Goode To Be Bad

by Jasinda Wilder

  Callahan snorted. “No offense meant to you, Captain Murphy, but that’ll never happen. One, I’m a professional. Two, I’m engaged.”

  “Three,” Murphy said, grinning, “I’ve been married to the same woman for thirty years, and I plan to be buried next to her, so no worries there.”

  I nodded. “You’re both hired. Get to DFW and get familiar with the aircraft.”

  “I’m already in DFW,” Murphy said. “This is my hometown.”

  “Excellent,” I said. “Callahan?”

  She nodded. “I’m in LA right now at the end of a month-to-month job, and my fiancé is self-employed. I can be in Texas tomorrow.”

  “Perfect. I’d like to leave for Alaska as soon as possible, so get whatever paperwork done that’s needed, and let me know when we can take off.”

  “Sounds good,” Murphy said.

  “Same,” Callahan echoed.

  I ended the meeting and turned to see Lexie emerging from the bathroom, a towel around her head, another around her torso cinched under her armpits, cleaning out her ears with a Q-tip. Despite the fact that I’d had her less than an hour ago, the sight of Lexie Goode in nothing but a towel was arousing enough to make my dick twitch. And by twitch, I mean stick straight up, hard as a rock. She wasn’t even naked, dammit. But the towel was tiny, a negligible rectangle of white which when cinched around her torso barely closed, the slit in front revealing taunting glimpses of her naked belly, sex, and thighs, and when she turned around, the lower curve of her buttocks as well.

  Damn, damn, and double damn, the woman was a fucking siren. Five-six, maybe closer to five-seven. Curvy as fuck. I mean, my god, the woman had curves for days. Brick shithouse. Her tits made my eyes bug out, and the fact that she wasn’t shy about them, wasn’t modest pretty much at all, and didn’t mind flaunting her body made it even better—you’d think with my lifelong exposure to naked boobs that I’d have a better grasp of boob size to bra size, but I didn’t. Maybe because most of the tits I saw were naked, rarely contained in bras. Growing up touring with Dad and Grandpa, I saw more than my share of flashers at concerts and festivals, chicks walking around topless backstage. Then, as I toured myself, both as an underground performer doing the grind and as a top-bill artist selling out venues worldwide, I had way more than my fair share of groupies and backstage bunnies prancing around in various stages of undress.

  I digress.

  Point being, I had no fucking clue what size her boobs were, other than big. More than a handful, for sure. Being just barely twenty-one, her tits were perky, with small, dark areolae, plump nipples which were insanely sensitive, with lots of those delicious little bumps around the nipples and areolae. They hung low, bottom-heavy, her pert little nips directly dead center. Impossibly proportioned, I would have said, considering the tuck-in of her waist and the swell of her hips. Again, being as familiar with breasts as I was, I knew they were natural—not that I cared either way.

  Her hips were…how do I say it without sounding like an asshole or repeating myself? She wasn’t a delicate girl, Lexie. Not overweight at all, but given the improbable size of her tits, I’ll just say she was equally well proportioned below the waist. Thick thighs, no gap, bell-curve hips, plump round ass that had a hypnotic jiggle and sway to it. If she carried anything extra, it was in her hips, ass, and thighs, and she carried it like a fucking goddess.

  Her hair was black as ink, buzzed short on the sides and long enough on the top that the tips brushed just past her jaw; she was super creative and daring with her hair—sometimes it was just loose and wild, other times she would style it to brush over to one side or the other, or she would slick it straight back, or braid it tight against her scalp. Never did her hair the same way two days in a row, just however it suited her fancy that day. Her eyes were the exact shade of a milk chocolate bar, and every bit as fiery and expressive as her mouth.

  She tossed the Q-tips into the kitchen trash, tugged the towel off her head, and tossed it over the back of the chair. She bent over at the waist, flipping her hair upside down and scrubbing her fingers through it vigorously, then whipped upright and flipped her hair backward. I watched this with rapt attention, lower lip in my teeth, cock hardening.

  She glanced at me, lifted an eyebrow. “Whatcha thinkin’ about over there, Myles?”

  I chuckled. “Just enjoying the view, babe.”

  She frowned. “I’m in a towel.”

  I shrugged. “You make that towel look sinful.”

