She reaches the elastic band of my underwear and grips them in her small hands, pulling them down. I look down as she looks up at me, watching her beautiful face, as she gets ready to suck my dick. Those eyes are turning into a real weakness for me. The color and the soul behind them are quickly winning me over.
She leaves my briefs at my thighs and grabs my shaft in her hand, holding it steady. Her back arches as she brings her mouth closer. "Yes, well, so am I."
She places her tongue flat against the head, sweeping it over the hole at the end, and then swirls it around before closing her mouth around it. She creates suction and then presses down until the head of my dick is in the back of her throat, wetting it along the way. "Oh my fuck."
I reach down and grab a handful of hair in my fist. "You were holding out on me last time." Her cheeks sink in as she slowly brings her mouth back up, releasing me, but not completely exiting her mouth before she starts again, getting faster this time. My eyes close, as the feelings of warm and wet are the only things of my central focus. She grabs my balls in her other hand, massaging as she continues to suck me. My head rolls back against the pillow. Making her stop may be harder than I originally thought. Generally, I'm not a big fan of blow jobs, because most of the time teeth get in the way or it isn't that good, not to mention you don't know where all a woman's mouth has been. Most of the time I turn them down, but this...holy hell she can suck a dick.
She deep throats again and her glands release more saliva, coating my dick and making it wetter. Fucking shit. "Piper, stop. Fuck, I'm about to come."
My instruction only makes her increase in speed. She opens her throat each time my head hits the back. I can feel the tug on my balls. I pull up on her hair, trying to get her to stop. She doesn't. I feel like I'm about to rip it from her scalp, but she continues, only getting more into it. I can't fucking hold out anymore. She should have never started. The first spurt comes, and then another. She takes it, allowing it to hit the back of her mouth, consuming it greedily until I'm done. “Hell yeah, baby. Take it.”
I'm breathing heavily. She releases my dick from her mouth. It instantly starts to soften in a post orgasmic state, but not completely. That spot between her legs would be so much better. She looks up at me and swallows. I think I just got hard again. "Fuck woman. I told you to stop."
"Who said I was going to listen? I wanted something and I took it. Deal with it."
I pull her hair, but this time she comes to me. "Deal with it, huh?" I rotate, pulling her underneath me. I kiss her lips, tasting myself on her tongue. I want it to stay that way. In a fucked up way it's marking her. She has me inside her. "I'm still not telling you."
I roll over and pull up my briefs, leaving her lying there. "I didn't figure you were," she quips, sitting up on her elbows and looking over at me as she wipes the corner of her mouth. I drop my head against the pillow and begin shaking my head as I look at the ceiling. Damn stubborn woman.
"What the hell was that?"
"I sucked your dick?" Her acting like it's a question is cute, but that's not what I'm asking.
"Where was that shit the last time you sucked my dick? I don't recall a five star blow job being on the list."
She shrugs her shoulders. "I can't show all my cards at once, now can I? Then there would be no surprises. I kind of like the wow factor when I show my hand slowly."
She looks over at the nightstand and notices her phone, picking it up. She swipes her thumb across the screen, keys in the passcode, and her eyes widen. "It's Friday! Holy shit I'm late for school. What the fuck? Why didn't you say anything?"
She stands from the bed and starts rushing around the room as if she's looking for clothes. "You're not going to school today, Piper. You can skip one day."
"Like hell I can. You have no idea what you're saying. I can't just skip classes in one of the top fashion schools in the country! Are you fucking insane? Do you know how many people would kill to be there?"
I lie here, watching the Tasmanian devil circulate around the room, not having any luck in finding clothing. I lace my fingers together and lay them against my pillow, resting my head in my hands as I watch patiently. "It's been taken care of. Need I remind you of what happened Wednesday night? I hardly think one day will get you dismissed from the program."
