Pretty Dirty Trick

by Tabatha Kiss

  I wince. “You caught me, huh?”

  Her cheeks flush even more. “I spent four years walking around that school with the biggest crush on you,” she spits out.

  “Yeah, I knew.”

  “You knew?”

  “Well, most girls did, so…”

  She drops her face into her hands. “Oh, god…”

  I pick up the saké bottle to refill her empty cup. “Phoebe, calm down. It’s okay. Just relax.”

  She raises her head and snatches her cup off the table once it’s full. “This stuff is really strong.”

  “That’s the point,” I say, picking up my own cup. “Not that I need to be drunk to sit at a table with you, Phoebe.”

  “You don’t?”

  “I don’t want you to think I don’t want to be here because I do,” I say, repeating her words back to her. “I really, really do.”

  I take a drink, relishing in the head rush as the saké snakes down my throat and right back up to my brain. When I look up again, she’s staring back, her eyes hard and unblinking.

  “You had sex with me,” she says.

  I nod. “I did.”

  “You kissed me in my office today.”

  “I did.”

  “And now you’re staring at my tits.”

  I raise a finger. “I actually haven’t since you first mentioned it but… yeah. I did that, too.”

  She looks up at the ceiling, craning her neck hard to glance around into every dark corner.

  “What are you looking for?” I ask.

  “A bucket of pig’s blood,” she says.

  “Phoebe.” I laugh. “Relax. I’m here with you because I want to be here with you. You’re here with me because you want to be here with me, right?”

  She drops her head back down. “Yeah.”

  “So, what’s the problem?”

  “There’s no problem… per se…”

  “Then, what?”

  “You’re the Prom King and I’m…” Her smile falls. “Peepee Pinkeye.”

  I exhale at the old, pathetic slur. “Well, if you don’t mind me saying, Peepee Pinkeye got really fucking hot.”

  She laughs. “Just never thought in a million years you’d notice.”

  “I did.”

  Phoebe blinks twice, her eyes lingering on mine. She tries to look away but they come right back. Another urge to kiss her passes through me and settles in my gut, steadily vibrating as blood pounds in my ears. I want her. It’s a certainty now. I don’t think I’ve ever been more certain of anything.

  “Come home with me tonight,” I say.

  Her lips part slightly. “Why?”

  “Because I want you to,” I answer. “Because you want to.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Instinct.”

  “You sure you’re not just cocky?” she quips.

  “Oh, I am.” I smile at her pink cheeks. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been blushing since the moment you stepped into the room or that there’s a thin layer of sweat breaking on your brow.”

  She holds up her cup. “I blame the saké.”

  “Or the way your pupils are dilated.”

  “It’s dim in here.”

  “Your arms have goosebumps.”

  “It’s kinda chilly, too.”

  “How wet are you right now?” I ask.

  Her jaw drops in that adorable way. “Excuse me?”

  “If I were to crawl beneath this table,” I say slowly, “reach my hand up your thighs and stick my finger inside of you, how wet would you feel?”

  She swallows. “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Why not? Would it help if I told you that I was hard as a fucking rock right now?”

  Her eyes crash down to the tablecloth between us, growing wider. “Is that true?”

  I sit back, saying nothing, daring her to find out for herself.

  Phoebe bites her lip as she casually glances over her shoulder. There’s no one in sight, no one within distance to see it. We’re alone here.

  She reaches down and I hear the slight buzz of a zipper followed by a soft thud of her boot sliding off her ankle. As she rights herself, her bare toe connects with my pant leg, traveling up toward my lap. I pause with my fingers digging into my palm, anxiously waiting until I feel her foot graze my erection. She pushes between my thighs, inching far too slowly.

  I grab her ankle with one hand, startling her as I guide her toes to rest on my throbbing shaft. She gasps, feeling up and down my length and counting the inches for herself. Sure, she’s seen it before. Felt it before. But not like this.

