by Lena Bourne
Chapter Three
SAMANTHA
He leans back, an amused look in his eyes as he extends his hand. “I’m Brett.”
The feel of his callused palm against mine sends tingles of electric rain from my chest to my pussy. He has a firm grip. I like that. But I had a feeling he might. He’s the only real man in this whole place. The rest are just skinny guys and college students. And it’s not even just that he’s taller than practically everyone else in here, or that he’s built like a bull, though that certainly helps. It’s the whole package, from his strong jaw that even his beard doesn’t hide, to his unruly, curly brown hair, to the huge muscles of his arms and chest that make the t-shirt he’s wearing stretch taut across it all, even though it’s not the stretchy kind. There is something very soft and comforting in his big brown eyes. But all brown eyes are like that. Merry and innocent, but they can hide terrible things. I don’t think Brett is one of those. Not that I’m even remotely interested in thinking along those lines. And he’s got big strong hands. You can tell a lot by the size of a man’s hands. For example, guys with small hands always have small cocks. It’s an evolutionary thing, I think, since nature wouldn’t give them hands they can’t wrap around their cocks. Nature’s not that cruel, people are.
And I’m still just holding onto his hand, I suddenly realize, and yank it back instead of pulling away slowly like I’m supposed to. But him unsettling me like this is a good sign. It means my body’s reacting to him, silencing my mind, and that’s exactly what I’m looking for. I’m here to have fun. And Brett will do. He’ll do just fine.
“So, you’re American, right? What brings you to these parts?” I ask, taking a sip of my drink.
He frowns a little like my question annoyed him, and doesn’t answer right away.
“I came here for a holiday about a year ago, and I liked it so much I stayed,” he finally explains, grinning at me.
Why does that sound like a lie? But it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need to tell me his secrets. I just want him to give me a good time.
“How about you?” he asks.
“I’m just starting my holiday now,” I say, taking a sip of my cocktail through the straw making sure to purse my lips just right. “And if I like it, I might just stay too.”
He chokes a little on his drink, but hides it well. I sneak a glance at his crotch, and even though he’s wearing baggy jeans, I’m fairly certain he’s big all over. And hard, so at least we’re on the same page about what’s in store for tonight. But it’s early and I’d planned to get drunk first. Then again most guys don’t perform very well when drunk.
I think I can trust Brett. I picked up hundreds of guys in bars and clubs, before screwing up that one time when I was taken. And that was only because I’d strayed too far away from my usual type. Which Brett totally is. He’s a lot like Randy. Only Randy was really just a boy in a man’s body. For all I know Brett is too. But I don’t think so. Not with the cool way he sent that guy packing before. He didn’t even flinch when he saw the knife, and that kind of reaction takes real fearlessness. The practiced kind. He’s been in his fair share of fights. My deepest, favorite fantasies always involved getting claimed by a real man. One who’ll fuck me like a whore, but treat me like a queen. But there’s no having it both ways with any guy I’ve met so far. And I’ve done my research. It’s either they fuck me like a whore and treat me like one, or disappoint in bed, but act all nice and considerate otherwise. Brett will probably fall short of my desires too, but I’m so engrossed in the fantasy right now, it might as well be coming true already. So it doesn’t even matter. One night is all we need to live out my whole fantasy.
I finish my drink and stroke his arm again. He likes me touching him like that, and I like the feel of his hard, taut muscles beneath my hand. He finishes his drink in one long gulp.
“Wanna get out of here? Go someplace quieter?” he asks right on cue, as he sets the empty tumbler on the counter.
“How about your place?” The shock that flashes across his face makes me smile. I love it when they squirm. Especially big boys like Brett. He hides it too, but not fast enough, and it’s the first time tonight that I’ve managed to truly faze him, despite the fact that I’ve been more forward in my advances than I usually am. Much more forward. Because I want to wrap my legs around those powerful hips of his, feel his weight on me, and his cock inside me as he pounds me to an orgasm I’m sure will be everything I remember from way back. Maybe even better. I haven’t wanted a guy this much in ages. Maybe never.
“My place? You sure?” he asks.
I nod and motion that I’d like to whisper something in his ear. He leans closer, obeying immediately. I like that too.
“Yes,” I say. “And once we get there, I promise your beard will be the only hair between my legs.”
Bam! That one finally got him. Even made his breath hitch. But he’s more than willing. That bulge in his pants just got even bigger. I got him exactly where I want him. And it didn’t even take a whole evening of drinking and getting to know each other better. We’ll never get to know each other. That’s not the goal here. He’ll just be the manly man from my fantasies for one night. The lumberjack, the firefighter, or the soldier home on leave for a little while before he goes back to killing people for his country. And I’ll be gone in the morning.
He laughs, his eyes literally swallowing me up now. “Don’t you want to get some dinner first? Maybe go dancing or something.”
I shake my head and climb off my barstool, wrapping my arm around his. “We can have dinner after.”
He doesn’t put on any kind of a fight after that. Some guys need to offer to take a girl out on a date first. It’s true even with the ones that pay for it. Those are usually the nice ones, the good ones, the ones I didn’t have to worry about hurting me. It takes a lot to hurt me, but I still prefer not to feel it.
