Two Crazy, One Wild

by Shaye Marlow

  “What’s going on?” Rory asked, watching Frances pile clothes and other personal affects onto her bed. He’d come home soon after Helly had dropped us off.

  “She says she’s leaving.”

  “Huh.” Rory turned to me, his eyes lighting up. “Did you see that catapult test?”

  “Yeah, I saw it, but I don’t have time to talk now,” I said, moving toward Frances. “Hey, I’m serious. Whatever’s bothering you, I’ll fix it.”

  She thumped a suitcase down on her bed. “Besides the fact that there’s now no plane and thus no point? The gas. Before, I was thinking we could just fly in and buy some, but we won’t be doing that anytime soon, will we?”

  “What do you mean, no plane?” Rory asked.

  “I’ll go get some gas right now if you swear you’ll be here when I get back,” I said.

  Frances looked mutinous. “How long you think that’ll take?”

  “Half an hour.”

  She crossed her arms. “Fine, I’ll wait. Better hurry.”

  I was dashing out the door before she finished talking. I leapt down the steps and snagged a couple five-gallon gas tanks from the shed. Then I ran next door.

  I let myself into the Birch Chalets main building and caught the nearest person that looked like they worked there. “I need to talk to Lane, please.” Hers was a face I didn’t recognize, and so the reason she went and got her boss was probably because she didn’t know me.

  Lane came clattering down the stairs, then slowed when she saw who it was. “Damn it, Zack.”

  “Listen, I need some gas. I’ll give you whatever you want to fill these, anything. I’ll barter. I’ll build you a shed, I don’t care.”

  Lane paused a few feet from me, her gaze sweeping from my rumpled shirt down to my damp and muddy pants, neither of which I’d had the opportunity to change after we’d crashed the plane in the marsh.

  Hope blossomed when she didn’t dismiss me out-of-hand. “That runway behind your place,” she said. “I want it extended so that it runs behind my place, too, and I want the right to use it.”

  I nearly choked. “Do you have any idea what Manny’s charging per hour?”

  She shrugged. “You said ‘anything’.”

  Fuuuuck. If I’d had a hand free, I’d’ve run it down my face. “Fine,” I growled, “but I have an additional term. You consider Rory and I as having a clean slate. We haven’t said or done any stupid shit, and it’s only by future actions that you will judge us. And that means, if we were to call tomorrow saying we were making hot dogs, and we were wondering if you had any ketchup, you would say—”

  “If you want a clean slate, you really need to put a lid on the screaming,” she said. “My guests have been complaining.”

  “Actually, the screamer left, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Even so, you’re probably just gonna screw this up within the week. You and Rory are a pair of thirty-year-old children.” Coming from a woman that beautiful—Lane was a dead ringer for Jessica Rabbit—it stung.

  “We’re trying to improve. To grow,” I said. “So. Do we have a deal? Ten gallons of gas and a clean slate for an additional four hundred feet of—”

  “Make it six hundred.”

  “—six hundred feet of runway and no more screams.”

  “And you will make it a point to not fly directly overhead, as you’ve been doing.”

  “Okay. Do we have a deal?”

  She nodded.

  “Then can I please get some gas.”

  She led me to the gas shack, where she topped off the tanks. “Wait, you walked?” she asked when I hefted them. “Do you want a wagon or something?”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I got it. Thank you and I’ll see you around.” I managed to keep it to a fast but respectable walk until I was out of sight, then broke into a sprint.

  I got back to my place, fueled up the generator, fired it up, and ran inside. “You want a shower?” I called out before popping my head into Frances’s room.

  “That was thirty-one minutes,” she said.

  “I’ll heat up the water for you. What else can I do to make you happy?”

  She looked at her clothes. “We still need a plane.”

  “Tomorrow morning,” I said. “What can I do for you, this evening, to make you want to stay?”

  “You could rub my feet.”

  “Okay.”

  Her brows shot up. “You could get on your knees and ask me nicely.”

  Hating the fact that Rory was on the couch and probably watching this, I dropped to my knees. “Frances, will you please stay and teach me to fly?”

