by Aven Jayce
“But he really left because of my dick.”
“Don’t do this.”
“We didn’t have any money when I was a kid, so perhaps it’s partly true, maybe she did spend their savings. I don’t blame her. She must’ve been so unhappy having me around. Both of them. Later she was jealous of my dad’s wealth, possibly mine too. I never sent her much money because of what I had heard. I thought she’d gamble it away or spend it in a day. I’m a fool... or I was treated like a fool.”
“Okay. You’re done.” She stands and grabs two towels. “Get up. This isn’t the Mark I know and I’m not going to allow you to punish yourself for something you had no control over.”
I drop the anal slider and stagger to my feet, feeling unstable from exhaustion and all the emotions from a long night. “I told you sometimes my nights can last for weeks.”
She wraps the towel around my body and rubs my arms, torso, and legs, then motions for me to bend down so she can dry my hair. I take off the dog hood and she blots the top of my head like it’s an open wound, trying to stop the blood from flowing out. When finished, she tenders an adoring gaze toward my tousled mop.
“Don’t get used to it.” I try fixing it in the mirror, but get pulled over to the bed—delayed from bringing myself back to the handsome fuck that I am.
“Lie down.”
“I need to take care of things.”
“No one’s going in that room tonight so take it easy. I’ll help you clean it in the morning. Before anything else, you need to relax. Do as your told or I’m bringing out the cuffs.”
She pulls down our comforter and I submit, setting Sophia’s cell on the nightstand, and crawling right in.
“See, not even a comment about the cuffs. I’m trying to make you laugh. Tell me what I can do to help.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never felt this way before. I just... the bastard was a cop at one time then a detective. I wonder how much evidence he tampered with, especially for other men like him. I can’t even process that. Of all things, a rapist cop.”
“That’s twisted.” She covers me then stands with her hands on her hips and one side of her mouth curled upward as if she’s coming up with a plan.
“The man’s supposed to see the light and be lifted out of the darkness.”
“What?” I question.
“The big change. You’re a damaged man and some great event occurs in your life, then a shift takes place, and you’re supposed to become a different person. I mean, it’s supposed to be because of me, your princess, but I’m not that egotistical to believe it will happen that way.”
“Oh dear fuck, what are you talking about?”
“You’re going through the change...”
“What? Like menopause? I’m not a woman.”
“A significant transformation after killing the man who started it all. Only you’re fighting it.” She looks at me with a straight face and deep lines set into her forehead.
“Cow shit,” I say, noticing her quivering lips holding back a smile. I start to chuckle, a little at first and then I lose it, breaking into a full-blown robust laugh, one I can’t stop. The kind of laughter that makes your eyes water and your cheeks hurt. “The change.” I crack up. “What a crock of shit. You’re good, but I’m not going to follow the rules. This crap happened so, I’m what, supposed to stop killing? Buy a fucking house and get married? Then we have kids? Get rid of all my weapons and become a family man? Bring home the bacon to my wifey? Buy a giant Christmas tree for our place? Maybe purchase a boat?” My laughter slows and I turn to her, realizing we already have most of those things. “Fuck,” I say, and she laughs. “No kids though, and no house. I have a giant house right here.”
“That’s my man.” She heads for the bathroom to dry off. “But you know, I can’t stand the fact that we live and work in the same place. We need to get away sometimes.”
“No. I own a hotel. There’s no need for a house when we live in a mansion with a pool. Fucking homemaker,” I mutter.
Sophia’s cell buzzes with an incoming text while Jules is in the bathroom. I don’t even ponder whether or not I’m going to snoop. It has to be Cove and I want to read what the ass has to say. And it better be a groveling, take me back, I’m a pussy, I promise to stop drinking, apology. And if Soph is crashing here with the kids, yeah, her privacy is gone. I’m checking her messages.
Leaving in the morning. Got my suit. The dress fit? Is Jules ready?
What the...
Then a second text appears...
How about the rings? Bet your brother’s clueless.
