by Jade West
I downed the rest of my beer, telling myself I wasn’t bothered, that this was just another par for the course, but I felt strangely disappointed.
He shook his head. “Just let me scope it out.”
“I don’t have fucking time,” I snapped. “Find someone else.”
“Please, Carl, just give me a chance…”
I sighed, and there was disappointment. Definite disappointment. “I don’t have time for this shit.” I grabbed another beer and stepped away, but he didn’t follow.
He stood with his arms folded, and his expression was resolute and steely and all fucking loved up. “I’m seeing her on Wednesday,” he said. “And you can either be there or not, but I am.”
“So, why tell me?”
“Because we’re honest with each other. Because I want you to know,” he said.
“And now I know.” I shrugged. “Do whatever you want, but I’m out.”
He took a couple of steps in my direction, and his voice had an edge of desperation. “Six months, you promised.”
“And you rendered them unnecessary.”
“But I didn’t. Don’t you see that?”
“I see exactly the opposite.”
He scowled, shook his head. “What about the weekend? What about stretching tight little cunt and taking her together? Hey? You telling me you don’t want to do that now?”
I sighed. “Fucking hell, Rick. I don’t know.”
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll cancel her. I’ll call it all off, right now.” He pulled out his phone and began to text, but my hand landed on his wrist.
And I had nothing to say, no fucking reason, and he knew it.
His eyes were victorious.
“I’ll see her Wednesday,” he said. “I’ll work it out.”
And I didn’t argue.
I didn’t say another fucking word.
Do I smell like horse? I pulled my t-shirt to my nose, took a whiff. Hmm, maybe a little. I pulled my emergency perfume from my handbag and spritzed the shit out of myself, then rubbed my fingers in my armpits to check for body odour. Safe enough. I’d just have to hope I didn’t have any stray bits of hay dangling from my underwear. It’s been known to happen.
One of the perils of heading straight to a lunch date after a morning at the stables.
I vacated my vantage point at the end of the street, then rumbled onto Rick’s driveway. The Range Rover was missing. Made sense that Rick’s was the sporty little BMW, it suited him. I switched off the engine and my heart was pounding, which was standard, but there was more than nerves today. I’d woken early, even for me, and I was excited. Ridiculously excited. So, this was crushing? I’d never really had a crush before. I’d liked plenty of guys, but it was always just a like. Occasionally a strong like. Sometimes even a considered yes, I’d like his dick in my ass, possibly many times, but never something that had me waking up before dawn with a big goofy smile on my face.
Rick. His point score was going up every time I pictured his face, every time he sent a text, every time I rubbed myself off to the thought of his hot pierced cock. And now I was at his door, with the promise of no Carl, just us.
That shouldn’t feel as good as it did, and definitely shouldn’t feel as good as the thought of three grand a month landing in my bank account. Keep your fucking head, Katie, keep your fucking head.
Rick opened the door before I’d even locked my car, and today he was barefoot, low slung jeans hugging his hips. He was wearing a simple t-shirt, but it was bright yellow, emblazoned with life is art in a funky font. He looked awesome, and his smile told me he was pleased to see me, too.
Yep, this was definitely crushing.
I was shorter in flat pumps, short enough that his lips pressed to my forehead as he pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping perfectly around my shoulders. I leaned into him, my tits pressing to his chest, hands snaking around his waist to land on the top of his ass, and there was that ocean smell again, only the ocean never smelt as good as it did on Rick’s beautiful inked skin.
“Hey, pretty lady.” His smile was boyish and animated and delicious. “Pleased you could stop by.”
He took my hand and led me inside, and the place felt so alive today. A radio blasted out soul music as the afternoon sun spilled through the kitchen windows, and there was a hint of a breeze from the open patio doors. He turned the music down and grabbed me a water from the fridge, then clinked my glass with his own.
“Cheers.”
I smiled. “Cheers.”
“Lunch is on.” He pulled the oven door down enough to peer inside, and the smell hit me. Chicken. Barbeque.
I raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you, um…”
“Veggie?” He smiled. “Yeah, I am. But you’re not. I’m not one of those thou shalt not types. Eat what you want.” He pulled out a salad bowl from the fridge, and he’d even made that artistic. Chunky colours in flamboyant shapes. Cucumber stars, and tomatoes in neat little triangles.
“You shouldn’t have…” I started, but he waved it aside.
“Used to it. Carl’s virtually an anti-veggie. He has a side of beef with his beef, that guy.”
Carl. I felt like an intruder upon hearing his name, hitting on his boyfriend while he was out of sight. I fucking hate cheating. The thought gave me shivers, feeling way more seedy than selling my ass for three grand a month. Go fucking figure.
“Where is Carl?”
“Work,” he said. “He’s sorry he couldn’t make it.”
I only wished I was, too.
He gestured behind me, to the laptop on the kitchen counter, the stool placed in front. “Beauty of working from home. My time’s my own. Mostly.”
“That’s what I want,” I said. “My own timetable.”
“Best feeling in the world.” His eyes looked me up and down. “Or one of them.” His gaze burned me, his low laugh making me blush. He pulled out some bowls, and sauces, and a couple of serving spoons, laid them out on the kitchen island and pulled me up a stool. “Thought we could eat here.”
I took a seat. “Works for me.”
I was glad I’d opted for casual. It felt so much nicer to wear my own skin. My jeans were my best pair, and my t-shirt was one of my newer ones, and I’d even worn a couple of bracelets to jazz it up a little, but I was definitely me today. It felt good to be me in front of Rick Warner, and his smile told me I was doing just fine. I liked that. I liked him.
“How’s your big hairy boy?” he said.
I gawped at him. Just gawped. Not once had anyone I’d been fucking ever asked after Samson before, not without prompting.
“Samson,” he clarified, like it was needed. “How is he?”
“He’s good.” I grinned. “He’s great. We’re in training for the summer eventing circuit. I think we’ll do well this year.” I crossed my fingers, held them up. “I hope we’ll do well this year.”
He mirrored my gesture. “I’ll keep mine crossed, too. And my toes.” He pulled on some oven gloves and took out the chicken. “Maybe we could come and watch. Me and Carl, I mean.”
“Watch me and Samson?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. Maybe we’ll see you pick up some rosettes. That would be cool. We could be your cheerleaders. Don’t be fooled by Carl’s stoic exterior, he’s got some moves.” He pulled a couple of Saturday Night Fever gestures, wiggling on the spot with his oven-gloved hands on his hips, and it tickled me.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You seriously want to come and see me and Samson on the eventing course?”
He fixed me in an easy stare. “Sure I do. Why, is that some dating no-no or something?”
I held up my hands. “No, I just… I thought…”
His stare didn’t waver. “You thought this was all about sex?”
“No!” I protested.
He laughed. “You totally did. And it’s not. I mean sex is sex, and it’s fucking great, and I can’t fucking wait to get you under me again, don’t get me wrong. But that’s not it. Not all of it.”
My mouth felt dry as he ditched the oven gloves and forked chicken wings onto my plate. “So… what is it?” I said. “What else is there?”
He handed me the serving spoon, and watched as I piled some salad alongside my chicken. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On you.”
“On me?”
He nodded. “Yeah, on what you want.”
I drizzled some olive oil over my greens. “Last time I checked you were the ones who were paying. Surely it’s about what you want, no?”
He shook his head. “That’s not quite how it works.” He forked himself some cucumber stars. “See, we want… things… we want… someone…”
The piece of tomato in my mouth felt big all of a sudden. I struggled to chew, and struggled harder to swallow. “Someone? Like… more than a…”
“More than a fuck once a week on a Saturday, yeah.” He sipped his water, but his eyes didn’t leave mine. “Much more than that.”
I felt my colour draining. Much more than that. What could be much more than that? A live-in whore? A sex slave? A maid? A girlfriend?
He waved his hands. Held them up. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Too much, too soon.”
