Wildfire

by Bliss, Chelle

  Reaching down, I tweak her nipple between my fingers, feeling her moan against my cock as her eyes close. She likes it. She likes it rougher than I ever imagined, but I shouldn’t be surprised; she’s a wildcat, plain and simple.

  I could stand here all day, fucking her mouth, playing with her tits, but I know her roommate will be back in an hour, and there’re so many things I want to do with Tamara and to her. I want to fuck her, make her feel me there, buried deep for days.

  A few more thrusts and I rock backward, letting my cock fall from her lips completely. Her eyes fly open, but I touch her cheeks, trying to alleviate any anxiety. “On the bed, princess. Face in the mattress, ass in the air, pussy out.”

  Like the greedy little tiger she is, she’s quick to move and get into position. We’ll have to work on grace, but hell, I’m a happy man.

  “Wider,” I tell her, wanting her pussy wide open as I bend forward, placing my face in front of its beauty. “Hold your ass cheeks open.”

  She pauses, but when I swat the side of her thigh, she moves quickly, grabbing her ass and parting her cheeks. There’s a quick intake of air from the top of the bed, but she bites down on her lip, stopping herself from saying what she’s thinking. “Boat or spoon?” I ask, soothing the spot of skin I’d just swatted.

  She doesn’t answer.

  Good girl.

  “Answer me, Tamara. Boat or spoon?”

  “Neither.”

  I place a hand on each hip, caging her arms against her legs as I lean forward, running my tongue through her wetness, getting my first taste of Tamara in a week. And sweet Jesus. She’s just as delicious and glorious as I remembered.

  She squeaks, squirming as I bury my entire face between her legs, my nose practically in her asshole, but who gives a fuck.

  Sex is sex.

  Holes are holes.

  A body is meant to be worshiped.

  And I plan on having her everywhere. I’ll know every inch of her body within a short time, making sure there isn’t a patch that’s untouched or a spot that isn’t mine.

  I hold her tight, dragging my tongue through her folds, across her pussy, and right along her backside. She nearly melts into the mattress, back bowing deeper, lifting her ass to my lips like she wants more.

  I slide my tongue higher, over the small of her back, following the line of her spine to her neck. I move my mouth near her ear, leaning my body over hers until my entire front is plastered against her back. “I want to claim you everywhere, princess. Even here,” I say, touching my finger to her asshole and circling the rim. “Do you want that?”

  Her asshole contracts against the pad of my finger. “Yes,” she whispers, sealing her eyes shut.

  “Soon, princess. I’ll use my fingers tonight, go slow, and see if you like the sensation. Remember to use your safe words if it becomes too much.”

  “Yes.”

  “Hands down and at your sides,” I tell her, wanting nothing in the way of her pussy and my cock.

  As soon as her hands are on the mattress, I push down on the middle of her back, causing her ass to rise higher. With one hand, I hold her hips upward, taking some of the pressure off her until she gets used to the position. With the other, I run the head of my cock through her wetness, coating my skin before I thrust in deep and hard, in one single stroke.

  Her body rocks forward, the impact of my pelvis slamming in, and pushing her forward on the mattress. She gasps but otherwise remains silent until my thumb finds her asshole, pressing lightly against the tiny opening.

  I spit on her ass, letting my saliva slide down to her hole, covering my finger. On the next thrust, I push the tip of my finger against her ass, letting her muscles relax and move until I’m barely inside. Her ass tightens and loosens, over and over again with each pump until the entire tip of my thumb is inside her up to the first knuckle.

  Not even a whimper escapes her lips as I deepen the strokes and pull my thumb out before pushing back inside, sliding a little farther. Her entire body shudders from being filled with my cock and fingers. Double penetration is an entirely different feeling. A heightened level of pleasure she doesn’t seem the least bit put off by, and the thought of all the possibilities sends a thrill down my spine.

  I pull my thumb out of her ass but keep pounding into her in a steady rhythm. Lifting my hand to my mouth, I lick my index, coating it with spit, ready to see if she can handle deeper penetration.

