My panties felt like they were melting from the heat between my thighs.
Jax Teller. He looked exactly like Jax from Sons of Anarchy. I knew he looked familiar. Sexy, sexy Jax. My guilty pleasure. I’d pictured that man’s face more times than I care to admit while playing with my vibrator.
What can I say? I was a bored housewife. I tick all the stereotype boxes.
CHAPTER 5
KANE
Diary Entry
I’m a master at making you cum, but what about making me cum?
All I have to do is look at you, smile slightly, give you the nod. You know what I want the second you set eyes on me. I’m not subtle.
When I look at you, I make sure you know what I’m thinking.
I make sure you know I’m undressing you with my eyes. Imagining what your tits look like underneath that shirt. Imagining what your nipples will feel like, squeezed tight between my finger and thumb. Imagining what your ass looks like without those jeans covering it, what it looks like red from being spanked hard by my hand. Imagining what your pussy looks like, wrapped tightly around my cock.
You know what I’d like to see? My cum dripping out of your pussy. Just a little. Most of it stays inside you. But just a little drips out, running down the inside of your thigh. That really makes me hard.
When I look at your mouth, I imagine you moaning. I imagine you screaming my name. I imagine you gasping for breath as you ride up and down on my hard shaft like a cowgirl at a rodeo. I imagine those lips covering every part of my body.
Just by looking at you I can tell you’re a good kisser. You’d kiss my mouth like your life depended on it. You’d press those lips against mine and take my tongue in your mouth. You’d breathe into my mouth so we’re practically sharing the same breath.
What would that mouth feel like on my neck? On my chest, teasing my nipples? On my cock?
Because you know that’s what all this is about. The moment you set eyes on me across the bar, you know that the one thing I want most in the world is for your mouth to touch my cock. I want your lips on my tip, kissing me, teasing me, toying with my head. I want you to open your lips, just a little, so your tongue can wet my tip. The moment your saliva wets my cock, I know this is for real. I know we’re going all the way.
And I know you want it. You’ve wanted it since the moment you stepped in here.
What kind of woman steps into a bar alone and doesn’t want cock? You want me right in your mouth, right in the back of your throat. You want to own my pleasure. You want to be the one and only girl who can make me feel this good.
Picture it. Picture me. I’m hard. My shaft is rigid. I’m bigger than any cock you’ve ever seen before. And I’m right in front of your face.
You reach up and grab my butt so you can pull me closer. You give me a nudge and my tip is pressed against your lips. You kiss it and pull me forward again. Again my tip touches your lips. You let it touch your cheek. You let it roll around on your face, because you know your sweet face drives me wild. It drives me wild because of how pretty you are, and because of the nasty, naughty, dirty part of my mind that’s looking at your face now and my big cock right in front of it.
You know what I’m imagining. You know exactly how to tease me. You know I want to cum on your face. What if my cum was all over those delicious lips? What if I was pouring myself all over that beautiful mouth? What if I was cumming inside her mouth?
You know that’s what I’m thinking, and you’re purposefully playing with that thought in my mind, making me imagine it. And only when I’ve already thought about pouring my entire load into your mouth, do you finally open your mouth and let me inside. Only then do you finally let my shaft slide into your wet, warm, delectable mouth.
I slide in and out, and expertly your tongue plays with the underside of my shaft. You know that’s where I’m most sensitive. You know that’s the part that will make me cum fastest. And that’s what you want. You want me to explode in your mouth before I’ve even had a chance to think about what’s going on.
You want to overwhelm me. You want to own my body, own my pleasure, own my cock. And you want to own my mind too. I know you do. I can see it in your eyes. The sly look you give me across the bar. The way you cross and recross your legs. The way you lean forward, giving me just a tiny peek at your cleavage.
Are you even wearing a bra?
Oh you naughty girl.
I want to feel your tongue sliding back and forth on my shaft faster and faster. Toying with me. Playing with my tip. Coaxing me to climax, so that when I finally explode, you know I’ll never forget this moment. I’ll never forget the feeling of orgasming in your mouth. I’ll never forget the pleasure you’re giving me right this second. The pleasure you own completely. The pleasure you control completely.
Because, by owning my pleasure, by controlling my orgasm, by making this exquisite thing happen right in your mouth, you know you own me too.
As you swallow me, you’re not just swallowing my juices. You’re making me yours. You’re making my body and soul belong to you.
And just like that, my cock is pouring it’s cum, pouring every drop, into your sweet mouth. Before I’m finished, I pull out. It’s not enough for me to feel my cum pouring into your mouth, I have to see it on your face too. I’m bad. I know it. But you knew it when you got mixed up with me.
I pull out and I cum on your pretty lips. You form the shape of a kiss with your lips and I cum right on them. The white contrasts perfectly with the red. The white of innocence, even though you’re anything but innocent, and the red of naughtiness, which is a perfect color on you.
I’m yours now. You lick my cum off your lips and swallow it, and with that simple motion, that simple swallow, I’m all yours. And you’re all mine.
CHAPTER 6
KANE
The guys were rowdier than usual. I shut the diary I was scribbling in and looked around.
