by JA Huss
I speak before she has a chance. “Are you OK?”
She nods and takes another step closer to me. She’s close enough that I can smell her now. She smells amazing. Different than before, but still amazing. Like perfume, and sweat, and fear, and salvation.
I ask the obvious question. “Who were those—?”
Or I should say I start to ask the obvious question because before I get all the words out, she’s on top of me, my back against the Defender, her tongue in my mouth, her hand down my pants, and the shadow of her wings flapping in time with the grinding of her body against mine.
MADDIE
It’s almost an out-of-body experience. That’s my theory. Because… because… it can’t be real. It just can’t be real. I can’t be doing this. I’m not running from a kingpin’s henchmen, Ford didn’t save me, my tongue is not in his mouth desperately kissing him and wanting him, and my hand is not on his dick, squeezing as I push myself forward looking for… more.
But all that is happening. And all this is happening too, because now his hand is pulling my costume down and the night air hits my nipple, making it peak and bunch up as his fingers brush across it. And then we’re walking—he’s pushing me backwards. And I don’t even feel the pain from my twisted ankle or wonder if I’m gonna trip or anything like that because… because he’ll catch me. If I fall, this guy is gonna catch me. And it’s such a relief to just let all the bullshit go and trust someone for once. I don’t even have words. Or the time to think them up. Because he’s got his hands under my thighs and he’s lifting me up, and holding me close, and I can feel the ragged edges of the brick building cutting into my back and I don’t care. I might be bleeding or fucking dying right now, and I just don’t care.
I close my eyes when he pulls back, wishing he wouldn’t do that, but then I forget about it and think about what he’s doing next. Because his lips are on my neck and he’s biting the skin behind my ear, and breathing into my hair, and he says, “I’m gonna fuck you now. So…”
And then he’s done too. We’re both just on some kind of collision course. We’re crashing into each other in a way that’s familiar, but new, and still dangerous. And then I see the gun again in my head, and the way he moved so fast and took people out. The way he hurt them and I know, I just feel, deep down in my filthy fucking soul, that he’s gonna hurt me too, and I don’t care. I just don’t fucking care. Because that hurt is gonna be worth it, and I’m gonna live for once. Like really fucking live for once. And when we spin out of control later—next week, or next year, or next lifetime—I will look back and say, “I’d do it all again.”
And it’s stupid.
But I don’t care.
So I say, “Do it.”
TYLER
The way she says, “Do it,” sends me into a frenzy. It’s almost an order. And maybe it’s my military training kicking into gear or more probably it’s just that her rasping, anxious voice is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard, but every single part of me is at full command and ready to follow orders.
I lift her higher and press her wings harder into the rough wall. I raise her so I can get my mouth around her gorgeous breasts. Wrapping my lips around the right one, I allow my tongue to skitter over her nipple. I draw my mouth back, sucking as I go, letting my teeth graze her skin just lightly enough so that she can feel the edges. Careful not to tickle, not to bite, just torture in the best way.
I can taste the sweat and the fear and the relief. I can taste it all. And I immediately wonder how the rest of her must taste. She’s still pumping my dick, reaching, straining, almost like she’s afraid to let go, and that has popped open the top button of my jeans so that my cock is throbbing in the night air, urging me to thrust myself inside her now. But I can’t. Not just yet. I need to know what the rest of her tastes like first.
The pool of light from the Defender’s headlamps is behind us, leaving us hidden in the shadows. Known only to each other. Cast in the faint, blue glow of an October desert moon.
I look up at her through my eyelids and she stares back down, swallowing, chest heaving, gulping for breath. I don’t say anything, just begin to lower her slowly to the ground, allowing her long legs to land on the concrete.
With her shoes on she’s almost as tall as I am. We stare at each other nearly eye to eye and she swallows one more time, her eyes closing as I bend my knees to lower myself down her stomach, kissing lightly as I go. I stop for a second and tickle her belly button with my tongue. She shudders as though a bolt of electricity has shot through her. I love that, so I stay there for a moment longer, letting my tongue make circles on her sweet and salty skin before I begin lowering her G-string from her hips and sliding it down her thighs, over her knees, down, down to her ankles, where she steps gingerly away from the fabric, first with her left foot, then her right, leaving herself exposed to me.
One high heel. Two high heels. I’m going to fuck an angel and know how that feels.
I lift my gaze to look up at her face one more time. Her head is back, her eyes are closed, and I hear a moan of yearning as I press my mouth forward and she feels my warm breath on the entrance of her beautiful, bare pussy.
The world has disappeared. We are not in an alley behind a strip club. We are on a cloud. High above everyone and everything. We are ascending. And I am intent on taking her higher and higher until the earth falls far away and we are both transported from the poison and pain of this small world.
At least for a moment.
I gently kiss the inside of her thighs. First the right, then the left. Then I nuzzle my nose against the soft, already wet space between her legs. I breathe in deep, taking in every bit of the way she smells. I can’t get enough. I want to bury my face inside of her warmth and let her become my oxygen.
I can’t get close enough down on my knees as I am, so I grab her around the waist, throw her legs over my shoulders, and rise up to my full height so that I can keep her placed directly above my greedy mouth.
