“Well, you see, Mom and Dad, Alexa got vajazzled to entice your dear, perfect son to see how many licks it takes to get to the center of her Tootsie Pop. Or orgasm.”
“What is vajazzling?” Mr. Stratton asked, causing even more embarrassment.
“Well, sir, it’s when you put jewels on your vagina to make it fancy.” Addison was no longer my best friend. She was getting way too much joy from this.
I walked over and sat down next to Luke, who was just as mortified as I was. He brought my hand to his lips to kiss, causing him to wince.
“What design did you get?” Mrs. Stratton asked, looking way to excited about it.
“Mistletoe,” I said sheepishly, shocked I shared that tidbit.
The whole room, including Luke’s parents, busted out laughing.
“At least you’ll have a great story to tell the grandkids someday,” Killian chimed in.
“Where did you get it done? I want one. Sounds like fun!” Mrs. Stratton said, ignoring Killian’s attempt to end our humiliation. “I want to get a flower or something pretty.”
“Woman, are you nuts? Look at your son’s face. Imagine what it would do to my penis,” Mr. Stratton barked.
“I’m officially grossed out now. Dad, I never want to hear you say penis again.” Elle threw her hands up in the air and walked to the kitchen. “I’m not drunk enough yet for this.”
“As awkward as we’ve all made it, can we move on from this and enjoy our Christmas as a family?” Luke said, pulling me to him. “I love you, Lex. Merry Christmas.”
“Love you, too Luke.” I tucked myself closer to his side and snuggled into his warmth while listening to our family and friends laugh at the gift Danny gave Elle, edible panties.
Jeweled vaginas, bleeding mouths, old man penises, and edible panties weren’t going to keep me from enjoying my Christmas.
The End
* * *
Cast of Characters:
Alexa and Luke- The Rub Down (book 1)
Elle and Danny- Our Time (book 2, Can be read as a standalone)
Addison and Killian- TBD
* * *
About the Author
Gina Sheldon is a devoted wife, busy mom of twin girls, and the proud owner of a small business. She often travels the very streets of Boston she writes about in her debut novel, “The Rub Down.” One thing she refuses to leave home without is her Kindle. Their relationship borders on obsessive. As a beta reader and blogger, Gina shares her love of books with others, and her love of words has now carried her into the field of self-publishing. When she’s not reading or writing, she can be found surrounded by family and friends, enjoying a glass of wine, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, or both.
* * *
Come stalk me:
https://www.facebook.com/Author-Gina-Sheldon-1561130697438554/
https://twitter.com/GSheldonAuthor
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Email me at:
[email protected]
Blow Me
HJ Bellus
Chapter 1
I can’t wait to get back home. I’ve been in Florida for six months too long. My damn job sent me here and while it was fun, it’s about time to go back to the Rocky Mountains where my heart lives.
You’d never know I actually grew up in Florida. It took me nearly two years to adjust to the weather, but now I’m a damn snow bunny and could live on the ski mountain with my best friend Liam Taylor. We’ve been inseparable our entire lives. Grew up as neighbors and became best friends.
He’s the typical playboy with too much God damn given talent and I’m the fucking awkward nerd with brains and boobs. I do have a nice set of boobs. It’s the one highlight of my life. I mean they really need a fucking sculpture created of their perfection if I ever die.
I was relocated to Florida for six months to cover a breaking political story. News is my lifeline, my national anthem, and jam. I sleep, eat, and breathe news stories. It was the gorgeous reporter Michelle Edmunds who visited my fifth grade career fair who set the desire alive and well.
The only thing I have on the woman is my of course my boobs. At first, I thought working behind the scenes and tracking down breaking stories would be my thing. But over the years, Liam has managed to break the thick shell of me, Blair Bennett. He’s likes to claim I’m an odd nut, but was an easy one to crack.