They were all happy because we’d had a perfect day riding waves. The fact that we’d been at the brewery since we got off the water and were six beers in probably helped.
I sat quietly and watched them joke and laugh.
“What are you writing there, Kane?”
I didn’t answer.
I kept to myself and for the most part they respected my space. I didn’t want to be there and they all knew it.
A year earlier they’d had an intervention. They were worried about me. I was depressed, keeping to myself too much, staying in the house alone too much, drinking alone too much. They were more comfortable with me drinking with them so I agreed. It was easier than trying to argue.
Hell, as long as I got to drink, it didn’t make much difference to me where I did it.
I appreciated their concern. They were solid friends and I could count on them. I knew the value of that.
I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of going out each night, but I did it for them.
They were having such a good time they didn’t notice I was four beers ahead of them. It’s easier to drink when you’re not busy talking and laughing.
I watched them laugh with an empty blankness.
Truth be told, I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed. There were times that I’d smile, I’m not completely dead inside, but it had been a long time since I really laughed.
I could tell Paul, the bartender, was avoiding making eye contact with me. He was a buddy too, and I guess he was getting concerned about how many beers I’d had.
I was fine. I didn’t need him babysitting me. I’m a grown man and I know my own limits.
I kept my eye on him until we made eye contact and gestured that I was ready for another beer.
I took one last sip and as I put the glass down, I felt as though I was being watched.
I glanced up and noticed a beautiful woman sitting at the other end of the bar. She was like something out of a fantasy, curvy with ample breasts, beautiful shiny hair, and a face that made me want to walk right over and make out wit
h her. I’d never seen her before, which was odd because usually the place is nothing but locals. I shrugged it off and pulled out my phone to check for texts.
“You know that’s number eleven, right Kane?” Paul said as he put another pint in front of me.
“Glad to see you can count higher than ten,” I said without looking up.
I was annoyed he was keeping track. I mean, I know it’s his job and all, but I just wished he’d mind his own business. It’s not like I was causing a scene.
“Do you see that city babe at the end of the bar?” Paul said with a sly grin on his face. “She’s pretty hot.”
I glanced up to look at him, then looked to the girl at the end of the bar.
“I guess,” I said with a shrug and looked back at my phone.
“You like her?” he said.
“You take her,” I said. “We both know you’re the one she wants.”
Paul sighed. I knew what he was doing but I wasn’t in the mood.
“Kane?”
“What is it, Paul?”
“It’s been two years.”
“What’s been two years?” I said, knowing full well what he was talking about.
“Jesus, Kane. I’m just saying, maybe you should consider dating again. That girl’s been looking your way all night.”
Now he was annoying me. It was one thing to watch my drinking, but he had no right to tell me how to live my life. Sure, the chick was hot, but it didn’t matter.
I ignored him and looked up the forecast for tomorrow’s waves.
He got the hint and walked away to take the woman’s food order.
My phone beeped and I looked at the text. It was Steph. Reliable, dependable Steph. We’d known each other since we were kids, practically grew up together, and had started fucking when I was in the depths of my depression. She was a good girl, but always fell for the wrong guy. It was late but Steph was offering to come over when I was done at the brewery. She was the one person I still let into my place. She was the one person I let my guard down around.
I sighed and looked around. The woman at the end of the bar was placing her order with Paul and I watched as she spoke to him. She really was stunning. The kind of girl who could make your cock twitch with a single glance.
At that moment she glanced my way, and sure enough, the second our eyes locked, my cock twitched and stiffened. God, how good would it feel to sink it into her and let her have it.
She looked back at Paul and started telling him what she wanted. My eyes grew wide as she kept ordering more and more food. Her order was never ending! I think she actually ordered one of everything on the menu!
She looked at me again as she finished her order and I got the impression Paul was going to try and set her up with me. A feeling of anger rushed through. How dare Paul interfere in my personal life?
“Jesus,” I said loudly across the bar. “Why don’t you just tell him what you’re not ordering. Would save you both a lot of time.”
“Excuse me?” she said, and immediately I felt bad for being so nasty.
It wasn’t her fault Paul had pissed me off. Hell, it wasn’t even Paul’s fault I was so touchy. It was me, I was the problem, and I knew it.
“Ignore him,” Paul said to her, shooting me an exasperated look.
I looked away.
As she finished placing her order, I could feel her eyes coming back to me. I tried to act like I wasn’t paying attention, but I was. I wanted to see if she could eat even half the food she’d just ordered. If she even came close, I’d be impressed.
I looked up at her.
“Seriously, sweetheart. No way a little thing like you could eat all that.”
She shot me dagger eyes and held my gaze as she slowly reopened the menu. She had attitude, I had to give her that much.
She turned to Paul.
“And for dessert I’ll have the apple crumble and a piece of the chocolate strawberry cheesecake”.
She glanced at me triumphantly as she slammed the menu shut and handed it to Paul.
I shrugged but I couldn’t help letting out a little laugh. This girl really had balls, for a chick at least.