  Her mouth curled into a naughty smile, and it only grew wider when I knee-walked my way over to her, and tugged on her shoelace. I slipped her shoe off, peeled away her sock, and cupped her little foot.

  Looking up at her from my knees, I said, “What else can I do for you? I’ll do anything.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  ZACK

  “Anything, you said?” Frances drawled.

  I swallowed, nodded.

  “Close the door.”

  I started to get up, but she caught me by the shirt.

  “No, wait. You’re filthy. We’re both filthy,” she pronounced, looking down at herself. She hooked a finger in my neckline, tugging me closer. “I’ll tell you what you’re going to do, Zack. You’re gonna pleasure me, thoroughly. Come.” Before I could recover from her statement, she was dragging me after her.

  Rory gave me wide eyes as we passed.

  Then Frances was pushing me into the bathroom. She closed the door, and when she clicked on the light, it was to reveal a pair of purple eyes. “Clothes off,” she said.

  I tugged off my shirt, and watched her remove her own. She kicked off her pants, then leaned by me to turn on the water. My fingers hovered inches from her beautiful backside.

  “Pants, Zack.”

  As I shed them, her body held me hypnotized, just as it had that first time I saw her, just her leg, on that balcony. Her heart-shaped butt and smooth back… all of her parts, in fact, were each just as gorgeous. Her satiny-smooth hip brushed my thigh, and I was unable to resist drifting my knuckles over her skin.

  She straightened. “Get in,” she said brusquely.

  I obeyed, stepping under the spray. At that distance, it hit me right in the face before I turned around and watched her climb into the tub.

  She tugged the curtain into place, then put her hands on her hips as she looked up at me. “Water, please.”

  I leaned to the side, letting the spray shoot over my shoulder, and watched with fascination as it poured over her head. Her eyes closed with pleasure as her hair molded to her skull.

  Sweeping it and the water out of her eyes, she handed me her shampoo. “Wash my hair.”

  She turned around, and I squeezed a generous dollop into my palm. Blocking the water again, I rubbed the shampoo into her scalp, threading my fingers into her hair when suds formed. I kneaded gently, learning the shape and feel of her. Her ears were small and delicate, the locks at her hairline curly enough to cling to my fingers.

  She sighed, swaying back toward me as I massaged her neck. “Let me rinse.”

  I leaned aside, and suds sluiced down her sleek body.

  “My back,” she said, handing me a pink bottle printed with roses. After another dollop of fragrant soap, I rubbed my palms together, then smoothed them over her shoulders. One of my hands just about spanned her rib cage as I tracked the sliding bubbles.

  I’d just managed to get myself a double-handful of ass when she turned. “And my front.” Her nipples were hard, but she gave no other sign that this was turning her on as much as it obviously was me. The evidence bobbed eagerly between us.

  I squirted another load of body wash into my palm and worked my way to her breasts. They were divine all the time, but even better all slick and wet. I just barely held back a groan as her nipples stabbed into my palms, and noticed with triumph that she’d
reached to the shower wall to steady herself.

  It was a struggle to leave the lush, soapy mounds, but I was drawn by the promise of what lay farther south. I traced her waist, then ran a hand inward and down, wanting to see her reaction when I—

  She caught my hand, eyes burning into mine. “On your knees.”

  The porcelain bathtub wasn’t the most comfortable place for such things, but at least Rory wasn’t watching this time. I sank down, reaching for her again.

  Her foot landed in my hand, leaving her thigh high and wide, and through the steam that swept around us, her pink flesh taunted me. Biting my lip, I concentrated on delivering that foot rub she’d asked for. She made sounds of appreciation as I dug my thumbs into her arch, then gasped when I threaded my pinky between her toes.

  “Higher,” she demanded. More than happy to oblige, I kneaded her calves. I was sliding my way eagerly up her thighs when she pulled back and gave me the other foot.

  Looking at it, I groaned. But, I was determined to do as good a job on this foot as the first, even though my cock was throbbing so hard, it was impossible to ignore.

