Dirty Promise

by Penny Wylder

  Check please.

  On the drive to his loft, he has his hand on my bare leg. His fingers slide up my skirt until his hand is between my legs. He rubs the crotch of my panties. I arch my back and spread my legs to make it easier for him.

  I move his hand and lean across the seat, unbuttoning his slacks and pull his hard cock out of his fly and start sucking him. I’ve always been proud of my dick-sucking abilities because I basically have no gag reflex and can deep throat like a champ. But Max is so large it makes it almost impossible—almost. I manage to get the length of him down my throat. He pets my hair like a good kitty and lets out an appreciative moan.

  “Damn, you’re good at that,” he says in awe.

  I dip the tip of my tongue in the opening, run the soft, flat part along the sensitive spot underneath. I make sure to give every bit of it the attention it deserves before bobbing back down with my entire mouth. His body stiffens and I feel the jeep slow a bit as his foot goes lax on the pedal.

  “Fuck, I’m going to come,” he says, curling his fingers in my hair and giving it a tight squeeze, almost pulling, but not quite.

  I continue to suck him despite the warning. He pulls the jeep off to the side of the road. The intensity of his breathing tells me he won’t last much longer. One more bob down and he explodes in my mouth. Six long, warm ropes of cum hit the back of my throat and I swallow it down, every salty, silky drop. He’s out of breath and it takes him a moment to recover.

  Chest heaving, he wipes sweat from his brow and looks at me. He lets out a low chuckle and says, “That was one gold metal blowjob.”

  I give him the same kind of cocky smile I’m used to him giving me. “Thank you.”

  “Shit,” he says still trying to catch his breath. “Maybe you should drive. My legs are shaking.”

  We switch places. I like being behind the wheel. I don’t know why, but there’s a sense of pride knowing that he was too weak in the knees to drive. We get back on the road and head toward his loft. Once we get there, we head up the stairs. His hand rests at the small of my back as we walk, slowly moving down until he’s cupping my ass. When we’re inside, and the door swings shut behind us, he leads me to his room and lifts the back of my dress up and yanks my panties down quicker than I thought was humanly possible. He bends me over the side of his bed. I pull in a surprised breath when his tongue plunges into me from behind.

  “Damn, did you already come?” he asks between licks. “You’re so wet.”

  I can barely get words out. “No. Just really fucking horny.”

  Another surprise comes when he starts licking from my clit up to my asshole where he spends plenty of time. If it didn’t feel so amazing, I might’ve been apprehensive. Once he’s had his fill, he fingers my pussy.

  “I need you inside me,” I tell him.

  He removes his fingers and pushes into me with in one long, fluid motion. I roll my hips until he’s hitting that magical soft spot deep inside where all the fun happens. His steady movements, at the perfect angle, hitting that lovely spot, make me ecstatic to the point where I almost laugh. Not usually the reaction someone wants to hear when they’re having sex with their partner, so I make sure not to let it out, but the giggle is there, hidden by my moans. This feeling of him inside me, the pleasure it brings, makes me …happy—giddy, even. Wild.

  “Fuck my ass,” I tell him.

  His thrusts slow, then stop.

  I don’t know where the words came from. They just sort of fell off my tongue before I realized what I was saying. But once I’ve said them, I know it’s exactly what I want. I crave the pain, the full feeling. I want to experience him in every way.

  “Are you sure?” he says, seeming apprehensive even though I can hear the lust and want in his voice. The way he massages my ass cheeks with rough hands tells me he’s doing everything he can to hold back until I give the final word.

  “I want it,” I tell him.

  He goes into one of his drawers and comes out with a bottle of lube. He puts a generous amount into the palm of his hand and rubs it on both of us. My body is relaxed and pliable. I’m so turned on right now I don’t think I’m even capable of pain at this point. Plus, the glass of champagne from the art show helped loosen me up a bit.

  Two of his finger are in now and it’s exactly what I wanted. I let out a low, long moan and lay my head on his pillow with my ass in the air, ready for him. Then I feel the head of his cock at that forbidden entrance. It’s so big compared to his fingers, that I get a little nervous. I slow my breaths and try to relax further. I can take it. I’m ready.