  She indicated my hard-on. “You, um…okay?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.” I ran a hand through my hair. “But I mean, if you’re offering…”

  She smirked. “I just got out of the shower, and just brushed my teeth.”

  “Kidding, Lex.” I winked at her. “Mostly.”

  She sidled over to me. “I mean, you haven’t showered yet, have you?”

  “Nope.”

  “You planning on it?”

  “Yup. We got errands to run today.”

  She made a slow show of untucking her towel and letting it fall off, but held it so it hung in front of her, blocking my view of the goods. “So you could get messy.”

  I set the iPad aside, once again feeling that ridiculous thrill of anticipation—with Lex, I never knew what she was going to do, how she would do it, where, when, or why. She was unpredictable, especially sexually. And I fucking loved it.

  And no, I’m not taking back that word.

  “Yeah, I could get messy.”

  She tossed the towel over my groin, leaving herself naked, and sat down beside me. The towel was tented comically erect over my hard-on; she lifted the towel and set it aside. Wrapped one hand around my erection and slid her touch upward. Twisted. Down. I swallowed hard, watching her small hand gliding over my cock, twisting and plunging.

  She watched, too—and seemed to get nearly as much enjoyment out of watching as I did from her doing it. Okay, maybe not nearly, but the expression on her face was one of eager anticipation. “Remember the first time I did this?” she asked.

  I huffed a laugh. “How could I forget?” I couldn’t help but reach out to fondle one of her breasts, and my hard-on got harder. “Backstage at that festival outside Chicago, the day we met. Backstage was fuckin’ semitrailers with makeshift lights and old couches.”

  “Charlie and Crow were, like, thirty feet away, and the whole backstage area was swarming with techies and roadies and groupies and other bands.” She went slow, each stroke unhurried. “Do you have any idea how shocked I was when I got my hands on this?” She squeezed my cock as an indicator of what she meant. “I had to start out with my hands because I honestly wasn’t sure I’d even be able to get my mouth around it.”

  “It’s not that big,” I muttered, laughing.

  “Yeah-huh.”

  “Nuh-uh,” I countered in faux-childish, combative tone.

  She met my eyes. “Myles. Do you realize I can barely get my jaw around it? To the point that it’s, like, nearly comical.”

  “I don’t find it comical at all, Lex.”

  “I said ‘like nearly.'” She glanced down, where her fingers only just barely closed around my girth. “I have a small mouth and small hands, granted. But still.”

  I shook my head. “You’re just trying to stroke my ego.”

  “No, I’m stroking your cock. Your ego doesn’t need stroking. It’s plenty big.” When I opened my mouth to protest, she just laughed over me. “Kidding, Myles, just kidding. You’re honestly one of the most down-to-earth guys I’ve ever met, which is weird considering you’re stupid rich and world famous.”

  “Not stupid rich, just stupid,” I joked.

  She frowned at me. “You’re one of the smartest men I’ve ever met.”

  “I was kidding, but thanks.” I was feeling it, now. The slow burn, the aching rise. The need to move, the need for more. “The first time you did this it was dark, so I couldn’t really see.”

  “Now you can.” She went to one h
and only, then, short twisting strokes around the head. “You like watching?”

  “Fuck yeah, I do.”

  “Me too.” She cupped my balls in one hand and plunged her fist down around my base, played there a while. “You’re just…you have the most perfect cock in the world, and I want to play with it literally all the time.”

  I laughed, but it was through my teeth, thighs bunching, because I was really feeling it now. “In case I haven’t made it clear by now, please, I beg you, feel free to play with my cock as much as you want.” I palmed her breasts again. “It’s like how I feel about these.”

  “These?” She let go of me, slid astride my thighs, and cupped her tits in both hands, squeezing them around my cock. “You like this?”

  I groaned, watching my cock slide through her big pale breasts. “Fuck—fuck yeah.”

  “Just don’t come on me. I’m serious. I just got clean and don’t want to have to shower again.”

  I flexed my hips. “I won’t. I hope.”

  “Myles, I’m serious. Don’t. I like being clean.”

  I laughed. “I like you messy.”