Besides, with Brett it feels like we already know each other. Like I’m perfectly safe with him. Like he’ll show me a very good time, maybe even make my fantasies come true for one night. Why spoil that with getting to know each other?
BRETT
I’ve never met a girl as forward as Samantha. Not even Rhonda, the woman I spent a purely carnal R&R week with in the liberated part of Iraq a couple of years ago, was this easy to get into bed. Nor was I ever this willing. Not even with Rhonda. And that was a trying time. We’d just come back from a mission in a village deep in the desert, a mission that wasn’t a success no matter how the Army tried to sell it later. I still have nightmares featuring the screaming children in that burning school we couldn’t get to in time. Death was all around me then, ever present, friends and acquaintances signing out daily, and I remember I had no will left to live either. It took too much energy to keep on fearing it. The fear came back though, after that blissful week of nothing but sex, as I spent the next few weeks agonizing over what diseases Rhonda might have given me. Thankfully, she didn’t.
Death is all around me now too, and I don’t even have any friends to lose left. A blissful week of nothing but sex is exactly what I need. And Samantha is way hotter than Rhonda.
“Where to?” she asks once we exit the club. She wraps her arm tighter around mine and leans into my side.
“Here,” I say and start walking. I wish I’d ridden my bike here, but I wanted the exercise and it’s a nice evening tonight. It’s quite a walk back to my place. I hope she can make it in those heels. And that she doesn’t change her mind halfway there.
My dick gets harder and harder with every step we take. It’s because of her closeness, her smell, her supple body pressed against mine, and the fact that I’ll see her naked soon. Get to do everything I’ve even stopped fantasizing about doing to a woman lately. I don’t mind easy girls. I prefer them, because they know what they want and aren’t too hypocritical to go after it. And I think she’s perfectly right about there being no need to get to know each other better. I’m no good at talking. The less of that I do
, the better.
We’re forced to stop once we reach the main street running through this town and wait for a long line of cars to pass before crossing.
“This is quite a busy little beach town isn’t it?” she asks, smiling up at me. “No wonder you like it.”
The lights reflect in her eyes, making them shimmer. I won’t fuck this up by talking. So I don’t answer, just lean down and kiss her. She lets out the slightest breath of surprise, but then kisses me right back, her tongue inviting mine into her mouth, and I oblige more than willingly. She tastes sweet from the cocktail she just drank, but there’s also a cleanness underneath it, a freshness. It’s like tasting a waterfall in the middle of the jungle, finding an oasis deep in the desert. The kiss makes me feel fresh and full of life, clean and so new, I forget where we are, forget we’re supposed to be crossing the street in a dusty Mexican town, which will probably be my last home.
Her hands are gliding over my arms again, and my sides and stomach, like she wants to get to know me better through touch. I want to get to know her too. But we have fifteen minutes of walking left before we get to my place. Though kissing right here is fine too. And I think she agrees, if the soft little moans escaping her mouth are anything to go by.
Kissing her is great, but I need her naked in my bed more.
So I break the kiss and pull her stumbling across the street.
“You’re in a big hurry to get home all of a sudden,” she says jokingly, holding onto my hand very tightly.
“You’re not?” I ask, and I am interested in her answer, though I think I already know it. Better to make sure though. It’s always better to make sure. Though it won’t be easy to let her go if she says no.
“Oh, yes, I am,” she says and laughs. It’s a hoarse and sultry laugh that only makes me want her more. Fuck, why didn’t I drive here?
“Are we almost there?” she asks, after we leave the lights and music behind us and we’re walking down a relatively quiet residential street. No street is ever really quiet in Mexico. There’s always some woman yelling, or dogs barking, or music playing somewhere. Tonight, with Sam on my arm, it doesn’t annoy me at all.
“Not really,” I tell her truthfully. “When you get tired I can carry you.”
I did that for Candy from time to time, mostly when she was too drunk to walk home from the clubs. Samantha gasps in surprise at the offer, but plays it down with another peel of sultry laughter.
“I bet you could.” She follows up the statement by squeezing my bicep, which makes my dick even harder. That isn’t good, because it’s already difficult to walk. “But I’m fine for now.”
“Alright, let me know if you change your mind,” I tell her. It’d be nice to carry her, feel her long legs wrapped around my back. But we’ll get to that soon anyway, with no clothes in the way.
“Wow, I can’t believe we’re still in the same town,” she says later, as the blaring music from the clubs is no longer even an echo. “You can actually hear the waves here.”
“Yeah, it’s nice, right?” We’re almost at my apartment and this is a shit neighborhood, but I won’t tell her that.
A dog starts barking like mad as we pass one of the rickety houses around here, and she shakes, presses even closer to me.
“Don’t worry, it’s chained up,” I tell her.
“I’m not worried, I have you,” she says, and she can’t possibly be serious, but it feels nice hearing it all the same.
“And I’ll keep you safe.” This would probably be a good time to tell her that’s a given, since I made a promise to Tommy, but who knows how that conversation will end. I’m guessing her storming off would be a likely outcome, since she isn’t taking his calls. And I like where things are going right now. So I won’t ruin them.
