by Teagan Kade
I let myself explore her mouth, the outer edge of her nose ring cold where it taps against my cheek. My fingers shift up, weave into her hair, and I know this is heading to the point of no return.
I let my lips drag across her skin, let them hover an inch from her ear while I whisper. “I want you. Now.”
She takes a short, punctuated breath before speaking. “I want you too.”
I take her hips, spinning her around so her backside’s against the counter, use my arm to slide away the plates and pans. They collect against the wall in a cacophony, but neither of us care as I take hold of Heather and lift her onto the counter so we’re eye to eye, bringing myself between her legs and taking her mouth once more.
Even as we shed clothes, the kiss remains unbroken, deepens even, our tongues moving together in the heat and wetness there, prickly sensation filtering out through my body. My cock’s hard up against the countertop, grinding against it in urgency.
We’re both breathing hard, a labored, heaving kind of mutual breathing somewhere between exertion and excitement, a synchronous sexual frenzy I haven’t experienced in a long time.
I break away and pop the button of her jeans. She lifts her butt, helps me tug her jeans away and add them to our shirts on the floor.
Her hands press against my chest and I see the hazy want in her eyes, that glassy intoxication that preludes the act itself.
I look down, the cleft of her sex a cushion-like mound against the crotch of her panties.
I spread her legs with my hands and lower myself between them, hooking a finger into her underwear and pulling it aside, visibly shaken by the perfection of what I uncover, the plump, blush lips of her sex open, slick, and willing.
I sense her body tighten, sense the reluctance there, or is it embarrassment?
“It’s been… a long time,” she breathes, voice shallow and raspy between breaths.
I separate her with my fingers, the glossy interior I find causing my cock to twitch and lever in my pants. “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about,” I tell her, lowering myself and that scent, that pull, growing stronger. “It’s perfect. You are perfect.”
I kiss her, lick her sex from tail to tip, let my tongue flatten and press against her clit until she’s mewing and moaning, reaching down to my head to draw me closer.
I let my tongue drop and dip inside her, soak up her desire and energy, lap up again to her clit. She shifts across the counter, thrusting forward against my face, legs widening and heels struggling for purchase against the cupboard doors.
“Oh,” she moans. “Oh. My. God.”
I slide a finger inside her pussy slowly, surprised at how tight she is, the way the walls of her sex pull it in.
I can’t get enough of her. I lick and suck and pull at whatever I can find, can’t control myself much longer. She starts to buck, jerking and grunting, fingers clawing into my scalp.
“Phoenix,” she breathes, the desperation clear, one heel finding its way up to the counter, leg bent there beside my ear. “Phoenix… I….”
She breathes in staccato, faster and faster.
I concentrate on her clit, letting my finger run deeper inside her, into the heated wetness of her body.
She’s close to hyperventilating, shaking, each jerk a violent bodily shift that threatens to kick me from her entirely, but I remain focused.
“Phoenix,” she groans, clear alarm there, “please… I…”
I can’t stop until she comes.
I won’t.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HEATHER
My fantasy has come to life and here it is in living, breathing Technicolor.
I can’t get enough of this friction, lost somewhere between the needy ache between my legs and way his mouth and tongue move against it.
He’s between my legs, his lips… I’ve never felt anything like this before, never even imagined it was possible to feel like this, like your skin is on fire.
I stare down in disbelief as he works at me, ravenous, his tongue once more dipping into my sex before rising, lapping at my clit until I can barely control my body any longer.
I can’t do anything but hold onto him, fingers digging into his head as I rock and grind against his face. I close my eyes and see that color, see new worlds opening up to me and a strange web of sensation fold out from somewhere between my thighs, spreading fast through my whole body until…
Oh my god.
I stop breathing and snap my thighs tight against his head, press him right into the center of me as I groan out in a single, long syllable of ecstasy. His tongue won’t stop, and it rolls on, this sensation, pulling me under and under again, over and over until I’m not even sure I’m alive.
With a final shudder, I relax, a cool release spreading through me—the aftermath of what I’m quite sure was my very first orgasm.
Phoenix rises from between my legs, lips wet. Through a haze I see him take out his wallet, remove a foil packet and rip it open with his teeth.
I reach forward and help him tug his pants down, wait until he’s sheathed his cock before I take it in hand, squeezing and pumping at it, astonished at the heat and hardness of it, the sheer length of the thing.
He reaches behind me, taking hold of my ass and drawing me to the very edge of the counter, his cock seesawing against the wet slit of my pussy, the hot shaft it pressing against my clit and sending me climbing once more.
I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
I reach down and help him settle into place, lift my hips and let him drive home deep in the hot, silken depths of my sex.
My head falls back, limp, eyes closed once more, my breath just broken panting I can’t seem to stop or abate.
“Oh, God,” I breathe out as he fucks me. He drives forward and back, my bra popping upwards and his lips closing over a nipple, his tongue urging it into full attention.
The sensation bounces between my erogenous zones, ping-pongs between my pussy and my clit, my nipples and mouth, that web expanding and then pulling taut, a living, breathing thing.