  “I’ll let you do that another time.” She released her tits, stayed sitting on my thighs as she clutched me in both hands and began pumping me in earnest now—still not fast, but steadily, slow at the top and speeding up as her fists plunged down, with that crazy-making twist of her fists at the top. “Anywhere you want.”

  I gazed at her. “Are you at least going to let me return the favor?”

  She shook her head. “You haven’t fed me yet.” She turned her attention to my cock, throbbing in her fists, now, aching. My hips were helpless, thrusting with a mind of their own. “Once you’re clean and we’re both dressed, you’re taking me to brunch. Maybe I’ll let you make me come once I’ve eaten.”

  “Let me,” I echoed, huffing a laugh. “If I dragged you into a restaurant bathroom and started eating you out, like you’d stop me?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. You’d have try and see.”

  “What if we sat in a booth and I fingered you under the table?”

  She bit her lip, grinning. “That’s a solid yes. Eating me out in a public, unlocked bathroom? Not an easy yes.” She moved her fists faster now. “You almost there, Myles?”

  I growled, hips pushing up. “Yeah…shit, yeah, nearly.” I smirked at her. “Why? You in a hurry? If you’re that hungry, I got something for you to eat,” I said, laughing.

  “Dirty boy.” She bent over me, took me into her mouth—one deep plunge, another, a third, and then right as I felt the edge approaching, she backed away, licking her lips. “There. Better?”

  I closed my eyes briefly—but only briefly, because watching her was one of life’s great pleasures, and one of the best parts of sex with her, physical sensations aside. “You ever gonna let me finish in your mouth, Lex?”

  She shrugged, but the sudden shuttering of her expression told me I’d hit a sore spot somehow. “Maybe. That’s not really my thing. Having your cock in my mouth, I like. Having cum in my mouth, not so much.”

  “Fair enough,” I said, knowing enough of her expressions and moods by now to know to let it go.

  She slowed her strokes, eyes on mine. “Really? That’s it? Fair enough?”

  “If it’s not your thing, it’s not your thing. No big deal for me. You do plenty of other dirty, wicked, sinful, incredible things for me.”

  She kept her gaze on my erection in her fists, watching as the tip sprouted up out the top of her hand, and then began a fast soft hand-over-hand rhythm that made me utterly crazy, immediately gasping and growling and hips flexing helplessly upward as the need to let go rose and rose and began to pulse. “You really don’t mind?”

  I groaned. “No, Lex, I don’t.” I let myself go, let myself fuck her hands. “Fuck, babe—your hands feel like heaven.”

  “Thought my pussy was heaven?” she asked, voice low, husky.

  “It is. Different kind of heaven.” I was losing the ability to make sense as she continued the quick hand over hand. “Your mouth is heaven, pussy is heaven, hands are heaven. Tits are heaven. Just you—you’re heaven.”

  She didn’t answer, but I saw her absorbing that. “What about my ass?”

  “That’s heaven, too, but I was operating under the assumption you weren’t quite ready for that yet.”

  “Or ever.” She squeezed me. “This absolutely will not fit there, and I’m not about to try.”

  “My tongue will.”

  She hissed in surprise. “Shit, Myles. You would not. Would you?”

  I couldn’t answer right away, lost to the rising surge of orgasm welling up within me. “Yeah—shit yeah I would. Get you naked in the shower, get you all soapy and clean, rinse you off, and I’ll do whatever the fuck you want, Lex.”

  “You do that, I may just reconsider my no cum in the mouth rule, just for you.”

  “That’s…holy shit, holy shit, Lex—that’s a rule? Like, always?”

  “Yeah. Since…well…for a long, long time.” She went faster, then, seeing me struggle to hold back. “Never had anyone lick my asshole…always been curious what it feels like.”

  “Never done it to anyone,” I said. “But for you? There ain’t a single thing I wouldn’t do to make you feel good.”

  She bit her lip, watching me arch up off the couch cushions, butt taut, thrusting up into her hands. “Give it to me, Myles. I wanna watch you come.”

  “Now, Lex. Right—oh fuck, oh fuck, right…now.”

