Husband Sit (Husband #1)

by Louise Cusack

  In his dreams.

  “Buddy, if this was a house sit, you’d be the dog.”

  The moment the words were out of my mouth, I knew I’d gone too far, but instead of getting crankier, he smiled up at me with a surprisingly sexy look in his eyes. I suddenly noticed he had plump, kissable lips. “So we’re doing it doggy style then?”

  I wanted to frown at his cheek, but I had to admit that I liked a good dogging. I’d sure as hell liked it when Finn had…

  Fuck.

  That was all it took for the bastard to flood into my thoughts with his butterscotch dreadlocks and his sexy green eyes. The thought of never seeing him again, never feeling those large hands on my body or that gigantor cock pounding me, made the inside of my ribs ache. And I didn’t want that. I wanted to be strong and independent and happy. Not pining over what I couldn’t have.

  I needed to erase Finn from of my mind, and Fritha’s sweet voice came to my rescue with The best way to get over one man is to fuck another.

  Lots of times.

  To hell with afternoon tea.

  “No dogging the first time,” I replied archly, and opened the buttons of my top, pulling it out of my skirt so he could see my white lace bra. “You’ll have your turn to be bossy, but the first time you do what I say.”

  “All right.” He pushed his plate away as if he expected to fuck me on the kitchen table. Not a bad idea, but instead I said, “Follow me,” and marched off to his bedroom which I’d already inspected for clean linen and hadn’t been able to fault his mother’s housekeeping.

  Inside his room was a shrine to football of all codes, with player posters, banners and supporter scarves. I barely gave it a glance as I kicked off my ballet flats and quickly divested myself of shirt and skirt. He stood inside the closed door, actually looking slightly nervous now that we were down to business.

  I nodded at the bed. “Take your clothes off and lie on your back.”

  He shrugged, clearly struggling for nonchalance. “You don’t want to take my clothes off for me?”

  “I know men,” I lied. “The first time will be fast. I don’t want to speed that up by touching you too soon.”

  “Okay.” He seemed to accept that completely, but it wasn’t until the words were out of my mouth that I realized they were probably true. Young guys who were inexperienced with sex went off like firecrackers.

  He started shedding clothes while I waited for inspiration—I had no idea what to do—then I noticed his laptop bag by his desk. It made me feel guilty.

  “But maybe if you’ve got homework—”

  “I did it all weeks ago.” He kicked off his joggers. “I’ve been planning this holiday for as long as she has. Apart from lectures, I’m free to fuck.” He wrenched off his boxers and a decent sized erection sprang out.

  “Wait,” I said, remembering he’d been out in the sweaty sun half the day. “Shower first.”

  “What?”

  He looked like he was going to arc up, so I said, “If it’s not clean, I’m not sucking it.”

  “Oh. Okay.” He blinked a few times, but his eyes were sparkling as he turned for the door.

  “Very clean,” I said, remembering my experiences of early twenties boys, back in the day. Adult men seemed to realize that girls liked hygiene.

  “Sure. I got it.”

  I watched him wrench open the door, jiggling a very nice ass before he strode out and jogged down the hallway.

  Jogged.

  So he was keen. I could use that to my advantage. And I had to admit, my bossiness was turning me on. I leant out the doorway. “And wash all that product out of your hair. I want it slicked back and sexy.”

  He made no reply, so I amused myself by checking out the posters in his room, realizing pretty quickly that each of the players he was hero-worshipping had a similar look. They were all big and beefy with super-short brown hair and dark eyes. If it had been a girl’s room, I’d imagine she was crushing on these guys, and that this was her template for sexy. But Simon?

  Hmmm.

  It certainly gave me something to think about.

  A good ten minutes later, he marched back into the room and I had to catch my breath.

  “Holy crap,” I said softly. “That’s a good look on you.”

  Exactly as I’d demanded, his dark shoulder-length hair was slicked back, highlighting fabulous cheekbones and somehow managing to make his lips look even sexier.

  “Good?” he said, and smiled tentatively, then glanced beside me to the wall of mirrors covering the buildin wardrobes.

