by Marie Skye
Kat sheathed me with a condom and aligned the head of my dick with Aara’s entrance, swiftly pushing her best friend down onto my length until I was filling her to capacity. I hissed as her warmth enveloped me at the same moment she sat up and threw her head back, adjusting to the unexpected intrusion.
“Holy shit, you're a big boy,” she moaned, rolling her hips slowly, her pussy clamping around me like a vise.
“That he is,” Kat snickered, and when I peeked around Aara, I caught her at the end of the bed thoroughly enjoying the view, her fingers leisurely working her cunt.
Aara glanced over her shoulder, too, and giggled. “You filthy fucking bitch.”
“Guilty. Now, hurry up and come. I want a turn too.”
That makes two of us, pretty girl.
Steady at first, I began pumping my hips, meeting Aara thrust for thrust like we’d done this a million times before. The harder she ground into me, the harder I drove into her, my hands drawn to her tits. Hers were big, and much like Kat’s were also so soft and round.
I needed them in my mouth.
But I also wanted Kat’s ass.
I needed and wanted everything, everything like the greedy motherfucker I was because it was at my disposal. They’d come onto me. I hadn’t done a thing. And they were the perfect combination, sexy and lethal in all the best ways possible. Say it with me…fucking heaven.
“Slap her ass,” Kat panted, breaking me from my sudden daze. “She likes it.”
Oh, does she?
Aara nodded as though she’d heard my thoughts and a second later, I slapped it. Hard.
Kat was right. She fucking liked it. This sexy little laugh-moan left her and I almost busted right there. It was right about then I realized if she didn’t come soon, Kat would miss out. That obviously was not fucking happening.
With another slap to her ass, I went off like a jackhammer, plowing into her without reserve, a hand in her hair, one arm wound around her waist. Through the blur of my ministrations, I knew I was getting closer, or really, she was getting closer. Every time her cunt squeezed me told me so. So I kept at it, sucking a nipple here, slapping her ass there, until finally she fell apart, her forehead falling to my shoulder as I throttled her through the wave of her orgasm. She shuddered in my grasp like a wind-up toy that’d been released, a string of expletives tangled with moans filling the air.
As soon as she settled, I had her on her back, pulling out swiftly thereafter. I was harder than a fucking rock and the need for release was making me crazed, but I needed Kat to come first.
“Ready, pretty girl,” I panted at her, and she smirked, crawling over to me.
“Been ready. Tell me where you want me.”
“Get on top of her, on her your knees.”
She slithered right into position beautifully, and God damn was that ever a gorgeous fucking image. I took one good look at it, cataloging it to memory for a rainy day, and slid right into her from behind, relishing the feel of her pussy wrapped around me.
Jesus fucking Christ.
She was so warm and wet, and different. And her ass, her ass was finally right there, begging me to give it a good smack. I did, and like her best friend, she let out gratified moan, urging me to fuck her harder. I couldn’t help it if I tried. She and Aara were up to something, too, something I couldn’t see with Kat’s dark tresses spilled over them like a veil, but I could hear them. And it was a soundtrack that rushed all my blood to dick more acutely than before.
“Pound her, Jag, she can take it,” Aara encouraged, and it was only then I could see she had her hand clasped around Kat’s throat.
Talk about a team fucking effort.
Literally.
And I was about to seal the deal. Blanketing her back with my front, I snaked a hand between her legs and brought my fingers to her clit, rubbing frenzied circles that left her breathless in seconds, me right along with her, my head tossed back with a ragged groan as I came harder than I had in a long time.
This is what wet dreams were fucking made of.
3
A warm body snuggled closer to my side, her leg draping across my waist, small hand trailing softly up my chest.
“Jag,” Kat groaned, her voice heavy laden with sleep. “Your phone.”
My phone?
