Her Hometown Girl

by Lorelie Brown

  “You put one leg in, then the other, and then you pull them up over your butt.”

  “You’re a smart butt.” There’s a pause, and I can imagine Mom smiling at me. “I’ve missed you, sugar.”

  There’s a lump in my throat that burns the back of my nose when I try to swallow. “I’ve missed you too. This is going to be a good trip. I can already tell.”

  Cai

  I wonder if Tansy has any idea how crazy she is. I mean, in a cute way for sure, but she has definitely rounded the bend. “A vacation together?”

  “Yeah. Well, sort of. I’ve got the time off and I want to go home. You mentioned you wanted to try shooting. We can even go hunting if you want. Plus Justin has a couple four-wheelers.”

  Three weeks ago, I left this woman’s apartment in the middle of the night and wasn’t sure if I was ever going to hear from her again. I looked up at the glow from her window and honestly expected the light to snap off and that to be the end of it. I was surprised enough when she texted me the next day. Even a little more surprised when we made it to a few dates.

  Now I’m sitting at her counter, watching her buzz around her kitchen as she cooks dinner and invites me to visit her family.

  This … is strange. “Are you sure about this?”

  “I mean, it’s up to you if you want to come along or meet me there or anything, but I’m definitely going. I haven’t been home in years, and now I can’t wait.”

  “That’s really good. You should do what makes you happy.” I’m just not convinced that I should be going along. I really do want the chance to try shooting. And I’ve never been hunting in my life. I’m not sure I could really pull the trigger on an innocent deer, especially for sport, but I’ve always been an advocate of trying things once. I wouldn’t have swum with sharks otherwise.

  She has a cutting board and a pile of shallots that she’s whipping through with a big knife. She tosses them into a skillet liberally covered with olive oil. “Justin’s been staying at home for the past few months, so Mom’s kind of going nuts.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Twenty-one. He was working at the plastics factory in the next town, but apparently they’ve shut down one of their products—you’d have to ask him which one—so there were some layoffs. And he got caught up in them.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Definitely.” She stops slicing pancetta and pops a cube in her mouth. “Do you think you’d want to come?”

  “I’d have to check my schedule,” I hedge.

  “Sure, of course.”

  “Thanks for making brunch,” I say. I hold my hand out to her. She puts her fingers in mine, and I kiss her knuckles. I’ve learned my lesson about trying to pull her closer to me though. She has to come on her own.

  “Anytime.” Her smile is cute.

  Hell, all of her is cute. She’s wearing capri-length jeans rolled at the bottom and a T-shirt big enough to drape off one shoulder. Her curls have been semicorralled into a high ponytail. She’s perky today in a way that I haven’t seen before. Her plans to go home are lighting her up from the inside. That alone is the most compelling reason I can think of for going, to be able to see how happy she’ll be.

  “I wish I could have done dinner, but I have to put some hours in at the shop.”

  “I get it.” She finally drifts closer to me. Her chin lifts. Her lips part the slightest bit. I wonder if she realizes she’s offering me her mouth. “I guess I’ll have to think of some way to amuse myself tonight.”

  “Think of me?”

  “I do that a lot already.”

  I stroke the shoulder bared by her shirt. “That’s good. I think of you too.”

  “You do?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Instead of kissing her mouth, I lower my head and brush a kiss over a constellation of freckles right beneath her collarbone. “I was thinking of these freckles when I was trying to work last night. Do you know how bad it is to be distracted while trying to ink someone?”

  “Bad?”

  “The worst.”

  I wonder how long it’ll take until she kisses me, if she’ll ever be that bold. I don’t know that she will. There’s a part of her that likes submitting, and more than that, I think she likes being chased. Not chased. Seduced. I’ve been deliberate and patient over the last few times we’ve seen each other, but I don’t think I can wait any longer.

  I take her wrist and raise it to my mouth. Her pulse throbs when I open my mouth over her skin. She’s racing like a rabbit. I feel like a wolf as I lick and kiss her tender flesh. “Little one?”