  When I got to her thighs, I slowed, expecting her to stop me. She didn’t. Holding her gaze, I rubbed my thumb lightly over her sex. Her perfect breasts quivered as she sucked in a breath. I continued to tease her, running my hands around her hips, skimming my fingertips along the crack of her ass before I returned to her front.

  Her flesh was plump with arousal and ever so soft as I smoothed my fingers between her legs. I stroked her, watching as her body began to sway into my touch.

  Most of the soap had rinsed away before I delved with my fingers, finding her wet and slick. Body tight with lust, I hooked two fingers into her snug pussy and dragged her to my mouth. I greeted her clit as was proper, with an eager tongue, then pushed her thighs apart with my free hand and groaned as I licked my way to my fingers.

  I curled them, stroking her. She thrust demandingly against my face, and I returned my attentions to that swollen nubbin. I teased it with the tip of my tongue, then sucked as my fingers thrust deep.

  She had ahold of the curtain rod, one foot braced on the edge of the tub as she moved against my mouth. As she writhed, her head fell back, breath rasping. She grew even wetter as a beautiful flush spread across her chest.

  “Make me cum,” she ordered.

  I gripped her ass, ravaging her with the need pounding through my body. I sucked at her clit, shivers of excitement running down my spine as her breath hitched. Her hips rocked against my face. Her nails scored my scalp. Stroking her G-spot, I felt her whole body go shudderingly soft.

  Then, she came. I held on as her hips bucked, lapped at the nectar that poured out of her, groaned at the hot, trembling feel of her coming apart in my arms.

  “God, yes,” I muttered, loving her responsiveness, the way she squeezed my fingers as I stroked her through her orgasm.

  She finally pushed me away. I sat back on my knees, dazed and wobbling, feeling almost as if I’d cum right along with her.

  Frances stepped out of the shower. “Wash up,” she said. “I expect you in my bedroom, in my bed, in five minutes.” She wrapped a towel around herself. “Oh, and you’re not allowed to cum.”

  “Not allowed—?” I croaked, finally dragging myself to my feet.

  “Don’t stroke yourself off,” she said, pausing just inside the door to send me a hot look. “I’ll have that pleasure.”

  I soaped up, rinsed off, retrieved a condom from my discarded pants, and was running by my brother with a towel lashed around my waist in under three.

  “Hey,” Rory started.

  I shut the door in his face, locked it, and turned to find Frances lying on the bed, gloriously naked. She was propped up on the pillows, arms draped, one leg bent in languid invitation.

  I approached, feeling like a supplicant come to worship at her altar. My erection bobbed free when I dropped the towel. Holding her gaze, I tore the condom packet open, then rolled it on.

  My gaze was riveted to her chest. That view would never get old, and the only thing I’d allow to obstruct it: my mouth. Crawling over her, I sucked, groaning as my erection throbbed. I palmed her other breast as I rubbed her nipple with my tongue, teasing us both.

  “You are just…” I muttered as I kissed my way up her chest.

  “Just?” Her neck arched under my lips, something about the gesture scalding me with lust.

  Leaning over her, I kissed along her jaw. “Too much,” I said, guiding her mouth to mine. It was like dipping into a honeypot, all warmth and sweetness. “Too beautiful,” I muttered between long, hot, drugging kisses. “Too fucking sexy,” I groaned, eating her up.

  “You say that,” she gasped when I let her up for air, “like it’s a bad thing. Also, my clit’s down there.” She pointed.

  I grumbled, then began my journey downward. I rubbed my stubble against her neck, and when she gasped and clutched at me, I treated the inner slopes of her breasts to the same. While I was there, I couldn’t resist giving her other nipple some attention. I sucked it strongly, nibbled, and only let it pop free when she moaned my name.

  I licked the water droplets off her belly, rubbing my nose against the soft skin. Between her thighs, I inhaled her natural fragrance before pushing her legs apart. “I could look at you all day.”

  “Please don’t. I want your fingers,” she said, eyes on mine. “As many as you can fit into me.”

