Enjoy Your Stay

by Carmen Jenner

  I never thought I’d be jealous of a mutt, but there you have it. My eyes go completely wide. Holy fuck. Did she just giggle in her sleep? I make another grab for the dog, and wind up almost face planting into her pussy. We’ve done some pretty weird shit in our time, but none of them have involved bestiality. “Come on, you little fuck-rag, get the hell over here before I string you up by your neutered puppy balls.”

  I see, rather than feel, my breath skate over her flesh, because her whole body breaks out in goosebumps, and she moans. And then she’s sitting up, screaming as she whacks me repeatedly, and the dog is going off his nut, tearing into the pillow that Hols is beating me with.

  “What the fuck are you doing in my room?” She abandons the pillow, and uses her fists instead.

  “Ow, ow, ow.” I put up my hand up to ward off her tiny fists of fury. Holly leans forward to hit me, but her aim is a little off. I catch the top of her arms as she falls into me, her belly rubbing against the bulge in my pants, her naked tits pushed against my chest.

  I stare down at her, she stares up at me, wets her lips, and then she scoots back on the bed and pulls the sheet tight against her body. Like that helps. I can still see the rosy pink of her nipples through the thin cotton. “I came to give you your birthday present.”

  “What, being licked by a total fucking creeper?” She accuses me, and then stares at the little bastard as he tears into the pillow, and feathers go flying everywhere. “Jack, why the hell is there a dog on my bed?”

  “He’s your present,” I say and shield myself from the blow I’m sure is coming. And Christ, I wish I were talking about the dirty kind of blow.

  “You brought me a fucking dog? I’m about the have a goddamned baby, Jack. Why the fuck would I need a dog?”

  “I don’t know. I just thought he might make you smile.”

  “Does this look like the sort of face that’s happy to clean up puppy-shit day in, and day out? All night long? Take him back. I don’t need another responsibility like that.”

  “I can’t take him back. He’s yours.”

  “Well, I don’t want him.” The dog in question uses that time to sit back on his haunches and whine while looking back and forth between the two of us.

  “Hols? Look at this face. How can you not love that face?” I pick up the puppy, and shove his cute little face in hers.

  “Get it away, Jack.”

  “Seriously? How can you not wanna kiss it? Look at him,” I say, in this stupid little voice that completely undermines all hope of me ever being seen as a virile male ever again. “How can you resist this face?”

  I move the dog closer and closer until his nose is flush with hers. For a second, its beast against beast, and then the puppy’s pink tongue lolls out and licks her nose. Hols lets out a cute little laugh, and then she looks at me, and smiles for the first time in what feels like weeks. “He is pretty adorable.”

  “I knew you’d love him.”

  “Do I get to name him?”

  I shrug. “He’s your dog”

  “Snickers.”

  “Oh no. You cannot call a Kelpie Snickers. Come on, he’s a cattle dog. He should have a manly name, like Bruce, or Red.”

  She shakes her head, and says, “Snickers.

  “You gotta be shitting me?”

  “Nope.”

  She takes the bundle of cuteness out of my hands and cuddles it into her chest. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll let the two of you get to know one another.”

  “Jack?” she says, as I’m walking from the room.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry about the other day.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m used to the Holly Harris bitch fit.”

  “Bitch fit this,” she says, flipping me the bird. She laughs when the dog begins nibbling her finger. “Hey, little cutie.”

  The puppy’s nose is pressed to hers, and she looks more beautiful than I think I’ve ever seen her, bedhead and all. “I’m sorry about what I said,” I mutter as I walk out and leave her with her new friend, wishing I could find a way to stop hurting mine.

  “Come on, Snickers,” she calls as she exits her room an hour or so later, with the dog trailing closely behind.

  “You’re not really calling him that, are you?”

  “What’s wrong with Snickers?”

  “It’s confectionary.”

  “It’s sweet.”

  “Exactly.”

  Holly heads into the kitchen, and I can’t help but follow. Guess I’m as bad as a lovesick puppy after all. She sifts through the contents of the fridge, bending over at the waist and sticking her perfect, fuckable arse up in the air. Goddamn it, my cock twitches inside my jeans. Fucking sexy-arsed women are my weakness. Some men do tits, some do legs, but I’m an arse man, and fuck me, does Holly have the kind of arse you can worship all night and long into the day.