Yep. Somewhere across the room my phone was indeed chiming away, the sound an increasing irritable shrill as I fully came to. Rubbing my eyes, I peeled them open to a now brightly lit suite, the hotel curtains barely drowning out thick rays of sunlight threatening to burst through. Exhausted didn't quite cover how I felt. On a normal basis I would've ignored the call and gone right back to sleep, but no one called me this early. Probably ‘cause they knew better. So who the fuck was it and what the fuck did they want?
Squeezing Kat's ass, I gave it a little slap, urging her off my arm that miraculously wasn't a boneless blob after being slept on for hours. I managed to scoot off the bed without waking a very passed out Aara in the process, and stumbled through the room, following the trail of forgotten clothes to where my pants laid in a heap on top of my Chucks. Fishing my phone free from one of the pockets, I stilled at the sight of her name on my screen. It was quite possibly the worst wake up call ever and definitely not what I wanted to see at 8 am. But I found myself answering anyway cause if I didn't, she'd keep calling until I did.
“Hello?”
“Where the hell have you been? I've been calling your damn apartment all weekend long.”
Sighing profoundly, I dragged my ass to the bathroom and shut the door with a soft click, leaning up against the vanity. “I was busy, Calla. If it was urgent, why didn't you call my cell?”
“I shouldn’t have to fucking chase you, Jagger. Your daughter wanted to speak to you, so I called only to please her. But you know, as usual, you're too busy for her.”
“The fuck?” I growled, my head rearing back as anger instantly sparked through my veins. “I'm always there to answer Mila’s calls.”
“Yeah, her calls. That's about it.”
“Seriously? That's all you fucking allow! I get to see her three times a month, if that, and even then she can't spend the night regardless of all the times she's asked you to let her stay. What the hell did I ever do to deserve being kept from my daughter?”
“You made your decision, Jagger. Now deal with it,” she snarled, and my blood boiled all the more.
She had some fucking nerve.
“Are you kidding me? You act like I'm gonna bring her to the club and let her watch her dad dick down the entire front row.”
Calla scoffed. “Not exactly an image I want to envision.”
“Why? Cause it's not you who's getting dicked down? Not my fault your insecurities and lack of trust lead you to walking away.”
“Don’t even go there and try pinning this shit on me! I gave you an ultimatum and you—”
“An ultimatum that never should’ve been put in place,” I interjected with a snarl of my own. “If you loved me as much as you claimed, you would’ve trusted me.”
“Trusted you? You wanted me to fucking trust you after you came home talking about becoming a stripper? I was five months pregnant, Jagger! What the hell did you really expect?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I took a few deep breaths and willed myself to calm the fuck down before opening my mouth again.
“Why are we even having this conversation again, Calla? It's history, as it should be and always will be.”
“Because you had to go and open your big, stupid mouth.”
“Me? Was it not you that... You know what,” I said, resigned, “Just forget it.”
I could’ve kept arguing, could've defended myself more assertively. But it was better off this way. Why? Because this right here was a recurring topic. Every few months or so, Calla found a way to rehash the past—usually using our daughter as ammunition—and like every other time, I fucking fed into it. Truth is, I hated it and Lord knows I tried to keep a lid on what I spo
uted in anger, but it wasn’t so easy to brush off when I knew she was tainting my image to Mila on the daily. She wanted her to hate me. No, she hadn’t actually come out and said that, but it didn’t take a fucking rocket scientist to note her silent intentions. You see, I might’ve understood her wanting to protect Mila if I was a shitty father. Might’ve being the operative word. But I wasn’t. I loved my daughter with every last fiber of my being, and maybe that’s what fueled her; the fact that I loved Mila more than I ever loved her. Maybe that’s why she kept my baby girl from me, in hopes that the less I saw of her, the more my love for her would burn out, giving her the opportunity to point the finger at the me and label me as the bad guy. News flash for her if she hadn't already realized it…
That was never going to happen.
“Was it not me that what?” Calla hedged after a beat.
