by Bijou Hunter
This last thought does me in. I come so hard that I see stars and speak in fucking tongues. I can’t even pronounce her name and say something about “bears” while unleashing a load of jizz in her sweet, hot pussy. I hear her moan louder, coming from the rough thrusts as I finish.
Arms wrapped around me, Lily scratches gently at my back while her pussy sucks every drop I have to offer.
“You’re the sexiest man I’ve ever known, and I never want anyone else to touch me. This cock is it. No one else.”
My lips cover hers, and I relish how hot her tongue tastes against mine. Lily will never stop being perfection, and my body will always crave hers. No matter how much life tries to pull us apart, we can’t help ending up together.
Something this fucking fantastic can’t be denied.
THE PRINCESS
Dash’s body is riddled with scars. Cuts on his throat. Burns on his back. His body is a roadmap of life as a Mullen.
Except for the blue bear over his heart. That tattoo isn’t the move of a Mullen. They don’t make sweet gestures for their women. When he inked it, Dash was stepping outside of that Mullen thinking and proving he was capable of loving someone like me.
I grew up around men willing to make grand gestures and lose their hearts. Dash knew he had to do the same. When I saw that tattoo, I accepted I’d never love anyone else. Even if Dash never married me or we hid forever, I refused to give up on him.
My tongue savors the salty flavor of his flesh as I explore his hard, lean chest. I kiss his scars, lick his burns, and claim him just as I always do. Dash Mullen doesn’t belong to Topher or the rest of that rotten family. He belongs to me, and I won’t let him go.
“Wanna come again?” he asks while spread out on my bed.
“Is that a real question?”
“Before you go riding my flagpole,” he murmurs while I nuzzle his treasure trail all the way to the chest of gold between his legs, “I need to eat out your sweet pussy.”
“Is it sweet?” I tease before my tongue swirls the head of his cock. “Does it treat you right?”
Dash doesn’t answer. He guides my leg over his body until I’m straddling his chest. Gripping my hips, he tugs me back until my pussy hovers just over his waiting lips.
“Yes, this pussy is the gift that keeps on giving.”
I open my mouth to respond. Then the world swims as his tongue licks my clit. Dash isn’t messing around. His tongue is unyielding against my tender flesh. He hopes to make me come quick and hard.
Sucking his cock deeper into my throat, I want Dash to slow down between my legs. My gamble backfires. Rather than ease up, Dash latches onto my clit, sucking roughly in the way he loves to suck at my nipples. I tremble from the building pleasure. Stroking him, I don’t dare leave his dripping cock in my mouth.
“Please,” I beg, both entranced and horrified by the sheer power of the sensation of him sucking so hard on my clit. Unable to form any other words, I whimper, “Please,” again and then brace my body for the intense pleasure shattering every inch of me.
Dash doesn’t relent. He wants me to lose my mind, and I do. I can’t speak, think, or even breathe. Gritting my teeth, I suffer through powerful waves of desire only this man can bring me. I’d never trust anyone else to torment me this way. Dash knows my body and mind. He knows how much I can take, and he loves to push me to the very edge without ever forcing me too far.
Collapsing against him, I can’t catch my breath for a full minute. Dash’s tongue eases up on my clit and licks at the folds of my throbbing pussy.
As soon as I regain control of myself, I immediately return his cock to my mouth. Blowjobs sounded gross when I was a teenager, and I never wanted a guy dumping his semen into my mouth. Then I sucked off Dash for his birthday not long after we met.
My blazes, there was no beating his reaction! Dash lost his mind, and I became addicted to his frenzied moans. Since then, I want him in my mouth a few times a week just so I can make him feel that great again.
I bob my head up and down, taking his cock deeper while stroking his balls. Under me, Dash loses control.
“Fuck, Lily,” he growls, sounding angry even though I know he never wants it to end.
Smiling around his thick cock, I suck harder and faster. His hips thrust up, forcing more of him into my throat until he can’t hold on any longer. He reaches between my legs, finds my nipples, and pinches them while coming.