  She spins around from the fridge, carrying a carton of eggs, and sets them on the bench. I clear my throat. “Eggs again?”

  “I like eggs,” she says and cracks one on the side of a bowl. She must be holding it too hard, because the shell shatters, and slides into the bowl. My feet move on their own. I can’t help it; I just fucking gravitate toward her.

  “Oh, great,” she says, and cups the shell in her hands while looking around for something to put it on.

  “Here, let me help you,” I whisper, grabbing a spoon from the drawer beside her. I lean in, and my arms wrap around hers as I carefully scoop out the little bits of shell. My breath skates across her neck. She stiffens.

  “Sorry,” I whisper, and shift my weight further back, but Holly is frozen to the spot. Her eyes are closed, and her skin is covered in goosebumps.

  I press my lips to the nape of her neck. She lets out a heavy breath, and then my arms come around her. One hand goes straight to her tits, the other down past her bump, and to her pussy, which I can feel is already soaking through her underwear. She drops the eggshell to the floor, and her wet fingers come up behind my neck. I kiss a trail from her throat across her delicate jaw, and then I spin her in my arms, and take her mouth deep and hard, just the way I’m going to fuck her. I use my tongue as a lash, wishing I could whip her arse for making me feel shit I have no right to feel. And then I sweep the eggs and the bowl off the bench with my arm.

  Everything falls to the floor. The eggs crack and splatter our legs, but I don’t give a shit. The dog lets out a bark before scurrying away. I take her by the hips and lift her onto the bench, and then I unbutton my jeans and let them fall down around my ankles. I push her skirt up around her waist, and slide her underwear to the side, shoving my fingers in deep and hard. She moans when I curl my fingers against her front wall and stroke her G-spot. When I can’t stand the wait any longer, I pull my fingers out, lick them clean, and then grab my cock and push inside.

  Even though I want to show her there can be more to us than just hot, hard fucking, I won’t make the same mistake I did last time. I start pounding into her with a relentless, driving rhythm. She cries out, and then her hands are digging into my back, and making claw marks in my flesh. I pump into her and she takes it all, all my anger, all my aggression, and my hurt of the last few weeks. When I feel her cunt tighten around me, I take her hand and slip it down between us, and we take her over the edge together. She cries out, one hand clawing at my back, her legs wrapped around my hips, her heels digging into my arse. I continue to drive into her, and then I feel her freeze, and she kisses my face, and whispers, “Slower, like in the tent.”

  I pull back, and stare at her. That was such a huge fucking problem for us. She reamed me out for going slow, for wanting to feel something more than just fucking. “You sure? I thought you didn’t—”

  Holly’s hands are shaking as she cups my jaw. Her eyes are wide, searching my face as she whispers, “I’m sure.”

  “Whatever you want, sweetheart.” I say, and I change pace. I still drive in as deep as before, but it’s
no longer just fucking. It’s no longer primal, and it’s no longer just animal-heat. It’s slow, and tender, and so fucking good that my cock gives a tight little squeeze. Fuck, I hope she’s good with one orgasm, because unless she comes now I’m not going to last long enough to fit another in.

  “Oh God, that’s amazing,” she says, and throws her head back. I kiss along her jaw, and down the front of her neck. I dip my head and take her nipple in my mouth, and then she’s coming around my cock, her release pushing me over the edge until I spill into her.

  I wish it were my seed in her, my baby, part of me she was carrying in there.

  Fuck. When did I become that guy? I come down from the euphoria, and my thoughts hit me like a fucking sledgehammer to the brain. When did this go from being just about fucking to being … more? I mean, she drives me fucking mental, we fight and we fuck, and then we fight some more. Shit, that explosive is not healthy. I guess none of that matters, though, because baby or no baby, I’m buried balls deep inside her and I’m head-over-fucking-heels in twisted, stupid love.

  Fuck me. I need a drink.