She starts pulling up the bed skirt, as if her clothes were magically shoved underneath the bed. They're not there. There isn't an item out of place in my house. I like things clean and organized. She growls as she zooms from place to place. "Are you going to fucking tell me where my clothes are or not? As much as I would love to stay here in this beautiful house and have an all day fuck fest with you, I have to go."
That filthy mouth only turns me on more. "You won't find them in here," I say as I smirk at her. Her eyes lock with mine and she screams out in frustration.
"Fine. You want to play games, Haddox Hayes? Well, meet the rule maker. No one will outsmart me," she says, pointing her index finger at me.
I'm amused. She hasn't figured it out yet. "We will see, baby. We will see."
"Damn sexy controlling men. You can't live with them and you can't live without them. I swear on everything, if you don't tell me where my damn clothes are..."
"What are you going to do?"
She screams through her gritted teeth. The irony. She has a temper that can flare up in a few seconds. I like to see her feisty side surface. She rushes to my dresser and starts rummaging through each drawer until she pulls out a pair of pajama pants. She wastes no time stepping into the legs and pulling them up her body, rolling the band down at the waist, a quick and simple alteration to fit her body more properly.
She looks around the room until she spots a door. "Ah ha!" She opens my closet and runs inside, exiting in a pair of my flip-flops that are way too big for her feet. "Think you can tell me I'm not going to school? We will just fucking see about that."
She rushes to the table and grabs her phone she left lying there in her hurry to get out of bed, snatching it up in her hand. She rounds the bed coming in my direction. She looks down at me, narrowing her eyes as she grabs my chin between her curled index finger and thumb. "Nice try, hot stuff, but I'm out of here. Call me later," she says as she kisses me and turns in the direction of the bedroom door.
I watch her sway as she exits the room, my smile enlarging with each passing second. I stand and walk toward the window of the bedroom, waiting for the priceless moment I'm about to witness and never forget.
I grab the curtains and push them open, revealing the blinds. Grabbing the string I pull, watching the sunlight peek in slowly, the room now fully lit instead of partially. I don't have heavy curtains here, because the whole point of coming here is to submerge myself in light when I'm at the darkest points in life, hoping to reverse the bad urges that will forever live deep within my soul; the ones constantly trying to seep out, but occasionally erupting like a pressurized cylinder.
I count in my head, waiting for the exact second she will walk out my front door. I know about how long it takes to familiarize yourself with this house. Like I said, I have everything in my life to a controlled art...except for the firecracker soon to grace me again with her presence. I unlock the window and grab the lip, pulling upward and allowing it to open.
I place my hands on the ledge of the window and stick my head outside at the same time I hear the front door open. Wait for it.... One, two, three... and here she comes.
Piper stomps down the steps and across the sidewalk until she's standing precisely below me and directly in my line of vision as she stares at the road running in front of the houses. She looks side to side and places her hands on her hips. "Miss Morgan, it doesn't look like you're in New York anymore," I shout from the window.
Her head falls back and her shoulders drop: defeat. Winning always feels amazing, no matter the sport or type of competition. There is something about that feeling that is indescribable. Everything in life is a game, competition, or fight. There is alway
s a winner and a loser. That's just the way it is. I spent the first part of my life on the losing end. It's not something I allow now. I will do anything to win: anything.
She turns, slowly rotating at a one hundred and eighty degree, half circle, until she is now facing me. Her head slowly pulls upward until she's looking at me on the upper floor. "Haddox, where the hell am I?"
This is that moment when I feel victory. The very girl that has shaken my world and left me dazed and confused for only a week now is about to know how it feels. I don't like unpredictable things. It usually has unforeseen, also known as bad, circumstances. That girl has knocked everything off kilter and it doesn't seem to be balancing. The need to be around her on a daily basis is getting stronger. It's fucking weird. I'm a guy. I like manly things, not to mention solitude. Girls are well, complicated, and chatty or nosy, but that one...is different.
I drop down to my forearms, relaxing my stance. I stare at her with a serious expression, making her more anxious. One side of my mouth pulls up and she bites her lip in response. "Rhode Island," I say, now waiting for her reaction.
