Playing with Fire_Shen

by Shen, L. J.

  “I only have one condition,” she warned.

  Was it the moon she wanted me to give her? I was open to that. I’d give her the sun, too. I just needed a little time, and maybe a loan or two.

  And definitely good life insurance.

  “Lay it on me.”

  “I don’t want to become one of your Tesses or Melanies. No one-night only rule for us.” She shook her head. “I want you to treat me with respect and care. I know we’re casual, but …” She sucked in a breath, her voice dropping along with her gaze. “For me, it means something. To open up again. Promise you won’t break my trust, West.”

  It was the drunkenness of the moment that made me do it.

  Forget about my oath to myself. Piss all over my promise not to make any promises.

  All I thought about was being inside Grace. To drown in her purity, hoping some of it would rub off on me.

  “Promise.”

  The word rolled out of my mouth before I could stop it, tasting like ash. I couldn’t take it back. It was there, between us. Alive, swelling, and growing by the nanosecond, pressing against my sternum, making it hard to breathe.

  Promise.

  Promise.

  Promise.

  Remember what happened the last time you made a promise?

  Grimacing at my own stupidity, I took her hand.

  “Let’s dip.”

  Twelve minutes later (yes, I counted), we were in front of Texas’ house. Marla had just finished her shift, skipping down the porch’s steps, pushing a cigarette into her mouth and lighting it up.

  “That’s all she wrote, kids. Have fun and keep your hands to yourselves. You especially, St. Claire.”

  Grace stood on the first stairway leading to her doorway. The sunset smeared across the sky in pink and orange around her, making her look like a fallen angel.

  Apparently, I was now taking note of the fucking scenery and waxing poetic.

  I wanted my balls back, but I wanted them slamming against Grace’s pussy even more.

  “Do you want to come inside?” She jerked her thumb behind her shoulder after Marla left.

  “Any man who tells you differently is buying expired condoms in bulk.” I leaned against Christina casually, trying hard to pretend I didn’t care, when I’d already proven to be so far gone for this chick I wasn’t even in the same zip code as my fucking brain anymore.

  It took Tex a second to get it.

  She wrinkled her nose. “No bulks for you, huh?”

  I shrugged. “Call me old-fashioned, but I like to treat my companion to a good time that includes no-strings-attached or unexpected trips to the pharmacy.”

  “Such a fine gentleman.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “And to think I always pegged you as a surly ass.”

  “I am.”

  “Not with me.”

  She wasn’t wrong. Maybe that was why I couldn’t keep away from her, even when every bone in my body (other than my boner) begged me to.

  “You remind me of how I was before.” I pretended to wipe invisible dust from my Ducati to do something with my hand.

  “Before what?”

  “Before everything.”

  We stared at each other. Church bells rang in the distance. She took her ball cap off, clutching it between her fingers in her lap. Even though no words were spoken, I knew she was inviting me in.

  I took a step.

  Then another one.

  She didn’t stop me.

  By the time I got to her, my toes touching hers through our shoes, we were both breathless.

  “I don’t know what we’re doing,” she croaked, tilting her face up. It was the most I’d ever seen of her face. Still full of makeup, but sans the ball cap, the sun sinking its claws inside her skin.

  I took her hands in mine.

  “Let’s find out together.”

  It was the first time I’d been inside Grace’s room. Her grandmother sat in front of the TV, half-napping, half-cursing at VH1 for their poor video clips choices. She looked about as static as the sound coming from the monitor, but pointing it out to Grace seemed counterproductive. Not only for the blood-filled salami between my legs, but also because Tex seemed adamant not to send Mrs. Shaw to a nursing home.

  Texas’ room was exactly what I would have expected from Grace Shaw before her scars: peach-colored walls filled with pictures of herself with her grandmother and groups of smiling, wholesome friends. White embodied linen, pompoms, and tickets to plays and movies she’d gone to pinned onto a board along with handwritten letters. It didn’t escape me that her room was in fairly good condition and probably redone after the fire.

  She’d wanted to keep being the person she’d been before.