  He pushes the head in and I gasp as my body grows used to this much more formidable guest.

  Max rubs my hair, my back in soothing motions. “You okay?” he asks.

  I rock into him, pushing him further into me. “I’m amazing,” I say with a dreamy quality in my voice that makes me sound almost drunk on pleasure.

  He pushes further into me still, slow and steady until he’s all the way in. Pausing to let my body adjust, and for me to catch my breath, he says, “Do you still want it?”

  “More than anything.”

  With that he starts to work himself in and out. Slow at first, but quickly building speed. I don’t even have to touch my clit to stand on the edge of climaxing. I’m not sure if anal alone will get me there, but it feels incredible and I’m in no hurry to get to the end.

  This is the noisiest I’ve heard him during sex yet. He’s making these deep, masculine sounds in the back of his throat that sound primitive, full of lust and pure testosterone. The sound of his muscular hips slapping against me turns me on even more. Knowing he’s watching himself enter me from behind, watching my ass jiggle with each thrust, makes me wish there was a mirror nearby so I can watch it too. I can tell by his reaction that it’s sexy as hell and he’s really turned on.

  Suddenly he’s grabbing my hips and pounding into me like he’s trying to drill into my core. He plunges two fingers into my dripping pussy, double penetrating me. I scream and instantly come. He’s coming too.

  When he’s done he pulls out and collapses on the bed. He looks at me, his eyes still full of want. “That was incredible,” he says. “You have a stellar ass.”

  I laugh, breathless.

  “How about a shower?” he says.

  “That sounds great.”

  We have sex again in the shower, and again when we get back into his bed. He has more stamina than I thought was possible. When we’re done, I’m sore and can barely move, but it’s getting late so I get up to grab my clothes.

  He sits up and takes me by the hand. “Stay the night,” he says.

  Stay the night? That’s a big step … at least I think it is. I refuse to read into it. Maybe he just doesn’t feel up to driving me home tonight. After that marathon, I don’t blame him.

  “Okay,” I say.

  We curl up together. He wraps his arms around me and we stay that way the entire night.

  6

  These flings of ours go on non-stop for two weeks. We spend all our time together. Whenever I’m not working, I’m with him, either at his shop or in his loft. I even meet his friends. It was awkward, to say the least. When he introduced me, he turned and looked at me as if I had all the answers. I had no idea what to say, so to be safe, I said, “friend.” He lifted an eyebrow and I shrugged. What did he expect? “Hi, I’m Fiona, Max’s fuck-buddy?” Neither of us brought it up after that. The whole thing was very confusing.

  It takes me those entire two weeks to finish the audio book. I feel bad for putting it off so long and not getting to the other envelopes from Kia’s bucket list.

  Instead of going to Max’s after work like I’ve been doing lately, I go home and grab the box of envelopes from my night stand. Keeping up with tradition, I take my glass and a bottle of wine and head for the porch.

  It’s windy out today, and a bit cold. It’s an overcast sky and it smells like there might be rain coming. I love that smell. I bundle up in
the blanket I brought out with me and prop my feet up on the chair opposite of me and read the third envelope.

  Envelope #3:

  Dear Fiona,

  Did you love the book? I knew you would. Ready for #3? I’m not sure you are since you scare easily. Remember as kids, how we used to always talk about doing that terrifying ghost tour in Savannah, Georgia someday? Well, someday is now. I know you can do this. You’re braver than you think you are. Now, go prove me right. No time to waste!

  Love always,

  Kia

  I put the card down. I’d forgotten all about the tour we’d been talking about since we were kids. I can’t even remember what was on the tour, so I grab my phone and Google it. The tour stops at ten different locations: Abercorn Street where it’s supposed to be haunted by a little girl who died of dehydration from a punishment doled out by her relentless father, and three sisters who were murdered there while on vacation from Florida. Just thinking about it gives me chills and reminds me why I was so excited to go on the tour as a kid. I was the chicken out of me and Kia, but for some reason, I loved to be scared, loved the rush and the adrenaline—as long as it was from the safety of my own couch, of course. But I wanted more than that. I wanted a real fright, hence the tour.