  “Yes?” Her eyes have gone hazy. Her bottom lip is plump and damp.

  “I think the onions are burning.”

  “Oh!” She dashes away and scrambles to the stove. The wooden spoon scrapes across the bottom of the pan. “Oh no, they are. Darn.”

  It’s the charred smell that gave it away. Kind of appealing on one level, but probably not what Tansy was shooting for. Her expression is pinched and displeased. I put an elbow on the counter and hide my smile behind a cupped hand. She’s captivating, especially when she stamps one bare foot.

  “Ugh. I’m so annoyed.”

  “Call them caramelized?” I slide up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and propping my chin on her shoulder. The onions are definitely black at the edges, but they’re probably salvageable. “I like being able to distract you that much.”

  She covers my hands with one of her own even as she keeps tending the dish. “You’ve got a little bit of an ego, don’t you?”

  “Sometimes.” I nip her earlobe. She shivers, which in turn bounces a sudden rush of wanting through me too. “Mostly I like you.”

  I want a chance to order her around again. Perhaps that’s terrible, but I don’t really care either. If dominance is a spectrum, I’ve always been more on the bossy end, but I haven’t gone so far as BDSM. With Tansy, I can easily make an exception. There’s something about the way she looks at me that I need more of. I want that laser focus and the way it’s combined with a need to take care of her.

  “I like you too,” she says as she tilts her head so I can have easier access. Her ponytail spills over our arms.

  I lay a line of kisses up and down her neck. Gentle. Soft. The flutter of my lips over her flawless, pale skin. Her pulse throbs under my mouth. I apply a tiny lick. Skin doesn’t taste like that much on its own, not usually. On Tansy, I taste the promise of things to come. It’s the heady flavor of possibility.

  “Why don’t you turn that off?” I suggest gently.

  Her hand immediately goes to the stove’s control, but then she hovers over it. “Are you sure? You’re not hungry?”

  “We can order delivery later if you need it.”

  Her skin is warm and edging toward hot as I kiss and lick her. My hands roam over her curves and valleys wherever I like. Holding her hips, I push her to the side, away from the stove. One by one I take her hands and lay them flat on the edge of the travertine counter.

  “Don’t move,” I order her.

  “Okay.” Her throat constricts on a compulsive swallow. She dips her head enough that her ponytail falls between her face and me and hides her. I push it away. I want to see everything I do reflected in her expressions. With Tansy, there’s no second that’s wasted.

  I stand behind her, my front plastered against her back. My nipples are hard with desire and my pussy is starting to feel needy. Even the abrasion of my shirt against my tits helps me along. “What would you do if I walked away right now?”

  “Cry?” she offers helplessly. It’s a joke, but I think it’s not at the same time. She leans back on her heels, obeying my order but seeking more attention from me. “I don’t think I’d like to be left alone. I know I wouldn’t.”

  “But you do like it when I order you around.”

  “I do.”

  “And if I make you into my personal play toy?”

  “I’d be the best toy I could be.” She slides me a sideways gla
nce out of the corner of her eyes. “Can I volunteer for sex toy duty in particular? I liked making you feel good.”

  I groan, low and absolutely unintentionally. “You’re wicked.”

  “I am, aren’t I?” Her grin sparks. “You make me wicked, I think.”

  I’m petting her all over. My hands on her stomach, on her hips, riding between her legs. Ribs and back and pushing under the hem of her shirt. I pop open the button of her jeans and immediately shove between panties and rough pants to get a handful of the sweet curve of her ass. “Sweet, sweet girl.”

  “Take care of me? You’ll treat me right. Please?”

  I haven’t tasted her yet. I don’t think I can go a moment longer without knowing what she’ll feel like coming on my face. “Go to the couch.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she says, and I shudder with both the words and the way she looks saying them. She knows it’s a moment, a big deal, a thing that there’s no stepping back from. She looks up at me from under her lashes.

