by ANDREA SMITH
She listened quietly as I shared everything that had happened the weekend my mom got married, or I should say, everything that didn’t happen as far as Taz was concerned.
“So, he shows up at your house this evening with the chick that has that Morticia Addams hairdo going on, huh?”
I had to smile. Darcy was being supportive in her own way.
“Come on, she was pretty in an exotic kind of way. I have nothing against her. I just don’t believe that he has anything other than a sexual relationship with her.”
“What makes you think that?”
“It’s just a feeling,” I said with a shrug. “I think he was window dressing tonight on my behalf. He’s probably shooting me down because of that kiss I gave him, because he liked it.”
“Maybe so,” she replied, taking a sip of her drink through the straw. “All I know is that, if I still had my hymen intact, he would be the man I would freaking give it to.”
“Hmm,” I said, sucking my drink down thoughtfully.
Two cocktails later, a couple of college guys approached us to dance. Darcy and I always had a blast on the dance floor. We had a routine we occasionally did if we weren’t worried about impressing the guys we were dancing with. I waited for her signal.
The guy I was dancing with was totally consumed with his own good looks. I knew the type. It was a turnoff. I could tell Darcy wasn’t impressed with her partner either. We were dancing to the classic 80’s tune, “Le Freak” which could drag out forever, especially when dancing with a guy who didn’t do it for you.
I saw the signal. Darcy and I immediately left the guys and danced towards each other to the beat of Chic’s tune. We danced provocatively against one another, allowing our hands to touch and glide along each other’s bodies. Our eyes locked and we gazed at each other seductively during the song, as we writhed to the quick beat of the music.
Out of my peripheral vision, I could see both dudes looking at one another in total confusion. They finally got the hint and walked off the dance floor as the song was winding down. We returned to our table, laughing hysterically as we took our seats again, having successfully scared off the guys.
“Works every time,” she laughed, sipping her drink.
A few moments later, our waiter set two fresh drinks down at our table, indicating they had been sent over by a couple at a table across the dance floor from us. Darcy and I both looked over to see a couple of lesbians blowing kisses over to us.
“Holy shit,” she said, smiling and waving back. “I hate when that happens.”
We both broke out into another fit of giggles when I felt my phone vibrate from the pocket of my tight skirt. I pulled it out, not recognizing the number coming up on the caller I.D. It was local. I answered, pressing one finger to the ear not up to the phone so I could hear whoever it was on the other end.
“Hello,” I halfway screamed.
“Where are you?” a semi-familiar voice asked.
Holy shit—Taz?
“Taz?”
Immediately, I saw Darcy’s head snap up to full attention. I motioned to her that I was going to go down the hallway to the restrooms so that I could hear.
“Yes,” he replied, “now answer my question. Where are you?”
I immediately panicked. Had something happened to Mom, Slate, or the baby?
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” I was in the hallway now, outside the door of the ladies restroom where it was quiet enough to hear what he was saying.
“Nothing happened. I’m home now. I just wondered why the hell you left in a snit the way you did this evening.”
Huh?
“Wait a minute, hold on. You mean to tell me that you’re calling to find out why I didn’t feel like sticking around the house and being a fifth wheel? Why do you even care?”
“I just found it a bit rude,” he replied, totally serious.
Oh really?
I was tripping. I’d drunk enough alcohol to be fairly buzzed. It finally dawned on me to ask him how he got my cell phone number.
“It wasn’t difficult, sweetheart. I got it off of Slate’s phone. Are you drunk?”
“Maybe,” I said with a giggle.
“Is the little sex-bomb you left with drunk as well?”
“Maybe,” I replied, testily. “Why do you care?”
“Where are you?” he repeated.
“At Dazzle, okay?”
“I’m coming to get you.”
“No, you’re not,” I answered abruptly.
“Yes, I am. I’ll phone you when I’m out front. I’ll be in my black Corvette. If you don’t come outside within thirty seconds, I’ll have no problem whatsoever coming inside and physically dragging your ass out of there. Do you understand?”
“No, I don’t understand. Why do you care what I’m doing? What business is it of yours anyway?”
“I’ve decided to make it my business. You’re underage and you shouldn’t be out getting drunk. It’s not safe.”
“What’s in it for you?”
“Hopefully, not another puke-fest like the one I witnessed a few weeks back. I’m on my way.”
He ended the call having the last word. How freaking ballsy was that, I thought. I used the restroom while I was close by, and then returned to our table. Darcy was just coming to sit back down from the dance floor.
“What was that about?” she asked, her eyes sparkling devilishly.
“Taz is on his way to pick me up,” I said, still stunned by the conversation.
“Shut up!” she screamed. “Are you serious?”
I nodded.
“You’re going to lose that cherry tonight, girl.”
“With any luck,” I said, feeling giddy now, and a bit frightened at the same time. I drank the rest of my drink. It wouldn’t hurt to have a bit of liquid courage.
“Hey, what about you?” I asked, “Are you okay to drive?”
“Sure,” she said, nonplussed. “I’m only three miles from home. I’m not drinking anymore anyway. I’ll leave after I make sure you get off safely,” she snickered.
