The Fed Sex Man: Hot Contemporary Romance

by Scott Hildreth

  “I guess not.”

  “Have a nice day, Miss Watson.”

  I sighed. “You, too.”

  I hung up the phone and slid it across my desk.

  “SD Hildreth?” Jenny asked.

  I nodded.

  “Didn’t go well, did it?”

  I looked up. “No, it sure didn’t.”

  “When you said you were going to pick him for next month, I thought it was a bad idea.”

  “Why? He’s got, like, fifty books out there.”

  “He’s a dick, that’s why.”

  “I’ve read some of the Facebook posts from his signings,” I said. “People say he’s nice in person.”

  “You weren’t ‘in person’,” she explained. “You were talking to him on the phone. I don’t think he’s a very trusting person. Personally, I thought he was a girl for the first couple of years. He was writing under ‘SD’ Hildreth, not Scott.”

  “Yeah, I thought he was a girl, too,” I admitted.

  “I friended him on Facebook, thinking he was a she,” Jenny said. “Then, I found out he was a guy. I sent him a message and was trying to explain how much I enjoyed his books, and that I thought he was a girl, but that I was glad to find out he was a dude. About two PMs into it, he got mad, blocked me, and unfriended me. Like I said, he’s a dick. All guys are dicks. If you remember that, you’ll be safe.”

  “Well, crap. I wanted to market a guy next month.”

  “Do that photographer-author guy,” she said excitedly. “Golden Czermak. He writes hot male-male stuff and shifter romance.”

  “Ooh. Shifter romance is hot stuff right now. Wait? Is he a dick?”

  She shook her head. “Not at all.”

  “But he’s a guy. You said all guys are dicks.”

  “He’s gay, so he doesn’t count,” she explained. “Gay guys are cool. Straight guys are dicks. Gay guys can be trusted. Straight guys can’t.”

  “At all?”

  “Not at all,” she said, wagging her raised index finger from side to side as she spoke.

  “Can you see if you can get that Golden guy’s contact info?”

  “Sure.” She turned toward the door, and then quickly spun around. “Oh, I almost forgot. The reason I came over here in the first place was to say that FedSex is out at the curb. He’s been there for, I don’t know, maybe thirty minutes.”

  “Thirty minutes?” I glanced toward the front of the store. His car was parked right beside the entrance. “What’s he doing?”

  “Not sure. Looks like he’s on the phone.”

  Despite our commitment to one another, I was far from comfortable with all matters when it came my and Tyson’s relationship.

  Jenny’s constant talk of men being assholes, acting in unpredictable manners, and cheating left me fearful of one day doing or saying something that would be perceived as being pushy or overbearing. I didn’t want to give Tyson any reason to be anyone other than the man I knew him to be.

  “Thanks for telling me,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll come in when he’s done.”

  A few minutes later, while I was researching male romance authors, Tyson stepped in front of my desk and cleared his throat.

  “How’s your day going?” he asked.

  “Pretty basic Saturday afternoon,” I responded with a smile. “Kind of slow. What are you out doing?”

  He set his phone down and lowered himself into the seat on the opposite side of the desk. “Just wanted to stop by and let you know that I’m devoted to you.”

  I thought we’d already discussed the matter but acted as if the subject was new to me. “Well, that’s nice, Tyson. I’m devoted to you, too.”

  He extended his clenched hand over the desk. “Here.”

  “What is it?” I gave him a cross look. “It better not be a spider.”

  “It’s not.”

  I held out my hand, but quickly retracted it. “What is it?”

  “It’s for you,” he said with a nod. “Trust me.”

  According to Jenny, men couldn’t be trusted. I placed my upturned palm under his hand and prayed she was wrong. He opened his fist. A key fell into my hand.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  He nodded toward my hand. “A key to my house.”

  I was flattered. Flattered and somewhat confused. More confused than anything, really. As I gazed at the key, not quite understanding what was going on, he handed me a small sheet of folded paper.