  The next stops on the tour are the Bonaventure Cemetery, Calhoun Square, the Olde Candler Hospital Morgue Tunnel (that gives me the creeps by the name alone), then Sorrel-Weed house—the most popular on the list. There are a few other stops on the tour and all of them ring vague bells from discussions Kia and I had years ago.

  Kia and I had the whole adventure planned but somehow, life just kept getting in the way and we never went. The tour takes a day or two, plus the drive. I’ll be there at least a week. Going alone doesn’t sound like much fun though, but I can’t ask Max to drop everything and go with me. I saw his schedule and it’s packed. It’s bad enough that he’s been pushing clients to the side just to hang out with me. I could wait, I suppose, but I already feel really guilty about neglecting Kia’s bucket list to spend all my time with Max. I need to do this for her.

  I look at the box of envelopes. What if more of them involve traveling? Though I have a ton of vacation time saved up that I haven’t used, I can’t just leave work on short notice every time Kia has a task for me. Kia knows I’m a planner. She’ll understand if I read ahead.

  I look at the box of envelopes on the table and pull on my bottom lip. What should I do? Should I cheat and open more, or do as the instructions say?

  “Kia, why do you do this to me?” I say.

  I feel like she’s fucking with me from the grave. That would be so her. I bet if she could see me right now, she’d be laughing. It makes me smile to think so. Why would she be any different in death than she was in life?

  With a deep, unsure breath, I open envelope #4

  Dear Fiona,

  You couldn’t help yourself, could you? You just had to read ahead.

  I look around as if waiting to see an apparition of her. My heart hammers in my chest. How the hell did she know I would read ahead? I look back down at the envelope and keep reading.

  I’m sure you’re wondering how I knew you would read ahead …

  Oh, my god. This is getting creepy.

  It’s because you’re my best friend and I know you better than anyone. I knew you couldn’t just let it be, and go live your life like a wild and free person because you are too respectful of others and I love you for it. Go ahead and read the rest of the envelopes—except for the last one. DON’T read that one yet. I promise you it’s not another call to adventure.

  Love Always,

  Kia

  Less creepy. My best friend knew me better than anyone else ever has. I pour myself a glass of wine. The first raindrops start to fall. I listen to the soothing tap of droplets hitting the awning above me. Then I move on to envelope five.

  Envelope #5

  Dear Fiona,

  After you get your scare on in Georgia, you must go to Peru and see Machu Picchu. See the Inca Trail and the Lares Valley. Take in the glaciers of Mount Veronica and the bluest alpine lake you’ll ever see. Explore the ruins. I know you’re probably wondering how you’re going to pay for such a lavish trip, but I’m sure my mom told you that I had money saved up and I want you to have it. It’s enough to pay for everything I have on the list. If I know you like I think I know you, you probably told her you didn’t want the money and insisted that she keep it to help with funeral costs—I told my mom you would say that and she laughed because she knew it too. I also told her to set it aside until you came to your senses. So take the damn money. I worked hard for that shit and I want you to have it. Happy travels.

  Love always,

  Kia

  I laugh. It happened just as she said. Her mom came up to me at the wake and told me about the money Kia had saved and wanted me to have. I told her mom to keep it to help with the funeral and that all I wanted were a few keepsakes to remember Kia. It struck me as odd when her mom chuckled and started to cry. I thought she was just grateful for the money—even though her family is well-off financially—but now I know it’s because it happened just as Kia said it would. Her mom then sent me home with a car full of boxes of Kia’s belongings. The ones that are stacked up in my closet.

  My stomach hurts. I push my glass of wine away from me, head spinning from all this information—or maybe it’s the wine. I drank half the bottle without even realizing it. Still, it’s overwhelming. Kia wants me to go to Georgia, and then Peru? I’ve never even been out of the United States. There’s so much to think about: where to stay, when to travel. I’ll need to get a passport. This was not what I was expecting, and a far leap from sleeping with a stranger and reading Pride and Prejudice! I’m afraid to see what’s next.

