Roosted

by Brooke May

  “Good.” I feel her smile and then our lips seal together. Her mouth opens, and her tongue laps against my lips until I open for her. For an instant, I forget we are at a party, and the hundreds of people milling around us disappear. My hands slide down her bare back to cup her arse in the skirt that matches the trophy girls at the gate, but suits her so much better; especially with the skull stockings and her black boots.

  Seeing her in this pisses me the fuck off just as much as it turns me on. No man should get to see this much of her. My claim on her needs to be known to every fucking man in a fifty-mile radius. The urge to remove my shirt and slide it over her body is strong; it is longer than her skirt is and will hide everything I don’t want any other man to see.

  “God, woman.” My heavy eyes open slowly to take her in. “This isn’t fair. Where could I possibly fuck you at here?” I don’t spot a single place where I could hide her and make her scream. And finding Jax to get his keys will take too long.

  “You’ll just have to wait. Anticipation can be a fun game.”

  “I don’t play games well.”

  “And I always cheat.” Her tongue darts across her bottom lip. “For now, enjoy all this with me. I’m a queen here, and you can be my man servant who gets the honor to fuck me tonight.” Her arms stretch out, and she falls back, leaving me to catch her in my arms.

  “And how do you suppose we get out of here if we are both wasted?”

  “I have a driver tonight.” She grins up at me with intense pride. “Now, let’s get you another drink.”

  For once, I truly see a relaxed and free side of Paige. I’ve seen her open, it comes out every time she comes around my dick, but this Paige … I’ve never seen this one.

  “Then lead the way, my queen.” My arm circles her waist, staking my claim but not pushing my limits. I don’t want her to jump back into her coffin of protection today or ever again.

  I drink and dance with Paige.

  I drink some more and help her judge freestyle jumps.

  I drink even more and follow her around like her man servant to the dragstrips, the stages to listen to the bands, to watch the wet t-shirt contests and the girls stripping, and then we drink some more, finding our way to somewhere I can’t even recollect, and end up dry humping.

  I don’t think I’ve been this shitfaced in a long arse time. My vision is distorted as if I’m looking through goggles made for tunnel vision—blurred around the edges and the only focus right in the center.

  I sway, my massive frame tilting like a tree about to fall in the forest during a strong windstorm. My senses, the ones I use to know Paige is near me, are dimmed and contorted. When a touch comes to my back, I nearly fall on my face to turn around thinking it is Paige only to find the trophy girl from earlier in the day. It is night now; the sun still setting, giving the last light and heat of the day.

  “I knew I would find you.” Her smile is one of victory as she steps into my space. I can barely back away. “Have you been waiting for me?”

  “Umm.” Shaking my head is the only thing I can do. My fuzzy head tries to figure out where Paige went off to.

  “Cat got your tongue? I’m Ginny, but I’ll be a cat for the night if you like?” Her hands rest on my chest, but I’m still unable to do anything. “Your friend likes to talk, and that bores me. I prefer action.”

  “Then how about this?” A tattooed fist flies out of nowhere, decking Ginny squarely in the face and causing her to fall backward into a flock of girls and one guy dancing behind her. “Don’t fucking touch what belongs to me.” Paige falls into my tunnel vision, looming over the girl. “Move. Along.” I can hear the snarl in her voice.

  “You don’t normally mind, Paige.” Ginny staggers to her feet, holding her nose.

  Ah, a rare trophy girl who doesn’t mind a fight, but she doesn’t fight back this time. She must have learned the hard way never to cross Paige.

  “Not this one.” The finality of Paige’s voice whips through the air, silencing all in earshot of us. “Now go.”

  My Adam’s apple bobs as I attempt to swallow, but it stills in my throat when angry bright greens pin me. “Did you forget how to speak?”

  “Paige—”

  “Oh, shut up.” She grabs my hand. “I’ve had enough fun for the night. Let’s go.” I stagger, stumble, and trip over my own feet to keep pace with her as she drags me off to where all the slumbering—some rocking—vehicles are until we reach a limousine. “Get. In.”