I’ve learned to embrace my quirks. My hair is naturally out of control with frizz and large natural curls, so I use styling products. The speckles of freckles framing my face are enhanced with make-up. And my terrible vision is helped with Clark Kent style glasses. I have them in nearly every single color and have learned to rock them. All of my social media pages are marked with my symbolic icon on the glasses with my autograph over them.
I’m no Michelle Edmunds, but thank God for her influence every day. I’m just a barely five foot three inch snorting, Mike and Ike candy loving fool who is living out her dream every day.
I toss in my last piece of clothing, sit on my suitcase, jump up and down on it until the sound of the zipper fills the room. Oh, home sweet home, Denver here I come. Your Blair Bennett is on her sweet ass way right after this Christmas party at the sister station here in Florida.
I Touch Myself begins playing in my room and I can’t help but giggle. Liam set it as his ringtone before he left. Secretly, I think he was afraid I’d forget him.
“Liam.” I can’t help the smile that pulls at the corners of my mouth.
“Boobies!”
“What’s up?”
“Guess who’s coming home?”
“Santa.” I laugh at my own corny joke. It’s how I roll.
“Poppa Pump, that’s who.”
“Who is that?” I ask kicking out of my shoes and looking for my ugly sweater for the party.
“Me, duh.”
“You’re coming to Florida. Wait! What? I’m coming home in two days.”
“Change of plans, Boobies. I cancelled your ticket.”
I groan. When Liam has an idea there’s no way of changing his mind or even trying to stop the beast.
“Spill, asshat.”
“My dad needs be home at the corporate office for an important meeting and figured we could road trip it back to Denver.”
“Road trip?”
“Fuck yes.”
“I have work, Liam and anyway I’d rather rip my toenails off than be in a car with you for over a week.”
“Bullshit.”
I groan even louder.
“I checked and you don’t go back to work until January twentieth.”
“Liam, you have to quit promising Penny your pecker.”
“Penny, the pecker lover adores me.”
“You’re going to get her fired from her receptionist job at the news station.”
“It will be worth it,” he replies.
“Did you give her pecker?”
His deep chuckle rolls over the line. “Hell no.”
“I’m not road tripping with you.”
“Yes, you are. I’ll see you tomorrow. We have some shit to hash out.”
“I’m not going to start a Go Fund Me account for your dick molding kit idea.”
“God, I miss you, Boobies.”
“I miss you, too,” I whisper.
“See you tomorrow.”
I end the call and feel the familiar flutter deep down in my belly every time I think about more with Liam. It will never happen. I’d never ruin our relationship and I’m pretty sure Liam thinks I’m just another one of his boys with boobies of course.
* * *
Chapter 2
Jesus, some of these women really went all out on their damn ugly sweaters. I just bought a hideous one at Wal-Mart with creepy little kittens on it batting at a Christmas tree. Some of the sweaters light up while others are adorned with tinsel.
One guy is sporting one with a carrot hanging down by his pecker. Damn, I sound like Liam using the term pecke
r loosely. I check my phone to see a text from that same man. It’s a selfie of him with a hot dog hanging out of his mouth. His baby blues light up the screen. Even when being silly he’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. Like in a brotherly way of course. Ewww, shit that’s creepy. I mean in a best friend that I’ll never be boned by way.
“That sweater.” Sophie points.
I look down to the evil kittens on my sweater and shrug.
“Did you get it from your Grandma’s closet?”
“Wally World.”
“Nice.” She nods.
Sophie has gone for the slutty-ugly-I hope to get fucked tonight type of sweater. How one turns an ugly sweater into a sexy outfit is beyond me and could only be done by Sophie McMann. She’s Channel Six sexy sport goddess. Don’t let her looks fool you. Yeah, she may look like a ring girl at an MMA fight, scantly dressed holding a sign over her head, but the girl has brains to back it up. Her dad is an old NFL coach and the girl is a walking and talking encyclopedia of all sports.