Her mouth drops slightly, but she's quick to recover. "Shit. That is not what I was expecting. You separated us by water! What the hell? Could you not have chosen Jersey or something? How did you get me on a ferry unconscious?"
"I have my ways." I wink at her. "You're mine for the weekend. This is something you will lose if you fight me on. You might as well submit and watch my plans unfold."
She slaps the heel of her hand to her forehead and begins shaking her head from side to side. "This is fucking absurd. I'll just continue to mooch off my parents forever and deal with a witch of a mom, because I'm not going to graduate and get a job by playing hooky!" Her voice heightens with the last two words, emphasizing them. She begins walking back down the sidewalk toward the house, pointing at me as she speaks. "You're a bad example, Hayes. Payback's a bitch. Remember that. I'm going to laugh when karma bites you in the ass," she mumbles a little too loudly as she starts to disappear onto the porch.
"If you're my payback then I'll take it," I whisper, pulling my head back through the window. This weekend is about her. She's going to know what it's like to be respected and valued for her mind and personality instead of her body. This weekend she's going to be courted. I may have fucked up a lot of things in my life. I may be a worthless piece of shit for the rest of my life, never amounting to anything of worth in the moral sense, but this weekend I'm owning it and making a change, even if only for a small sliver of time.
***
"You ready to go," I ask as I knock on the bathroom door. She's been in there for like an hour. I'm starting to get bored. I've sat on the couch flipping through channels as long as I can stand it. I'm ready to start the night.
I had Alyvia pack her a bag prior to the fight Wednesday night so that Piper could come with me after it was over. I guess it's a good thing, because after Alyvia snapped me back to reality before that little shit was finished off, we took off, leaving him lying on the floor beaten and bloody with his jeans around his thighs. I sure as hell wasn't sticking around. My only thought was to get her out of there. She didn't need a hospital; she needed to sleep it off.
The mental photo of her laying in my arms like a dishrag pisses me off, making me want to find him and beat his ass all over again. He won't be messing with another woman anytime soon from the state I left him in. Seeing blood spew from his mouth was like the first hit from your preferred drug after being in withdrawal for days. It felt good, and it made me repeat the act over and over just to climb with the high. I did him a favor. He was still breathing, after all. He should be dead. If he has no remorse for what he was about to do then he doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as the rest of us.
When my focus came back and we realized the bastard would be fine, we left. I doubt he’ll even press charges from the embarrassment. I'm already going to have to deal with the suits after forfeiting a fight on national television. Who the fuck knows what consequences I'm going to be dealing with after pulling that stunt. I can't deal with cops. I didn’t want to risk it. Having charges made against me would ruin my career. I don't live to fight. I don't need it to prove that I have a pair of balls swinging between my legs, or to gain fame. I fight to stay alive. I fight to keep others alive. Fighting is the only way I know how to deal with the ludicrous memories that won't leave me alone. If I could get rid of them I would, but fighting is the only way to cut them off before they consume me, turning me into...him. I won't become him. I need this. I need my career. It's best for everyone involved.
She’s ignoring me. I place my hand on the doorknob and turn, but it's locked. I grab the frame in one hand and raise my balled up fist in the other, lightly banging on the door with the outside. "Piper, are you ready?"
I wait, but hear nothing immediately. I bang again. "Piper, answer me." Still nothing. I guess she's still sulking from this morning. She's barely spoken since, feigning anger, but even I know she's giving it her best not to crack. The best thing she could come up with all day to avoid talking was a marathon of movies on Netflix. I dealt with it...until she put on, The Notebook. My brain may have even bled a little. I need action and adventure, not sappy love shit. Surely even girls don't fall for that shit. Love to that degree has become extinct, at least since we hit the seventies: peace, sex, and drugs squandered that.
I guess it was her form of revenge from me telling her she wasn't going to school. She probably could have and would've been fine, but the truth is I wasn't ready to let her go just yet. I feel better watching over her myself. As much as I care about Alyvia, obviously she isn't fit for the job right now. It's a man's job, and the only man that is going to be doing it is me.