  She lets out a moan as soon as I touch her asshole again, pushing my index finger inside, fucking her ass. She groans, and her mouth hangs open, drool pooling on the mattress near her lips.

  I’m pounding into her. When my dick’s moving out of her sweet cunt, my finger’s pushing into her tight ass, and vice versa, creating a whole new level of sensation. Her body shudders, her insides quiver, and she moans louder with each pass and swipe of my cock and fingers on her insides.

  Within minutes, I can’t hold back, thrusting harder until her body inches forward with each push and our bodies are covered in sweat. She screams through an orgasm, her cunt and ass squeezing my cock and fingers, milking me through each wave and crest of pleasure until she is gasping for air. I follow, unable to stop the orgasm from ripping through me before I collapse on top of her, our bodies sticking together.

  “Just perfect, princess. Completely perfect,” I whisper in her ear, barely getting the words out as I try to catch my breath.

  She hums her agreement, unable to move—or maybe not sure if she should. The only thing I know for sure in this moment is I am right where I was always meant to be.

  22

  Mammoth

  “I see you came,” Mrs. Gallo says, watching me as we walk up the walkway to Tamara’s grandma’s front porch.

  I know she’s talking about the reunion, but all I can think about is the countless orgasms I’ve given Tamara since yesterday.

  “Of course, Mrs. Gallo. I wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world,” I tell her, holding Tamara by the waist, speaking before she can answer, or maybe speaking in her place.

  Her mother studies me before her gaze moves to Tamara. “Why aren’t you speaking?”

  I squeeze her side, giving her the cue to speak because we’re trying different things to test her abilities to obey. “I’m speaking, Mom. I just didn’t think you were talking to me when we walked up.”

  Mrs. Gallo stares at me funny, blinking her long eyelashes a few times. “Something’s up. What happened?”

  “Nothing.” Tamara glances at me. “Anything wrong with you, baby?”

  “Nothing, princess. Life couldn’t be better.”

  “What’s wrong?” Tamara’s father says, peeking his head out from behind the door. “Everyone’s waiting, and you three are out here chitchatting.”

  “Hush,” she tells him, waving him off. “I was saying hello and trying to warn him.”

  Warn me? If I can handle the guys of the MC and military life, I think I can handle a family reunion.

  Mr. Gallo steps outside, placing his arm around his wife’s back like I have mine around Tamara’s. His eyes are on mine, though, watching like a hawk how I’m gripping her. “No warning will prepare him for the Washingtons, sweetheart. The man will either sink or swim.”

  I laugh, smiling down at my girl. “Should I be worried?”

  She shrugs, nuzzling into my side. “Nah. They’re just trying to scare you. This side of the family is just like the other. They’re both insane, but nothing you can’t handle, baby.”

  Mr. Gallo gags. “I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.”

  “Dad,” Tamara groans. “Stop being dramatic. It’s not like I have my tongue down his throat.”

  Mr. Gallo staggers backward, grabbing his chest. “My heart can’t take it. Stop talking, Tamara.”

  “Again, not a virgin, Mr. I Banged-Most-of-Tampa-in-My-Heyday.”

  Mr. Gallo blanches, dropping his hand to his side but pulling his wife closer at the same time. “There has never been
anyone but your mom.” That remark gets him a backhand to the chest courtesy of his wife. “Fine. Fine. I need a beer to get through this day. Who’s with me?”

  “I am.” Tamara glances up at me as soon as her parents turn their backs. “Is that okay?” she asks quietly.

  “Two beers maximum and no other liquor. I want you lucid tonight.”

  “We going to the club?” She waggles her eyebrows.

  “No, but we have more training to do.” I smirk, winking at her.

  Her cheeks turn bright pink, but the smile on her face says it all. “Two beers. Got it,” she whispers again.

  “Fuckin’ cute.”

  She opens her mouth to tell me off, but when I raise an eyebrow and squeeze her side, she snaps her mouth shut quickly.

  “And who do we have here?” a man about the same age as Tamara’s parents says as we walk into the tiny foyer of the modest home in downtown Tampa.

  “Don’t be an asshole, Denzel,” Max tells him. “Behave yourself.”