  She sashays toward her sectional with her ass swaying. The jeans are loose around her hips but still holding on. Her feet are bare and pale in contrast to the maple floors. When she gets to the dark-blue couch, she immediately strikes the same pose that she’d been in against the counter—hands spread on the back of the couch and leaning over.

  “Jesus Christ, little one.”

  “Is this bad?” She looks back at me over her shoulder, eyes wide. I can’t tell if she’s worried or if she’s teasing me.

  “Only in the way that it’s so good, it’s bad.” I stay far enough away that I can’t touch yet. I want to take in the whole picture. “You should see how goddamned good your ass looks. You’re so sexy.”

  She hides her face against her shoulder. “I’ve never really thought of myself as sexy. I’m a girl-next-door type.”

  “You are incredibly sexy. Fucking hell, you so are.”

  She’s bent over, her ass cocked out enough that her shirt pools in the small of her back. The silky material slides over her skin when I push it up. Her bra is pale peach this time. When I tug her jeans down, I discover gauzy panties to match. She’s patient. Incredibly so. She doesn’t even step out of her jeans until I nudge her one foot at a time and pull them away.

  I set her feet shoulder-width apart. Her turn on has a wild, musky scent. The center of her panties has a wet circle. I press a single fingertip to the exact middle of it. She lets out a quiet “Oh!”

  “Do you want my mouth?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Do you think you deserve it?”

  She freezes, the little motions of her hands and feet and the way her hips were moving with need all stopping. “I—I don’t know?”

  “Have you been a good girl lately?”

  “Yes.” She flashes me a naughty smile, and her hips start shifting again. It’s like she’s turned on a switch and gotten into the sense of the game. “I’ve done all my chores, and I’m completely up-to-date on my homework.”

  We’re on the same wavelength. A dirty, filthy game that I never would have thought to ask for, but now that we’ve fallen into it, I feel the pull deep in my psyche. “What about your essay?”

  “Oh, no,” she says in a faux-dismayed voice. “I didn’t know I had an essay.”

  I’m torn between wanting to laugh my ass off and wanting to fuck this girl silly. It takes me a moment to be able to give her a tsk-tsk. “What are we going to do about you?”

  “Punish me?” she asks, wholly eager and excited. She bounces on her toes, which makes her calves flex. I did a damn good job on that tattoo of hers. I could kiss it for bringing this minx into my life. “Punishment with oral sex, yup. I think that’s where we need to go with that.”

  I lose the battle and laugh. “That doesn’t sound like it’s going to inspire discipline in you.”

  “Maybe it depends how good you are?” She giggles. “I only learn lessons if the oral sex is really, really good.”

  “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

  She wags her butt. “We can try it and see?”

  When I started this game, I had some half-formed idea of spanking her, but I don’t think that’s going to serve. Not this time. I sit myself down on the couch and lean against the cushions. “Go stand in the corner.”

  “What?” She gawps at me, her jaw so wide that I see teeth and tongue.

  I cross my arms over my chest and fold an ankle over my knee. Very much the displeased-professor sort of pose. “You heard me, little one. You’re being cheeky. You need a time out.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Her eyes are so wide, it’s almost comical. The pretty hazel is completely ringed by white. I can’t help but notice that her breathing is getting even faster and she hasn’t moved from her subservient position bent over the couch. With me sitting next to her, there’s absolutely nothing keeping her in place but her own desire.

  This whim is rapidly turning into a hard-core fetish. I am so fucking turned on. Everything inside me has hit a level of intense calm that I haven’t felt before. I lift a single eyebrow. “Go. Stand in the corner.”

  Tansy

  “What happens if I don’t do it?”

  “I leave.” Cai points at my front door. Her motorcycle waits outside. “I’ll walk away.”

  She’s serious. I think she is, at least? This is all new to me. I’m tempted to break character even further and ask if it’s new to her as well. But I don’t think we could get back to this place of play again so easily if I ask.

  I do have to admit that I’m into this. A little weirded out, maybe, but also definitely into it. I take one hand off the back of the couch at a time and stand, watching Cai while I do. Like maybe she’s going to back down?