“This shit is lame. Want to hit the pub after this?” She asks slipping a mini bottle of Vodka from her purse. She drops a healthy portion of it in each of our cups.
“I’d love to Sophie, but I have to finish packing and Liam is coming into town tomorrow.”
“Liam.” She drags out his name and waggles her eyebrows.
Liam Taylor is very present in the social media as the king of marketing. His family owns the dominating Jehty Corporation. It’s a company that’s been passed down generations and Liam is in the middle of becoming the CEO replacing his dad.
“Yes, Liam.” I roll my eyes.
“I swear he’s going to hit number one on the top sexiest men of the year.”
“Trust me his head doesn’t need it. Third place last year was good enough.”
“I don’t understand how you can be best friends with the man.”
I throw back my stiff red punch. “It’s easy, we’ve been best friends since we we’re little kids.”
“You have more will power than me, sister.” She pats my shoulder and strolls off.
I avoid Doug the creeper and sneak to the other side of the room. He’s been hitting on me since I started covering the news stories here and I have a feeling that with this kitten sweatshirt on, I’d give him a boner for a lifetime.
“Hello.”
I turn to the deep, sexy voice. Holy hold me down, Batman. I come eye to eye with a tall, dark, and awesomely handsome man. No ugly Christmas sweater in sight. A sleek black dress suit hangs from his thick body.
“Hi,” I squeak out like the fucking Christmas mouse.
“Boone Branson.” He extends his hand.
I slip mine into his. “Blair Bennett.”
A sexy smile spreads across his face. His white teeth dazzle in the dim light of the room. He has dimples. For the love of all chocolate sheet cake the man has freaking dimples.
“You work here?” He asks.
“No, just thought I’d steal my grandma’s kitty sweater and crash this bitch.” I snort loudly, enjoying my own joke way too much. I slap my hand over my mouth embarrassed at the sound that escaped.
“Nice. I missed the memo on the ugly sweater party. I’m new here.”
“Yeah? Let me guess.” I rub the underside of my chin with my thumb and pointer finger. “My gut tells me that you’re a weatherman.”
He nods. “Nice. Meteorologist.”
I knew the station was hiring a new hot shot out of LA, but had no clue they hired Mr. Sex on Stick. He’s going to blow the ovaries of all the women in the great state of Florida.
“You a broadcaster?” He asks.
I push up my signature nerd glasses and pretend to whip my hair over my shoulder in a glamorous movement. “I am. I mean I’m up right there next to Oprah in monumental women.”
“Oh, I thought you looked familiar.” He slams me with another panty on fire needs a firehouse or his dick to put out the flames smile.
The landing strip I left down there may be smoldering right now.
“Yeah, you know. I’m just a reporter chick following the political mess down here for the sister station in Denver.”
“Reporter chick?” He asks seeming amused.
“My best friend deemed me with the title.”
“So, you don’t live in Florida?”
“No, well I use to. Grew up here and then moved to Denver after college with my best friend.”
“Nice.”
I interrupt him. “Shit, shit, shit.”
I duck my head.
“Everything okay?” He asks.
“No, douche Doug is on his way. He’ll love my sweater.”
Boone wraps his arm low around my waist and begins walking us out of the room. I don’t resist. I’m all about my feminine strength and standing on my own two feet, but why in the hell would I want to in this moment.
He eases us into another room that’s a good distance from where the party is being held. The lighting is better and only furthers to damage my damn panties. KABOOM.
His olive skin is intoxicating.
“Blair.” My name floats off his lips.
“Boner,” I say his name.
A deep chuckle escapes from him. I sniff my nose to make sure there’s no bats in the caves or is it my breath?
“Boner?” He asks.
“Oh shit.” I slap my hand over my mouth.
“I’m taking that as a compliment.”
“Honestly.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “You’re gorgeous and frankly I need laid, hard. Like straight into pound town with no hopes of coming up for air.”
His lips are on mine before he responds. Boner or Boone kisses me hard. His tongue is in my mouth sweeping every inch of it. I absorb his scent and soak in his taste.