  Slowly, with drunken, clumsy fingers, I open the next envelope.

  Envelope #6

  Dear Fiona,

  Next on your vacation destination is … are you ready for? Are you sure? You’re going to lose your shit, because it’s amazing. Drum roll, please … SCOTLAND! Remember how we always wanted to go the Lochs and see Nessie? Now is your chance! Also, there is something seriously sexy about kilts, bagpipes, and Scottish accents.

  Love always,

  Kia

  Scotland? Jesus, what next? Don’t get me wrong, I’m totally excited to go to these places. It’s been a life-long dream of mine, but we’re talking at least a month’s worth of travel. I’ll have to put everything in my life on hold. There’s one more envelope to read before getting to the last one. I can’t imagine where else she could possibly want me to go. Savannah, Peru, and Scotland were the only destinations we ever talked about going together. And all of them were my ideas. I think back, trying to remember if she ever talked about anything else, things only she wanted to do that didn’t have my signature all over them. She was an adrenaline junky, loved to skydive, and wanted to swim with the sharks, but none of those things are in here.

  My gaze creeps over to the other two envelopes and suddenly I’m filled with dread. Oh God. There’s no way. She wouldn’t … but what if she would? I have to draw the line somewhere.

  I pick up the next envelope as if it were the tip of a rattlesnake’s tail and open it.

  Envelope #7

  Dear Fiona,

  Are you totally pumped for your adventures? The next one isn’t as glamourous as world travel, but it’s important to me. It’s something we always talked about doing. I want you to go to my hometown and go to that little ice cream shop I loved as a kid. It doesn’t sound like much, but trust me, you won’t be sorry. You’ve never had ice cream like it before. It reminds me of a time when everything was right with the world.

  That’s all for the big adventures. I promise. Please don’t read on. I swear the last envelope won’t rip you from your routine or put you out in any way. I just need you to wait until later to read it. Have fun on your adventures. I will be there with you in spirit.

  Love always,

/>   Kia.

  I slump against my chair. Thank God. No extreme sports or anything that will put me in danger. Her hometown isn’t that far away. It seems like a strange destination after Peru and Scotland, but she had her reasons and I’m sure I’ll find out what they are in the last envelope.

  I put the box of envelopes away, leaving the last one untouched like she asked.

  I think about all the traveling I’m about to do and I try to be happy about it. She should be here with me, going to these places we dreamed of. It’s not fair. I’m drunk, and mad, and want to break things. I decide to go to the gym, burn off the booze and the heartbreak.

  After getting home from the gym, I feel much better. I decide to call Kia’s mom and make arrangements for my trips. We end up talking the rest of the night about all the things Kia and I used to do when I slept over at their house. Sometimes it felt like I lived there. It’s where I spent most of my childhood. My own mom wasn’t exactly what you would call mother of the year. She was more than happy to let me stay at Kia’s to get me out of her hair.

  Kia’s mom tells me about how Kia’s and my constant laughter used to drive her crazy, and sometimes she’d have to make us go downstairs so she could get some sleep. We laugh and reminisce for hours. I tell her about the envelopes and she tells me she was there when Kia wrote them. I can barely keep my eyes open by the time we hang up.

  The next morning, I check my bank account and see a lot more money than I was expecting. How long had she been saving up? It must’ve been her entire life. Maybe her mom added to the pot, I don’t know. There’s no point in speculating. It’s there and it’s more than enough to take me on these trips.

  There’s a lot to do in preparation. First, I call work and talk to my manager. She tells me to take the time off without even hesitating. I tell her what my plans are, and about Kia’s bucket list. The only thing she asks from me is to keep in touch so she knows I’m safe and to take a ton of pictures so all the girls at work can live vicariously through me. I agree to do just that. It’s going to be weird with all this time to myself. I’m such a workaholic.