  She doesn’t. Her expression is stern, and even her clothes are appropriate to the situation. She’s wearing trousers and a short-sleeved button-down with a vest over it. The dark spill of her hair over her shoulder provides delicious contrast. Her tie has lemon-yellow stripes. I love the rough and tumble of her tattooed arms. She’s a dyke in the best sense, and I love it.

  I’m going to die of how perfect this all is.

  I pad quietly over to the corner of the living room. There’s not even any art on the wall, since I haven’t hecking unpacked. I have to stand next to a waist-high stack of brown boxes.

  I clasp my hands behind my butt and turn my toes toward each other for an extra sense of playing-along-ness. This is stupid. This is ridiculously hot. I don’t know why. I don’t even know if I want to look at my whys. Maybe not now, at least.

  How long is she going to leave me here? I can’t ask. I know automatically that it goes against the rules of this game.

  I wonder what she’d do if I put my hand in my panties and started rubbing. Maybe then I’d get the kind of punishment I expected.

  I love having the tables turned on me. She’s keeping me on my toes, which is a beautiful counterpoint to the places my head can go sometimes.

  I need to come. More than want, even. It’s bone-deep in a way that has even my fingertips tingling. I can’t remember ever feeling like this before.

  My hands slide from behind my butt to in front of my waist. I lock them tight, palm to palm, as if that’ll give me the strength to hold down this wave of horniness. Ugh, I don’t even like that word, but I can’t think of anything else that so completely covers how I feel. I want to bang Cai like a storm door in a breeze, and without the opportunity to do so, I’m tempted to rub myself on the stack of boxes next to me like a cat in heat.

  I slip my hands down and press the base of my palms above my clit. It feels so good, but it’s not enough either. I let go, then do it again. Holy crud, it won’t take long at all until I can come this way.

  “Put your hands behind your back.”

  I jolt, lifting up on my toes, my knees turning inward.

  “I’m sorry,” I say automatically, but oh my gosh, I don’t want to do it either. My arms are creaky with resistance. I could cry. �
�Please, Cai. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. I need you.”

  “How bad do you want to come?”

  “It’s everything. I need it so badly.”

  “Crawl to me.”

  I can’t help it; I half turn to look at her. She’s sitting on the couch, both arms hooked wide over the back and her knees splayed. Her eyebrows are lifted in challenge, and her smile is coolly erotic. She is one hundred percent bad bitch. I shudder. “What?”

  “Crawl to me, kiss my boots, and beg me to fuck you.”

  This is kind of one of the weirdest feelings in the world. I want to hate this more than I do. Like, part of me is sitting back thinking, Naw, this ain’t gonna happen, while the rest of me is absolutely barking dying for it. I let that part win.

  I drop to my hands and knees.

  It’s easy to crawl. I never would have expected that, but it is. I’m practically floating. Every bit of me is high as a kite even as I can hardly get any lower. It’s the way she’s staring at me. I can’t breathe. It’s all so much. There’s so much wetness coming from me that the tops of my thighs slide with it.

  When I get to Cai, I kneel at her feet with my ass in the air and my shoulders low. I curl both hands around her black boot and kiss the polished toe. It’s slick and hard under my lips. “Daddy, please. Won’t you make your girl feel good? I need it. I need to come. I need you to make me come.”

  Her groan is deliciously layered with angst and want. “Fuck, little one. You’re seriously good at that.”

  “Will you make me feel nice, Daddy?”

  “Up here,” she says in a gruff order even as she grabs my shoulders and manhandles me into lying flat on the couch.

  I giggle, but I’m also twisting inside every cell I have. I like the way she’s holding me. So firm and confident. There’s no worry that maybe she doesn’t want me, or want to play like this. She’s in it. I’m in it. Even the soft couch fabric is too much for how sensitive I am. I arch my back. “Suck my breasts? Can you please?”

  “You’re awfully bossy for a little girl,” Cai teases. Her hand cups me, one thumb softly rubbing my nipple—and then not so softly when she catches it between thumb and finger and twists.