  I oblige, not wanting to anger her more and fall into the back. Paige follows, slams the doors, and then is on me, frantically kissing me. My mind and mouth are not one and can’t keep up. My shirt is ripped open, and then my fly is popped, the buttons of my jeans undone and my pants are down around my ankles when she takes me into her mouth.

  “Fuck!” My head thumps against the head rest, the drunken fog slowly fading away, and my thoughts go to how much I’m falling in love with her.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Arms, hands, bodies move in a kaleidoscope before my eyes. I’m not completely certain how long we were in the limo or how we managed to stumble out of the back of it when we arrived at her place, but somehow, we successfully got into the house and waved off the driver who would be turning back to get Parker whenever he was ready to leave.

  The funny thing is I never saw Parker at the Blow Out. Not once did I see any sign of him. I never found Jax, Megan, or Levi again after we went our separate ways either. I don’t even know if the fucking door is locked, but that isn’t important at the moment. Paige’s mouth, her tits, her arse, and her wet pussy are far more important. Her blowing me did nothing to calm the rage of need simmering under the surface of my skin.

  With a force that could likely knock plaster off the nice walls of her home, I slam Paige against one and lift her; our mouths still attached, fighting, hungry, and needing more of one another. Her lethal legs wrap around my waist, cinching us together. Her hips roll up and down, making it difficult if not impossible to keep hold of her arse.

  My pants are still undone, a failure at my attempt to get out of the fucking car, but now I’m glad they are because she rips her own panties off and flings them in my face. I lose it when the wet fabric hits me in the face.

  I don’t waste any time wondering if Paige will get pissed about my rough handling or the fact I have her slammed against a wall with nowhere to go. Or when I lift my own hands to grab her arms and hold them high above her head.

  Paige’s rapid breathing beats against the side of my face and into my hair as I bite my way down her body. Her pussy rubs and grinds while her legs work my pants off with ease as they tumble to my ankles. My boxers go just as quickly.

  “I want you, Axle.” She hiccups against the shell of my ear. “Hard, angry, fast, merciless, fuck me.” Her pleads for me never come out as such. They are always demands, but I can feel deeper than that. The way she asks for things, in this way, is the only way she knows how. But something deep inside my drunken chest is pulling me in more when it comes to her.

  Is this feeling that has been steadily growing inside me, this fluttering, what most people consider love?

  Do I love Paige?

  Her moans draw me from those thoughts for now. She’s ready for me, needing me at the moment, so I will dwell on all this later when I have a clearer mind.

  Rearing back, I slam into her wet, waiting, and tight pussy with a single hard thrust. My ladder of piercings ripples against her lips as my dick buries deep within her.

  “Oh!” Paige cries from the force of my penetration.

  “You said merciless, Paige.” I nip and pull on her bottom lip. “Is this …” I slam in and slowly withdraw. “Hard …” I repeat the move, rattling the frames on the wall and the DVD case next to us. “Enough …” Paige cries, her head hitting the wall hard. “For you?”

  “YES!” Her nails dig into the flesh at my hands as tightly as she clenches her pussy around my dick.

  I throb and gr
ow frantic, unable to control myself any longer. Harder and harder, I pound into Paige’s willing pussy, her muscles clenching and loosening with each orgasm I take from her body before my own erupts from me and deep into her.

  Still inside her, I carry her over to the black leather couch of their expansive lounge room and set myself down on it; my arse hitting the cooled leather does nothing to cause a chill to grip me. My lips mold and play with Paige’s. There is no need to fight for domination. I got a rough fuck against the wall, so now it is her turn to rule over me. Finally, the rest of our clothes aside from Paige’s skirt leaves our bodies.

  Her body rolls, whips, and sways with the unpredictable moves of a flame. I grow hard again, my dick buried between her thighs, our combined orgasms working as a lubricant. Flesh slapping, the distinct sucking sound that comes from wet sex, and our heavy breathing mixed with moans make for our own soundtrack as Paige rides me.

  “You like it when I play with myself?” Paige lifts her heavy tits, pinching her pierced nipples while rolling her hips back and slamming them forward.