  Had hoped that would be the case, which made her tragedy so much more painful.

  Grace Shaw was the exact opposite of me.

  I tore apart everything that resembled my life pre-tragedy. She held on to hers for dear life, refusing to let go.

  I stood in her room, waiting for her to come upstairs while she checked in with Mrs. S. She appeared at the door holding two glasses of iced tea. I didn’t know when or how, but she’d managed to put even more makeup on her face between the time we rode home and now.

  Tex went ham with the foundation. It looked like she had an extra face, and I couldn’t imagine it was better than the real thing. Plus, that damn ball cap was on again.

  We stood there staring at each other.

  “Hi,” she said again, nervous. “Maine.”

  “Texas.”

  “How do you like our weather?”

  What the fuck were we talking about? I was only half-sure.

  I swallowed. “It’s very fine.”

  I took a step closer.

  She stayed put.

  I took another step closer.

  The swell of her breasts rose as her breath hitched. I was throbbing so hard, I felt my pulse in my dick.

  I reached for her, tossing her ball cap to the floor.

  I felt like that John Mayer song they played to death on the radio a few years back. “Slow Dancing in a Burning Room.” Everything was urgent, yet agonizingly slow.

  We were toe-to-toe now. She didn’t back away. I clasped her chin between my thumb and index, tilting her head up.

  “Trust me?”

  She nodded, her throat bobbing. I caught her lips in a blistering kiss. It was deep and slow and methodical and different from every kiss I’d ever had. I curled my fingers over the hem of her shirt, jerking her close, until we were flush against each other.

  Grace kissed me back, gasping, trying to catch her breath. When her fingers fumbled for my zipper, I raised her shirt, one inch at a time. I wasn’t nervous about what was waiting under it. But I knew she didn’t feel the same.

  When I hiked her shirt up to her ribs, Texas stopped my hands from climbing upward, slapping one of my hands away. I raised both my palms up in surrender. She broke the kiss off, taking a step back.

  “Sorry.” She chuckled. “Maybe …” She hugged her midriff, tucking her left cheek shyly to her shoulder. “Maybe we can just do it with our clothes on? I mean, you can take yours off. And I’ll take off my pants, obviously …” She closed her eyes, turning beet-red under her makeup. “You won’t mind, right? I guess you hardly have time to undress your hookups at the Plaza …”

  “Don’t,” I barked, feeling my nostrils flaring. “Apples and oranges.”

  She winced.

  Deciding to change tactics, I toed my boots off, then my socks. I pulled down my jeans and briefs in one go, standing in her room completely naked from the waist down. Just me and my raging hard-on, both of us staring pointedly at her.

  Her eyes widened.

  “Umm, okay? This was sudden …”

  “Shirt off, baby,” I ordered in a low growl. A tone I was familiar with, that was all me. She narrowed her eyes at me.

  “I told you it made me uncomfortable. Why do you insist on it?”
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  “Because you’re under the impression whatever I’m going to see is going to be a turn-off for me, and what better way of proving how mistaken you are than by showing you.” I pointed at my throbbing cock. It was purple and swollen. So erect, I doubted I had blood left in other parts of my body. Hell, if I cut my wrist open, I’d probably bleed bone.

  “That’s not an experiment I’d like to take part in.”

  “Then I guess you’ll have to flick the bean to get off.” I crouched—yes, without my goddamn pants on—making a show of picking up my jeans.

  “Wait!”

  I froze mid-action, smiling to myself with my head bowed down.

  “You won’t … we won’t do it if I don’t show you my scars?”

  I straightened my spine, licking my lips as I took off my shirt, now standing butt naked. That was better. Nothing felt quite as emasculating as standing partly naked in front of someone (though buying one midday showing ticket to a Kate Hudson flick came in close).

  The things this chick makes me do.

  “That’s right. Tit for tat. I’m naked. You’re naked. That’s the equation.”

  She stared up at the ceiling, shaking her head. “It ain’t pretty. The left side of me anyway.”

