by lesley,allyn
“We all have that one,” I inform Chelsea, sharing our family secret.
Her eyes flash to mine, and I see the questions lurking in her brown eyes. However, she doesn’t ask for anything more. She lowers her gaze again. “This one looks like it hurt.”
Taking up the expanse of my abdomen is the landscape of my hometown etched in black with razor sharp lines. The Empire State Building stands in the middle, tall and proud, while Lady Liberty is in the forefront, looking regal and protective. In the background, red and orange flames billow from the sides and top of the now fallen Twin Towers. The George Washington Bridge is positioned in front of the buildings, a reminder of the days my family and I used to drive over the bridge to New Jersey.
“You okay?” I wonder aloud.
“Yeah,” she says through a sniff. “This one though... I don’t know. I really love it.” She glances at the details in the motif again then touches the metal links and the cement blocks, all shadowed on purpose. “It’s very patriotic, Dyllan.”
There’s something about the way my name rolls off her tongue like she was created to say my name. I like it. I cover her hand, bringing it over the cherry-colored 1960 Chevy Impala in front of my tribute to the city that never sleeps. As a way to distract my cock for hardening even more, I tell her, “I got this two months ago. It’s the first car I restored by myself.” I’m proud as hell of that accomplishment.
“It looks like it’s about to cause an accident,” she whispers through a frown.
“Yeah.” It’s just another of my tats that’s all me: fast and seems to head for trouble. I grip her hips, pulling her closer to me.
Chelsea’s eyes slant down to my left hipbone, where there’s a sketched replica of my second favorite thing besides my ’60 cherry Chevy Impala. Her low “hmm” catches my hearing but she doesn’t ask me about it and instead says, “Tell me about that one.” She taps the tat once and I swallow a groan. The way her nail gently scrapes against my skin...
I’m barely able to mutter out, “That’s my Beretta PX4 Storm.” The gun shines bright in all its charcoal-colored glory. “It was so damn hard to find the right color to match my drawing—”
“Wait, this is your sketch too?” I hear the excitement underneath Chelsea’s shocked words.
“It took months to get the look just right, and it was a bitch to sit through the sessions, but I’m happy with the end result.” I’m a proud, card-carrying member of the National Rifle Association. Another groan leaves my lips when the pads of her fingertips trace the contours of the gun and my hipbone. “Chelsea.”
The bold look she’s giving me that’s filled with teasing and lust all rolls into one, becoming too much. I push upward, letting her feel how everything she’s doing affects me. My movement diverts her eyes lower, and they land on my most recent ink. Her head dips down to the right, taking in the words that run eight inches in length. The words match what I’m packing. I know. I’ve measured.
“That one says, ‘Suck my...’” She shakes her head like she either can’t believe what’s there or has gotten tongue-tied.
“Cock,” I finish for her.
Chelsea swallows and closes her eyes. There’s so much heat coming from between her thighs and onto the hardness under my cargo shorts. All I want to do is rip the thong from her body.
“Open your eyes.”
When she does, there’s some emotions deep within them that I have no clue about. I settle on the only one familiar to me: desire.
“This needs to disappear,” I tell her, tugging on her shirt.
She nods as if I’ve asked a question then leans away from me. I pull her shirttail out from her skirt and unbutton it. Once I see her bra, I stop and just take her in. My eyes crawl over her to the shoulders I’d like to lick, puckered nipples I can already taste, and a soft stomach with a navel I can’t wait to dip my tongue into. Chelsea’s breathing is uneven, causing her breasts to jiggle, teasing me even more. I lick my lips.
“Dyllan,” she whispers. Her voice is all breathy. I’m glad she’s as affected as I am.
After I gather myself, I’m more than ready to finally touch her. Ever so lightly, my finger outlines her sensitive nipple covered by the thin cotton. She shivers, swallows, and closes her eyes again.
“Chels, open your eyes and watch me.”
When she does, I bend my head forward, latching my lips around the material and wetting her nipple.