  I nodded emphatically. “If you walked into college looking like that you’d have girls lining up. But,” I added quickly, “you have to wait until I’m gone.”

  His cocky smile returned. “Why should I?”

  “Because I can teach you about sex, baby boy,” I shot back. “It’s one thing to get a girl into your bed, and quite another to make sure she comes back. Your mother paid for my services. You may as well get her money’s worth.”

  He surprised me then by nodding, before pointing at the bed. “So now? Lie on my back?”

  “If you please.” I turned on my inner-courtesan, and stalked over to the side of the bed, liking the way his erection had come back and jiggled about as he settled himself.

  “My arms here?” he said, lifting and dropping them at his sides.

  A light went on in my brain.

  “Do you own ties?” I turned to his wardrobe.

  “A couple.” He frowned. “On the left.”

  I strode over and retrieved them. There were six. I came back to the bed, grabbed one of his wrists and proceeded to tie it to the solid timber post at the top corner of the bed.

  “Whoa! What the hell?”

  I smiled down into his eyes. “Nasty shit,” I said softly. “That’s what you’re Jonesing for, isn’t it, Simon?”

  “Maybe.” He swallowed loudly, but I went right on with my bondage fantasy, tying that wrist up and then walking around the bed so I could secure his other wrist to the post on the other side.

  “Delicious,” I said when I was finished. Then I climbed onto the bed and straddled him, letting his erection press against my panties. “Where are the condoms?”

  “Everywhere,” he said, gazing up into my eyes with what looked like wonder. “Closest are in the bedside table.”

  I reached across and opened the drawer, managing to grind myself against him in the process. There were at least a hundred, which made me smile. I grabbed a handful and dropped them onto the bed beside us. “You were well prepared.”

  “Like I said, I’ve been planning this for a while.” His voice was softer, huskier, and I kidded myself it was more submissive. “But I never dreamt of this shit. This shit’s weird. And hot.”

  “I like to be unpredictable.”

  He nodded. “So fuck me.” I heard bravado in his tone. For some reason I could sense vulnerability in Simon and I suddenly felt protective, wanting him to really enjoy this, to feel like the man. I wasn’t in this career out of choice, but maybe I could try to do some good along the way.

  So I said, “I’m liking the look of that cock and I want to ride it. Rodeo cowboys have to stay on for eight seconds. Do you think you can last that long?”

  I wanted to set the bar low, in case it was all too much for him.

  His smile was slow to come. “Yeah, I think I can last that long.”

  “Then let’s ride.” I slipped off the bed to remove my white lace bra and briefs. Then I tore open a condom packet and slid it on him fast.

  He caught his breath and I saw his cheeks flush, his arms pulling instinctively against the bindings.

  I loved the way it defined his biceps. “Do you like being tied up?” I sounded breathless myself, really looking forward to a fast, hard fuck.

  He nodded, staring into my eyes, breathing unsteadily now. “Do me,” he said.

  I crept back onto the bed and positioned myself over him. “When I’m on, you have to buck
.”

  “Eight seconds,” he said. “I can do it.”

  “Good man.” I felt between my legs to see if I was ready, and all the talking and anticipation had certainly made me slick. I grasped him with one hand and guided him in while I lowered myself, deliberately holding one arm up like a rodeo rider. “Starting in three, two, one!” On the last word, I shoved down hard, pushing him high up inside me, and in the next second I was nearly tossed off. He bucked up hard and I had to grab his biceps with one hand to anchor myself, shoving down on his upthrust and really getting off on the intensity on his face.

  So much so, that I forgot to count!

  I meant to. But I was enjoying the feel of his hard young body under mine, and the joyous enthusiasm of his bucking hips.

  I wanted to eke out as much pleasure as I could, but I was nowhere near an orgasm when he shouted, “Oh fuck, fuck!” and slammed up into me.

  It nearly displaced me, but I grabbed both biceps and came down hard on top of him when he dropped his hips. Then I squirmed against him to draw his climax out for as long as I could.

  We were both panting afterwards, and I straightened to find him grinning like a loon.

