We left the roulette table a couple of hours later with a little bit more money than we started with and strolled out into the summer evening. Neither of us said anything as we walked, both of us lost in our thoughts. Personally, I was trying to regain control of myself and thinking of how I could get back on track with my plan. I needed to know what it was between him and Bulldog that caused their tension. He provided me with a great opportunity.
“I’m starved,” he said. “You want to get something to eat?”
“I could go for waffles,” I laughed.
“Waffles?” He wrinkled his brow and looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
“Yeah. Waffles, bacon, sausage, butter, syrup. You’ve heard of those things, right?”
“Yes, I’ve heard of them,” he laughed. “I’m just surprised that’s what you want. I had you pegged as a health conscious type.”
“Who’s ever heard of a health conscious jarhead?”
“Point taken,” he chuckled. “Waffles it is.”
It might seem like a strange place to go out to eat with a guy I found attractive, but I had to avoid anything more romantic so that I could lead him into a lighter conversation and extract the information that I needed. Besides that, it had been a while since I’d had bacon and waffles.
Chapter Eleven: Bulldog
With Peach out of town, I was free to chase tail or do whatever I wanted. Actually, I was pretty much free to chase tail whenever I wanted to; nobody had my ring on their finger and I hadn’t made any promises. I’d gone down to the Hot Hound earlier in the afternoon and had a little nap on the couch in my office. After the way that Peach had gone at me the night before, I was a little tired. I’d been surprised by her over the last few weeks. It seemed that our trip to Vegas had sparked something in her that was scaring the hell out of me.
Any man would have died to be in my shoes and have Peach hanging all over him. She was as hot as a supermodel, but could still handle hog like a guy. She was, when you got right down to it, the perfect girl to keep, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to start settling down the way it seemed that she wanted to do. She hadn’t actually said that she wanted to go to that next level, but I could tell that she was.
As much to prove to myself that I was still a free man as for any other reason, I’d slipped out of the back office later in the evening and joined some of the guys in the bar. The usual groupies were hanging around and attracting every bit of attention that they could manage. The guys were always up for the prospect of getting laid, so the girls had their full attention. I’m not sure when the suggestion came out, or even who it was that had made it, but somewhere along the line, someone had decided to hold a Blow Job Rodeo.
Six girls had been selected and/or volunteered to be competitors. The event was a pretty simple one, actually. Six guys, who were eager volunteers, were seated in a semi-circle with a competitor in front of them. Each of the volunteers provided access to their Johnsons, which wasn’t difficult to get them to do. At the word go, all six competitors began giving their volunteers a blowjob. The first four that made their guy shoot his load advanced to the semi-finals and four fresh dicks. The two that finished fastest in that round went to the final and the winner was the one who got their guy to finish first.
Needless to say, the event had drawn everyone’s attention. I’d seen it plenty of times before, so I wasn’t particularly interested, and they didn’t ever try to rope me into being one of the volunteers, so I was more or less watching the rodeo, but I stayed back from the crowd that had moved in tight to get a better view. That was when Dishwater came over and took a seat at the table.
“Mind if I sit?” she asked.
I waved at an empty chair. I hadn’t even been aware that she’d been in the bar until that moment. “You’re not competing?”
“This is an amateur event,” she smiled. “I’ve already moved up to the pros.”
She’d actually never competed. Those sorts of things were typically for the groupies and Dish was a full member, having been a former jarhead. I smiled back and nodded. Dish held back most of the time. Peach had a tendency to overshadow her and I wondered if it bothered her to always have to play second to her friend.
“You get to take home the two finalists or just the winner?” she commented, drawing my attention away from my thoughts.
I shrugged. To be honest, I wasn’t really in the mood for a groupie, a pair of groupies or any combination thereof. I wasn’t really aware of that until Dish presented the idea. “I’ll probably let somebody else have the honor tonight.”
“Wow,” she laughed. “Sounds like Peach is starting to get her Bulldog on a short leash.”
“It doesn’t have shit to do with Peach,” I snapped.
Dish raised a hand and widened her eyes. “Just kidding.”
I knew it had come out in a harsh tone, but I wasn’t going to apologize for it. I wondered if Dish knew what Peach was up to. I knew that women talked about guys and what was going on in their relationships and all that bullshit, but Dish and Peach weren’t regular women. Did they still talk about that stuff? I wasn’t sure how to lead into that conversation, so I held my tongue.
With a long stretch of silence, most women would have excused themselves and moved on to a different target, but Dish didn’t seem to mind silence. She sipped her drink and looked on with half-hearted interest in the rodeo. I tried not to be obvious about it, but I was checking her out.
Dish kept her hair cut short and it was dark colored. She had smallish, narrow, brown eyes that didn’t draw attention like the large, blue ones of her friend. She was a little more on the buff side than Peach, but she was stacked. Her event would be a wet t-shirt contest, I thought. The more I looked at her, the more I realized that she really wasn’t a slouch. She didn’t have the stand-out features that Peach had, nor the flamboyant personality to go with it, but she was still pretty well put together.
“So”—Dish interrupted my thoughts—“you got one picked out for the night or are you going for two?”