I flick my tongue against the folds of her opening and her knees shudder. So I lick more slowly—I don’t want her to come just yet—parting her wider with my fingers and letting my tongue slide inside. She tastes even better than she smells. Like the ocean on a perfect summer day.
I find her clit and wrap the whole of my mouth around it, building up pressure on her with my tongue and pulling back until I hear her say, “Oh, my God. Oh, my God, what are you doing to me?” And now I’m sucking and smiling at the same time.
I pull my mouth off long enough to look up and say, “Just getting started…”
MADDIE
He better just be getting started. Because I want more.
His hand slips around the curve of my ass, squeezing it so hard, I bite my lip to stifle a whimper. His fingers press into my skin, grabbing hold of me like he might never let go.
His tongue laps against my pussy, then flicks my clit. I fist his hair and let my head fall back—pressing against the brick wall. He does this little move with his tongue. Teasing me as he swirls it around, presses his mouth firmly against my clit, and moves it back and forth so quick, I drop a hand down to his shoulder and dig my nails in. Like I might never let go either.
It’s been a while for me. Too long, really. And I can feel the climax building and building, and then—
“Not yet, angel,” he murmurs.
“Yes,” I say, insistent. “Now. We’re in the alley and there’s people—”
“There’s no people,” he counters. “And I want to be inside you when you come. I want you to be fucked as much as possible before I let you finish.”
“Ford,” I say. I really need this guy’s real name. I can’t keep calling him that. Especially during sex. “We gotta hurry. I’m at work and—”
“You’re not at work. You’re with me, Scarlett.”
And I really need to tell him my name too. Because I feel like I’m morphing into Scarlett. This is the kind of thing she does, not me.
Isn’t i
t?
He lifts my legs, still pushing me against the wall, repositions them so they drape over the crook in his arms. He’s holding both ass cheeks, squeezing them hard and pressing against me with his hard cock. But we’re eye level and I’m looking at him like… like we’re something. Like maybe I am with him.
He grins. A devilish, mischievous grin. Says, “How do you like it?”
“Like it?” I say, my eyes darting around to make sure no one can see us.
“Scarlett,” he says, demanding my attention. “Look at me. And tell me how you like to be fucked.”
“Uhhh… good.”
He laughs. “Roger that. Anything else?”
“Just…” I start. Because I’m not really into the dirty-talking shit. I’m not into alley sex, or wall sex, or giving blow jobs for money. But I’ve done all those things since I met him. Last. Fucking. Weekend.
So fuck it. I’m Scarlett now, I guess.
“Hard,” I say. “I like it hard.”
He smiles.
“And dirty.”
“Filthy?” he asks. “Or just dirty?”
I take a moment to wonder how much difference there is between filthy and dirty.
“Scarlett,” he says, pushing his stiff cock up to the entrance of my pussy. God, I’m wet. And the way he’s teasing me has my whole body trembling. “Tell me how to fuck you. Because if you don’t, you’re just gonna have to get it the way I like to give it.”
Jesus Christ.
But it leaves me an opening. So I take it and say, “Give it to me like that then.”
A finger is suddenly pressing up against my asshole. I gasp in surprise. Surely he is not thinking about fucking me in the ass here?
He reads the panic on my face and shoots me that devilish grin again. “No. Not yet. Just exploring my options.”
Oh, shit.
I swallow hard. His eyes track right to my throat and I know, I just know, he’s thinking about what I did. How I took his cock in my mouth last weekend. How I took him deep and swallowed it all down when he came.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks.
“Stop? Jesus, no. Fuck no.”
“Then start telling me what to do. Because if someone does come through that door and I’m not done, we’re still gonna have to finish. Bank on that shit.”
OK, I get it. He likes to call the shots. And even though it might appear that he’s asking me what I want so he can give it to me, what he’s really doing is taking me out of my comfort zone so he can control me.
It’s gonna piss me off later when I think this whole thing through. But now… fuck it.
I squirm until he drops one of my legs, and then I take his free hand, press it right up against my pussy, and begin to rub myself with the pad of his thumb.
“Now put your cock inside me,” I say. “And don’t stop rubbing until I scream. That’s how I like it.”
TYLER
Goddamn. Goddamn! GOD MOTHERFUCKING DAMN! Normally I’m the maestro of talking dirty and women just giggle or act all coy and shit. Scarlett (fuck, I GOTTA find out her name) is giving just as good as she gets. In every way. I’m not thinking anymore, I’m just reacting. And honestly, that’s got me almost as hot as everything else that’s happening. It feels so fucking good to be free of my thoughts and just… here. I want to do what she wants. Because it’s also what I want. I want to make her scream.
“Done,” I say.
But I don’t want to scrape up her bare back any more than I already have on the rough brick wall, so I drop her other leg. Grab her by the shoulder. Spin her around. Pin her arms to the wall in front of her. Almost rip my pants in half getting them down below my knees and grab her by the hips as I pull her ass back hard and push myself forward, sliding my dick inside her wet, warm, perfect pussy.
“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, my fucking God, oh, fuck,” she cries out.
It makes me smile.