“I said forget it. Now tell me what is so damn important you felt compelled to call me at eight in the fucking morning, on a Sunday nonetheless?”
“Did you not hear a word I said? Mila wants to talk to you.”
“And you couldn't have waited until a little later? You know I get off late as hell on Saturdays,” I gritted out.
“No, I couldn't wait. Your daughter has been waiting all fucking weekend to talk to you, and I was not about to sit here and watch her pout again because you haven't been available. If waking up early to accommodate your daughter's needs is so difficult, then maybe you should think about finding, I don't know, a normal job.”
Breathe, Jag. Breathe.
“I have been available. You just chose to call a number I rarely answer to paint me as unavailable. Had you called my cell when she first asked for me, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now.”
“Yeah, well, I clicked the first number that popped up for you.”
“And when I didn't answer, you should've called the next one.”
“Whatever, Jagger.” She huffed and I could all but see her eyes rolling from their sockets.
“Just put her on, Calla. I don't have time for your bullshit.”
“What in the actual—”
“Just put her on,” I barked, because I’d already had enough of her.
“Fine… Mila. Mila!” she yelled, and I ground my jaw tightly, loathing the way she spoke to her sometimes.
A few seconds later, my daughter’s sweet little voice replaced her mother’s. “Hi, daddy.”
I smiled softly. “Hi, baby girl.”
“Can you come pick me up?”
The sadness laced in her query, split my heart in half. And what hurt most was knowing I was going to dishearten her more when I said, “I can’t, angel. Not today.”
“Why not,” she whined.
“Because your Mommy works tomorrow and you know she’s not going to let you spend the night.”
“But that’s not fair! I want to be with you!”
“Mila! Give me that phone,” Calla hollered angrily, stomping back into the room.
It took everything in me not to go off when she audibly snatched the phone away from our daughter’s grasp and in turn snarled at me, “What the hell did you say to her?”
“That I couldn’t pick her up.”
“And why the fuck would you tell her that,” she spat.
“Because you won’t allow it. It’s Sunday, remember?”
“Oh, how convenient, right?”
“It’s not convenient when it’s the truth. You know damn well you’re not going to let me pick her up,” I gritted out, barely keeping myself in check with Mila clearly in tears somewhere in the background.
“Not with that nasty attitude of yours, I’m not.”
“My nasty attitude? Are you hearing yourself right now? It’s no wonder she wants to come spend time with me.”
“Fuck. You. Jagger. Just fuck you, okay? God, I can’t fucking stand you! The day Mila turns eighteen will be the best damn day of my life,” she exclaimed, stomping around her apartment like the child she was.
“The feeling is mutual, Calla, trust me. I’ll call back again tonight before she goes to bed,” I said, running a hand through my hair for the tenth time.
“We won’t hold out breath, but okay.”
Click.
Pulling the phone from me ear, I stared at the screen in shock. She hung up on me. Not that she hadn’t done that before, but what in the actual fuck? I groaned in frustration and tossed my phone onto the counter, flipping on the tap to splash some water on my face. My heart was racing, and not in a good way. I needed to calm the hell down.
But how was I suppose to do that when I knew my daughter was hurting? Hell, I was hurting too.
Knock, knock.
The soft sound tore my attention from heavy thoughts. Grabbing one of the towels within reach, I wiped my face and pulled open the door to find Kat on the other side. A small smile hiked up one corner of her mouth, sleepy green eyes regarding me sympathetically.
“I need to pee,” she said by way of explanation, but I knew she’d heard what went down, at least a portion of it.
“It’s all yours.” I pecked her cheek and she caught me by the arm, prompting me to whip my head back as I jerked to a stop.
“You okay?”
“I will be once you bring your fine ass back to bed,” I countered, because fuck did I need a distraction from all this shit.
“Give me two minutes,” she quipped, and I held up two fingers.
“Two minutes, that’s all you get.”
Kat nodded and shut the door as I padded across the room and slid back into the bed, trailing a hand along Aara’s curves. She stirred with a hum and peeked over her shoulder.