He pulls back slightly while his hands slip up my skirt around my waist. He tears my panties from my body. It’s hot for about a second until I realize I’m fucking naked in a well-lit room.
“You’re lucky because I’m the fucking mayor of pound town.”
His lips attack mine once again. The throb between my legs intensifies and his hands quickly relieve it. His fingers dip and dive between my folds. I buck and writhe against his touch. I’m coiled so tightly it’s painful.
“Please, Boner, please.”
His light laughter tickles the sensitive skin on my neck. He presses my clit until I uncoil all over his hands. My body goes limp against his. He pushes his hard length into me and I’m ready all over again. The sound of his zipper zings around the room.
I find some common sense and go for his package. Jesus, it’s going to be the best package I open this holiday season. Thank you, baby Jesus. The man is well hung and will deliciously force a couple more big O’s from me. I run my hand up and down his shaft a few more times before he steps back.
“I won’t be able to last much longer, baby.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls a condom from it.
Just like in a sexy-ass movie, I watch him tear it open with his teeth. He keeps one hand on the base of his cock while rolling on the condom in one quick movement. Nerves begin to kick in because this isn’t me. I don’t hook up with random men at an Ugly Sweater Christmas party. No, that’s more of Liam’s style and women of course, not men.
I consider it a little parting gift from Florida. It’s been all work with my months spent here. No beach time, dates, or hook-ups because it’s been work non-stop covering the messy political arena. Like hook-ups have ever been in my dictionary of life, but hey, a girl can dream. Actually, my sex life is quite drought like. Oh, but now Merry Christmas to all, you mother truckers.
His tip nudges my folds before he spins me around and bends me over a table. A few things go flying to the ground, but I don’t give a flying fuck in this moment. His large palms grip to my sides as he pushes in. An audible gasp escapes me before he moves again. My breasts are pushed into a bowl of sorts below me, but the thought evaporates when Mr. Fuck Me Ugly Sweater begins thrusting
inside me.
I sneak a hand down my front to hurry myself to my release while keeping myself upright with the other.
“So fucking good,” he groans.
“Mmmmmm. I’m about to…”
Before I have the chance to finish my sentence I begin to see stars. Bright, shining, and shooting God damn stars whizzing around in my mind. The orgasm hits me hard leaving my legs weak and wobbly. He continues to pound into me grunting and growling. I feel Boone’s body tense up before he spills into me. He collapses down on my back, whispering in my ears.
“Jesus, so sad you’ll be leaving the station.”
Yes, a damn crime.
“The political race would’ve been so much more orgasmically awesome if you would’ve been here months ago.”
“We do have the rest of the night.” He flexes his cock inside.
Good George with brown gravy on top what type of guy can flex their cock.
The lights flip on followed by several gasps and shudders. I look up to see a crowd of elderly people. Some of them have their hands over their face while others stare wide eyed at us. The banner above them reads, “Southside Senior Citizen Annual Christmas Pinochle.”
Boone brings me up to his chest. I look down to my bare tits covered in orange Jell-O salad and then down to the busted up nativity scene that we just bumped uglies on.
* * *
Chapter 3
It took lots and lots of alcohol and one exhausted body to finally fall asleep once home in my childhood bed. I picked fucking gelatin out of my hair for hours before getting into a hot shower. Boone made good on his promise and took me to his hotel room to thoroughly ravage my body.
I cringe remembering the old people’s faces last night and seeing the nativity scene broken and crumbled, but my God those orgasms flushed it all away. I roll over in my bed to see it’s only nine in the morning. We’re having our traditional Christmas morning since I’ll be back in Denver in two weeks when the actually holiday hits.
My door flies open without any warning. A blur of a body darts for my bed and lands smack in the middle of me.
F*CKING AWKWARD HOLIDAYS: 25 Short Stories of Awkward Holiday Encounters Page 17