“What makes you think…” I cut off the question before I finished it, because Dish had already started laughing. I shrugged and grinned.
“Well?” she pressed.
“Haven’t picked one out yet,” I replied. “That doesn’t mean I’m not going to.” The statement about being on a short leash already had me in something of a rebellious mood. I couldn’t let Dish or anybody else think that I was headed to the altar.
“Why not me?” she said casually.
The question came out of nowhere and it was a shock to hear it. She was Peach’s best friend and she’d just propositioned me. Women didn’t do that sort of thing, did they? Maybe they did if they were trying to get even with somebody for something, but as a general rule, a woman didn’t sleep with her best friend’s guy. I wasn’t sure how to answer her, so I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess because you’re Peach’s best friend.”
“What does that have to do with anything? You two are just havin’ fun, not settling down, right?”
She sort of had me trapped. I’d told her that I was free to do whatever I wanted, but she’d nailed me down. “Peach would slit my throat,” I responded. I’d already started to entertain the idea of checking out the set of knockers on Dish, but after the way that Peach had been acting lately, something about it didn’t seem exactly right.
“Peach doesn’t have to know, right?” she suggested. “I don’t go around advertising who I’ve slept with. Do you?”
She had another valid point. I didn’t know if Peach knew that I fooled around whenever she was out of town or even when she was in town. If she did, she never said anything about it. But with the way she’d been acting lately, I was starting to get the feeling that she might actually… I stopped in the middle of that thought, remembered the “short leash” comment and decided that maybe doing Peach’s best friend was a great way to show that I was still independent. I tossed back the last of my drink, sat the glass down rather
firmly. “What do you say we get the fuck outta here?”
Chapter Twelve: TNT
I’d been around the block more than once, but the way that Peach had attacked my erection had my eyes rolling back in my head. She knew how to keep a tight grip on my shaft with her mouth and she alternated between taking it slow and deep and working it shallow and fast. When she stopped and used her tongue on my balls and the underside of my dick, it was certainly not a disappointing moment. It also didn’t hurt to see those large, doe-like eyes looking up at me as she pleasured me.
“You like that?” she grinned, continuing to stroke me while she gave her mouth a short rest.
“Oh god, yes,” I whispered. “Where’d you learn to do that?”
“In the Corps,” she laughed, sliding her full lips back over the head and winking at me as she took me down her throat.
“In the Corps?” I chuckled. “I didn’t know that they had such a rating.”
She kept me deep for a couple of seconds and then brought her lips back up to the head and used her hand in place of her mouth again. “You’d be surprised how easily you can get orders changed and more pleasant duties if you’re well motivated.”
She went right back to work, keeping eye contact with me as she continued to work my dick. If she kept it up much longer, I was going to be shooting my load down her throat. I wanted a good long look at that tight, round ass of hers while it was backed up in front of my dick, so I decided to switch things up. “Are you just a giver or do you like to receive as well?”
“Are you any good at giving?” she laughed.
“I’ve had a little practice,” I replied with a wink.
“Well, then, it’s about time for a performance eval then,” she smiled.
Peach stopped working on my dick, got to her knees and then stood up with a foot on either side of my legs. Initially, I was confused; it looked like she was positioning herself to ride me. My confusion disappeared quickly as she moved up to a position directly above my face. Jesus, what a view. The sight of the ripe, wet lips of her swollen, pink pussy tucked in between those gorgeous, trim thighs and that tight, round ass was almost enough to finish what she’d started with her mouth. She didn’t rush, either. She seemed pleased to let me have a good long look at what she was about to lower over my face.
She grasped the headboard, smiled down at me and moved her hips back and forth a few times, giving me a little tease. “You hungry?”
“Starved,” I replied.
“Would you rather have waffles?” she teased.
“Not a chance,” I chuckled.
When she finally lowered that sweet little treat toward me, she did it slowly. In spite of the fact that her smile and beautiful eyes were focused upon my face, I couldn’t see anything but the bright, pink opening between those pale lips. To say that I was eager to have my mouth on her would be the understatement of the century.
“Stick out your tongue,” she ordered.
I did as I was told. She lowered her pussy right down to my tongue and moved it softly back and forth along the tip. I rose up to try to get in deeper, but when I did, she stood.
“You have to follow the rules,” she giggled. “I control how much, got it?”
I nodded eagerly. It’s amazing what such a tempting treat will do to a man who is used to being the one in control. What she was doing was more effective at getting me to do what she wanted than holding a gun to my head.
She lowered herself down toward me again. That time, I kept my head in contact with the pillow and let her move her hips back and forth, allowing the tip of my tongue to stroke her between her thighs and ass cheeks. She would rotate her hips far enough forward that my tongue would be at the very top of her crack and then slowly slide them back until it was on her clit.
Eating her out had been a means of slowing things down for me and keeping me from finishing too quickly, but the way that she was working her pussy over my face was almost more intense than the blowjob. I was saved a few moments later when she began to shorten the length of those strokes, bringing more focus to the opening between her lips and then directing all of it to her clit. By the time she reached a climax on my face, she was grinding her mound into my nose and upper lips so hard that I was fighting to breathe. It was an incredible feeling, but it was nothing compared to what she did next.