I sit up in a burst of emotion. My heart on fire. Pulse quickening. The words glowing on the screen.
Suit.
Dress.
Jules.
Rings.
I’m clueless.
No. Fucking. Shit.
DELIGHT
THE MOUTH OF MY dog hood is unzipped. I push my tongue playfully through the hole as I pant over her, all while packing a bowl. She giggles, stoned, and rubs her leather mitted hands over my dick. After two drags, I set the weed on the nightstand and reach for our lube, place a little on the mitts, and sit back, enjoying slick leather gliding over my cock. “Fuck, that’s nice.” I grin wildly.
The morning sun emits reviving energy after a night of erratic sleep. I couldn’t relax knowing I left Abram’s body in that room. I should’ve moved him to the garage. And I was disturbed about Paul and the photographs, especially the one of my mom. Why the fuck did I leave those in there? And then being keyed up over the texts... a mix of anger and excitement raced through my veins all night.
But I’m feeling better with Jules’ pretty little mitts on my dick. What a clever woman I’ve found. Ingenious, I should say. Leave it to her to plan a surprise wedding. I’ll play along, wouldn’t want to ruin her fun. Damn, this is going to be magnificent, especially with Cove. Can’t wait to mess with him when he arrives. Try to fool me? Never.
“You happy under that hood?”
“Woof,” I joke.
“Good doggy,” she laughs, scratching my abs to get my back leg to kick.
I’ve worn the hood for her in the past, usually when she requests I be her submissive for the night, but this time it’s to help me ease back into my frisky self. It’s a new day, time to play. Oh shit, I forgot. What an ideal opportunity to use that children’s book line on her.
I begin slowly, in a low, growling voice...
I’m the Gingerbread Doggy who comes prancing along. And with my Pussy I want to play.
We both laugh and I change to a higher tone for her part...
Pussy says, “No, please go away,” and slides further up on the bed.
She lowers the mitts and plays along, sliding away on our bed.
I bark and I bite then lick my sweet Puss, saying, “Spread your twat for my big head to slay.”
And she does. Her legs are wide, pussy exposed, and I glide inside. Beautiful.
This interaction is what’s been missing from my life since I was a teen. Sex as a kid was spent trying to figure everything out. There’s too much pressure to ever enjoy getting laid at that age. Then, when I got married, it felt like a job. And of course the porn company was a job. And all those one-nighters that came after leaving Vegas were nothing more than a quick dampening of my dick—dull and monotonous. No comfort, no love. Get in, get out, wipe off, zip up.
Jules gives me what I’ve always desired and our fucks are fun, not a task. We’re not uptight around one another and she doesn’t always need that romantic bullshit, just every so often, and I’m fine giving her that type of love on the rare occasions when she asks.
It’s a sure sign you’ve found the right person when you’re comfortable enough to put on a dog hood and bark over top of her while she paws at your cock.
Oh fuck, the change. I start to laugh, thinking that she might be right. Am I becoming a sensitive douche?
“You just high or are you laughing at me?” she asks.
“Laughing at you? No. You’re spectacular. I’m laughing at myself.”
I pull her forward until she’s upright, take off the hood, and plant a sensual kiss on her lips. She removes the mitts and grips my unkempt hair, her warm tongue slipping over mine, causing my dick to rise even higher.
“I’m pussy-whipped this morning,” I whisper. “Don’t you wish we could stay in bed and fuck all day?”
“More than anything.”
She turns and marvels at the snowflakes twirling past our bedroom window, set into motion by a light wind. With a smile, her fingers mirror their descent, weaving down my chest and stopping at the base of my dick.
Desire radiates from her bronzed skin while her body awakens mine. I follow her hairline down to her jaw and lift her chin for another passionate kiss, savoring this moment before we start to fuck. Her willing mouth opens—excited for a loving frolic with mine. Our eager lips touch. Blood flows. My mind’s clouded.
“I’m overwhelmed,” I say softly, holding back any explanation. She nods like she understands, though she hasn’t a clue my emotions are for her—not the events from last night, or my dad, just her.