  I let out a shaky breath, waiting for the moment when Hols pushes me away, but she doesn’t. She trails soft kisses up my shoulder, her legs still wrapped around my waist, her pussy still clenched tight around my softening cock. I pull back, and attempt to slide myself out of her beautiful cunt, but she moans, and digs her heels into my arse to hold me in place.

  “What’s going on with you?” I tease, as I pull her arms from my neck and place a soft, wet kiss to her hands.

  “Nothing. I’m just not sure I’m ready to let you go yet,” she replies, as she inches her hands across my chest and down my happy trail.

  Snickers’ little tongue laps at the egg on my feet. I glance down at the mess I made—the mess we made—and laugh. The little shit is covered in eggshell, his nose slimy with it, and bits of shell are stuck to his fur.

  “Aw, shit. Ana’s gonna kill us.”

  “Hey, I had nothing to do with knocking the eggs off the bench. That was all you, mister.”

  “Well, if I hadn’t, you’d have shell buried in your arse right now.”

  “True.” She laughs, and fuck me, it sounds like birds and springtime, and all that other fucking bullshit Disney feeds us.

  The doorbell rings, saving me from going so mad I have to commit myself. I pull out, zip up my jeans, and head for the door. I’m sure I’m wearing scratch marks on my chest as well as my back, but I just came harder than I have in months, so I’m not complaining. I run my hand through my hair, and pull back the front door.

  Fuck me dead. Did I die in that car accident, or am I still in a coma, because going from one fucking off-the-charts woman in the kitchen to having another standing at my door has to be a dream. Either that, or my brain is starved from all the blood rushing to my dick. The brunette on my doorstep has to be at least 5’8”, and is wearing a pair of black spiked heels with skinny jeans, and a band T-shirt that can barely contain her tits. She smiles through bright-red lipstick, and pushes her sunnies up on her head.

  I lean against the doorframe. “Can I help you?”

  “I sure hope so. I’ve been driving around this asshole town for the last two hours looking for this place.”

  “Well, you found me … us. You found us, now what can I do for you?”

  “I’m looking for Holly Harris.”

  So not the answer I was expecting. “She’s ah, she’s …”

  “Right behind you, Jackarse,” she says with a clipped tone. I twist around and see a very pissed off Holly Harris. Her arms are folded over her chest, her eyes are narrowed, jaw set. I’m a little concerned she might start breathing fire.

  Yeah, okay, I’d absolutely deserve that, but I’m blaming the mind-blowing sex we just had in the kitchen, because sex makes me stupid.

  “Hi, I’m Deb,” she says, and extends her hand. Holly comes forward, and Deb’s eyes flit over her stomach with concern. “Are you—are you pregnant?”

  “I’m sorry, who are you?” Holly asks.

  “Debbie R—” Her phone rings, and she holds up a finger and takes a step back from us. “Yeah, I’m here. Well don’t take it out on me, it took me three fucking hours to get here, and now I’m stranded in the middle of nowhere until I can get my flight back at seven. No, of course I haven’t given it to her yet, but I don’t think—”

  “The Glorious Daddies.” Holly says out of nowhere. I don’t know what the hell she’s talking about. Debbie’s still on the phone arguing with whoever is on the other end, and I follow the line of Holly’s gaze. She’s staring at Deb’s tits. She’s staring at Deb’s tits, and she looks horrified. I’m about to ask her why—they’re pretty nice tits—when it clicks. The Glorious Daddies. Deb’s wearing a Glorious Daddies T-shirt. I’m still not sure why that’s cause for the colour to drain from Hols’s face, but she’s pale as all hell, and looks like she might chuck up.

  “Coop, would you shut the fuck up, please? The Holly Harris I’m looking at is pregnant.”

  Ah. Now I get why she’s looking green. I kinda feel like I might blow chunks myself. I look at Hols, who’s lost that fucking stunning I-just-had-the-shit-fucked-out-of-me glow. She looks like she might faint.

  “Hols, you okay?” I ask, but that’s drowned out with Debbie shouting into the phone, and then hanging up on Cooper.