  “That’s my address, and the code to my alarm system,” he said. “There’s a pad on the edge of the left garage door frame. Just like it says on the paper, press the number, then the pound symbol. The alarm will disarm. The asterisk symbol will open the garage door, and the key will open any door that goes into the house. They’re all keyed the same.”

  “Uhhm. Okay.” I looked at the items, and then at him. “Are you planning on going somewhere?”

  “No, I just wanted to, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I wanted to be as transparent as possible. You can come over any time. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

  I had no idea why he was doing what he was doing, but I liked it. I struggled not to giggle. “Okay. Thank you.”

  He slid his phone across the desk. “Look at that.”

  “I’ve seen it. It’s the new Samsung. It’s pretty.”

  He pointed to the phone. “Look at it. Swipe the screen and have a look.”

  “At what?”

  “My contacts,” he blurted. “Or, my lack of contacts. I took all the women out of my phone that I’ve…that I…” He gestured toward the phone. “Let’s just say that there’s no women’s numbers in my phone except for my insurance agent, my doctor, and maybe a few other that are clearly professional.”

  “I believe you.” I pushed the phone toward his hand. “I don’t need to look at it.”

  Using the tip of his finger, he flicked it to the center of my desk. “I want you to look at it. I deleted pictures, too. About three thousand of them.”

  I choked out a laugh. “Of what?”

  “I don’t know. Stuff. Girls tits and shit like that.”

  “You had pictures of three thousand women’s boobs?”

  He raised his brows and shrugged. “Some were duplicates.”

  “Still, that’s a lot of boobs.”

  “Well, they’re gone. I just wanted to stop by and let you know that I’m truly devoted to this. I want everything to work out between us. I’m not trying to be sappy or a pussy or anything, but I want to be honest. It’s important that you know I’m being straightforward. I want you to trust me.”

  “I do,” I said. “I want you to trust me, too. I don’t have any dick pictures or guy’s numbers, though. I do have a lot of porn sites saved to my favorites on my laptop, but I don’t communicate with those guys, I just look at their dicks.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his chin a little. “You watch porn?”

  If he was going to be transparent, so was I. Honesty was the key to our relationship surviving long-term.

  “Yeah. Pretty much nightly,” I admitted. “I think I might have a problem with it, but we can discuss that some other time.”

  “That’s cool,” he said. “I’m okay with you watching it. I think.”

  “Your dick is prettier than those guy’s dicks, just for what it’s worth,” I whispered.

  His eyes narrowed. “Pretty?”

  “Yeah. It’s pretty.”

  He cocked his head to the side and gave me a look. “My dick and my phone are pretty?”

  “Personally, I prefer the iPhone, but as far as Androids go, the Samsung’s pretty nifty. I like the suede cover. Your dick, on the other hand, is the prettiest dick I’ve ever seen.”

  He leaned his jaw against his clenched fist and looked right at me. “How many have you seen, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  I knew one day the question was going to come up. I hoped he’d let me combine all the dicks I’d seen into one big pile and make
reference to that number. It would be staggering, but far less embarrassing.

  “In real life, or on the internet?” I asked.

  “Give me two separate numbers. Real life, and then the internet.”

  I gazed up at the ceiling and let out a long breath before looking at him again. “Four, in real life. On the internet, probably…” I multiplied the number of days in a year times twenty, and then multiplied that number times the thirteen years I’d been watching porn. I gave him a look of innocence, just to soften the blow. “Ninety-four thousand, nine hundred, if my math’s correct. There’s a possibility I’ve seen some twice, but that’s impossible for me to know for sure.”

  His eyes bulged.

  “A hundred thousand cocks?” he half-whispered. “Jesus.”

  I raised my brows. “I know, right?”

  He glanced over each shoulder, and then leaned forward. “You’ve only had sex with four guys?”

  That question was the one I feared the most. Admitting my lack of experience would either be a blessing or a curse, and I knew not which. I drew a breath and then let it out.