  “Fifteen seconds,” he crowed, as if that was the world record.

  Part of me wanted to say Buddy, that’s pathetic but I was having too much fun, and besides, I really liked this kid. So instead, I said, “Pretty impressive for a first shot. Particularly as I’m guessing you haven’t had any for a while.”

  “Maybe.”

  Maybe never.

  I don’t know why, but I decided to shock him, so I pulled back and looked into his very dark eyes and said, “I could fuck you up the ass if you want.”

  “What?” He blinked a few times, but I was interested to see his cheeks flush. “I’m not a poofter.” His voice sounded deliberately deep.

  “I’m a girl, in case you didn’t notice.” I tapped him on the nose. “It’s not gay if you let a girl do it.”

  “It isn’t?”

  He so wanted to do it. I could tell from the way his lips fell open.

  How delicious.

  “Sure. I do it all the time,” I lied. “With a strap-on dildo. Guys love it.”

  I could tell he desperately wanted to say Do they? But instead, he pursed his lips for a second and said, “Does it hurt?”

  “Well they scream,” I replied and his eyes widened in what looked like panic. “But it’s screams of pleasure, and they say they’ve never come like that before.”

  He seemed to consider it for a second, then he said, “Have you…?” and tilted his head to glance down at my ass.

  “No way,” I replied. “That’s not what lesbians do.”

  “Jesus, have you been with a girl?” His eyes lit up like sparklers. My quick misdirection appeared to have worked.

  “Yeah, just the other day I slept with a redhead. She had freckles all over her nose, and elsewhere,” I added, hoping Fritha never found out about this. “She told me later that she loved me, but…” I shrugged. “I’m a free agent.”

  He nodded. “That’s what I want. To do my own thing. Not be tied down.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he realized what he’d said, and we both smiled at the pun. He tugged on his restraints for good measure.

  “So you like a little light bondage?”

  He shrugged as best he could. “Can you untie me now?” I heard the very faint quiver of uncertainty in his voice, as if he was worried I was some sort of Damien who’d try and force him into things he wasn’t ready for. That made me feel guilty so I hurriedly undid the knots, and when he had both arms free, he surprised me by rolling me onto my back and kissing me.

  He was sweet, but I couldn’t help myself comparing him to Finn whose take-charge kiss at the airport would be forever lodged in my brain as the hottest kiss of all time. Which was so annoying. I really needed to stop thinking about that.

  To push Finn out of my head, I pulled back and said, “Put your hand here.” I moved it across to my pussy.

  He let me maneuver his fingers to slide across my clit real slow. I was slippery down there, so the whole sensation of his hand gliding over my mound made me shudder. In a good way.

  Finn came back into my thoughts then and, try as I might, I couldn’t push him out. But it wasn’t comparison this time. I was just thinking about him, about how much I loved looking into his eyes, bantering with him about cricket, eating his home-cooked meals, and feeling his cock inside me. I was pretty sure the warm achy longing I experienced was love, and maybe it was selfish to think about one guy while another was touching you, but the meltiness of that feeling added a dimension to Simon’s stroking that lifted pleasure to a whole new level.

  “Kiss me again,” I demanded, and Simon did, sometimes forgetting the choreography of his hand while his tongue was moving, but getting back to it, stroking my clit gently, delving sometimes, but keeping up that sensation that built inside me like a cat making bread on a quilt. I could feel the pulling inside, the purring, and I started to squirm.

  He stopped kissing me long enough say, “Harder?”

  I shook my head. “Just the same. Keep going.”

  He probably thought it was monotonous—I know guys like variety—but to his credit he kept stroking gently, kept kissing me as waves of heat rolled around inside me. I was close.

  “Watch me come,” I breathed, and he pulled back from my lips but I had my eyes closed, watching colors throbbing and swirling behind my eyelids.

  “Your nipples are rock hard.”

  I gritted my teeth as the first tendrils spread up from my crotch. “Just keep doing it,” I panted. “Till I tell you to stop.”