“Follow me.” I pick up the hood and offer my arm, leading her to the window. She faces the glittering snowflakes, her hands on the frame with a tilted head. I take the bait, tasting the sweet flesh of her shoulder as she enjoys the winter landscape.
“Mmm. Heated kisses. Your dick pressed between my ass cheeks. A steady finger massaging my clit and the sensation of leather touching my breast... this is heaven.” She spreads her legs and arches her back. “The snow’s captivating when I’m stoned... it’s like,” she laughs. “Like...” My lips brush over her ear, triggering a long sigh. “God, that feels good. Every time you tease my ears, I lose my train of thought.”
I nip and tug at her lobe, slide my tongue around, tenderly up and down, then bite her neck.
“Eeee, you’re giving me goosebumps.”
Slowly, while holding her side, my cock parts her awakened lips.
“Nice,” she hisses. “Again.”
I thrust and she grunts, “Uh, again.”
Repeat.
The leather hood is on, an excited growl emerges from my mouth, and I’m fired up to fuck my perfect woman with quick, ball smacking drives from behind. She steadies herself with a hand to each side of the window while soft moans fill the room...
Her clit’s massaged.
The sun rises.
Wind blows.
Snow gusts.
Sweat forms.
Birds fly past... and we fuck.
I move lustfully, devoting my hands to every inch of her figure, becoming more and more aroused by her warm flesh. The sun’s rays blaze across her back and her blonde hair shimmers like sparkling waves.
“I’m thinking like a pussy again,” I admit. “I look like a badass mutt on the outside, but my inner thoughts are as affectionate as a purring cat.”
“Meow,” she laughs, “Have I ruined you in some way?”
“In some way? You’ve ruined me in every way.” I pull out and order her to the bed. “I’m a crazed junkie and it’s all your fault... you, you with your fucking gorgeous tits and never-ending requests for my dick.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. Don’t act so innocent. Every few hours you crave my lips and once we kiss all I can think to do is eat you up.” She blushes as we play, my engorged cock becoming a nonstop machine. “And tell me your secret,” I grunt. “How is your pussy always so wet?” I toss the hood and grin at my sliding cock, lubed with her stimulation. “God,” I pant.
Our hips move in elated harmony.
“I’m so close, beautiful.”
We start to fuck harder, crueler, faster—her legs over my shoulders and hands on my hips. Quickening breaths escape our mouths as our flesh slaps, creating the sound of a thrilling spank on the ass.
“Fuck me, Mark!”
And with those words, it’s time. My mouth keeps her occupied, kissing her madly until I get my nightstand open and the thing unwrapped... my vibrating thimble. It fits on the tip of my finger and shakes over her clit.
“Fucking hell!” she gasps, turning her head from side to side. She loves it, and I can tell from the claws in my back that she’s about to explode.
“Jules, I’m so close. Cum with me this time.”
Her fingertips shake, trying to dig deeper into my flesh. Our arms stretch and tighten. Her legs quiver. I erupt.
“Fuck!”
Her tits are constricted in my hands like I’m suffocating my prey while she clutches frantically at my abs. With an open mouth and shut eyes, she has a silent orgasm... her favorite kind... nothing’s better than when the rush is so intense you can’t speak.
“Cum princess, cum for me. Yes, yes, yes.”
A minute passes before she finally hunts for air, panting with a surging chest. I give her another minute to relax, before saying, “Nice one. And good morning.”
“Good morning.” She smiles, stretching her arms high above her head. “That was incredible. Did you cum?”
“Me?” I laugh. “Did I cum? Seriously? What the fuck kind of question is that?” I ask, putting a finger in her pussy and offering up a taste. “Convinced?”
“Yummy,” she says. “I was kidding. I felt it during my orgasm. Awesome timing. Rare and awesome.”
I put on my boxers and head for the bathroom. “We can do it that way more often if you’d like, but I’d prefer your pussy pulsating on its own without my shooting dick getting in the way.”
