by Ella Goode
“You better pull out,” she warns.
“Think me jerking all over your creamy tits is a hardship? Thing again.”
She is tightening around me. Her thighs are viselike around my hips and her fingernails carve deep caverns into my shoulders. My blood is pounding so loud in my ears I can barely make out her words. Pull out? I’m never leaving her. I thrust against her, moving higher so I can increase the friction on her clit. She arches and rubs against me. My mind is gone. I’m pure emotion and instinct.
I claim her mouth with mine, fucking her with tongue and cock. But as we mate like wild things, I know that my ownership of her is a mirage. She owns me—head, heart, soul. It’s only in her body that I find satisfaction; in her arms I find peace.
Under me, she tenses. Back arched, neck bared, she opens her mouth and releases a wail of pleasure as her orgasm overtakes her. My cock is gripped and released and soon my own release is upon me. With anguish, I pull out and grab my wet, angry cock. I place a hand right beside her head and she turns to suck on my wrist. Stroking myself in rough jerks, I jet over the rounded curve of her stomach, between the valley of her lush tits and on her hardened nipples.
“Fucking beautiful,” I murmur. The sprayed come beckons me and I place my hand in the milky substance and begin to spread it around.
Her lazy eyes flicker up slowly. “Really?” she says but there’s no heat there. She’s too replete. The kitten has drunk her milk and is all sated.
“Yeah, really.” I grin at her. I’m not tired and I’m not sated either. I’ve had three years to rest up for this night.
I pull the belt from the end of the bed. “You okay with me tying you up?”
“Since when are you into that?” she asks, pushing up on her elbows.
I pause to admire how her pose thrusts her tits up toward my mouth. Bending over to caress one and then the other with my tongue, I say, “I’ve spent almost a thousand nights thinking of things I want to do to you. This is only the start.”
I abandon the belt so I can torment her nipples. We learned early on that she likes a rough touch around the tits. A guy in the joint told me bigger titties need a firmer touch. I give one a sharp pinch and she yelps but I’m rewarded with a moan when I repeat the action. The other nipple gets a treatment from my teeth. I play with her breasts until she’s once against restless and writhing beneath me. I slide inside her and this time there’s no resistance, only welcome.
“Again?” she gasps.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever not be hard,” I admit. “You. The separation. Did I mention you? It’s too much for my poor dick.”
She releases a breathless laugh and then we both shut up, too caught up in the sensations our bodies are generating.
Later, after she’s completely worn out, I let her rest. She curls on her side while I lie on my back. One arm is folded under my head while the other is tucked under her neck and around her shoulder. Her thigh is hitched up over my leg. We’re together just how I like it.
“Can I tie you up next?”
I open my mouth to tell her sure and then the image of being restrained sends a nonsexual shiver down my spine. “No, I don’t think so. It’d remind me too much of incarceration.”
She runs her palm over my chest. “Sorry, babe. Wasn’t thinking there.”
I shrug. I don’t want to talk about it. “What about you? Are there some hard limits I should know about?”
“No public sex,” she answers immediately. “I’ve seen what goes on in the clubhouse and I don’t want any part of that. I don’t want any of those guys to be looking at my ass or my breasts—particularly not Judge. And I’m not having sex with anyone else. That is not my thing.”
Laughter rumbles in my chest. “You got any more? Your list is pretty specific.”
Silence ensues as she ponders my question. Finally she shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’d like pain but I’ve never tried it. And sometimes I think getting a swat on the ass might be a little sexy. Maybe the whole asphyxiation thing, only I wouldn’t want you to kill me mostly because I know you’d be fucked up for life after that.”
“No pain and no killing during sex. I think I can live with those.” She can’t see my face because her head is on my shoulder so I allow my grin to stretch across my face. We’re going to have a lot of fun. “You got off watching Tommy and Jaycee at the bonfire that night.”
“So? Some girls get off on performing. I like being a spectator.”