Twenty minutes later, my phone chimed. Taz was out front.
Darcy had chugged a full glass of water down and seemed to be fine. She walked me out and I immediately spotted the shiny, black Corvette pulled up at the curb.
“Take care,” she said, smiling as she headed to the back lot.
I opened the passenger side door and saw him. He leaned down across the seat, looking up at me.
“Is she alright to drive?” he asked.
“Yeah, she’s fine,” I answered, climbing in, trying to do so without showing him everything, not that he hadn’t seen it all before. The short, tight skirt was not conducive to getting in and out of a low riding sports car.
“What would you have done if she hadn’t been?” I asked, looking around the two-seater car.
“Made two trips,” he answered flatly, pulling away from the curb.
“So,” I started, my stomach in knots from my nerves, “what’s on the agenda, Taz?”
“We’re going to my place,” he replied very matter-of-factly. “We’re going to fuck.”
chapter 7
My hands were folded in my lap. I could tell that my palms were sweaty. It had been all of thirty seconds ago that Taz had declared that we were headed to his place to fuck. I was in a daze, partially due to the alcohol consumption, but mostly because I had no clue as to where the hell he was coming from right now.
“Wait,” I sputtered, finally. “What?”
“What part didn’t you understand?” he asked, glancing over at me as he headed up the entrance ramp to the interstate.
God, he was so flipping hot. I needed to put that aside for the moment. I was totally confused.
“I’m sick of having you under my skin,” he stated simply. “So, I intend to have you underneath me, on top of me, sitting on my face, but by God I’m not having you unde
r my fucking skin anymore. Period.”
“Just like that,” I said. “I have nothing to say about it, right?”
“That kiss you planted on me a few weeks back said it all, sweetheart. You want it, too. Tell me I’m wrong.”
The truth was, he wasn’t wrong, not entirely anyway. I found him sexy as hell. I liked everything about him. I was positive that he would be a superb lover, though I’d no objective evidence to support that theory. What was the problem then?
The same freaking hang-ups as always, Lindsey-style. I’d carefully crafted this scenario from the time I’d first felt those little gut twinges around boys. From the time of my first crush to the present, I had this whole scenario laid out in my mind.
It wasn’t as if I wasn’t being realistic. Of course, I knew that I would have more than one lover in my life. Statistics like that couldn’t be denied.
Over the course of my teenage years, and now past twenty, many of the prerequisites I’d previously mandated had fallen by the wayside, with the exception of one: any man that I fucked had to care about me. I would not be labeled as a one-night stand. I wouldn’t make an exception to that, even if it was Taz.
“Well?” he asked, taking his eyes off the road momentarily to gaze over at me.
“Is this going to be like a one-night stand?” I asked, sounding meeker than I’d intended.
“That’ll be up to you,” he replied, giving me a sexy smile. “Is that what you want?”
I didn’t answer him. I didn’t know what the hell I wanted any longer. Nothing had gone as I expected from the time I suffered my first broken heart with Lance, to finding out Adam was gay. What the hell?
“What about your girlfriend? What about Roxie?”
“Roxie’s not my girlfriend,” he stated. “She’s someone that I fuck.”
“Why did you bring her to dinner then?”
I could tell he wasn’t comfortable with the question.
“I thought it would help.”
“Help with what?”
“Help with getting you out from under my skin.”
“Did it?”
“What do you think?”
I felt a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. It was something at least.
“I want to fuck you, Taz,” I said softly, peering up at him from beneath my lashes. “I want to fuck you very much.”
Once we reached Taz’s apartment, he told me to make myself comfortable. I relaxed on the sofa of his large living room. He had some music playing on his Bose system…soft rock. I liked that.
He came back with a couple of glasses of white wine. I smiled inwardly, thinking how he was attempting to stage a semi-intimate scene, though I knew it was what it was: simple fucking, no strings attached.
He handed me a glass of wine, and then took his place next to me on the couch. He was in another pair of tattered jeans, no shoes or socks. He had a white T-shirt on, but he still looked like he’d just stepped off of the cover of a sexy men’s magazine.
I’d peeled my boots off just inside the door, pulling a leg up underneath me as I accepted the glass of wine and sipped it slowly. My palms were still sweaty.
He was turned towards me, one arm resting against the back of the couch. I felt his fingers gently playing in my hair. I shivered unintentionally. “Are you cold, baby?” he asked gently.
“I’m fine,” I said, looking into those smoldering green eyes of his.
He leaned in closer, taking the wine glass from my hand and setting them both on the coffee table. He turned his attention back to me, pulling me to him as he lowered his head. I felt his hand on the back of my neck, caressing my skin gently, nudging me closer to him. His lips captured mine, slowly and sensually, working them gently, plying them with his.
My lips parted, allowing his tongue inside where he expertly teased mine with perfect rhythm. I answered his passion with my own, lacing my arms around his strong neck, molding myself to him. We continued our long, passionate kiss; soft moans escaped me as the pleasure ramped up.