  “Every part of you is lickable. Nothing is going to change it. Especially your battle scars. Now get naked before I faint from lack of blood.”

  She hesitated before removing her shirt in one rapid flick. She unclasped her bra then squeezed her eyes shut, wincing as she awaited my verdict, standing very still in front of me.

  I stroked my cock, drinking in every inch of her torso. Her stomach was flat, her tits pear-shaped and bouncy. Her nipples were tiny, perfect for my mouth, and pebbled. The left side of her body was marred from the fire. Uneven, angry stains of red and purple wove across her skin like a painting.

  Everything about her was honeyed and smooth and fuckable to a fault.

  I advanced toward her while her eyes were closed. With every step I took, her breathing became shallower, until I was standing beside her.

  She stopped breathing.

  So did I.

  I bent down, taking the nipple of her left, marred breast between my lips and sucking it deep into my mouth. She moaned, her hands shooting to clasp my head. I dropped my forehead against her collarbone, my cock pulsating between us, begging to get in on the action.

  Down, boy. Not yet.

  “If you tell anyone about this, I’m goin’ to kill you.” She drew me closer to her uneven nipple. A shade darker than her right, healthy one and a few inches larger due to scar tissue. I gave it the royal treatment. Kissed and licked and tugged softly with my teeth, running the tip of my tongue around the areola and blowing on it. She shuddered, thrusting her breasts in my face. Her entire body was arched and ready.

  “About what? Your scar, or sucking your tits?” I moved to her other, “normal” nipple. I was half-crouching, and my quads were on fire. But I wanted her to see just how much she turned me on. Which reminded me …

  I took her free hand, the one that didn’t try to yank out my hair, and circled it around my cock.

  Still hard as a rock and just as intelligent, considering I made you a fucking promise I’m definitely going to break.

  “Both,” she croaked. “Lord, you’re so hard.”

  “You’re so beautiful. And so fucking insane,” I murmured to her flesh, now alternating between her tits, kissing and massaging, getting acquainted with them.

  We’re going to become the best of friends, ladies, my kisses said. And spend a whole lot of time together.

  I hoisted her up so her legs wrapped around my waist and carried her by the ass to her twin bed. I eased her down to the mattress, not breaking the kiss as I unbuttoned her jeans. She stroked my dick, up and down, her hands unsure but eager. I wondered how much experience she had in the sack. The fact she wasn’t a virgin didn’t mean jack shit. I didn’t know anything about her ex-boyfriend, other than the unpromising fact he hadn’t stuck around after the fire.

  He was—you guessed it—on my growing list of people to kill if I ever went berserk.

  Grace kicked her jeans down her ankles. I stroked the outline of her pussy over her white cotton undies, a violent shudder racking through my body.

  So this was what being horny felt like. I must’ve mistaken bored and restless for desire until now, because nothing I’d ever experienced came close to this moment.

  Her hand moved faster over my dick. I yanked her underwear sideways, dipping one finger in while kissing a path down her throat. Soaked. I began thrusting two fingers into her, working her up, knowing I couldn’t keep the foreplay up much longer without coming.

  Her hot mouth was on my jaw, sucking and nipping. My tongue was on her scars again, lapping, biting. I was rough. I was confident. I didn’t treat her like a china doll. A precious, fragile thing to be handled with care and pity.

  I treated her like someone I wanted to fuck until my dick fell off.

  She moaned, “More.”

  I slid another finger into her, pumping as her hisses became louder. Greedier. She dropped her hand from my cock and clawed at her bed, pushing her face into her pillow to stifle a little scream, her hips bucking into my hand, demanding more.

  “West, please.”

  “Please, what?” I licked my way down her belly button, dipping my tongue into her perfect innie. My mouth watered as the scent of her became more prominent. I wanted my lips on every inch of this girl, so next time I saw her, I could look at her and think—I know what she tastes like. Everywhere.

  “If we don’t do it right now, I might explode,” Grace said.

  “I’ll spare you the trip to the ER.”