“Fair enough. Plenty of action for you to see at the club. We can sit in a dark corner and you can rub your sweet ass all over my dick as you get horny as fuck.”
“Fine,” she mutters and buries her face in my muscle. We lay in peaceful closeness for a while.
She breaks the silence in a soft voice with a hint of hurt in it. “Why didn’t you let me come and see you those last six months, Grant?”
I shift restlessly. During the first two years I was in the pen, Chels and Dad visited me once a week. When my lawyer told me I’d be up for parole in my third year, I told Dad I didn’t want Chels coming up anymore. She didn’t believe him and I had to ask her across the plexiglass barrier to please stay home. Her look of anger and hurt was the last one I saw before I got out.
“Seeing you in those later months was a mind fuck,” I admit. “Parole was coming up and I didn’t want to get my hopes up. It was getting too hard—innuendo intended—seeing you and not touching you. Every time you showed up, you looked better and better. You sure ripened into a hot-ass peach.” I reach down and squeeze a plump ass cheek. And then because my hand is there, I dip it between her legs to stroke her pussy lips.
“How can you still have a raging boner? You ejaculated enough sperm to repopulate China.” She shifts her leg and traps my hardening cock under her thigh. Even that pressure sends a rush down my spine. “I swear, if you rub more come into my stomach, I’m going to get impregnated that way.”
“Three years is a long, lonely time. Come over here and put your mouth on my dick,” I respond.
She sits up and sighs like it’s a huge hardship but doesn’t hesitate to wrap her lips around my erection. I curl up, grab her ass and swing her around so that her cunt is at my mouth. She yelps in surprise and bats out an ineffectual hand. Ignoring her, I start tonguing the shit out of her swollen pussy.
“I can’t concentrate,” she says with a mouthful of dick.
“Better try or you won’t get my tongue on you.”
She reapplies herself. I want to come inside her so bad. I’m tired of pulling out. I—
Fuck! I pull away from her and sit upright.
“What is it?”
I burst out of her bed and stomp down to Dad’s room. Ripping open his nightstand I see a box of condoms and I pull out a sleeve. I practically skip back to Chels’s room. “You’re in trouble now,” I say and waggle the strip in front of her.
“Where’d you get those?” she asks, looking very suspicious.
“Dad’s nightstand.” I tear one off and toss the others on Chels’s nightstand.
She gasps in horror. “Put those back. He’ll know something is up.”
“Yeah. My dick.”
At her continued look of unhappiness, I sigh. “He’ll know I had sex. He won’t know with who.”
I lie there in a sex stupor after our fourth round. The room reeks of our play. When I get up, I’ll open the windows but I ain’t getting up until the very last moment. I sleep fitfully because that’s what I learned in prison. There’s no real opportunity for true rest. At night, there is a constant barrage of noise even though we’re supposed to be quiet. There’s someone moving in the cell next to you. There’s your cellmate jacking off below you. There’s the prison guards walking through the halls. Then come the random inspections when you gotta strip down and bend over to show that no, you did not secrete a fork up your ass during mealtime.
Chels is as wired as I am because she can’t sleep either.
“Anybody at
the party tonight?” she asks.
She means women. I tell her because word will get out and it’s better she hears it from me. “Sara Ellerby.”
“Seriously?” She sits up, the sheet clutched to her chest in some weird show of modesty. I’ve fucked her four times tonight, once between her tits, and she’s covering them up? I tug on the sheet. She glares at me but releases the cotton. Rolling over on my side, I start playing with her boobs. I love these babies. Best round things in the universe.
“I didn’t invite her.”
“Was it Judge?” I didn’t answer. She fists her hands. “It was Judge. I should kill him.”
Her anger sets me off too.
“Why? It’s not like you want to be seen with me.” I get up and grab my jeans and T-shirt. Buck ass naked I stomp into the kitchen and pull the milk carton out of the fridge. With a look, I dare her to protest as I crack it open and drink directly from the mouth of the carton. Her face screws up but she doesn’t say anything.