His hands were on my sweater now, gently lifting it up and over my head. I felt his strong, warm hands and fingers expertly unclasp my bra so that it fell open in front. I shrugged it off, my lips then returning to his.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he sighed, his hands now gently exploring my breasts, his fingertips teasing my nipples to erection.
He cupped a breast with one hand, lowering his mouth to it. I strained against him as he let his tongue make sweet and pleasurable love to it, circling the nipple over and over again, then finally taking it all and sucking gently on it. I was writhing against him, and feeling very warm and wet at my apex.
“So sweet, too,” he whispered, moving his magic lips to the other breast and making sure he pleasured me there as well.
I was clinging to him by this time. My legs were straddling him, my skirt having been pushed up to my waist. He lifted me up in one, easy swoop and carried me to his bedroom. He gently placed me on his massive king-sized bed after pulling the covers back. He pulled his T-shirt up and over his head.
I marveled at his bulging muscles and beautiful physique. His tattoo was sexy as hell as my hands braced his arms as he came closer. He leaned down in front of me, gently rolling my thigh high stockings down my legs, and removing them one by one.
He raised me up, so that I could shimmy out of my skirt. All that was left was my silk thong. He quickly hooked his thumb into the waistband and tugged it downward, raising me up to step out of it.
Once again, I was totally naked in front of Taz. This time I was sober enough to see how his eyes lingered on my body, taking in every inch of it. I saw the huge bulge in his jeans. I wanted to see what his cock looked like. It seemed bigger than Lance’s or Adam’s. Just because I was a virgin didn’t mean I was clueless about a man’s junk.
Lance and I had dry-humped naked. Adam and I had dry humped clothed. Adam had let me play with his junk. I even attempted to suck him off, but he’d stopped me, telling me that I wasn’t doing it right. Now I wondered if I really hadn’t known what I was doing, or if it had been a “gay” thing.
I didn’t have time to ponder it any further. Taz lifted me up and placed me on my back, spreading my legs apart gently with his hands. He was straddling me, still in his jeans, one muscular thigh on either side of me.
“I want to taste your pussy, Lindsey. I want to see how sweet it is,” he said huskily.
His lips were on my belly. He softly trailed downward, his tongue tracing my belly button, his fingers tenderly plying my sex. He could feel the wetness.
“I like that,” he breathed against my skin. “You’re pussy’s nice and wet for me already. Let me see if I can get you wetter.”
I felt his mouth move downward, slowly and leisurely, taking his time building my pleasure up along the way. His fingers gently pulled the lips apart. His warm, wet tongue slid along the split, finding my clitoris and washing over it with his tongue.
“Mmm,” I moaned, unable to help myself.
No man’s tongue had ever been there. God, this felt so good. My hips moved with the pulsating pleasure he was delivering. His tongue now sank deeper inside my core, swirling around and sucking the juices from me as he groaned.
“Ahh yeah,” he said, “I knew it’d be sweet.”
His lips kissed my sex very gently; beneath each fold, he kissed and suckled alternately. My core was on fire. I whimpered against him, my body arching up to meet his mouth in anticipation and lust. His fingers played in rhythm with his tongue, plunging in and out of me.
“Fuck, you’re tight, baby,” he commented, as I continued to grind against him in pure ecstasy.
“Uh huh,” I replied, feeling the release in me building up to a crescendo. I’d given myself clitoral orgasms before, but this was building up into something much different.
It was stronger, deeper; my instincts told me it would bring a release of a much larger magnitude. I was craving the rel
ease now as Taz continued to work me orally into a near-frenzy.
“That’s it, baby,” he cooed. “You’re getting ready to come now. Relax, Lindsey, let it happen, baby. That’s my girl.”
I was there. I felt myself reach the climactic peak and now the release was unfolding, making every nerve and muscle in my body shiver in pleasure. My fingers clutched each side of the pillow my head was on. It enveloped me from head to toe, my body involuntarily releasing pure sexual tension.
I cried out as my hips were thrusting harder and faster against Taz’s mouth. I felt a surge of wetness released, followed by his groan as he felt my orgasm on his lips and tongue.
“Mmm, you’re a squirter, baby. I love that.”
I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant, but he was pleased, so it was all good. My climax continued for several moments more, and then I slumped back, totally exhausted and fulfilled at the same time. How strange was that?
My skin was ultra-sensitive now, post-orgasm. I shivered as I felt his stubble against my upper thighs. His tongue was still busy, licking every remnant of my orgasm.
My breathing started to normalize once again. I felt like I had a big, goofy smile on my face. I was certain I was only smiling inwardly.
“What’s that smile about, Lindsey?”
Oops—guess not.
I blushed, knowing that I did indeed, have a big, goofy smile on my face.
“Just thinking how good that felt,” I replied softly (and happily). “I’m curious to find out how much better the real thing will feel.”
He was laying beside me now, his head propped up on his hand, his finger gently tracing the sensitive skin on my belly.
“What real thing?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at me.
“You know,” I said trying not to sound too sheepish. I didn’t want to sound like a sixth-grader so I belted it out. “A man’s cock inside of my pussy.”
The look on his face was one of horror instantly. He immediately sat up and struck a defensive pose.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“What do you think?” I asked, now feeling defensive myself.