“O-oh. Mmm.”
I free her breasts, making me instantly drool. Chelsea’s eyes are cloudy with passion.
“Dy-Dyllan,” she stutters, rolling her hips over me.
“This is another thing I’ve been longing to do.” I kiss the side of her neck, giving a lot of attention to a spot near her jawline.
“I’ve never, um, this is my—”
My mouth covers hers, shushing her. Chelsea uses her tongue to lick my lower lip. I moan like this is my first kiss, but her mouth feels so damn good. Pulling away from her, I tell her where I’m headed just in case she’s confused. “Enough talking.”
At my silent request, she stands to her feet then slips off her heels, which puts her a foot or so shorter than my six-foot frame. I circle her waist, going behind her to unzip her skirt. She wiggles her hips to get the skirt down. My mouth flops open, because she’s fucking perfection in just her thong.
I’m giddy with all kinds of feelings as I grab her hand and lead us to my bedroom. Chelsea’s too quiet behind me. My hand finds the light switch, choosing the dimmer setting.
“Dyllan, maybe I should—”
“Nope,” I tell her, pushing her in front of me then using my finger to shush her. When she sucks my finger into her mouth, I nearly lose it. “Fuck.”
I back her over to my California king bed, where she falls onto the sheet with one of her knees bent. She giggles, pulling my gaze to her stomach muscles, and lower to the piece of triangle fabric hiding her pussy from me. I can see her natural body juices have colored the seat of her thong.
My dick twitches. I mumble another curse. My filter becomes nonexistent when I look at the feast between her legs. “Can I taste you?”
Her head pops up. A frown tells me she’s either not heard me, or has heard and is embarrassed by my question.
Louder now, I tell her, “I want to taste you.”
Her top teeth bite down on her bottom lip. “Ah. I...”
By this time, I’m already kneeling between her thighs. I push her up farther on the bed with her head almost to the headboard. My sandals slip off my feet, making a loud thud on the hardwood floor as I settle between her widened legs. I’m no saint, nor can I fucking claim any virginity status, which means I’ve been around the block a few times with countless faces. But, since the age of fourteen, when I first discovered the pleasures found between a woman’s legs, there are two things I don’t do and never considered doing.
I don’t kiss on the lips. Too intimate, too personal, and those things I do not do.
And, I don’t eat pussy. A pussy is for screwing, and always with protection.
So what my tongue is itching to do, what I’m dying to do, is so damn foreign I blubber my way through my request, too afraid to raise the volume in my voice in case she tells me no. Because I really, really want to eat her out. “I’ve never... but, you... like this,” I confess, waving over her lower half. “I really want my tongue deep inside you, Chels. I need this.”
I’m not sure if it’s my words, or she’s just that worked up, but as I rub my finger over her thong, she gushes, wetting her underwear more. My dick hardens even further. She likes it already, and I’m only talking about it.
I tug her underwear off and tentatively lick her slit. Chelsea’s taste goes straight to my already granite-like cock. Her natural flavor overshadows all my senses. Encouraged, I spread her open and am greeted with a shade of pale pink and...
“You have a mole. Inside your...” I can’t finish. What I’m looking at is the single, most erotic thing I’ve
ever seen.
Chelsea squirms. “Please. Stop looking.” She sounds mortified.
“Damn, you’re tight,” I groan out after I slide a finger inside of her. When I latch my lips onto her clit, Chelsea coats my finger, allowing me to push in farther.
“Wha-what are you doing?” she babbles.
Her scent is heady, making me want more. Her taste is one of a kind, and the way she’s clenching around my finger is addictive. I find a nice rhythm between fingering her and sucking on her clit, and she almost bucks me off of her. A few seconds later, a gush enters my mouth as she yells. But, I’m not filled. I need more.
I deserve more. This is two weeks of waiting on this fine pussy, a fucking date, and dinner made by my hands.
Hell, I deserve this and much more.
There has to be more. I want more... I need more of her inside my mouth.