  I rose to my knees, took my wallet out of my back pocket from my discarded jeans on the floor, grabbed a condom, and ripped open the packet, sheathing myself as one of my hands fondled her blemished tit. For some reason, it appealed to me even more than her milky white side. It turned me on, seeing how much she’d been through. How she’d come back swinging, strong and feisty. A survivor.

  I sank back down, my body draped all over hers missionary-style, angling my cock toward her center. I drove in an inch at a time, hissing at every fraction of movement. She held my waist, sucking in a breath. We both watched as I slid in. She was hot and wet and damn snug.

  Swear to God, I’d never wanted to be in Texas more than in that moment.

  It was only when every inch of my cock was inside her that I looked back up at her face again and saw her biting her lower lip, stifling a giggle.

  Which … wasn’t the usual MO for chicks who were under me.

  I frowned. “Something funny?”

  “It’s you.” She shook her head, her face glowing with mischief. “You look like you are on a mission. You should see yourself. So focused. So concentrated.”

  I glared at her, not sure how to react.

  “When I saw your, eh, thing, in the food truck, I was ninety-nine percent sure I never wanted it inside me. It seemed too big. Too threatening. But you make me feel so comfortable. Thank you.”

  I dropped my head to her shoulder, giving it a quick kiss. Essentially, she’d just told me my dick wasn’t that big.

  “Stop talking,” I ordered.

  “Why? You’re so adorable.”

  She called me adorable while I was inside her. Was I ever going to recover?

  “Fuck you,” I groaned.

  “Please do.”

  “On it.”

  I began moving inside her. Holy shit, did she feel amazing. Sex always felt damn good. But with Texas, it wasn’t just better, it was … different. We fit.

  With each thrust, I felt my balls tightening and tingling, my dick throbbing and pulsating. She shivered in my arms, and I knew she was close, too.

  C’mon, Tex. Come before I do.

  I wondered since when did I care. I wasn’t a complete jackass. I made sure it was fairly good to the person I was with. Oral aside, I ticked all
the boxes—foreplay, strumming their pussy like it was a violin, kisses in sensitive spots, et cetera, et cetera. But I never cared if they hit the big O. Not as long as I knew the happy customers would recommend me to their friends.

  With Texas, I cared.

  “West. Oh. Lord.” She grabbed my face and lowered my head. I kissed her roughly, my fingers finding her clit between us and rubbing in circles.

  Come, or I will have to die from cum poisoning.

  “Are you close?” I groaned.

  “I’m …” she started, but then flinched, froze, and every muscle in her body tensed like she was having a stroke. She clenched around me so hard the rest of my body had no say in what happened next. I felt my cum shooting into the condom as I experienced the most intense orgasm I’d ever had.

  She spasmed around my cock.

  “Comin’.”

  Thank. Fuck.

  “Me too, baby. Me too.”

  Grace

  I had sex.

  With a boy.

  Here was the real kicker—I enjoyed it. I even climaxed once.

  Fine, twice.

  All right, thrice.

  Who would have thought?

  Not me, that was for sure. The carnal need in me to feel another body against mine, warm and alive, blew up like a hand grenade the minute West put his lips on my marred nipple and didn’t even flinch.

  I tiptoed my way to the living room in an oversized shirt after spending the past three hours with West. It took us ten minutes to recover before tearing at each other again after that first time. I’d suspected we could have gone all night if it wasn’t for West running out of condoms.

  Grams was asleep on the couch, snoring softly, her lips pinched in stern disapproval. I scooped up the tiny woman like she was a toddler, carrying her up to her bedroom. It was probably a weird visual to an outsider, but I’d gotten used to it over the years.

  Savannah Shaw had the childlike quality of not waking up when she was put to bed. I’d been doing it for a while now. Even before Grams began losing touch with reality. When she still worked two jobs to support us. She’d always fall asleep on the couch. At first, I’d woken her up so she could go to bed—our sofa was narrow, tattered, and itchy—but she’d always wake up for good and end up cleaning the house, doing the dishes, or folding the laundry. With time, I mastered the art of carrying her to her room and tucking her in.