I drain it completely and toss the empty container in the trash. Without another word, I disappear into the basement. I regret my actions before I reach the door but I’m too full of pride to turn around.
I throw my clothes in the corner and lie down on the brand new mattress Dad and Chels bought for me. It’s a king size and there’s plenty of room for another body.
I hate that Chels wants to hide what we have because I want to be able to kiss her in public or throw my arm around her waist or have her ride bitch without anyone questioning us. But I also don’t want to fight with her two days after getting out. That’s not how I envisioned my homecoming. By the time I’m done arguing with myself and I’m ready to go upstairs and apologize, I hear her light footsteps on the stairs.
My ears follow her path across the concrete floor to my door.
“I hate Sara because she’s a skinny beautiful bitch with a big rack. Skinny girls should have tiny racks and leave the big tits to us big girls,” she says, leaning against the doorframe. She’s donned my white tank again. Seeing her in my clothes makes my dick rise to half mast.
“Sara doesn’t hold a candle to you.”
“Would you have been faithful if I was gone three years?”
“Of course,” I answer immediately.
“There’s no ‘of course’ about it. You screwed a dozen girls right next door to me.”
“Can’t help it my bedroom was next to yours. I wanted to sleep downstairs.”
“You would’ve been on some girl two weeks after I got sent away.”
That accusation pisses me off. “Are you fucking kidding me? Yeah, I fucked a lot of girls because I was young, stupid and led by my dick. I wanted you and I couldn’t have you so I fucked other girls. I’m sorry about being an immature asshole but I never looked at another girl once I had you, now did I?”
“No,” she says meekly after I’m done with my tirade.
My semi is now a full from talking about fucking. “Come here.” I gesture for her to step closer to the bed. “I’m hard. I want you to ride me.”
She stops when her legs touch the mattress. When I reach between her legs, her cunt is soaked. “Climb on.”
“Facing you or cowgirl style?”
I flip on the bedside lamp and move into a sitting position with my back against the black leather headboard. In another move, I have the condom on. “Cowgirl.”
She climbs on, flinging one leg over my thighs. With a hand on either side of her hips, I guide her to my cock. We release simultaneous groans as she slides down. This time it’s slow going because she’s swollen and I’m finally to the point where I’m not set off by a whiff of action. I smooth my palms over her round ass, watching as my cock disappears inside her body. I run a hand up the valley of her spine, into her hair and pull her head back for a hard kiss.
“I’d’ve waited,” I tell her as we break for air.
“I know.”
3
CHELSEA
“Some of the old ladies are going to come by the Cut-n-Curl to get some petty cash from you,” Judge says as we’re eating breakfast the next morning.
The eggs look a tad on the crispy side around the edges. I blame this on Grant. Not only had he kept me up until all hours of the night but he was grim and snotty to me when he woke up.
“You burned the bacon,” he gripes as he shoves a dark piece in his mouth. I have this overwhelming urge to shove his face into the pan of eggs.
Judge frowns. “Bacon’s fine.”
It’s not fine. Nothing is fine. Grant is simmering like a powder keg whose fuse is two inches away from igniting. I’ve held him off from going public for a week and during every furtive moment we’ve attacked each other, but Grant’s tired of hiding. He’s mad every time I creep out of his room and this morning was no different.
“Am I going to have enough in the petty cash?” I ask Judge, trying to divert his attention from Grant.
“How much you got?”
I shrug. “A bit.”
“How much is a bit? And don't pretend you don't know the exact amount down to the penny.” Judge shakes his finger at me.
Reluctantly I tell him. “$2,449.51.” It's not as if I view the money as mine. Truth is that the money belongs to the club and I sit on it because if I don't, everyone is asking for a petty cash loan. Fifty dollars here for a tailpipe or a hundred dollars for a bar tab or forty dollars for a full set of acrylics and soon there isn't anything left.
Judge nods. “The club will cover the, ah, entertainment expenses.”
He means strippers and beer.
“Then what do the old ladies need with the petty cash fund? Food? What about potluck?”