I reach around in front of her so that I can keep rubbing her clit like I was ordered. Like a good soldier.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she gasps as I rub in small, frantic circles with my index and middle finger.
I want to grab her hair. I want to pull on it hard, yanking her neck back and forcing her eyes up to the night sky. But she’s still wearing that wig and I’m afraid I’ll tug it off and fuck everything up and destroy the perfection that is this moment.
So instead, I slap her ass hard with the back of my left hand and she squeals. I love it. It makes me even harder, if that’s possible. And now I take the thumb of my left hand and stick it in her ass again. I’m fingering her clit, playing with her asshole, and driving myself back and forth inside her at the same time.
“Oh, Jesus, stop, no, don’t stop,” she contradicts herself, and I smile.
I smile because she’s moaning and panting and very nearly on the verge of coming all over my dick, but there’s one thing she doesn’t know, and that’s that I’m not all the way inside her yet. I’ve been holding back just enough. Just far enough for her to feel almost all of me, but not quite. But now I’m ready to give her the whole thing.
I accelerate the rubbing on her sweet pussy and then in one hard thrust, I push myself inside her all the way, driving my thumb into her ass and manically rubbing on her clit…
… And she explodes.
She screams so loudly that for a moment I believe she’ll pierce through the pounding bass that’s thudding from inside the club, sending the whole place racing out the back door to see what’s going on.
And I don’t give. A. Fuck. Let them see. Let everyone see. Let the whole fucking world know that right now, for just this one moment, I’m happy.
I pause just for a second, long enough to ask, “So did you come?”
She turns her head over her left shoulder and sees me smiling. I slow everything down. I move my hand away from her clit. I take my other hand away from her ass. I stop thrusting inside her and am just… joined with her. She shakes her head the tiniest bit like she can’t believe… I’m not sure. I choose to think she shakes her head like she can’t believe what a swell fucking guy I am. Then she just coughs out, “Fuck you.”
“No. You,” I respond.
I grab her hips and thighs with both hands and I start again. This time not with any extra tricks or subtlety, just pure, raw, unrestrained fucking. Pounding myself into her from behind again and again and again and again. Forcing my whole self into her whole self. The grunting whine she makes with each push just drives me to try to push harder.
“Oh, God. Oh, my God,” she pants, “I’m going to come again.”
“Do it,” I say. “Do it. Come. Come all over me. Cover me with it. Fucking wash me in you.”
I don’t know if it’s just because I’m so good at fucking or if it’s because I said some shit that turned her on or if it’s the thrill and danger of this whole insane night, or probably all of the above, but she does. She comes again. She orgasms like I’ve never felt a woman orgasm before. Her walls clench around me like a vise. She practically chokes my shaft with her pussy and her legs shudder so hard that I’m sure if she falls now, she’ll drag me to the ground with her, cock first. So I pull back and hold her up, resting deep inside her until she stops shaking and quivering.
“Go. Fuck yourself,” she whispers.
“No way. This is better.”
She drops her chin to her shoulder so that I can see her profile grinning and I almost shoot myself inside her right there. She must feel me holding it back somehow, because she starts, “Will you…?”
She stops and bites her lip. Holy shit, she is going to be the end of me.
I prompt her. “What? I mean the answer is likely ‘yes,’ but what?”
“Will you… come on my ass? Please?”
Jesus Christ. The lip-biting was nothing. It’s the ‘please’ that almost fucking kills me.
“That’s what you want?” I summon the presence of mind to ask.
She nods her head in a way that conveys,
Yes. No. I’m not sure. But yes.
And then I do something that I’m not expecting. Not even a little. I reach around her waist with both arms, wrapping her in a hug as I pull my chest down to the wings on her back and I kiss her on the shoulder, right by where she has her head turned to see me. I feel a small exhalation of breath whisper past my nose as my lips touch her skin.
And here, in this back alley behind a strip club, my pants around my ankles, her in heels, angel wings, and a ribbon of cloth now pushed below her breasts that constitutes what’s left of her outfit, with the possibility that drunk, horny tourists or men with guns could walk up on us at any second… it feels like the sweetest, purest, kindest moment that I can remember having in my life maybe since I was a kid. And I have no idea why that’s true. It just is.
So I savor it. I savor this brief tick of the clock like it’s already a memory that I can call on when I want to think back to a time when I was happy.
And then I lift my chest up, draw my hips back, and begin pumping in and out of her again so that in a few seconds, I can shoot my load all over her pretty ass.
MADDIE
He’s so fucking deep that I can feel him in my stomach. And I’ve stopped caring about what this says about me or what it means that I’m fucking a guy whose name I don’t know in a back alley. All I know is that I feel good, and present, and needed. And I didn’t even know I needed to feel needed, but I do. I am important to this person. Right now, for whatever it’s worth, I am somebody to somebody else.
“Fuck,” he grunts out, “I’m gonna come.”
“Do it,” I say. “Do it. Come on me. Let it all out. On me. Now.” He pulls out and I order him once more, a little more forcefully, “Do it!”
And suddenly I feel warmth landing on my ass and hips and the backs of my legs. Jesus. It just keeps coming and coming, spilling over my skin.