I close the door and take a piss, seeing my sore red cock reflected in the mirror. “Need a vacation, buddy? You’re looking a bit overused.”
“Mark!” she calls out. “Don’t start talking to yourself in there again!”
“I was talking to my dick. Stop listening!”
Damn it, I’ve lost all my privacy. I can’t kill a man without my son showing up. I can’t take a shower without my sister walking in. And I can’t take a piss and have a conversation with my dick without my woman checking in on me. On the other hand, why is my suite so quiet this morning? No high-pitched pre-teen voices squealing in my living room, Sophia’s not knocking on the bedroom door to get her cell phone, and Jack’s not begging for pot.
“And you, Mark Jameson, you look like shit. Since when do you wake up with dark circles under your eyes? Your hair’s a fucking mess too. Fix it. Fix it now.”
It’s slicked into place with a wet comb.
“Hello, handsome. You look smashing.”
“Mark! Final warning!” she shouts.
“It’s impolite to eavesdrop!” I open the door and strut out, scratching my nuts. “Have you heard anyone this morning?”
“No, you?”
I shake my head and open our closet, dressing in a pair of tattered jeans and a hoodie. “I’ll go check on them while you get ready. Let’s get an early start on that room before work. The sooner it’s taken care of, the sooner our lives will be back to normal.”
“I thought this was normal.” She rises and slips into her robe. “Just so you know, I’m having a girls’ day out after we finish cleaning.”
“A day off?”
“Yes, a day off! It’s been two weeks. I worked every single fucking day while you were in Philly. I deserve this.”
“Of course you do.”
“So what’s with the look of disappointment on your face? Oh, I get it. You’re upset because I’m leaving the hotel? Is that the cause of your wrinkled forehead? Because you have to work and won’t be able to follow me?”
“I don’t have to work today either.”
“You also don’t have to spy on us.”
“Who? Tell me where you’re going and who’s tagging along?”
“No.” She disappears in the bathroom and locks the door.
“If you don’t
tell me, then I’m keeping my dick in my pants for an entire day... no, ten hours... or maybe eight. Okay, four! You hear me? Four hours without a glimpse of my giant cock!”
“Not a problem! We have plenty of toys to keep me satisfied!” she teases.
“Go ahead and keep secrets from me. I’ll hang out with my sister and nephews today.”
“Sophia and the kids are coming with me!”
I knew it. Her day out has something to do with the wedding. Still, I need to act like a prick so she doesn’t suspect that I know. There can’t be any change from my usual bastard self.
And where the hell is everyone?
“Jack? You better be here or I’m extending your punishment... Jack!” There’s no response. “Soph?” That’s odd. They must be at breakfast, although I can’t imagine a sixteen-year-old being awake this early. The place is spotless too. Remarkably clean.
Dax and Xav were asleep in front of the fireplace and surrounded by pizza and napkins when I staggered in last night, and luckily they didn’t wake to see me covered in blood. Now, I can’t even tell they were here. The fresh scent of a recent shower hovers in the air, but the suite’s empty. Clean as a whistle. The fast food’s been picked up and the clothing and blankets folded and placed in a tidy pile on the sofa.
“Looks like they borrowed a laundry cart from housekeeping to clean up the mess.” She points toward the main door on her way down the stairs. “Jesus, is that blood?”
For a brief moment, my pessimism overpowers my sanity and I can only imagine the worst-case scenario when I see the red stains on the cart—Abram isn’t dead. He broke in and killed my family and the four of them are stuffed inside that cart. Or maybe my mind wants me to believe that tale over reality, because my reality is just as twisted—my son stuffed my dad inside the cart and brought him to me like a cat brings a dead mouse to his owner.
The scene gets bloodier as I approach. A hand is exposed and a black oxford shoe is on top of the pile of bloody sheets. There’s a note under the shoe along with Jules’ key card.
“What does it say?” she asks.
“Clean up in aisle seven,” I exhale. “There’s nothing worse than a sixteen-year-old trying to be amusing in a somber situation. He’s not catching on that this isn’t a form of entertainment.”