  Then the pleasure hit, like a spasm of Fuck yeah! down low, and a tingling Squee! behind my breasts. I bucked against his hand but he kept on stroking while I shuddered some more and then finally it faded and I pushed his hand away, too blissed-out to speak, even to say thanks.

  It was silent for a long time. Maybe a whole minute. But I couldn’t open my eyes. Couldn’t speak. Didn’t want to, frankly, because now Finn was gone and I felt empty.

  Finally, Simon said, “Is it always like that for girls?”

  I licked my lips. “Mostly.”

  “That’s so not like porn.”

  “Welcome to the real world.”

  “I mean, you were quiet. And you wanted it gentle. And—”

  “Simon.” I opened one eye a crack. “You do not learn about sex by watching pornos. They’re fantasy to wank to. That’s all.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “Fuck.” He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, clearly thinking about that.

  I wasn’t sure he believed me. I hoped he would. In my lifetime, I’d met plenty of guys who were disappointed with sex because it wasn’t what they’d seen on some porno site. Well guess what, guys? Romance isn’t what you see in the movies either! Most men wouldn’t invest in a relationship to the tune of a ten carat diamond, so why the hell should real women—including Brittay—waste time getting silicon boobs or a bleached asshole, let alone bounce around on a cock for half an hour like the energizer bunny.

  I mean, for what?

  I wanted to give Simon a lecture about not needing perfection to achieve a brain-sucking orgasm but I felt tired and hungry and suddenly, unaccountably sad. I couldn’t help missing Finn’s warm green eyes and tumble-down dreadlocks. If I’d been at his house, he’d have made me dinner. We could watch cricket and get drunk on expensive white wine.

  Luckily for me, Simon didn’t have a romantic bone in his body, so his conversation was a solid distraction. “Is there any limit to the number of times we can do it a night?”

  I wanted to sigh. “No.”

  That wouldn’t be fair.

  “Good. I only want three more times tonight.”

  I shook my head. “Young men.”

  Simon caught my nipple between his finger and thumb and rolled it, creating a de
licious ache down low. “You don’t have to sleep in mum’s bed. You could stay here with me.” Not if I wanted any sleep. But bless him, he looked as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

  “You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?”

  He nodded. “Five fucks a night, fourteen nights, that’s seventy fucks.”

  I couldn’t stop myself grinning at his audacity. “Ambitious.”

  “But do-able.”

  “Completely.” Rough sex with Damien hadn’t pushed Finn out of my head. Maybe I needed quantity to wear his memory away. “Okay. Seventy fucks. But you have to cook the meals.”

  “Deal!”

  A fortnight later, we were at the end of our marathon. He’d taken #69 literally and I’d woken in the middle of the night to a mouth full of cock while he’d crouched over me, laving at my clit with his tongue. I could pride myself on the fact that I’d taught him the mechanics so well, I happily ended up with a spectacular orgasm. But in the wake of our double-delight, he asked for the wild card as our final fuck, and headed to the shower, visibly nervous.

  A week earlier, when my mail-order dildo had arrived, he’d been at: I’ve thought about that and no. Curiosity, however, must have overcome his reservations, and perhaps trust had built with each fuck. Whatever. He now wanted the dildo, and I was pleased to have yet another memorable sexual experience coming. With luck, my cumulative tally of sex would blur the past and erase any achy memories from my mind.

  So I went to Simon’s mother’s room, where my things were kept, and unpacked the offending item—gel blue. It wiggled and wobbled like a tall, skinny smurf, and I had a horrible urge to say something inappropriate like I feel like smurfing some butt. But that was just wrong. So I fitted it onto myself with the harness and walked around with the dildo wobbling about in front of me.

  It was so comical I started to giggle. Then I realized that guys had this every time they got a hard on. When did they stop giggling at how stupid it looked? Maybe they never did.

  I decided then and there to compliment my blue gel harness and dildo with a sixties slab of blue eye shadow and some thick eyeliner, channeling Austin Powers. I even teased my dark hair up at the crown and left it curling around my shoulders. It actually didn’t look too bad, particularly when I slipped on some very high silver heels.