This time, I have to know how she feels when she comes. Chelsea’s body responds right away, giving me what I want, what I’m seeking most. She comes again, coating my lips as her muscles grip my finger inside her. Never before, have I ever felt this triumphant making a woman come. The way her legs shake makes me feel like I’m the motherfucking king of pussy eating. I’m making her body quiver.
“Dyllan!” she screeches, hands clasped on my shoulders.
I’m the one who’s making her breathless. I feel more like myself now. I slowly pull out of her as she makes incoherent noises. I lick my finger. So fucking good. Standing up, I step out of my shorts and her eyes zoom in on my crotch. She groans, flopping back on the bed.
As I’m about to say something smart-ass, she shifts and my gaze drops to her svelte body. Now, I really want to try something else with her. “Are you...?” In my nervousness, my voice cracks. “I’m out of condoms.” She’s smart; this isn’t her first time. She should know what I’m saying.
She props herself up on bent elbows to look at me.
“I’m clean. Are you?” I ask.
Please say yes.
Please say fucking yes.
Her eyes kind of widen then drops back to my cock before she flops back down and grabs the closest pillow. “Pill. I’ve never... I’m, um, okay...” Most of her words are muffled by the pillow that’s now over her head, but my hearing picks up on her giving me the green light.
I grab my cock. “I really want to hit it...” I sound like an ass, but fuck it. I lower myself toward her, easing inside Chelsea. I move the pillow away then get close to her ear. “I really want to feel all of you, just you.”
“Yeah. Ah, yes. Just, oh God, slow, go slow,” she chokes out.
Being inside her is a sweet kind of torture. Beads of sweat form on my forehead. “Fuck, you’re tight.” Leaning closer, I see unshed tears in her eyes. “Shit. Am I hurting you?” I’d never want to do that, and though it’d kill me to stop, to pull out of her, I would if that’s what she needed.
“Just...” Her exhaled breath hits my face, drawing my attention to her lips. “There’s a little pain.” She moves, and I slip inside of her some more.
For the love of... The pleasure is so damn intense right now that I know I could come any minute, which would be embarrassing. “Give me a second here.”
To distract both of us, I bend my head and take her bottom lip in my mouth. She tastes like the beer from earlier and a hint of strawberry. Angling my head, I silently beg her to take the lead, because I know nothing about kissing. Her tongue meets mine, slow and shy. Before I know it, she’s following me. Our bodies are slick with us, and entering Chelsea’s so much smoother. Gripping her thigh, I hike it up, brushing my hand down its smoothness, while our tongues caress each other’s. I surge forward and go all the way in.
Being inside of her is, is... “Damn,” I moan out.
She mumbles something, but I’m not sure what it is, because I’m on sensory overload. Her nails rake down my spine then she palms my ass, pulling me inside of her engulfing heat. She throws back her head, grunting words of encouragement.
“Dyllan. Oh, my.” When she squeezes my cock, locking me inside her as she comes, it takes all my years of sexual know-how, not to come inside of her right now.
With her muscles still clenching, I can’t handle anymore. I know I’m about to fall under, so I quickly pull out, and come on her stomach. “Damn.” I roll off her, taking her along with me.
Her hair is a little matted on top of her head, but I push the few tendrils from her face, kissing her forehead. My hand has a mind of its own and trails down her back, tucking her closer to my side. I plant another kiss on her head as the feeling of contentment spreads from my toes to my... well, it’s just fucking spreading.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
No, thank you. I wish I wasn’t such a pussy and could tell her that. I choose something else though. Biting the bullet, I realize I’m sweating in anticipation of her answer. “Chels...” The nickname I give her sounds real good in my mouth just like the rest of her did. “I’d like to...” I stop, having no real words for what I want to say. Get your shit together, Dyllan. “I know you’re going away, but Albany isn’t that far. I... we could, you know, get together from time to time, if you want to do that. Would you want to still see me, Chels?”
Please say yes.
‘Cause I want more of this. More of you, more time... just more.