“No,” I said. “It’s just… I don’t…” I took a breath. “I’m not really sure how this stuff works. I just read a couple of reader’s letters in Glitz, and it all sounded so easy and cool and glamorous. And hot. It sounded hot.”
“There aren’t any rules,” he said. “It’s just people. People want different things. I guess we need to find a zone where we all gel.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess so.”
I had no idea what kind of zone a guy like Carl would gel in. The idea turned my legs to jelly.
“Me, personally,” he said. “I want fun. Companionship. Someone who’ll make us laugh. Someone who fits. Someone who’s kind. Someone who takes cock like a trooper and still wants more the next morning.”
My cheeks burned. “And then what?”
He shrugged. “And then she stays. Maybe. If that’s what she wants.”
“Stays?”
He looked me straight in the face. “Decides she doesn’t want to leave and our cool little duo becomes an even cooler trio.” He shook his head, slapped himself on the temple. “Shit. This really isn’t for now. I only fucked you once already, I’m kinda hoping for more before I scare the shit out of you.”
“I’m not scared,” I said, but it was at least partially a lie. “I just… I don’t know…”
“You can’t know,” he said. “You only just met us.” He sighed. “I just wanted you to know this isn’t just some flash in the pan idea. It’s not about throwing money at a bit of pussy.”
“Noted.” I smiled.
He laughed, a belly laugh. “You’re so fucking scared now.”
I laughed back. “No!”
“Yes,” he grinned. “You are. Forget I said anything.”
“Really,” I lied. “I’m not.”
He licked his lips, and his tongue bar glinted, the atmosphere tightening in a heartbeat. “We’ll fuck you first. A lot. Then you can think about it.”
My stomach tickled, and I wanted him. I knew I wanted him. I shouldn’t think it, and I certainly shouldn’t say, but the words were already in my throat. “If it was just… if this was just… regular… it would be…”
“Easy?”
“Easier…” I admitted. “I mean, if it were just… if this were… us…”
His expression turned serious. “Carl and I come as a pair,” he said. “Always.”
I shook my head. Mortified. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean. I was just… thinking aloud… I shouldn’t…”
“It’s alright. I get it. One on one is simple. Classic boy meets girl. Girl fancies boy. Boy wants girl. They fuck. They swoon. They fall into a groove.” He smirked. “I get it, that could be us. I feel that.”
“I shouldn’t have…” I repeated. “It just slipped out.” I wanted to kick myself. Hard. “I’m sure I’ll like Carl.”
“You’ll get to know him,” he said. “And when you do, you’ll love him. I promise.”
“I’ll love him, will I?” I laughed to lighten the tension. “You seem pretty confident.”
“I am confident. Carl’s hot, and smart, and funny — even if he doesn’t always seem that way. He’s determined and he always gives his everything. He’s loyal, too.”
“When did you know it was love?”
He smiled. “When he gave me his ass for the first time, and I was way more interested in him than his girlfriend’s hot pussy. It doesn’t happen all that often, the ass thing. He’s not much of a taker.”
I smirked. “So, the girlfriend got booted?”
He shook his head. “The girlfriend was a scheming bitch. She fucked off.”
“No loss, then.”
“Not for me,” he said. “More so for Carl.”
“So, you’re looking for a third for your happily ever after? Carl, Rick, and Miss Unknown.”
“Something like that. Like I said, it isn’t a concern for now.”
I couldn’t help feeling a little unnerved inside, the prospect of more taking grip of my lungs. I picked up a chicken wing, forced myself to smile as I ate it.
“You did say you didn’t want the status quo.” He held up his glass. “Here’s to finding out, hey?”
I touched my glass to his. “Sure thing. I’ll drink to that.”
He took a swig, then clapped his hands together. “Enough of this heavy bollocks,” he said. “Let’s shut up and eat our bloody lunch before my blabbermouth runs away with me.”
Sounded good to me.