Even out of control with pleasure, he shoves his face into my pussy and tongues me wildly until I feel another orgasm building.
It’s all too much. His cock drilling me at one end, his tongue at the other. I’m losing my mind with pleasure and pain.
By the time his cock pops free of my mouth, I’m sobbing in ecstasy. The taste of his cum turns me on even more, and I swear I might never come down from this phenomenal orgasm. Dash twists my nipples, steering me back so he can penetrate me deeper with his tongue. I relent, even while stroking his cock. Groaning loudly, I savor his tongue to the very end of my orgasm.
“No more,” I beg, finally toppling off him. “It’s too much.”
Crawling over me, Dash slides off the eyepatch I forgot I was even wearing. His lips devour mine, allowing us to taste each other’s pleasure. I feel him fingering me again, always wanting more, never satisfied.
No matter how many years pass and how many nights we fuck to exhaustion, we’ll always want more.
I’m addicted to every inch of him. He owns every inch of me. He’ll make me come again tonight and fill me with his cum until I’m sticky with it.
But we’ll still want more.
Always craving what only the other can provide.
No matter what life forces as an obstacle.
Our love is eternal, and nothing—and no one—will ever make me feel otherwise.
THE LOSER
Lily and I could easily crash for the night after our two-hour-long fuck party. My beautiful brunette looks ready for sleep as we rest on our backs, staring at the ceiling while another Violent Femme plays. Before either of us can doze off, Lily’s stomach growls. With our mutt disinterested in sleep, I pull on a pair of boxers and a T-shirt I left here weeks ago. Lily dresses in a pale blue flannel two-piece, much like the one Sissy wears downstairs.
In the living room, my sister remains asleep with her kids still using her as a pillow.
“You make the cheddar popcorn,” I say and kiss Lily’s still flushed cheek. “I’ll get my kin up to bed.”
Lily gets to work in the kitchen, fixing a late night snack. My fun task is to convince sleeping children to tackle the stairs.
“Where’s the sun?” Hart asks while I guide his floppy body up the narrow steps.
“I don’t know.”
During her trip upstairs, Haydee wants to know if she can have a pie.
“You already ate one, and it was fantastic,” I tell the barely awake seven-year-old.
Finally, Sissy walks upstairs with no help, but she does ask me if I love Lily.
“Of course.”
“Good,” my sister says and pats my arm. “She’s the bee’s knees.”
Grinning at her loopy smile and Lily’s familiar compliment, I make sure the three of them are settled into the queen-sized guest bed. The kids barely wake up on the way upstairs, so they conk out effortlessly. Sissy takes a bit longer to settle in, but I remind her how we’re moving into Lily’s place tomorrow. This news is all she needs to return to sleep while wearing a smile on her bruised lips.
Back downstairs, Lily waits for me on the couch where we cuddle and watch the movie, “Adaptation.” During a slow part, we talk about the best popcorn toppings.
“Butter and salt are all I need.”
“Dream bigger,” she teases and wraps her body against mine as we watch the movie in the barely lit living room.
I hold her in my arms and try to imagine living full-time in this place. There’s no denying the house fits a woman better than a guy. The color scheme is b
lue, yet so many of the furnishings scream lady. Plus, the grandmother clock in the front foyer reminds me of a hundred horror movies.
Despite all that, only one thing really matters. Every inch of the duplex feels like an extension of Lily who is the only home I’ve never known. When I think of spending every evening with her like we are now, I don’t care about furniture or paint colors.
No, I’m a simple man with simple tastes, and all I want is to be with my Lily Bear. Tomorrow, we’ll take the next step in her big plan.
THE CHAPTER WHERE THE KING AND QUEEN REBOUND
THE PRINCESS
I am shocked—literally stunned for nearly a minute–at the sight of my parents on the other side of my door. Mom is wrapped in her burgundy jacket and matching hat while Pop dresses all in black as if going to a funeral. My parents never arrive unannounced, and I can’t think of how to respond to their sudden appearance.