  I had no more words, just gone, lost in the thrall of orgasm, in the feel of her small soft hands stroking me over and over, hand over hand, and then as I began to come, she let me sag back against my belly and twisted her hands in a sinuous stroking plunging rhythm that drove me wild, made me come helplessly hard. I shouted, growled, roared, felt it surge out of me. One hand continued pumping me in hard fast strokes, and with the other she cupped my balls and massaged them, slid a finger along the underside and pressed against me and I came even harder, so hard it hurt, so hard the ache of release became a hot taut wire of fire slicing through me, making me momentarily blind and dizzy and disoriented. She didn’t relent as I came, but went for more. Stroked, not faster, but slower. Drawing it out. Making me arch my spine, butt up off the bed, my entire body bent in a bow, groaning through a release so powerful I could not even believe it was real.

  Finally, I sagged, the orgasm conceded defeat and faded away, letting me out of its grip.

  When I returned to myself, I was gasping raggedly, and Lexie was still sitting on my thighs, a small satisfied smile on her face, watching me. “Well hi,” she breathed, “you’re back. I lost you there for a minute.”

  I had a giant pool of cum on my belly, a thick stripe up onto my chest, dripping down into my navel and connecting to my sagging cock by a string of viscous white. “Damn, girl.”

  She laughed. “You’re welcome. Now get cleaned up and feed me.”

  “I need a towel or something.”

  She fetched a wad of paper towel from the kitchen and wiped me clean, bent to kiss my lips. “There.”

  I sighed, gazing at her lovely, lush, naked body. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

  “A handjob is all it takes to be amazing?”

  “That was way more than just a handjob, Lex. It was…an experience.”

  “You could call it the Lexie Special.”

  “Well, then, I’ll take the Lexie Special…is every day too much? I was gonna say at least twice a day, but I don’t wanna be greedy.”

  She laughed. “I’ll agree to once a day, but only one condition.”

  I sat up, pulling her onto my lap and wrapping my arms around her. “And what condition would that be?” I asked, pressing small quick kisses to her shoulder, over her neck, along her jawline. “Not that it matters, because I agree regardless.”

  “You’ll agree to anything?” she breathed, tilting her head up and away to offer me her throat to kiss.


  “Just about,” I said, taking her offer and kissing her throat all over, inch by inch. “No pegging, no threesomes—those’re my only rules.”

  She exhaled softly. “Myles, stop, stop.”

  I pulled away. “What?”

  She stood up. Paced away, head down, hair falling over her face. “You’re seducing me and I need food. You keep kissing me like that and I’m gonna end up riding your face, and then I’ll end up riding your cock again, and I’ll get messy and need another shower, and you’re still sticky.” She picked up both towels, which she’d discarded on the floor.

  I laughed. “You say all that like it’s a bad thing.”

  She headed for the bedroom. “We had sex last night, this morning, and I just gave you a handjob. It’s time for breakfast. I need my energy so I can keep up with you.”

  I snickered. “So you can keep up with me? Babe, you woke me up for sex last night. If anyone has to keep up with anyone, it’s me with you.”

  She pivoted to stare at me. “I think it’s a mutual thing. We both have out of control libidos. My point is, I’m fucking hungry.”

  And avoiding something, I thought, but didn’t say. “You had a condition, but you never said what it was.”

  She shrugged again, moving into the bedroom. “Nothing. Never mind.”

  I followed her. She rummaged through a drawer, pawing through a loose pile of thongs and lacy underwear in every style imaginable—not one pair of plain white briefs to be seen. She snagged a purple thong and stepped into it—when she was pulling it up with a sultry wiggle of her curvy hips, I pulled her back against me. “Lex.”

  She writhed away. “Ew, you’re getting me sticky!”

  I laughed, but kept my sticky belly away from her, leaning over her shoulder with my upper torso, arms pinning hers to her sides. Kissed her neck. “Don’t use the never mind cop-out with me, Lexie Goode. Say what you were gonna say.”

  “It was silly, Myles, I was being silly. You really want a handjob every day?”

  I growled. “I want you every day. All of you. Every part of you. There is not a single moment of the day that I don’t want you, however I can get you. Hands, mouth, pussy, ass, tits, I want your body.” I nipped her skin over the ridge of her shoulder. “I want your mind, your soul, your heart. Your talent. Your wicked, vicious, crazy tongue.” She wiggled, wanting to get away, but I didn’t let her. “You, Lex.”