through her tight entrance and all the way inside her.
Chapter 23
Grace
As I gasp at the minimal air available around me, my eyes pop open briefly and I note that Hopper and I are right opposite the pool house door. If anyone walks in, they’ll be greeted with the sight of me spread wider than I’ve ever been and Hopper feasting ravenously on my pussy. The danger makes juices spurt from me and I’m slightly ashamed of my decadent exhibition. But only very slightly.
All that lasts less than a second before I’m subsumed by the pleasure rushing up my body and showering my skin lining with more breathless lust than I’ve ever known.
I shudder and twitch through the biggest O of my life but Hopper doesn’t even break for a breath. He holds me immobile, refusing to allow me to squirm away from the overwhelming waves of delight pressing at my clit again. This won’t happen. I’ve never come and then come again right after. Let’s be honest, I mostly don’t come at all. Because the guys I’ve been with haven’t been packing the tools for the job. I used to think that something was wrong with me. With Carl I used to fake it so he wouldn't call me frigid as he did a couple of times.
But Hopper is a man with experience and more tools than a freaking mechanic, electrician and carpenter on a field trip. He pins me down and traces circles around my swollen clit first with his tongue, then with his fingers before pushing them inside me and rendering me mindless. An explosion of nuclear white light detonates behind my eyes and I thrash through a quite embarrassingly enormous O that seems to satisfy him at last.
“You are highly responsive, Miss Hart,” he smirks.
“Oh my god, only for you,” I moan. “I can’t believe you can make me do that. Sir.”
That seems to satisfy him even more and he palms his amazing cock that stands solidly unwavering, but throbbing eagerly beneath the skin membrane. I’m limp as a vampire’s bride but I still want to taste his gorgeous shaft. I struggle up from my prone position sprawled back on the console but Hopper won’t allow it. He presses me back and with his amazing cock in his palm, moves the head into my entrance. The bulbous tip rolling around my nerve endings sets me alight.
I thrust forward, needing him to shove through the taut barrier, into the forbidden part of me. This is more than I can stand. I start to tremor and pant at how close he is to being buried all the way inside me.
“Eager aren’t you?” he rasps.
All I can do is moan. The flat of his hand pushes my inner thigh wider and his eyes droop half-mast with lust as he looks at my pussy mouth twitching around his head.
I can’t take much more. This is it for me, everything I need. Even more than multiple climaxes, I want his wide shaft sliding into me, stretching out my walls and making me complete again. On cue, Hopper jerks his hips and glides through my slick channel, setting off detonations of pleasure all the way like a string of firecrackers.
He releases a low groan as he slides through my slickness, feeling my walls collapse and grits out something that sounds like, “So wet.”
The sensation, being opened, being filled, blows my mind. I’m in another world, locked to him and free-falling through infinite pleasure. His cock lining every pore of my inner c
hannel is spine-tingly good. Good enough to feel filled to the absolutes furthest reaches of my body. I may have felt broken by recent events but Hopper shatters me into a million tiny shards of happiness and then brings me back together.
Now, without breaking our deep connection, he allows me up from prone. I clamber up his amazing chest and into his arms. Being vertical, I’m impaled on him deeper than ever. Rotating my hips on his tip sends delicious heat swarming through my core. But I’m being greedy. Hopper is so attentive to my body he’s already drawing more desire from it. I want more.
His mouth covers mine then rips away to attack every inch of me, like he’d like to consume me whole. He squeezes the underside of my breast as he pushes it up into his mouth again, lapping and nipping. Every nerve pulsates from his focus and I feel the O rising from my toes getting ready to explode through me. It isn’t possible. Is it? My body is drained of every drop so how can I squeeze out more? The climax rises in me relentless, teasing at my nerve endings.
I put my own focus on getting Hopper off. I need to see him come undone from being buried inside me. That would be my greatest pleasure. I stretch my hands behind me, arching my tits into his mouth as I pump down onto him, circling my pelvis and tugging his dick, milking him until he groans my name.
I feel his climax rushing up through his thighs. They tense, followed by the rest of his muscles, chest, biceps. With one final jerk and a feral grunt in his throat, he releases into me. He tugs my hair wrapped around his fist, exposing my neck. Then he buries into the side, biting down on my skin as he unloads. Satiated, I cling to his hard round biceps and continue flexing around his hard length, loving how he groans with every pulsation.
“Fuck, Grace, the things you do to me with that little pussy of yours,” he grits once his breath returns to semi-even level.
“You’re not too bad either with what you can do to it,” I quip. Suddenly I’m feeling very confident in myself.