Rick moved the music to the living room after lunch, one of those seamless setups that pipes your tunes from room to room. He took the sofa, and so did I, and so naturally my knee rested against his. He’d made me laugh, so much. Made me smile, so hard. So many stories, of travels, and graphic design, and love, and sex, and life. Mainly I had stories about Samson, but he was interested. Genuinely, too. I could see it in his eyes.
I could spend a lot of time around Rick Warner. A fuck of a lot of time.
An early lunch was turning into a late one, but he hadn’t made any attempt to return to his project, and I wasn’t pushing it. I could have happily stayed there, slumped on his sofa while we talked the afternoon away, substituted mineral water for cold beer and laughed my way through until dawn.
“So, yeah,” he grinned. “She, um, didn’t last long. Told me I was a freaky piece of crap and took off out of there.”
“In her underwear?!”
“In just her fucking knickers.” He laughed. “Seriously, it was a pathetic excuse for a thong.” He gestured to his crotch. “Barely covered her fucking slit, I tell you.”
The thought made me giggle. “She drove home like that?!”
“Yep. Through rush hour traffic.”
“And that was the very first time you tried watersports?”
His eyes glinted. “What makes you so sure I tried it again?”
He had me. My cheeks burned. “I dunno. You just seem that kind of guy…”
“Ha!” He held his hands up. “You got me. Seriously, though, don’t get too nervous. I won’t throw up any filthy surprises, I promise.”
“I trust you,” I said. “I’m brave like that.” I smiled at him and he smiled back, and there was something in it. Something unspoken, and heavy, and probably the result of too many sex stories.
I shifted in my seat, trying to ease the need between my legs, but all it did was hitch my knee further up Rick’s thigh.
He licked his lips, and I watched his mouth as mine opened. Shit. And then he leaned forwards, his hand on my leg, hot through the denim, his breath warm on my open lips. Fuck, I wanted him. Not for the money, not to seal the deal, or get him on side, or take away my nerves for the big double-fucking that was heading my way.
Just because.
His lips bru
shed mine, and his eyes were dark, his lashes so close they tickled my skin.
“Kiss me,” I whispered. “Please…”
He paused, hovering so close. “This is a grey area…”
Carl.
The thought was a spray of cold water, and I blinked, shifted, put my hand on his chest and moved away. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean…”
He took hold of my thigh, strong hands pulling me back, hitching my leg over his to spread me wide. Even in denim, I felt exposed. “A grey area,” he said. “Not a no-go area.”
“But Carl…”
“Carl knows you’re here. He knows I want this.”
My breath was nothing but a hiss. “But you said… together, or not at all…”
“We usually mean it…”
Usually? I gasped as his tongue touched my cheek, moved down to my neck. He kissed my throat, and I squirmed, sinking down, letting my thighs fall open. “Fuck…”
“No sex…” he whispered. “We can’t… but just a kiss… one little kiss can’t be wrong…”
I moaned as his mouth pressed to mine, and my lips were already open, welcoming his tongue. His piercing felt so good, so nice as it circled my tongue. He pressed me into my seat, my head tipped back and at his mercy, and I could feel his hard-on as he moved, the swell against my thigh as he sucked my mouth, sucking my tongue deep into his. I had nothing but breath and need, and it turned me from rational Katie to some other Katie I didn’t recognise. A Katie who wanted this guy so bad I twisted my fingers in the tangle of his hair and gripped him tight. A Katie who rubbed her thigh against the swell in his crotch and fought back the urge to dig her way inside his clothes.
Just a kiss.
But it wasn’t just a kiss. It was a writhing, heavy, free-for-all, our mouths clamped together as we made out like two horny teenagers, only Rick was no teenager. His kiss was skilled, and dirty and deep, so horny it made my clit spark, my pussy throbbing against the seam of my jeans. He read my body, pressed his hand to my crotch, rubbing me hard through the stiff fabric.
“I want you,” I breathed into his mouth. “Fuck, I want you.”
His fingers teased me, his rhythm steady between my legs. “What I’d fucking give to see how wet you are…” I groaned as he pressed hard. “I bet you’re fucking sopping. Your sweet little pussy so fucking wet for me.”