I find his face with my hands and bring him to my mouth, let the kiss deepen. His thumb grazes over the nipple that was just released, my breast soon filling his hand.
It’s as though our whole bodies are one with this kiss. I taste myself on him, my desire, taste the desperation there for more. Below, my thighs flex and widen. I lean forward, attempting to draw him deeper, my hands dropping to his ass and urging him on.
He threads his fingers through my hair, holding me in place while the thrusts quicken, the act a blur of energy and heat, of motion and friction.
“Oh,” I gasp again, but I’m silenced once more by his mouth before it drops, skimming across my jaw to trail down my neck and shoulder.
His voice is low when he speaks, broken from the exertion. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”
Each time he thrusts forward he adds pressure to my clit, and I know soon the climb will end and I’ll have to fall.
It’s equal parts exciting and terrifying, that nervous tug deep inside you before you jump.
Then, with one hand on my breast and the other at the back of my neck, our foreheads pressed together, he stops at the end of me, grinding deep into that wet pool of my sex, giving a single, stunted grunt before he finds his release.
I spill over in turn, shaking and flapping against him, the fall of my second orgasm plunging me into momentary darkness before I find that color once more, slowly seeking my way out until reality returns.
Phoenix draws away first, pulling the condom away and tying it off. He helps me off the counter, folds me in his arms as we drop.
There, the deed done, we try to breathe, to navigate back to the real world—together.
Together, I think. Holy shit. It happened.
There’s no regret. I only want more.
We’re slumped together on the kitchen floor, backs resting against the cabinetry. Phoenix lets his head fall back against the laminate
still trying to find his breath. For a star athlete he sure looks worn out.
“Okay,” I breathe out, unsure what to say.
“Okay?” he laughs. “Usually the adjectives that follow are a bit more gushing than that.”
“No, I mean like ‘Okay, that was an orgasm.’”
He straightens up. “You’ve never had an orgasm before?”
I shake my head slowly.
“You’re not a…”
I stop him before he says it. “No, no, no. Lost that a long time ago.”
He plays with a loose strand of my hair, marveling at how it appears almost pure copper. It mingles with the dust mites in the beam of light shafting from the kitchen window. “Don’t tell me you’re a redhead.”
I huff, my own breathing labored, hands splayed out on the floor. “Who knows what natural color I am. I don’t think my hair even knows these days.”
He lets the strand drop and walks his fingers down my arm to where my cherry bomb tattoo is. “Where’d the ink come from?”
I look to my arm. “I shacked up with this guy for a while. He thought he was going to be this big, famous tattoo artist.”
“He’s not?”
“He’s dead,” I reply blankly. “OD’d five years ago.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “It’s nothing unusual given the circles I used to frequent, almost expected.”
“Did you use?”
I don’t know how we went from frantic, ass-on-counter sex to this, but I’m not ashamed of my past. “Once upon a time, but I was that anomaly who could click my fingers and give it up, no side effects, no lingering compulsion to use again. A lot of my friends weren’t so lucky.”
His fingers have continued to dance down my arm, skipped across to my side. They pause there at the vertical, two-inch scar next to my abdomen. “I take it this is from when you sold your kidney?” His fingers brush over it lightly, tender.
“Stab wound, actually.”
“Holy shit. You serious?”
“Looks worse than it was, but it still hurt like hell.”
“Ex?”
“Another girl. She thought I was intruding on her turf, was buzzed out of her mind. I’m sure you’ve got scars of your own.”
His fingers fall to the top of my thigh, the skin there still pink and blotchy. “Nothing permanent. Sorry to bring the mood down.”
I lean across to kiss him, conscious of the light stubble against my cheek, the way his cock begins to rise at my touch. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” he replies, nipping at my bottom lip.
“Guess I’ll have to prepare my famous breakfast burger for you.”
“I guess you will.”
Phoenix helps me up, my legs like Jell-O and an odd dizziness sending me a shallow circle before I regain my senses. “Damn. What did you do to me?”
He laughs, stretching his arms above his head, his abs pulling tight and flat. “Nothing a good meal won’t fix.”
I reach forward and trace the crown tattoo on his pectoral. “Don’t tell me all you Kings have one of these?”
He looks down to it, taking my hand. “Kind of like branding cattle. If you’re a fan of Yellowstone, you’ll get what I mean.”
“The TV show? Last I checked you brothers didn’t live in a bunkhouse.”
He laughs aloud. “I’ll let you be the judge of that when you’re over.”
“You’re inviting me over now?”
“Depends on how good this famous breakfast burger is.”
I push him away and take up my apron, fixing it in place, surprised by how sensitive the material is against my bare skin. “Take those cute buns of yours and go over to the pantry there, top shelf, for buns of a different kind.”
“Yes, boss lady,” he smiles, his erection the most obscene thing this kitchen’s seen since spaghetti pizza.
I’ve never had so much fun in the kitchen, and that’s just making the burgers. I fry up new eggs, hash browns, adding the spinach in at the end until it’s wilted and vibrant, stacking everything up with a splash of hot sauce. I grill the buns and start to plate up.
I give a yelp when Phoenix spanks my bare ass with a spatula.