  “Wait,” I say, looking from the man to Tamara. “Is his name Denzel Washington?”

  “Uh, yeah. So lame.” She laughs, and I join her, wondering at the misery the man has had in his life with such a notable name.

  “Uncle Earl’s going to shit a brick,” Denzel says, shaking his head. “When he sees this one—” he motions toward me, swiping his hand through the air “—covered in those tats and piercings without much skin left untouched, he’s liable to have a heart attack and die.”

  “Stop being a dramatic dumbass.”

  Denzel throws up his hands. “I’m just saying, this is going to be fun.”

  “Where’s your wife, Brenda?” Max asks.

  “She’s around here somewhere. Probably trying to get Ruth to stop giving her cooking lessons. The woman is good for one thing, and it isn’t biscuits.” Denzel winks. “If you know what I mean.”

  “Ew, Uncle D. You’re gross,” Tamara tells him, pretending to gag. “Don’t talk about Aunt Brenda that way. For the love of God, I can’t take all this sex talk with you people. You’re old. Too old to still be doing it.”

  “Baby,” her uncle says, stepping closer and placing his hand on her shoulder, glancing my way for only a moment. “When you’re in love with someone, age is just a number. And no matter how much your hips hurt, you’ll find a way to express that love.”

  “Dear God, someone save me,” Tamara mutters.

  “I could really use that beer,” I say, trying to give the rescue I know she wants and needs.

  “This way,” Max says, suddenly being nice. Kind of like a cult leader before they feed you the magic Kool-Aid that’ll make your insides melt and come pouring out of your mouth in a stream of foam. She is feeding me to the wolves, and she knows it, enjoying every goddamn moment of it too.

  The smells in the house are something out of this world. My stomach rumbles as we move through the kitchen to the back door and finally onto the porch. As soon as the door opens and we step outside, Tamara on my arm, everything and everyone stops moving.

  Everybody at the party turns our way, gawking at us—well, actually, at me.

  “What’s happening?” an old man asks, squinting in our direction, holding a cane in one hand. “Someone talk to me.”

  “Shut up, you idiot,” an older woman, maybe his wife, says, slapping him upside the head.

  “You’re lucky you’re fragile, Clara, because I’d take you over my knee and remind you who’s in charge,” he tells her, rubbing the spot she just hit.

  “Jesus, they never change.” Tamara squeezes my side. “Sorry,” she tells me, staring up at me with worry all over her face.

  “Princess, don’t be sorry. This is your family. I’m sure it’ll all go fine. Just breathe.”

  “Breathe,” she repeats, sucking in a breath and holding it for a few seconds. “Just breathe.”

  “Come on down here.” The old man motions for us to move forward, while the rest of the party is at a standstill. “I want to see you better.”

  “If he thought I had a lot of tattoos, he’s going to shit when he sees Mammoth,” Anthony tells Max, and I know I’m in for an earful from Earl Washington.

  “Well, my word,” Clara, the older woman at Earl’s side, says as I get closer, standing so tall, I create a shadow over her and the rest of the table. “My. My. Aren’t you a big one?” The woman reaches out, groping my biceps. “A really big one.”

  “They call him Mammoth, Auntie,” Tamara says, smiling like she won the door prize or the fucking lottery because she is on my arm, but it is really the other way around.

  “Girl,” Clara says, “the name fits.”

  The two women giggle as Uncle Earl grunts. “I can’t see shit with the sun. Can someone give me a little shade, please? An old man could die in this sunshine, and no one would care.”

  I scoot over, giving him what he wants, using nothing but my body to accommodate him. His jaw drops as he catches sight of me, tattoos, piercings, and long hair. “Does she braid your hair?” he asks me, giving no fucks about my size.

  “Earl,” a new woman, somewhere between Earl and Maxine’s age, says as she moves toward us. “Do you always have to be an asshole?”

  “At my age, I can be whatever I want, Ruth. Someday, you’ll realize who’s in charge, and it isn’t you.”

  Ruth rolls her eyes as Tamara turns around, leaving my side in a flash to run into the arms of the woman. “Granny. God, I missed you.”