  “Actually, I’ve only had sex with one,” I admitted. “I sucked two guys cocks, which would count for dicks number two and three. Then, when I was ten, I went into he bathroom while Jarod was messing with his, and I saw it, by accident. Just part of it, though. That’s number four, for a total of four real-life dicks.”

  He looked like he’d seen a ghost. “You’ve had sex with one guy, besides me?”

  “Uh huh. Just so you know, it wasn’t a big deal. He came to my second-cousin’s wedding, on my mom’s side. He was from Seattle and was a friend of the groom. I don’t even think he gave me his real name, and I didn’t get his number or anything. It was a pretty strange deal. I was so drunk I couldn’t walk, and we did it in his rental car in the parking lot.” I shrugged. “Sorry.”

  “No,” he said. “I’m not uhhm. I’m not concerned.”

  “What about you?” I asked before I could stop myself. “How many have you seen?”

  “Mine and Shawn’s, up close. All the guys in gym class, but not like a dick inspection, or anything. Just as they walked past. And the football team, of course. We showered together.”

  I laughed. “No,” I whispered. “How many pussies?”

  “A lot more than four.” He chuckled. “Let’s leave it at that.”

  “Okay.”

  I was satisfied with his response, kind of. After chewing on it for a moment, I decided I wanted more.

  “I know they all look different,” I said. “But, what do they feel like? Can you describe the differences?”

  After raking his fingers through his already mussed hair, he arched one eyebrow just a little. “They’re all different. Some are tight, some are loose, and some are just fucking weird. Yours, for what it’s worth, is perfect.”

  I started to say thank you, but before I did, he continued.

  “It’s better than perfect,” he said. “It’s pussy heaven.”

  “It feels that good?” I asked, trying to hide my excitement. “Heavenly?”

  “Heavenly is pretty accurate. Maybe better than heavenly, I just don’t know what else to compare it to.”

  I had the pussy of an angel. I beamed with pride. “Heavenly is good,” I said with a smile. “Let’s stick with that.”

  “Okay.” He nodded toward my hand. “Put that key in your key ring and keep that piece of paper in a safe place, you’re making me nervous.”

  Still floating on my pussy compliment cloud, I’d forgotten I was holding it. “I will,” I assured him. “Sorry.”

  He gestured toward his phone. “You’re not going to look at my phone, are you?”

  I wanted to, but not while he was watching. I wanted to spend an afternoon going through it while he was working on his car or taking a nap. I wondered if he ever took naps and decided probably not.

  “No,” I said. “I trust you.”

  He picked up the phone and shook his head.

  “What?” I asked.

  “That was a pretty big deal to me, and you act like it’s nothing.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s a big deal to me, too. I’m glad you’re being transparent, but I trust you.”

  “Thank you.”

  He fidgeted in his seat for a moment, and then glanced over each shoulder before looking at me again. “Show me your tits.”

  His request took me by complete surprise. I wrinkled my nose and glared through thinning eyes. “What?”

  He cleared his throat. “Your tits. Get ‘em out.”

  “I looked to my left, down the aisles of books, just to make sure Jenny wasn’t videoing our conversation. After satisfying myself that we were alone, I gave one of the reasons I was opposed to doing so.

  “I’m wearing a tee shirt,” I said. “It’s not that easy.”

  “Get. Them. Out.”

  The tone of his voice was different. Stern. Demanding. I reached for the hem of my shirt.

  He cocked his head, as if frustrated with my lack of compliance.

  In one motion, I raised it, catching the underwire of my bra with my fingertips as I pulled the shirt past. My boobs rose slightly and then fell into place. His eyes followed them, paused for an instant, and then met mine.

  Having my tits out in the open office was more liberating than I expected it to be. Holding my shirt against my shoulders, I raised both brows. “Good enough?”

  He reached across the desk and pinched my left nipple so hard I had to clench my jaw to refrain from making any discernable noise. When his hand returned to his lap, I still felt the pressure of his fingers on my hardened nipple.