“Lily, twist the lock and then turn the knob,” Pop explains helpfully when I stare slack-jawed at him.
Shaking my head, I awaken from my stupor and open the door. They step out of the cold, rainy day and I’m again at a loss on how to react. Behind me in the living room are a whole basketful of Mullens. Even knowing I’m no longer hiding from my parents, I still think to keep them from seeing Dash, Sissy, and the kiddos.
“Why are you here?” I ask, keeping them cornered at the front door.
“Are you doing something illegal?” Pop asks, cocking an eyebrow and leaning into the living room.
“Of course not.”
“What’s wrong then?”
“She isn’t alone,” Pop explains to Mom who tilts her neck enough to see where he’s looking.
“Good then. We want to meet your friends.”
“Friends?” I ask, sounding like a petulant teenager. Delta is nearly ready to announce how Dash is my “LOVER” when Lily regains control. “Yes, come inside and warm up.”
Mom and Pop enter the living room where Dash lounges with Hart on the couch while Sissy and Haydee stare up at my parents in horror from their spot on the floor.
“Should we leave?” Sissy whispers to me through swollen lips.
“No, you’re the bee’s knees. We don’t have secrets anymore.”
“What happened to your face?” Pop asks in a prickly tone he’d never use with any other woman. Dealing with a Mullen, he just can’t help assuming the worst from anyone unlucky enough to be born into that family.
“I fell,” Sissy lies because she always lies when people ask.
Pop scowls disapprovingly, and I nearly slap the look right off his face. Okay, “nearly” might be a strong word. I come very close to considering possibly one day doing something similar but probably with words and not my hand because hitting my father is just a no-go in any conceivable realm of acceptable behavior.
“Topher,” I mutter and Pop frowns at me as if I’m to blame for admitting what Sissy can’t. I scowl back at him, and he takes my expression as a challenge to make his more intimidating. I’m surprised he doesn’t growl at me.
While Bad Cop initiates a glaring contest with me, Good Cop squats down and smiles at Haydee who continues to stare in terror. The little girl doesn’t know my mom, but she knows her mom, and Sissy is terrified of my parents.
“What’s your name?” Mom asks Haydee.
“I don’t know.”
“It’s Haydee,” Sissy mumbles.
“No,” Haydee says, staring at her mother while shaking her head. “No.”
“This is Missus Johansson from school. She’s Lily’s mom.”
“Lily has a mom?” Hart asks, very curious about this fact, and I pause my glaring match with Pop long enough to wonder where the kiddos thought I came from.
“I’m Hart,” the boy tells Mom as he joins Sissy on the floor. Reaching up to touch his wavy blond hair, he adds, “I’m not a girl.”
“No, you’re not,” Sissy says. “You’re a boy.”
“I’m not a baby,” he tells Mom.
Sissy shakes her head. “No, you’re a big boy.”
Having fallen into a weird trance, Sissy and Hart are now reciting rebuttals to accusations from Topher. I’ve heard the monster really hates Hart and claims he might be too stupid to live.
“We already had breakfast, but I can make you coffee,” I announce way too loudly.
Dash suddenly bursts into laughter, drawing the ire of my frowning father, my fake-happy mom, and his terrified sister. The kids don’t even seem to hear him.
“This is ridiculous,” he says and stands up.
Pop tenses when he thinks Dash is approaching him. My love has little interest in my parents, though. He squats next to his sister and tugs at her hair.
“Chill out,” he admonishes. “These are Lily’s parents, not ours. Even if Farah’s a teacher, she isn’t scary.”
Sissy looks to my mother who really isn’t terrifying even when she tries to be. The only reason I fear her is that Mom’s disappointment might lead to her tears, and I can’t bear knowing I’ve made my mother feel bad enough to cry.
“I’ll get coffee,” I say and then frown at my father. “Unless you don’t plan to stay.”
“No, I’m in the mood to be here for a long time,” he says and takes a spot in a chair too small for his massive 6’4 build.