  “Yes.” My larger hands cover hers as I take over. “But I like playing with them more.” Without hindering her dance, I lean in to suck one of her pert nipples into my mouth; the metal in my tongue beating and playing with the metal in her tit.

  Her cries of pain mixed with pleasure ring into my ears. “Axle!” She screams out my name. I don’t stop; I suck harder, lightly biting around her dark areola. “Fucking hell!” she cries out; her thrusts turn shallow as her clit rubs against my dick with a perpetual attempt to get herself off once more.

  Don’t get mad at a man; I love topping my woman as much as the next fucker, but nothing gets me going more or makes me come harder than watching Paige work herself to an orgasm over me. She uses my body to get her own pleasure, granting mine in return.

  I would gladly wait an eternity to come just so I could watch her come undone over me time after time. Her head flies back, her face staring up at the ceiling, and she lets out a howl of complete ecstasy. I soon topple over, jetting my arse off the lounge as I come once more deep inside her.

  Moments, minutes, hell, it feels as if a lifetime passes before Paige’s glowing eyes find me in the dark. Even in the dark, I am having difficulties translating her expression. She looks peaceful with a healthy glow across her face and contentment shining in her eyes. Could she be feeling the same as I do? Just as I’m about ready to ask her, my tone changes, and I nearly crumple when she pulls off me to stand.

  “Come with me, Axle.” Her voice is lyrically soft, gentle, and holding a promise for something far deeper than I’ve heard before. Taking her offered hand, I follow the gentle sway of her skirted arse up to her room.

  “Lie on the bed.” The door makes a nearly mute click as she shuts it behind us. I walk to the bed and sit on the edge.

  “Here?”

  “No.” Paige smiles, her head slightly shaking back and forth as she makes her way to me. “Lie down.” Pushing me backward, she crawls on top of me once more. With her pussy up by my face, she wiggles to drop her skirt, brushing her pussy, wet from our conjoined cum, on my face. I barely get a chance to lap at her, bite her, anything before she crawls above me and turns around.

  Her face comes into view, illuminated by the moonlight leaking through the curtains. “Hi.”

  “Hey. What ar—” I’m cut off with a quick yet passionate kiss. My mind flies into space at the power of it as well as the possible meaning of her possession.

  “Just be quiet while I sit on your face.” Her tongue darts out and draws a line down the center of my body as she crawls back down. Her pussy positions above me, teasing me.

  I jerk when her cool hand wraps around my dick. The bastard is stuck in a continual state of being half erect around her. Her tongue swirls and licks around my head before she pulls me deep into her mouth.

  “Holy … fuck.” My hands fist into the bedding. I’m trying to get my bearings because I don’t want to lose my shit before I get her to the edge. My drunken head doesn’t want to rise off the bed very well. Instead, I reach up and slap her arse hard; causing her back to her arch and then her pussy comes to me.

  I lick her, pussy to clit and back again, keeping my hands firmly around her arse. I spread her cheeks, allowing my middle finger to toy with her arsehole while my tongue probes, twists, and thrusts into her pussy.

  Using my strong chin to rub her clit, I lay my tongue piercing flat against her opening and roll my tongue. My dick hits repeatedly against the back of her throat, and my balls are putty in her hands as she kneads and plays with them. My ladder becomes a play thing for her, her teeth bumping against each one, causing me to jerk and hiss against her pussy.

  This makes her moan. And boy, does it feel fucking amazing. Women, you know how good it feels to have a vibrator between your legs, thrumming against your clit and inside your wet pussy?

  Vibrations against my dick feel just as good. My excitement builds, making me ravenous to eat her out. I hum, returning the same thrill to her, both of us taking turns pushing one another higher and higher.

  I lose control first; my hot cum shoots into her mouth and then I finish on her throat and chest as she pulls me out of her mouth.

  “Oh!” Paige slams her pussy against my face, harder, faster, and far more feral when I use our combined juices to slip a finger into her arse. “Ah! Ax-Axle!” She screams, praising the magic of my tongue and fingers as she stops, suspended above me, and her cum rolls down my tongue to the corners of my mouth. Her pussy tightens unbelievably around my tongue, and her arse squeezes my single digit.