  My pussy was soaked.

  “Holy crap,” I said through my teeth. “Was there a reason for that?”

  He smiled. “I didn’t want you to think because I’ve been being sweet that I’m getting soft, because I’m not. I’m committed to you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to go easy on you.”

  I swallowed heavily. “I don’t want you to.”

  “Good. Because I know what I want.” He gestured behind me with his eyes. “Doing things like fucking you against that wall back there is part of it. So is this.”

  “Okay.”

  He gestured toward my swollen nipple with his eyes. “You can put your shirt down now.”

  “Thank you.”

  He stood and leaned over my desk. “Kiss me.”

  Deciding how to kiss Tyson was like choosing which pair of shoes I should purchase off the sale rack – regardless of the decision I made, I’d second-guess myself later. Hard, soft, aggressive, tongue, no tongue, nibble or not to nibble.

  I never knew which one was fitting. Nevertheless, I complied with his wish, giving him a lot of lip and a little tongue. One thing was immediately clear. It was the right moment, he was the right man, and I’d chosen the right kiss.

  When our mouths parted, I met his gaze. His smiling eyes confirmed we shared the same belief.

  Best. Kiss. Ever.

  He wiped his bottom lip with the edge of his index finger. “That was nice.”

  “I’ve got more where that came from.”

  “I can’t wait.” He picked up his phone and put it in his pocket. “Come by when you get off work?”

  “Be in bed naked,” I said, trying to remain straight-faced. “I’ll just let myself in with my new key.”

  He winked. “Atta girl.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  He turned away. “I guess you’ll find out when you get off work.”

  As he walked away, I raised my right hand and gave the same wave a child gives at a parade as the floats roll past. His arrival, the visit, and his departure had me in a complete daze. I stared blankly at the door, uncertain if I could work another five hours without making a trip to the bathroom with my trusty vibrator.

  Jenny’s voice reminded me of the risks associated with demonstrating affection in the workplace. “You’ve got really nice tits, by the w
ay.”

  My eyes bulged. “You saw that?”

  “Afraid so.”

  I stood. “Pictures?”

  “A few.”

  “Will you send them to me?”

  She smiled. “Already did.”

  26

  Tyson

  She was dressed in a flowing white tank and dark jeans that were skin-tight from her waist to her ankles. Dark hair draped along either side of her chest, coming to a rest just above her elbows. Her glasses had worked their way down her nose and were positioned half the distance between the bridge and her little button tip.

  She studied the shrine devoted to displaying my accomplishments. Framed newspaper clippings, a Sports Illustrated cover, numerous magazine articles, action photos and an array of medals filled the lighted case. It was difficult to claim modesty in the presence of such a display, but I was just that.

  Modest.

  “You looked so young,” she said.

  “I looked like I was fourteen until I was twenty.”

  She looked at everything on display at least twice, and then glanced over her shoulder. “This is really impressive.”

  “He collected everything when it came to me and the sport of football,” I said. “I just left it the way it was when he passed.”

  She admired a framed photo of me releasing the ball just before being tackled. “Do you miss the sport? Being competitive?”

  I was surprised she asked the question. It was an easy one to answer but answering wasn’t easy.

  “Parts of it,” I responded. “The bond. The friendships.”

  “You don’t miss playing?”

  The truth was that I didn’t miss it at all. Football was my father’s passion, and I played it to please him, not myself. Admitting the complete truth, even in his absence, seemed like an impossible task.

  “Not really,” I said. “Not the playing, anyway.”

  “Oh.” She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I wonder if the tinkering with the car filled that gap in your life.”

  The ‘gap in my life’ was filed with me sticking my dick in women at an unprecedented rate, but I found no value in admitting it to her. I’d changed my ways, and that was all that mattered.

  “Probably.” I glanced around the poorly lit den. It felt creepy to be in there without my father. “Have you seen enough?”