  Phoebe runs her toes up and down, petting and stroking me. I keep a hand on her ankle, putting pressure as I see fit. Pleasure clenches my throat as she stares back at me with wide-open eyes.

  “Touch yourself,” I say.

  She flinches. “No, I can’t…”

  “Please.” I tighten my hold on her ankle, begging her. “I want to see it.”

  Her eyes roam the room again but there’s nothing to see. The sounds of distant voices and clanking glasses fade away. It’s just the two of us here.

  She reaches beneath the table and my cock twitches against her toes. My ears tune to the sound of her dress gliding up her thighs. I can just barely see over the edge of the table on her side. Her fingers move over milky, white skin, shaking with nerves as she feels her panties.

  “Do it…” I say, putting pressure on her foot to rub my cock a little harder.

  Phoebe’s lips part as she inhales. Her pink tongue twitches behind her teeth. Her chest rises and falls. There’s a rhythm to it, led by the slight grind of her hand.

  “That’s good,” I say, leaning forward to see better. “Don’t stop.”

  She bites her lip and closes her eyes, hiding from my prying stare.

  “Phoebe, open your eyes for me.”

  A few moments pass before she finally does. Her entire body quivers with aching need. She moves her hand faster and the enthusiasm reaches her foot as well. I let out a quiet groan. I can’t say a woman has ever jerked me off with her foot before but I’m just a few good strokes away from ruining these pants.

  Sweet Jesus. Phoebe Pink just might be my new favorite fetish.

  “Are you ready to order?”

  Phoebe rips her ankle from my grasp and slams it the floor.

  The waitress stands in the doorway with a bright smile, hopefully unaware of what we were just doing.

  I sit up taller and clear my throat. “Another minute, please. Thank you.”

  She nods and walks back out.

  Phoebe stares at the table, her face bright red and shell-shocked. She subtly adjusts her dress beneath the tablecloth and slips her heel back into her boot.

  I catch my breath. “What do you want?” I ask her.

  She laughs. “I haven’t even touched the menu yet.”

  “No,” I say, drawing her eyes upward. “What do you want?”

  She hesitates, softly biting the edge of her mouth.

  “You,” she finally says.

  Eleven

  Phoebe

  Well, here I am again.

  Max’s living room. I’m standing here, staring out his amazing windows at the incredible view of the city I grew up in but still can’t quite recognize from this angle. It’s a brand-new experience. Dreamlike, I’d say, if I weren’t so absolutely certain I’m awake right now…

  “Would you like a drink?”

  I see Max’s reflection in the window, standing at the other side of the room near the kitchen doorway.

  “Sure,” I say. “Anything you have is fine.”

  “Be right back.”

  I wait until he’s gone completely before exhaling all the air from my lungs. It makes me dizzy and my vision sways while the entire city passes by in front of me. Not a single person down there has any idea what’s going on up here. Not that they’d care or anything, but I sure as hell do.

  Go, me. Go.

  I ba
ck away from the window and lower down onto his couch to steady myself.

  “Well…” Max sighs with two glasses in his hands. “I hope water is okay.”

  “Water is fine,” I say, looking at the clear liquid. “Probably smart, too. Still kinda floating on saké right now…”

  “Good.” He sits beside me. “Because Thad cleaned me out of everything else last week and I haven’t gone shopping yet. Sorry.”

  “It’s all right.” I chuckle as he hands me a glass. “Does he stay with you a lot?”

  He nods as he takes a sip. “Every few weeks or so.”

  “He doesn’t have his own place?”

  “No.”

  “Then, where does he live?”

  He points out the window. “In the sky, mostly. Thad’s never been much of a permanent address kind of guy.”

  “Sounds exciting,” I say.

  “He seems to like it.”

  “Would you?”

  He shrugs. “I prefer a little more certainty and stability in my life, personally.”

  I lean back. “Yeah, I figured.”

  “How so?”

  “I’ve always pictured you…” I pause to think, “like a guy with his eyes on the prize, I guess. No room for much else.”

  He smiles at me. “Well, when I see something I want, I work for it. Don’t you?”