I grab the door handle, about to kick in the door when it opens. I look straight out in front of me: bare legs and wedges. My eyes travel up the bronze skin, heating with every inch I pass. I reach her thighs, still uncovered, until my eyes hit the bottom hem of the short shorts she's wearing: high-waisted black shorts, a sleeveless champagne gold, satin top loosely tucked in, and the complete ensemble accented in gold jewelry.
I finally reach her face, dramatically made up with colors of cream and gold, and stand here...staring at her. "Were you saying something...Haddox?"
Her name rolls off my tongue. Her perfume invades my sense of smell, making me memorize it. I raise both arms, gripping my hands on the lip of the doorframe above me. She remains where she is, not making any effort to come closer. I swallow, trying to keep my testosterone levels in check. She's making it very difficult to be good. Every thought running through my mind is screaming to rid her of that clothing and continue to fuck her out of my system. I've never been so damn turned on by a woman in my life. I'm sure it's just because it's so new. It's bound to get old at some point.
I take a step toward her, closing in some of the distance between us. "We could stay here."
She brings her arm up and touches her index finger just before my ear, then runs it down my jawline. "We could, but then you wouldn't get to show me off. You wouldn't want all that hard work I've been doing to go to waste now would you?" Her voice is driving me crazy, low and seductive. She leans in, our lips almost touching. “I'm ready for my surprise, Hayes. Let's show Providence how New Yorkers do things. Don't keep me waiting," she says, and walks past me, leaving me standing in this doorway...alone.
I hang my head. Fuck me. I've met my match; someone that's going to call my shit and dish it right back. Let the games begin...and I'm going to enjoy every second of play. I notice the bulge in my jeans. I stand upright and adjust myself, making it less visible. It's going to be a long night...but I'm not going to keep her waiting.
I walk downstairs and see her waiting by the front door. "Back door," I say and continue walking toward the garage. I hear her shoes tapping against the hardwood floor behind me, signaling that she is following. I grab the set of keys I want from the key ring by the door. This should be good. I open the door
that leads into the garage and step aside, letting her pass. "Ladies first."
She walks to my truck and stops by the passenger side door, but I continue walking past it as well. New York City isn't a great place for driving when wanting to get anywhere in a timely manner, so I keep my trusty old blue truck there and my newer vehicles here, hidden away in my garage. This is my getaway place. I come here to relax and enjoy being away from the city. It's also a great place for scenic rides, which is why I bought this.
I stop at the only vehicle made for freedom: my bike. I don't mean a Harley or a chopper either. Although popular in demand, it's just not my style. I prefer speed. This baby is built for performance. Pulling off the cover, I grab the helmet from the seat and straddle my bright red Suzuki Hayabusa. I turn and adjust the passenger seat before looking over at her. I grab the spare helmet that I keep beside my bike with my other hand and hold it out for her. Her eyes widen and her face looks mortified. "You want me to ride on the back of that?"
"You sure as hell aren't driving until I teach you. Get on."
She walks toward me, bitching the entire way, and stops directly in front of the helmet hanging off my hand. "Look at what I'm wearing. Why can't we just go in the truck? Getting on that requires sneakers. I'm in designer shoes. You don't take a girl on a date on a motorcycle. Aren't most guys usually trying to avoid putting a girl on a bike instead of encouraging it?"
"When have I ever been like most guys since you met me? You'll be fine. Get on. If you're going to hang with me you're going to live a little."
"Fine," she says and walks past me, not taking the helmet. I settle into the seat, holding my balance with the bike. She places the short strap of her handheld purse around her wrist and places her hand on my shoulder to hold herself up as she straddles the bike behind me.
I turn and hand the helmet for her to take, but she just stares at it. "I'm not messing up my hair, Haddox. You can drive slow. I refuse. I spent twenty minutes straightening my hair. Fuck. That."
Fight for You Page 22