CHAPTER 7
MEADOW
“Oh, go ahead, laugh, moron. At least I’m not a drunk. You better drink up. You don’t want beer number eleven getting warm,” I shot back.
I startled myself, but he pissed me off and I snapped.
I couldn’t believe the nerve of him. What an asshole for judging me. What did he even care anyways? He should just stay down there and mind his own sad, drunken business.
I took a sip from my beer and got even angrier when I noticed he kind of had a point. I did order a lot, without even noticing, at least not until Hottie McJerk-Off brought it to my attention. I knew I was hungry, but I wasn’t planning on ordering that much.
My husband Matt was always so quick to call me ‘fat’ or ‘porky’ whenever I’d order anything other than salad. It’s no wonder it stung so quick and deep when that jerk made his comment. There I was thinking I could finally order whatever I wanted without judgement, but clearly not. Turns out all men are judgmental assholes, even the sexy surfer ones.
The three appetizers I ordered came out and I started to shovel them in my mouth. My emotional eating habits had taken over in full force.
My drinking comment clearly struck a nerve with that guy because he was back on his phone and leaving me alone. It wasn’t like me to be mean, but he started it and I was glad to be the one who finished it. I was done letting men boss me around.
If a woman wanted to order three appetizers, why couldn’t she? Men can order whatever the hell they like.
I scooped spinach and artichoke dip onto a chip and closed my eyes, enjoying the flavor. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had it. It was delicious. Before I was done chewing, I reached for a deep fried pickle. It was like each mouthful covered up the negative feelings left over from Matt.
As I polished off the dip, the bartender came around the corner from the kitchen with my fried chicken entree. My face lit up like a kid in a candy store. I felt like a bottomless pit. He placed the food in front of me.
“Looks great. Could I also get another beer?” I said.
He looked at me in disbelief, surprised I was actually making a serious dent on all this food and still had room for another beer. As he stepped away, I shouted to get his attention.
“Actually, make it two beers,” I said with my mouth full of chicken. “One for the judgmental asshole at the end of the bar. He clearly could use it.”
I had no idea why I said that, especially since he was leaving me alone. I hated the guy for suggesting I was a fat pig, but for some reason I didn’t want to stop getting his attention. Call me crazy, I’ll gladly take attention from a hot guy, even if he’s insulting me!
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” the bartender said, clearly not impressed with me. I was being rude, but it was that guy who started it.
For some reason, I kept going.
“Why not? It’s not like he wasn’t about to order one anyway. I want to buy him beer number twelve.”
“Fine,” the bartender said, leaning in closer, “but I won’t tell him what you said. I know he was rude, but you don’t have to stoop to his level. You have no idea what people have been through.”
What the hell did that mean? Been through? He had no idea what I’d been through either.
It was like he lost his charm and sense of humor in a matter of seconds. I watched as he poured the beer for the guy and I quickly fixed my hair and casually adjusted my breasts to make sure they looked their perkiest.
“Now you’re bringing me beer number twelve before I even ask for it?”
I couldn’t hear what the bartender said back, but I saw him point to me. I sat up straight and smiled, ready for the babe to look up. It was a rush, never in my life had I bought a man a drink. This guy was being a jerk, but there was something about him. Maybe he was just havi
ng a bad day. I didn’t know what it was, but he was sexy as hell, and intriguing, and I didn’t want him to stop paying attention to me.
He looked at the beer and then at me. My stomach got tense and my nervous smile grew. There was an empty seat next to me and I secretly hoped he would come over to thank me for the beer and have a seat so we could talk. I tucked my hair behind my ear and winked at him.
Oh God. A wink? Who winks?
I got flustered and quickly realized I had no game. I saw him raise a curious eyebrow at me, but then he just looked back at his phone.
What was so interesting on that phone? A woman just bought him a beer and he doesn’t so much as flinch? I know I’m new to the scene but surely things haven’t changed that much. When I was single, if a girl made a move, a guy was supposed to be a gentleman and at least acknowledge it.
I took a mouth full of fried chicken and washed it down with a huge gulp of beer.
I was mortified.
He just flat out ignored my gesture.
I was wrong about him, there wasn’t more to him. He really was just a drunk asshole sitting alone in a bar. The only guy in the place who refused to join in the fun.
I shoveled mouthful after mouthful of food in, hardly taking a moment to breath. I couldn’t even look at him anymore. I just wanted to finish my food and get the hell out of there.
As I finished the last few bites, I saw the bartender coming towards me with the apple crumble and cheesecake I ordered. After the day I was having, I was so ready for it.
And then I noticed that I wasn’t even close to feeling full. I’d eaten enough for three people and was still going. This was the kind of behavior I’d had therapy for as a teenager. I’d gone through a difficult couple of years after my parents divorced and put on a hundred pounds in six months. I got it under control, but the way I was eating tonight reminded me of what an emotionally traumatizing day I was having.
All I wanted was to coat it in sugar and get to bed so it could officially be over.
CHAPTER 8
KANE
I grabbed the beer that crazy chick sent over, glanced her way for a split second, then put my head back, downed the whole thing in a single gulp, and slammed the empty on the bar. Paul watched the whole time.
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