  My tongue twists behind my lips. I sit up slightly to take another drink, banishing a little more of that nervous stiffness from my muscles. “Yeah, maybe. Within reason, I guess.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well…” I force a laugh as he sets his glass down and shifts closer to me. “There’s only so much a girl like me can have, you know?”

  “What else do you want?” he asks.

  “Could always use a new car,” I say with a groan. Max slides my glass free from my hand and sets it down next to his. “Though, I’d rather just get a nicer place a little closer to work, then I don’t have to drive in at all. I could just walk. But, if I were really honest, I’d love to take a few months off and just travel around—”

  “Phoebe,” he whispers.

  “Yeah?”

  He kisses me hard on the lips and I snap to my senses.

  “Oh,” I say, my jaw dropping. “You weren’t asking about life, you were asking about right now…”

  “That I was.” Max chuckles at my sagging chin. “This happens to you a lot, doesn’t it?” he asks, laying his hand beneath it and nudging it closed again.

  I bite my lip. “Seems to be a thing lately. Why? Is it annoying? Do I look stupid? I can stop, I hope…”

  “No.” His hand slides to push my hair back behind my shoulder. “It’s actually really cute.”

  I freeze in place, feeling his fingers as they glide over the skin of my neck. “Cute?”

  “Yeah,” he leans closer, “like these freckles.”

  My breath catches in my throat as he lays his lips on my collarbone. He leaves soft pecks on my skin, one for each of my freckles. It tickles me but I have no voice left over to laugh.

  “Phoebe, I want to make you come again.”

  My jaw drops.

  “Watching you tonight,” he says, his hand slides up my dress, “touching yourself for me.”

  “Uh-huh,” I sigh.

  He pulls back to look me in the eye and instantly grins at my stupid, wide-open mouth.

  I snap it shut and swallow the saliva building on my tongue.

  He kisses me once, pressing long and hard as his hand inches between my thighs. “Tell me how you like it. I want to know what makes you come.”

  I quiver, opening my legs to him without thinking. “Oh, you seem to be doing just fine with that so far. You are experienced, that’s for sure.”

  He smiles and hooks a finger around the crotch of my underwear. “All women are different,” he says, his lips grazing my cheek toward my earlobe. “I want to know exactly what makes you different, Phoebe Pink. When you touch yourself, where do you do it?”

  His finger parts my folds and I exhale hard.

  He tempts my entrances with his fingertips. “Here?” he asks.

  I shake my head as he kisses my neck. His fingers move slowly upward, hugging the inside of my slit. It lights a fire in me. I almost moan out loud but I can barely even take a breath.

  He halts his hand an inch away from my clitoris. “Here?” he asks, his eyes sly and warm.

  “No,” I say, finding my voice.

  His lips crawl into a knowing curl. “Tell me where to stop…”

  I close my eyes, focusing on his touch as a single finger traces around my clit. There’s a spot, one that I always touch to get myself off, and the anticipation builds in me as he creeps closer and closer—

  “There!” I gasp.

  He stops and adds a little pressure. “Right here?” he asks, still whispering.

  “Yes.”

  Max kisses me on the mouth, absorbing the moan as it shakes my throat. His finger moves slowly, massaging me where I told him to, and my back stiffens with passion.

  “Relax,” he says, breaking our kiss.

  “Max…” I moan.

  “Shhh.”

  He crushes his mouth on mine again, rubbing my spot even harder as he guides me backward. I lie against the sofa’s edge and he towers over me, kissing even harder as my moans grow louder.

  “Faster?” he asks. “Or slower?”

  “No,” I whimper, clenching his arm. “Just like that.”

  My nails dig into his skin through his shirt and he flexes, easily taking the pain as he maintains a constant, deep rub. I cling to him, hanging on the brink and moaning into his mouth.

  He breaks me down so easily. I come against his hand, mewling and squirming beneath him but he doesn’t stop. He won’t let me rest. His tongue parts my lips and it twists around my own like an eager snake.