“How are you awake right now?”
I chuckled. This girl could sleep through a war. Of course she hadn’t heard my phone.
“I had a phone call,” I explained in amusement and she looked at me like I was crazy.
“At this hour? Who the fuck was it?”
“Baby mama drama,” said Kat before the very same words left my mouth.
With a smirk, she crawled toward us and settled herself in my lap just as Aara turned over and raked her nails up my arm.
“Need us to kill a bitch, Jag?”
Kat was quick to agree and as I glanced between the two, I knew neither one was joking. Still, I laughed because it was adorable.
“It’d be the perfect solution, that’s for sure, but I can handle her. She’s just gets under my skin sometimes.”
“Well, how about we take your mind off the cunt one more time before we hit the road,” Aara suggested.
“I’m gonna miss the shit out of you two once you leave,” I admitted. I mean, could you fucking blame me after an entire weekend with them?
“We’ll come back and visit, but for now, just lay back…we’ll make it worth your while.,” Kat purred, and I didn’t object, handing them the reigns to do as they pleased.
Here we go again…
4
“Well, good afternoon to you too,” Betty, the owner, greeted me in her usual squaking voice as I stalked into the club the following weekend.
Freezing in my tracks, I turned my head toward her, an irate expression marring my features as it had been throughout the course of the entire week. It wasn’t directed at her and clearly she knew that, but nonetheless, her brow furrowed curiously as she leaned onto the bar, taking another drag of her cigarette.
“What the hell crawled up your ass?”
“Nothing,” I said, raking a hand through my hair. “It’s just Calla and her usual bullshit.”
“So, if it’s usual, then why the shitty demeanor?”
“Because she has the ability to get under my skin like no one else.”
“Because you give her the power,” she added, blowing out a cloud of smoke.
“The fuck? No, I don’t,” I retorted indignantly.
“Yes, you do. You already know she’s vindictive. And she is so because, regardless of what she says, she wants your attention.”<
br />
“So because she wants my attention that means she can just keep Mila from me?”
“No,” Betty shook her head, “that’s just a bitch move, but she’ll take attention any way she can get it. Even if it’s negative.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“I wish I was.”
“What am I supposed to do? Ignore her and just let her bark at me?
“Yep. Interact with her only where Mila is concerned.” She said it with finality, like it was so easy.
But Calla didn’t make anything easy. She never would. The person she’d become didn’t allow that. I could honestly say I regretted every minute I spent with her, even the ones that, at one point in time, were good. The only thing—the only truly good thing—I ever got out of being with Calla, was our daughter.
Just live your life, Jagger,” Betty continued when I didn’t answer. “I know there’s a kid involved, but don’t let her do this to you.”
I stood there, unmoving. Wordless. Was Betty right? Could this constant back and forth with Calla possibly disappear if I just paid her no mind? Would that provoke her to keep Mila from me all the more or would the lack of arguments and confrontation make her easier to deal with? I guess the real question was, could I really do it?
“Jag, Betty.” Sinclair’s voice boomed suddenly as he strolled in through the front doors.
I tipped my chin at his greeting and turned back to Betty who was now pulling a bottle of Jack from one of the shelves behind the bar. Then she grabbed three shot glasses, filled them to the brim, and pushed two our way with a smirk on her lips. Sin and I both knew better than to decline a drink from her, so we shuffled forward and took the proffered whiskey, downing it with accustomed practice. The burn rippling down my throat was more than welcomed, hitting the sore spot right at its core. I had a feeling I’d be back for more as the evening progressed.
Whoever paid for a dance tonight was in for a real fucking treat.
As soon as our glasses hit the bar top, Betty collected them and waved us off, smashing her cigarette butt in the nearest ash tray. “Alright you two, shoo. Go get ready and do whatever the fuck you need to do not to blow a load on one of my customers. Doors open in thirty.”