Light snores greet my hearing. I shake her shoulder, but she doesn’t budge, which lets me know she’s really sleeping. Usually, I’m the first to leave a woman after sex. But, right now, I just want to stay here with her. I grip tighter onto her arm and burrow further into her presence.
We’ll talk in the morning.
Groaning, I rub my face, scratch my chest, and then palm my dick—all part of my morning ritual. I run my hand to my right to pull her to me, but hit only a cold spot.
Huh?
Picking my head up, I open an eye in her direction. “Chels?”
Not a warm body in sight. I’m wide awake now. “Are you in the bathroom?” I’m trying to keep my voice low, because it has to be early as hell.
My intuition is confirmed with a glance at the clock on my nightstand that reads 6AM. I shout her name, not caring about waking anyone up in my complex. If she’s in the bathroom, she’ll definitely hear that.
No response. Not even a flush of the toilet or running water from the faucet. Heart in my throat, I speed out of the bedroom, heading into the living room. Her clothes are gone. Something yellow catches my attention on the wall of my fireplace.
“Chels?” Going closer, I stop short. “What the fuck?” She’s spelled out thank you on eight post-its, using a smiley face for the ‘o’. What the fuck?
Who leaves a thank you on a sticky after sex?
If it wasn’t happening to me, this would be comical, because this is some shit others may pull after a one-night stand. The note would make the person who’s been left behind feel less like a whore. This is no one-night stand. Hell, we had dates... plural.
“What the fuck?” I wonder again, mean-mugging the hell out of the sticky papers. Light trickles in from my half-closed blinds. I look down and see blood on my dick. “What the fuck!” I’m like a broken record, but I’m so damn confused.
She left me with a bloody dick and a smiley face thank you.
Who does that?
She’s gone, and I have no idea how she mind-fucked me so easily.
Chapter Five
As I press down on the gas pedal, I’m well on my way to becoming 2012’s biggest April Fool. Why am I in West Bubble Fuck? I continue driving up the road with nothing in sight but days old snow on the road. The trip has disaster all over it. At the end of the day, one of two things will be revealed: either I’ll become known as the best brother ever, or I’ll have to admit Chelsea may have gotten to me. These are the two thoughts floating in my head as I see a large circular field ahead.
“This is a long ride. I think my butt fell asleep when you were halfway up I-87,” Emma tells me. She’s said very
little since we got on the road close to three hours ago, but she’s been as jumpy as a fiend fixing for a hit. This is the longest I’ve spent in Emma’s presence, so I’m not sure if she’s naturally hyper or if what’s happening is a result of the five bags of Skittles she downed earlier. “Thanks again, Dyllan, for doing this.”
Grunting out a response is the wisest decision I make since blabbing out that I’d act as Emma’s chauffeur. Let me be clear: I’m not supposed to be here, and I do not want to be here.
“Seriously, I know JC told you thanks already, but I really appreciate you driving me up here,” Emma says, blissfully unaware of my internal struggles with coming to Albany with her.
At the last minute, my brother was unable to make the two and a half hour drive. There’s some kind of complicated as shit problem with Sterling’s server. I really don’t know the exact issue, and for the life of me, I still don’t know why I agreed to drag my ass out of bed at such an ungodly hour to take Chelsea’s frantic sibling up here for a surprise visit.
“I’ve just been so worried about her, you know?” Emma asks. I know she really doesn’t expect an answer, because how would I know anything about her sister? She leans toward the radio, landing on one of those easy listening stations. When I hear the song playing, I swallow a groan. It’s one that played when Chelsea was at my condo.
“Oh, wow. Sissy loves this song. It’s all she talks about when we Skype.” Emma turns up the volume. “She heard it visiting a friend’s house and it’s been stuck in her head since.” Emma hums along with the song.
Maybe I’m that friend? The chick is so damn confusing. I shake my head, unwilling to be drawn into the black hole known as Chelsea Robinson. “Can I ask you a question?”