Fighting laughter at the sight of him, I hurry to the kitchen to grab coffee. I don’t know why I think caffeine will calm everyone’s nerves rather than fray them more. Plus while playing hostess gives me something to do, it also leaves Dash and Sissy alone with my parents.
“I’ll help you,” Mom says, suddenly at my side in the kitchen.
“Thank you.”
“Your father and I talked, and we think we understand why you hid your relationship from us,” Mom says and then turns to look at me with heartbreakingly sad eyes. “I’m not saying it didn’t gut me to know you concealed something so important for so long. I thought we were close and—” Mom takes a deep breath before continuing, “MJ was right, though. I got all of my anger and disappointment out of my system while talking with Tawny last night. Now I see everything more clearly, and I don’t want you to hide anymore.”
Throwing my arms around my mom, I nearly knock us both down, but I can’t express in words how much I needed her to understand. Lying to my parents was harder than anything I’ve ever done. Some might say that proves I’ve lived an easy life, but my parents’ opinions mean everything to me. I was their firstborn, and their pride gave me strength when I was younger. Sneaking around because I knew they wouldn’t approve made my love for Dash feel wrong.
A cloud of sin long hung over our relationship. Now with my mom’s kind words, my love can step out into the light.
THE LOSER
Wearing a black turtleneck sweater, Cooper Johansson looks more like an average middle-aged dad than the head of a one-percenter biker club. Sure, he’s twice as large as any suburban dad I’ve ever seen, but he still looks softer dressed the way he is. I suspect his mild-mannered clothes force him to overdo the scarier parts of his personality.
First, he tries to intimidate my easily intimidated sister. Then he got into a glaring match with his vastly overmatched daughter. Now he eyeballs my forever-spooked nephew who immediately hides behind my still frightened sister. Haydee reacts by also hiding behind Sissy.
Once Lily and Farah leave the room, Cooper crosses his arms and shakes his head. “This doesn’t feel right.”
“How so?” I ask while tugging my sister up from the floor.
Sissy and her kids move as one toward the couch, though I suspect they want to leave the room altogether. I remain where I am—feet away from Cooper with my arms crossed to mimic him.
“Asshole,” he mutters and uncrosses his arm.
Grinning, I shrug. “You’re the one trying to scare kids and a battered woman.”
Cooper Johansson is a monster if you’re in his way, but he’s a saint if you’re lucky enough to be on his good side. I rem
ember as a kid seeing him at the county fair with his beloved children. Of course, Topher mocked Cooper for carrying a kid on his shoulders.
“He acts as their pack mule,” Topher would fume. “A real man makes his fucking kids walk. That’s why his kids are weak, and mine are strong,” Topher continued before shoving Sissy to the ground and taking a swipe at me. Usually by this point, Cy would take off running.
Each year at the fair, the same routine occurred until I can’t look at a parent carrying their kid on their shoulders without viewing them as weak. Sure, I know logically Cooper isn’t a pussy for loving his kids, but my first impression is always to see him that way.
Yet here he is trying to intimidate three of the dumbest people in a state full of stupid people. Hell, the Roche fuckers pop out new dummies several times a year.
“Your father is a piece of shit,” Cooper growls.
“I know. He hates you too.”
“He’s jealous of me.”
“Sure, but look at them,” I say, pointing at Sissy and her kids who shake their heads in unison when they realize I’m drawing attention to them, “and tell me you’re a fucking saint.”
“Fine, I’m a dick too, but your father is scum.”
“Then we agree. While you scare them unnecessarily, he smacks them around. So, yes, I guess you win.”
Cooper exhales roughly, wanting so desperately to punish me for his daughter’s trashy taste. “Like you’re so great.”
“I don’t hit women or kids. Hell, I rarely even hit dudes,” I say and join Sissy on the couch. “I did throw a vase at Cy the other day, though.”
“Your brother is a piece of shit too.”
Sissy tugs at my shirt as if looking for permission to run. It’s her way of handling scary men, but she isn’t very fast, and they usually catch her. Still, it’s all she knows.