  “YES!” she cries, freezing and letting her orgasm ride out and down my face.

  We don’t clean up. And why should we? Sure, our bodies need sleep now. The alcohol we consumed mixed with the rough sex has tired us, but washing can come in the morning after we do this again.

  We don’t bother getting under the covers either. It is a warm night, and the cool air from the air conditioning feels great. Paige drapes herself over my chest with her upper body, head rested over my heart, and her left leg thrown over both of mine.

  Her soft breathing wafts over my bare chest, and her chest rises and falls in silent even succession, telling me she is already fast asleep. I push her hair out of the way, the ponytail aiding in keeping it from her face. Reaching down, I kiss the crown of her head.

  “I think I’m falling in love with you, Paige Bartin.” My drunken state comes back to me, taking hold and dragging me into the depths of a dreamless, motionless slumber.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  There is no fucking in the shower when I wake. Hell, there isn’t even a Paige in bed with me when I wake. I know, I felt around for her when sleep started to retreat from my mind before I opened my eyes. My hand met cold sheets. Not cooled ones from someone who hasn’t been up for a little while, but from someone who hasn’t been in bed for hours.

  I manage to roll over onto my back and sit up, the black and purple sheets pool around my trim waist as I wipe the sleep from my eyes. Sunlight is unforgiving to any hangover as it beats in through the crack in the curtains.

  “Shit.” My voice breaks, completely dried out from dehydration and sleeping with my mouth open. I push my tongue to the roof of my mouth in an attempt to generate saliva to moisten it.

  It doesn’t work.

  “Paige?” Calling into the vast room doesn’t cause her to materialize. “Where the fuck is she?” Leaning back, I continue to rub my face. Sleep doesn’t want to leave me. I need to get a hot shower and something greasy in my gut to make me feel a fraction more human again.

  Staggering to my feet, I make my way into Paige’s magnificent bathroom and get in the shower. Memories of the last time I was in this shower plague me as I quickly rinse off my body and hurry. I don’t want to stay in here any longer than I need to.

  Unless Paige joins me.

  And I don’t think that will be happening. Much to my dismay, I’m out
of the shower, dried, and pulling my clothing from last night back on; Paige doesn’t make an appearance.

  The hallways are a calm silence. It makes me chill and fear something happened to her. What if she got sick from all she drank and went to throw up in a different bathroom? There is still a large majority of this house I haven’t seen yet, but now isn’t the time to go exploring either. Even with a noble purpose to make sure she isn’t sick or lying in a pool of her own vomit, I’m going to stick to the places I know.

  The kitchen.

  The kitchen is a safe place. I can make us breakfast. If I can get something greasy going that should bring any hungover person in with the promise of relief.

  It could be possible she is wherever Parker’s room is, checking on him or making sure his possible houseguest is out before she or multiple women make a scene.

  Silently, I find everything I need to make a hangover cure breakfast and set to work at the stove. The bacon sizzles and cracks while I do my best not to break the yolks as I flip the eggs. I toast some bread to a golden brown as well.

  I’m buttering them and getting ready to put the breakfast sandwiches together when I feel her. But the normally edgy feeling I get is brought in with a blast of an icy breeze.

  “Morning.” Now that I’ve downed some water, it is much easier to talk. My normally deep timbre has returned with my vocal cords being lubricated.

  “Morning.” The chipped, cold tone halts me from turning from my work.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  There is no reply, only a feeling of dread pooling low in my bowels. I finish the sandwiches. Picking up the plates, I finally turn to face her and nearly drop them.

  Paige is leaning against the counter drinking from a hot cup of coffee. She is completely dressed and put together. Something I didn’t think I would see after how much she drank last night. Her hair is falling around her shoulders while her bangs add an evil halo to her brow line.

  But what really stops me is the look in her eyes. I saw her closing off before but now, now I don’t know what to classify this as. It is almost a deadlock. As though nothing is going on behind their lenses; a look you see when someone has brain damage before their eyes are closed.