Having left plenty of juice all around my mouth and running down my cheeks and chin, Peach rose up. “Just like eating a really ripe peach, huh?” she giggled as she turned around and moved toward my hips and waiting erection.
I watched that tight round ass with that ripe pussy tucked away, almost hidden, but still very visible, as she lowered it toward my waiting erection. I’d wanted to see that sight from the very first moment I’d seen how the tight, red dress she’d worn in Vegas covered her hips. I wasn’t disappointed. Neither was I disappointed the first time I felt the head of my cock slip between those pink lips and into her warm, wet hole.
I’d like to say that I had plenty of staying power. I’ve been known to be able to stay in control and keep from blowing my load too soon, but the view of her ass moving up and down on my cock and the way that she milked it with her talented pussy had me blowing my load a lot quicker than I had since I’d been a teenager. It was almost embarrassing how quickly she’d gotten me off, not that it mattered. With her talent and that smoking hot body of hers, it didn’t take her long to have me ready to go again. In fact, I’m not sure that I ever became fully limp again until we both collapsed in exhaustion several hours later.
With her warm body lying next to me, I caressed her smooth skin and admired her features from head to toe. She was certainly put together right. There wasn’t a single flaw that I could find, and trust me, I examined every inch.
“So, how’d my eval go?” I asked.
“I think I can put a decent report in your file,” she laughed. “And mine?”
“Do you even have to ask?”
“I did ask,” she raised her head to look into my eyes.
“Superior,” I responded, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on her full lips. “So, are you going to send this report to my commanding officer?” Though I’d pushed the thought aside, after the way that she’d started to come on to me after we’d eaten waffles, the fact that she was Bulldog’s girl returned to me.
“He doesn’t need to know,” she laughed. “Besides, he’s probably doing my best friend right now.”
My next comment came out without any thought on my part. “I don’t know who would fool around if he had a girl like you.” I instantly regretted having said it, though she didn’t seem to notice.
“Like I told you at dinner, you’d be surprised what I’ve heard about Bulldog’s adventures whenever I’m not in town.”
“And like I told you, when I saw you in Vegas, I figured you guys were pretty serious,” I replied.
“Yeah, everybody thinks that,” she answered. “I let people think that. It keeps away the riffraff.”
“I take it that I’m not riffraff?”
“Yeah, but you’re acceptable riffraff.”
“Seems that I ought to be insulted by that.”
With her mouth pressed against mine and her hand beginning to work its magic between my thighs, I got a better understanding what being acceptable riffraff was. To tell you the truth, I was okay with that.
Chapter Thirteen: Peach
I was pretty wrung out when I straddled my Fat Boy and started back toward home. I hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep, but there wasn’t any lying around for me the following morning. I had cash to pick up and deliver back to Bulldog. Everything had to seem just as normal as possible if I was going to pull things off.
The long ride back home gave me plenty of time to go back over everything that had happened in the past twelve hours. Waffles had been the perfect way to bring things away from pent-up desire and more toward casual conversation. I had started to draw Trevor in from the moment that we sat down and made our ord
ers.
“So, it’s cool that we could get away from the action and noise of the casino where we could do a little talking, huh?” I started in. I decided that I might as well let him know that I wanted to have a conversation from the outset.
“I suppose,” he replied. “We could have talked over a steak and a glass of wine.”
“Too much like a date,” I replied with a smile.
“You don’t like dates?”
“I didn’t say that. I just didn’t want to have a date with you.”
I watched a little bit of disappointment mixed with confusion register on his face. “Okay, you don’t want to date me. I guess that you and Bulldog are pretty tight, then?”
“Yeah, right,” I laughed. “He’s probably banging three groupies as we speak.”
“Seriously?”
“Do you really think that he’s faithful?”
“You two seemed to get along pretty well,” he replied.
“So did you two,” I said, leaving a little bit of a hint in tone of my voice. Would he bite? That all depended on how strong the bond between them was.
“Yeah,” he grinned. “I know what you mean.”
“So, tell me about you and Bulldog meeting in Baghdad.” It was a shift in the conversation, but I hoped that I had planted the seed that would make him talk about the negative side of their friendship.
“There isn’t a lot to tell, really,” he started off with a shrug. “I was called in to dispose of an IED in the sector where Bulldog’s detachment was assigned to patrol. I took care of it and afterward, Bulldog and I got to talking. While we were standing there shootin’ the breeze, somebody rode by on one of those rice-burner motorcycles and I made a comment about it. That’s when we discovered that we were both Harley lovers. From that point on, we had some drinks together and got to talking more about bikes. He was set to take his out, but I still had about a year and a half to do. He told me to look him up when I got out. We kept in touch and I did as he suggested.”
AFRICAN AMERICAN URBAN FICTION: BWWM ROMANCE: Billionaire Baby Daddy (Billionaire Secret Baby Pregnancy Romance) (Multicultural & Interracial Romance Short Stories) Page 18