I spin around, a warning finger in the air. “I’m going to have to sterilize that now.”
He looks at the offending utensil in his hand. “I don’t know. Seems like it’s potential is wasted here in the kitchen.” He places it down and hugs me from behind.
I get that same spell of reassurance, that sudden swell inside me that says everything is going to be okay. I know I should regret moving so fast with him, but the reality is I don’t. The sex was incredible, but that sinking feeling I thought I would have afterwards never eventuated. In fact, it’s the exact opposite of what I expected.
It’s only going to land you in trouble, my better self warns. You’re smart. You know this.
Maybe I do, but why can’t I at least enjoy it a little? Haven’t I earned a bit of happiness?
We eat at the small table by the window, one of those fold-up camping tables that look like it would collapse in a light breeze.
Phoenix picks up the burger with two hands, hoeing into it. He smacks his lips. “Damn, where have you been all my life?”
I laugh-slash-choke. “Just to clarify, you want to date me or the burger?”
“Well, I’m not into threesomes, but I’m happy to make an exception in this case.”
I place my burger down doing my best not to get yolk over my fingers. “Hey, I’m going to make some sandwiches after this, taking them around to some homeless folk down near the bridge. You… want to help?”
“Sure.” The answer comes quicker than I expect.
Or you could just stay in and go for another round, I consider. Hit the stratosphere again.
My thighs rub together under the table—a stubborn attempt to drive off the desire pooling there, because once was most definitely not enough.
“You have made a sandwich before, right?”
I get a raised eyebrow. “Does Subway count?”
“It does not.”
He takes another bite of his burger, eyes closing in bliss. He swallows. “Like I said, I’m a fast learner.”
“You better be,” I tease.
*
I make sure we dress before we start on the sandwiches. There’s just something very wrong about making sandwiches for the homeless in your birthday suit… as pleasing as Phoenix’s suit may be.
He wasn’t wrong about being a fast learner. Before long we’ve got a real production line going, the sandwiches piling up at the end of the counter. I pass him another box of salami. “I think you’ve got a real knack with food, you know.”
“Eating it, sure,” he replies, smiling. “You going to keep teaching me? I’ve seen my share of reality TV and Hell’s Kitchen this is not.”
I can still place the exact spot where his tongue was against me no more than an hour ago. “I can yell at you if you like.”
If I’m digging deeper here, I know I can’t be completely sure he’s not trying to ingratiate himself, though if that was the case, he probably wouldn’t be feigning any interest at all now we’ve slept together.
“If you’re willing,” I tell him, passing across another loaf of bread, “I’ll keep teaching, but it’s going to cost you.”
“Orgasms are the only currency I know, sorry.”
“Hmm,” I muse, “I suppose that will do in lieu of more concrete payment.”
He smirks, the banter between us coming increasingly easily.
“Where does all this food come from anyhow?” he asks.
“There’s a food bank on Main Street, believe or not, the local baker and supermarkets help out where they can. I usually do a run around town before closing, grab whatever they’re about to throw away.”
“Sounds like a full-time job.”
“I enjoy it, giving back.”
He stops what he’s doing and makes eye contact. “Me? I s
imply enjoy giving.”
CHAPTER NINE
PHOENIX
It’s crazy, but I don’t think I’ve ever been to this side of Crestfall. As kids parents would tell us to avoid it, that it was full of criminals and child-snatchers, monsters lurking around every corner.
Driving along in Heather’s car, an exhaust leak droning away underfoot, I don’t know about the monsters, but it’s clear we’re not in Paradise Point. The houses become ramshackle, shops boarded up and empty. I had no idea things were this bad just ten minutes from home.
Heather looks out the window. “It used to be nice, or nicer.”
“What happened?”
“Progress. They started developing the other side of town, moved Main Street. The big tire factory closed down, people lost their jobs, cops stopped showing up and the drug dealers moved in and made bank. I suppose it’s the story of every small town in America. Quite different to the Crestfall you know, I imagine.”
A guy smoking a joint eyeballs me as we stop at a traffic light. “You could say that.”
We weave our way down the hillside to where the bridge crosses south of town, Heather coming to a stop in a dirt patch. “Here we are.”
I look through the windshield, get an increasing feeling of unease. “You sure it’s safe?”
“I’ve got you, haven’t I?”
“I can’t stop an army.”
“Of the starving homeless? We’re giving out sandwiches here, not rehashing Dawn of the Living Dead.”
It’s dark under the bridge, but I see movement in the shadows, a barrel fire casting an orange glow on the underside of the structure. “You used to hang out here?”
She pulls the handbrake up, turns off the ignition. “I had nowhere else to go. When you’re living rough you take what you can get, even if it’s a box under a bridge.” She pops her door open and steps out. “Come on. Help me ’round back.”
As we start to take out the sandwiches from the trunk, I notice people walking on over. I know Heather said this wasn’t Dawn of the Living Dead, but these folk sure as hell have a zombie-like vibe to them, staggering over foot in front of foot, eyes sunken. I shift a touch closer to Heather, tense up to act if things take a turn.