  “Phoebe,” he groans my name, making my toes curl.

  Just when I can’t take it anymore, his hand stops and he finally lets me exhale.

  “You’re so fucking sexy,” he says.

  I laugh. I’d say it was unbelievable but then again, he does have his tongue down my throat at the moment…

  He hooks the crotch of my underwear again and grins. “And so wet…”

  “Yeah, that’s kind of your fault,” I say.

  “Sorry.” He chuckles and kisses me along the throat again, pecking away at the line of freckles. “Are you ready?”

  I pause. “Ready for what?”

  He looks up at me as he slides off the couch onto his knees. “Now that I know how to get you off with my hand… I want to know how to get you off with my tongue.”

  Good god.

  “Oh.”

  Max pushes his hands beneath me and yanks my underwear down to my ankles. “That is… if you have no objections, obviously.”

  “Oh, no.” I gulp. “No objections here. No.”

  “Good.” He sits up and loosens his tie. “Spread your knees.”

  I do as he says, hiking my skirt up to my waist. Everything throbs. Nerves and butterflies tumble around in my guts. I’m more exposed than ever but I can’t get enough. I don’t want to stop. I want to give it all over to him.

  Max lays his hands on my thighs, slowing feeling down to my knees. He licks his lips as he moves in closer, staring up at me with those green eyes.

  Oh, god. I’m going to come all over his face again.

  He focuses on that same spot, pressing his strong tongue on the right side of my clit. I nearly come right here but I hold it back in order to last just a little bit longer.

  He kisses my throbbing clit, teasing me as he watches me squirm. “Do you want me to use my hands, too?”

  I bite down on my lip. “Yes,” I say without thinking.

  He takes his right hand and places it beneath his chin at my entrance. “One finger or two?”

  I hold back even more. “Two—”

  Before I can even get the word out, he penetrates me
with two thick fingers.

  I gasp, gripping the couch and squeezing until my knuckles cramp. He fucks me slowly, matching the deep stroke with the firm laps of his tongue.

  It’s all too much. I keep it together for a few intense seconds until my body submits to him again. I come harder than before, my cunt clamping around his digits so tightly, he lets out a laugh before sucking the rest of the life out of my pulsating clit.

  “Max!” I moan, my body shaking.

  He pulls his fingers out of me and kisses my inner thighs to relax me. “You taste so sweet,” he says.

  I laugh. It’s the only thing I can do.

  He travels closer and I feel his erection through his slacks, pressing hard against my hip as he towers over me.

  “So, Phoebe…” he says, kissing me once. “I ask again. What do you want?”

  My heart still pounds in my chest, an epic and passionate metronome. I cup his handsome face, letting it all truly sink in.

  Max Monahan wants me.

  And I want him, too.

  My hands move on their own down his body and he smiles as I flick his shirt buttons open one-by-one. We kiss, breathing hard and attacking the clothing on each other’s bodies.

  I push his shirt down, touching every inch of his toned arms all the way to his wrists. He reaches blind behind me and grips the zipper on my dress, sliding it downward as he nibbles at my neck. I push off the cushions as my dress loosens and Max slowly slides it over my hips and tosses it to the floor.

  He stops for a moment, his eyes staring at my nearly naked body and my cheeks ignite again. Bra, panties, and boots. That’s all I’ve got. A voice screams from the back of my mind, telling me how ugly I must look but the lust never leaves Max’s eyes. He leans over and buries his face in my cleavage, sinking his teeth into my breast as he groans with need.

  I reach for his belt, my fingertips barely touching his swollen hardness inside and my tongue erupts. Max pulls away and watches as I unzip him, his hand resting on the side of my face. His thumb swipes my bottom lip and I gaze up at him as I open my mouth to taste his fingertip.

  But I want more of him.

  We shift and trade places on the couch. Max sits down on the cushion’s edge while I drop to my knees in front of him. I scratch gently down his abs and he winces playfully as I grip his pants. His cock springs out for me, hard and ready.