Judge shrugs. “Helen asked if there'd be money for decorations and shit. I said you'd clear it.”
Helen is one of the patch’s old ladies.
“If there's party hats, I'm shoving them up Bang Bang's pucker,” Grant says and we share a smirk. Hats? Like we’re five and Grant’s celebrating his birthday? He got out of prison for crying out loud.
“And we don't need a pin the tail on the donkey game because we got darts and Grant's ass right here,” I snark.
“I know something you can stick in my ass,” he says with a wink and I freeze at the sexual connotation. My gaze darts to Judge who has his face buried in his food again. Grant sobers up quick too but not for the same reason. He’s humorless because he views this as another example of why it's stupid to hide. We're going to screw up. What's the alternative though? Not being with each other? That'd be like cutting my arm off. I couldn't do it but I don’t want to tell Judge either.
His dad raises his head in the ensuing silence and assesses Grant's dark face and my pinched one. “Sara Ellerby stopped by the shop the other day. She brought her little Honda in saying it sounded funny. Maybe you could look at it today?” he suggests.
“Sure, Dad.” Grant stares at me knowing that I don't want him working on anything belonging to Sara, even her car.
“Bet you a five large there's not a thing wrong with her car. She's using it as an excuse to see Grant.”
“Don't know why she'd need an excuse,” Judge says, pushing away from the table. “Two of you looked pretty cozy at the granary the other night.”
My eyes grow wide and I swear my nostrils are flaring. “You what?”
“You got a problem with that,” Grant says throwing his arms out in challenge. “Sara and I go way back.”
If Grant hadn't been fucking me every breathing moment, I'd be enraged—fist forming, steel boot in the kneecap enraged. As it is I'm pissed because I can totally picture the scene at the granary. Strippers and hangers-on everywhere. Orgies on every surface and Sara Ellerby bent over the sofa in her tiny shorts, looking at Grant with fuck-me eyes. And I don't even have the right to protest because I'm the one who wants to keep my thing with Grant a secret. Biting my tongue so hard I fear I’m bleeding, I pick up the plates and start banging them together and carrying them to the sink.
&n
bsp; “Didn’t know you had a problem with Sara Ellerby,” Judge comments thoughtfully. “Didn’t the two of you go to school together? Thought you were friendly.”
I’ve never been friendly with that top-heavy Barbie doll, not because she isn’t nice—she is—but because she’s been with Grant. I’m green with jealousy, pure and simple. I shrug. “She’s not my type.”
“Didn’t know you were interested in her as your type,” Grant mocks, bringing over the rest of the breakfast dishes. I throw the water on and pretend both of them are already gone.
Judge comes over and presses a kiss in my hair. “It’s too early for us to be teasing you, isn’t it Chelsea?” I nod but don’t turn around, afraid the compassion and fatherly warmth he’s always shown will cause me to spring a leak in my eye. “You’re a good girl. Don’t know how we got along without you.” He squeezes my shoulder. “See you at the shop in a few?” he directs to Grant.
“Yup, I’ll be over in ten minutes. Got to make a call to my parole officer this morning.”
“Take your time.”
I refuse to face Grant even when he presses against me. “Who do you want to punch out more? Sara or me?” he breathes into my hair.
“Why do I have to choose? I got two fists.”
“You know I'm not cheating on you.”
“I know.” As quickly as the anger arrives, it leaves like water down the drain. Exhausted by my mini emotional breakdown and the lack of sleep, I lean into the dishpan. “I want to tell Judge, but I’m afraid. What if he stops talking to me because he's disgusted or what if your position in the club is put in jeopardy?”
“I don't care about the club,” he says, but his words lack sincerity.
He does care about the club and he should. It's been a part of his life for a long time. His mouth moves against my neck and down the side to my shoulder. Behind me I hear the unzipping of his jeans and then the cool air on my ass as he pulls down my knit pants. He kicks the side of my foot, widening my stance and then bends at the knees. His smooth cock is slid inside me in one swift movement.