  “Well this is awkward. I’m really sorry to just barge in. The Glorious Daddies are playing the entertainment centre tomorrow night. They’re kicking off a national tour starting in the place it all began, and Coop sent me up here with two tickets for you and an Ana-someone … obviously he didn’t know about, you know.” She waves her hand in the direction of Holly’s stomach. “Or I’m sure he never would have offered. He’s, um, dealing with some stuff right now. I think it’s world domination nerves or something, but he insisted you be at the first show, so … sorry for the mix up. You should know he talks a lot about you—a lot. Like, he doesn’t shut up, ever since he came back, but I’m sure your new husband doesn’t need to hear that, so just forget it, and—”

  “We’re not married,” Holly mutters like she’s on auto-pilot.

  “Really? Oh, wait, how far along did you say you are?”

  “I’m twenty-three weeks.”

  “Oh.” She nods her head, and then her eyes go wide. “It’s not—”

  Her phone rings again, and she rolls her eyes. “Hold on, my brother gets kinda pissy when I hang up on him,” she answers the phone.

  “Imagine that,” I say.

  “Coop, you need to chill the fuck out. You’re not cancelling this tour, you can’t. It’s not yours, she’s only, like, twenty-three weeks.” She turns to Holly for confirmation. “Right? Oh my God, you’re an arsehole, okay, here …” She covers the speaker, and holds the phone out to Holly. “Sorry, he’s kinda insisting he talks to you.”

  Holly shakes her head. “I can’t.”

  “Look, if you just tell him that’s not his baby, he’ll calm down. He’s kinda nuts these days. I think the fame’s gone to his head.” She holds the phone out for Holly to take again, and Holly just stares at it.

  “Hols, I think you should go lie down,”

  “Wait, that kid’s not his … is it?”

  Holly can do nothing but shake her head, and then she sits down hard on the front porch. Her pupils are dilated, her skin white as a sheet. She’s shaking, and her eyes are wide and glassy with unshed tears. She looks terrified. None of this is good for the baby. My head finally snaps into place, and I pick her up from the floor. “Come on; let’s get you back to bed,” I say, and I help her across the threshold and into the house. She’s crying just as hard as she did that day in our tent.

  “I think you need to leave,” I say to Debbie as she follows me into the house. She takes a look at the mess in the kitchen, and I’m guessing the scratches on my back are bright red, because they certainly feel like hell.

  She pulls my arm, stupid, considering I’m
holding Holly upright, but it frees her up enough to see Hols’s face. “Is this Cooper’s kid?”

  “It’s my kid. That’s all that matters.”

  “Are you telling me he’s going to be a dad? I’m going to be an aunty, and we aren’t allowed to see the kid? You can’t shut him out like that. He has rights, you know? That kid has a right to know its father. Why are you doing this to him?”

  “Are you fucking serious?” Holly demands. “Coop left me here to go and live out his dreams as a rock star. He got what he wanted, and I got lumped with the demon-seed he left behind.”

  Holly sits down on the couch. I shield her body from Debbie, and say forcefully, “You need to leave.”

  She lets out a disgruntled sigh, and stalks towards the door. “This isn’t the last of it. He’ll have a say in his child’s life. You can’t keep him away.”

  “If she doesn’t shut the fuck up and get the hell off this property right now, I’m gonna have Snickers eat her.”

  The dog lets out a little bark, and jumps up on the couch next to Hols, licking her hand. Her hands pet him but she’s a million miles away from this room right now. That crazy bitch Debbie slams the front door hard enough to rattle the walls. After I hear her car start, and pull off drown the driveway I turn to Holly.

  “What are you gonna do, Hols?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” I demand. “The father of your child is coming here, probably within the next few hours, and you don’t know? You’ve never thought about this shit?”

  “I don’t know! Okay? I have no fucking clue what I’m going to do.”

  “Well, I suggest you figure it out and fast, because if his sister’s anything to go by, this dude’s gonna be banging down our door for an answer.”

  “You don’t think I know that?”

  “Talk to the guy, find out what he wants. At least let him look at a goddamned picture of his baby, and sort out what the fuck you’re gonna do before you screw everyone over.”

  “Everyone, Jack? Or just you?”

  “I didn’t force you to open your legs for this guy, Hols.”

  “I loved him! I made a fucking mistake,” she yells.