Another dog starts barking, making her shake again.
“You’re seriously afraid of dogs, aren’t you?” I ask.
“Yes, I am,” she says, no sexual undertone in her voice now, just plain honesty.
“I like dogs,” I tell her. “I had a couple growing up. Been thinking of getting one now.” That’s not even much of a stretch. I’ve been considering adopting that injured dog that lives in the alley near my apartment.
“Well, don’t do it tonight, OK?” she says, and she’s joking, but her voice is shaky and serious.
So I lead her across the street and down a narrow alley to the beach, where there are no houses or dogs. But she has trouble navigating the sand in her high heels.
“If I’d known your place was this far, I’d have suggested we just go to my room,” she complains, panting a little, which is a very sexy sound.
I stop and turn my back to her. “Climb on, it’s not far now.”
“No, come on, I’ll just walk.” But she giggles as she says it.
“I used to carry more gear than you weigh back in my Army days.”
She finally relents, yelps as I hoist her up onto my back. And it’s true, I did carry a lot of weight back then, but it was awhile ago. But she’s not too heavy, not by far. And her arms wrapped around my neck, her legs resting against my hips feel amazing.
“This is nice,” she whispers into my ear, then bites my neck just a little, kissing the spot right after. I pick up the pace, because we need to reach my apartment soon. Else I’ll just end up doing her right here on the beach.
SAMANTHA
This is the weirdest almost date I’ve ever been on, but it’s fun. He’s so strong, moving through the sand with me on his back like I weigh nothing. I can’t wait to be facing the other way, with all that strength of his pushing me down. The fear that erupted inside my mind as we left the town center and came to this poor, shady area disappeared as soon as he lifted me up. And now we’re finally climbing up a set of rickety metal stairs to an open air hallway lined with doors in various states of disrepair.
He sets me down in front of the very last one and fishes a set of keys from his pocket. I don’t know what I expected but the room on the other side is kinda nice. Spacious, with a huge balcony right over the beach. It’s super messy though, with empty bottles, dirty plates, clothes and trash strewn about everywhere, but I never did trust a guy who kept his place spotless. It also means that no woman’s been here for awhile. And I don’t even know why that matters to me right now, but it does.
The thought is driven right from my mind as he shuts the door behind us and pins me against it, kisses me with even greater fire than before, on the sidewalk. It’s been awhile for him, I can tell, and it has for me too. I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed kissing this much, or been kissed by a guy with such passionate, unbridled desire. So I surrender to it, let his tongue invade my mouth as he gropes every soft inch of my body he can reach.
It’s so surreal, but perfect too. A night of passion with a stranger who knows nothing about my past, nothing about what I went through, has no expectations of me except a night of hot sex. And if I know anything about guys, he won’t even slap me around, not even a little bit. I don’t mind a slap on the ass here and there, but I really don’t like any more than that. And so many guys nowadays want it rough and painful.
Before I know it, I’m off the ground again, his hands cupping my ass, his lips still on mine as he carries me across the living room to the bedroom, which is even messier than the rest of the apartment. But I don’t care. Not at all. Even though the sheet on the mattress is pulled halfway off, and there’s no cover on the comforter. There’s also so much crap on the floor you can’t even see it.
My dress joins the mess on the floor a second after he sets me down. Then I’m stumbling out of my strappy sandals while he pulls off his shirt and unbuckles his belt. I wanted to do that for him, but this works too. His lips find mine again as soon as I’m done taking off my shoes, but they only linger for a moment before travelling down my neck, to my breasts, which he somehow freed from my bra without me even realizing it. I don’t have small breasts, but his palms are large enough to fit them whole. His call
used hand kneading my soft breast feels all sorts of amazing, and I gasp, moan loudly as his lips find my nipple. He nips it, causing me to yelp. I can’t believe how well my body’s responding to him. My pussy’s soaking wet and he hasn’t even touched it yet. I usually have to exert some mind control to get things going, but with him it’s just happening.
I’m on my back on the cool mattress now, his lips trailing winding paths of kisses across my breasts, my belly, down to my thighs and calves, and back up again.
“We’ll see about that hairless promise now,” he says, grinning at me and I only fully realize what he means after he yanks down my panties.
“Satisfied?” I ask as he just sits there, mesmerized it seems, though I can’t imagine why. I’m sure he’s seen plenty of pussies, shaved or otherwise, because he knows his way around a woman.
He groans an answer, which I suppose is a yes since the next thing I know his lips are on my clit, his rough beard prickling my delicate skin, heightening my arousal. Plenty of guys have gone down on me, but only a precious few knew what they were doing. And Brett here puts them all to shame. He soon has me moaning and gasping as he works his tongue across my clit, teasing and biting, mixing slow licks with rougher kisses, entering me with his tongue, making me squirm on the bed. I want him inside me. It’s a ferocious need. I haven’t felt it this strongly before. Not while sober anyway, and certainly not with a complete stranger. He works a finger inside me, entering me clean to the second knuckle, his tongue playing with my clit, and a small bubble of pleasure pops inside me. I’ve never come this fast, and he’s only just getting started.