  Max’s mother. I can see the family resemblance passed down from generation to generation. The beauty of the Washington women is unmistakable and undeniable.

  “Baby, I missed you too.” Her grandmother holds her out, studying her. “You’re looking well. Better than I’ve seen you in a long, long time, child.”

  “It’s because of him,” Tamara says, throwing her thumb my way over her shoulder. “He brings me happiness, Granny.”

  Granny’s eyes are on me, staring at my face, traveling down my body, soaking me in. She’s appraising me, making a determination by looks alone if I’m worthy of her granddaughter.

  “Ma’am, it’s lovely to meet you,” I say, heading off any wrong thoughts about my being a disrespectful asshole before she has a chance to form that opinion. “It’s an honor to be in your home.”

  Her gaze moves back to Tamara, not even replying to my statement. “I can see why you have that love-sick puppy look written all over you. You finally found a man who’s willing to put up with your crazy, wild ass?”

  “He’s so much more than that, Gran. Mammoth,” Tamara says, turning toward me, motioning for my hand. “This is my granny. And, Granny, this is Mammoth.”

  “I can see that,” her grandmother says playfully before winking. “I can only imagine, child.”

  “Granny,” Tamara gasps. “Behave.”

  “I’m old. Not dead. I can appreciate a good-looking man when I see one, and this one—” she steps back, eyes raking over me again “—is fine, honey.”

  If I blushed, I’d be red right now. But lucky for me, I am used to women saying crazy shit to me. I’m not sure if it’s my size, the tattoos, the long hair, or the combination that always sends them into a hormonal tizzy.

  “I approve of this one,” her grandmother says.

  “For fuck’s sake,” Anthony, Tamara’s father, mutters off to the side. “For me, they were rude. But for this one…” He rolls his eyes. “They’re all, he’s beautiful, welcome to the family.”

  Earl turns his attention toward Anthony. “Well, your ugly mug was a hard pill to swallow. You’ve grown on us, though.”

  “Liar,” Anthony shoots back. “You just never thought I was good enough for Max.”

  “Still don’t, even if you gave us some beautiful kids,” Earl replies, “and somehow managed to keep this one happy and healthy.”

  “At least I get credit for something,” Anthony says.

  “I’ll give you credit for one more thing. You’re really good at fetching t
his old man a beer. Why don’t you show me how much you love me and get me a cold one?”

  “Old asshole,” Anthony mutters.

  Earl moves his cane around, dragging his tongue along his bottom lip. “If I die now, it’s your fault I overheated.”

  “Dramatic old man.”

  “Whiny white boy.”

  “They always like this?” I ask her.

  “Yep. They’re like oil and water, but there’s love there too.”

  I’d take her word on it. I don’t see it, but I haven’t been around for the last two decades to observe how their relationship has changed and grown.

  “So, sit, Mammoth.” Earl turns his whole body, too old to turn just his neck. “Get a cold one for the boy too.”

  “Thanks, sir.” I smile even though Tamara’s father growls and gives me the evil eye.

  “He knows his manners. I like that. Too many young kids have no manners anymore. This one never had any.” Earl motions toward Anthony, and it takes everything in me not to laugh.

  This family is ruthless toward him, but for me, they’ve been gentle. Maybe they’re breaking me in, trying to catch me off guard before the hammer comes down.

  Anthony gives Earl a beer before handing one to me, grumbling under his breath the entire time about one of us being an ungrateful asshole. I’m guessing Earl, but it could go either way.

  “Heard you were a military man,” Earl says as he lifts the beer to his lips. “What branch, son?”

  “Army, sir.”

  “Sit. We have a lot to talk about.”

  Tamara pats my ass, smiling up at me. “Relax, baby. I’ll go help with the food while you and Uncle Earl swap army stories. He loves nothing more than talking about when he served during the war.” She practically pushes me into the seat.

  “No one else around here served. They went to college instead. No one truly understands the dedication, sacrifice, and pride a soldier has after serving this nation. It’s nice to have someone to talk about this with for once. Only took decades for someone to bring home a military man.”