  My balls tightened at her demand. Before she could take me to task for dawdling—though that might be fun—I slid two fingers into her. It was the same two from earlier, and it felt like coming home. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I held her gaze as I nudged a third finger into her, feeling her stretch around me. Her hips rocked into the press, leaving my knuckles wet and that third finger buried deep.

  She shuddered, grasping at the pillow. “Now your tongue,” she demanded. Her hips bucked against my face as I dove in. “Lightly, lightly,” she hissed, until I was just barely flicking my tongue against her.

  It was torture. I wanted full contact, wanted to lap her up, to smear her cream all over my face. That she was making me do otherwise ratcheted my tension even higher. I shifted so my cock wasn’t trapped against my hip—wasn’t touching anything at all—and continued to deliver ridiculously light, teasing touches to the hottest pussy I’d ever had three fingers wedged inside.

  She petted my hair. “You like it when I tell you what to do?”

  “Mm.” I liked that breathless note to her voice as I wiggled my fingers.

  “Answer me,” she demanded.

  My breath sawed in my lungs as I considered my answer. Lie, because it seemed like I should have been the one giving orders? Or tell the truth, because it would please her? Since pleasing her was exactly the order of the day, I licked my lips and said, “Yes.”

  Her eyes shone. “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, I like it when you tell me what to do. But I’m not going to call you mistress,” I said, quickly and quietly muttering the last.

  “We’ll see,” she said. “Harder.” She gasped when I thrust with my fingers.

  I curled my tongue against her, lost in bliss as she melted around me. Her heels dug into my back, while a light mist of sweat bloomed on her skin. I flicked my tongue across her engorged clit and watched her start, then as I rubbed it slowly, writhe with pleasure. As I’d said, I could watch her forever.

  My excitement rose along with hers, my breaths shortening with anticipation. My fingers bit into her thigh as she arched against the pillows.

  She was damn close when her eyes snapped open. “Stop,” she ordered, and pushed me away.

  “But you didn’t—”

  She pounced on me. I wasn’t even fully flat on my back, and she was lowering herself onto my condom-sheathed cock. I grunted, grabbing at her hips. My whole body strained with the effort not to cum. I was on fire, every breath I drew urging me over that edge. The feel of being buried deep inside her was too much.r />
  “Wait,” I panted, wanting to last.

  She gave a teasing rock of her hips, smoothing her hands over my chest as she pushed me down. “Are you telling me what to do?” she asked, squeezing me. Her bobbing breasts were driving me insane, while what she was doing down below felt damn near like a mouth, sucking with each tilt and squeeze and pull. I couldn’t even…

  Closing my eyes, I struggled against the urge to cum.

  She wasn’t having any of it, rotating her hips on an upward slide, just to take me back in a deep plunge. She pinched my nipples, and I thrust upward on a harshly uttered oath.

  “Look at me,” she said. Her inner muscles ratcheted down, squeezing. I could feel everything, every throb where we joined. Her lips brushed mine, even as her nipples kissed my chest. The new angle made me dig my fingers into her hips.

  Her nose nudged mine. Our breaths mingled. “Zack.”

  Finally, I opened my eyes. She was perched atop me like a sex goddess, looking as far-gone as I felt, wrecked by a pleasure I’d never expected, nor imagined.

  Seeing her so close, I couldn’t help but touch her. I cupped her cheek, then licked into her mouth, loving how she trembled.

  “Together,” she said between kisses, her breaths harsh.

  I spread a hand on her back, erasing the room between us. I felt every thump of her heart as I sucked her tongue. Her hips moved faster, while mine curled into every grinding rotating, needing her to cum because I couldn’t… I couldn’t—

  Her pelvis slammed down into mine, and she tore her mouth away on a harsh cry. Her nails dug into my shoulder, while my next thrust drove her face into the pillow. And that was it for me. My body jerked, rocking hers. She buried her face against my neck, squirming as she came on my cock. I just hung onto the woman in my arms as bliss ripped me apart.

  Long, sweaty, panting moments later, Frances sighed and went limp atop me. “Mmm.”

  I blinked up at the ceiling, my mind a pleasurable blank.

  “You said… anything?” she murmured.

  “Anything,” I agreed, stroking the lovely curve of her back.