Fluff

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  The brightness returns to her cheeks as she smiles. “Yeah, I am fierce.”

  “You always were, love.”

  AMBER

  I RUN MY finger along the edge of the wine stem as I glance up at the gruff man. He’s handsome in a unique kind of way, probably not every one’s cup of tea. He smirks from the side of his mouth, and I no longer wish to be the stuck-up best selling indie author. I break the spell of silence and touch his hand. He’s holding a beer bottle and pulls back sudden as he swigs it down.

  I take his move as a rejection and scan the dance floor in the bar, looking for Sal or Stanis. The place is empty with all the private parties going on. We decided to come to the bar and have drinks over our chat. The conversation is light and fun, more regathering of facts of the past few years of our lives. We avoid the past like it’s a plague we don’t want to touch for fear of contaminating the present. The emotions are high, but kept well hidden by both of us. Neither of us want to show the hand of that previous pain.

  I never claimed to be anything other than a simple girl with simple needs and that shines during our banter. I am on my own in the vacant bar with Dale, hoping that tomorrow, none of these women decide to pick a catfight with me. “Excuse me, I need the little girls room.”

  He nods, but doesn’t move. Instead, he chooses to stare at my ass as I walk away. I only know because I turned around and caught him. He smirked and pointed at me. Again, I felt the heat rise in my belly. He didn’t feel the need to stand over the top of me, and yet, his certain gaze followed—protecting and guarding me from afar.

  The bar bathroom could take a lesson from the reception hall. With only one stall, I am lucky no one is there. I make my way inside and look in the mirror. My makeup smudged, and my eyes slightly puffy from crying earlier. I clean it up as best I can and dab a few drops of lip gloss on. I take a quick piss and wash my hands, pressing the cool water to my cheeks.

  By choice, I haven’t been with anyone in several years. After my first book released, I decided to focus entirely on my career, wanting to be a success. I didn’t have time for relationships or sex. Sure, I could have called someone like Raniero at any point to suit my needs. But honestly, it was nice not having a man around, and I learned a lot about myself.

  I liked watching old movies in bed with pints of ice cream and leaving my socks on the floor. I enjoyed running in the park at dawn and working my way through the day, writing with one hand and nibbling on celery with the other. My rules, my way. The freedom I discovered in being solo held far more value than having a penis to answer to. Men want to know where you are, what you are doing, when you will be back. I had none of that. I was my own person, thriving on my own.

  There was only one problem.

  I missed cock.

  Hard. Salivating. Dick.

  I sigh and grab my purse off the hook. Opening the door and clicking off the light, I didn’t watch my step when I ran face first into a wall of pure muscle.

  “Uh… uh… I am sorry, do you need the restroom?”

  “Nope,” Archer says with a smirk. His massive frame steps forward, pushing me back into the room. He closes the door and locks it, leaving us in complete darkness.

  “I am going on three hours of packing a massive chub for you. You wanna fuck?”

  I breathe, uncertain of what to say. So many times in my life, I would have already dropped my panties. But now the girl with the words – Author Amber Rosen – didn’t know what to say, so my body did it for me.

  DALE

  I STEP INTO the small, darkened room knowing fully well what I was about to do. I was going to get what I was after—that warm, sucking pussy I had so long ago. Amber didn’t remember me, but I damn sure remembered her as did my cock.

  Before I say a word, her lips press into mine as she kisses me deep, forcing her tongue between my lips and having her way with me. Her body pushes against mine, melding into my muscles, her softness bewitching. I want to keep her safe—as I did years ago. My need to protect her from harm and make her my own causes the blood to rush to my loins.

  She is beautiful and soft in my arms and tastes like fresh cotton candy at the circus. I pick her up, hoisting her onto the cabinet. Her skirt skims up as I kiss her bare shoulder, her skin like silk against my lips.

  “Dale… I want you,” she mumbles as my lips devour her neck. Grinding against my package, she is insatiable. Her mouth unstoppable as she lifts my shirt. I step back and pull it off for her as she wiggles out of her pants. She runs her fingers through my chest hair, over my enormous pecks. Gripping my guns, she aches for me to go further as I feel the steady prick of her fingernails.

  I can’t see her, but I can feel her delicate hands, grazing over my skin like a butterfly. She undoes my belt and unzips my jeans, holding my hard dick in her soft fingers. She runs the tip of her finger up my shaft until I cannot take it anymore. I need inside of her sweet folds—now.

  “Amber, you are so fucking hot,” I groan as she strokes me. She spits on her hand, coaxing me to full throttle. I thrust deep inside in one solid pump. Dipping my dick into the woman I spent years pining after, I feel a rush of emotion. Incredible at eighteen, she is simply divine in this moment.

  Her legs latch around me, encouraging me to stay inside of her eager shelter. She wants me to fuck her, her body and mind collapsing around mine. Her hips urge me on and I grab her ass, pushing further. Amber remains the best I ever had, and while I know this is only one night, I am not sure I want it to be.

  I feel her fingernails gripping into my back, pulling me closer. She wants me to be the one to take her further, giving her my all as she embraces everything I offer.

  The sex is hot and deviant. “Babe, I am going to come inside of you. You feel so fucking good. I can’t hold back any longer.” I thrust faster, unable to deny my body of her clenching pussy. She is starving, feasting hungrily on my rod. “Fuckin’ eh…woman!” I grunt and fill her with my desire as she grips around me, leaning back in my arms.

  “Jesus…” she cries, “I never expected….”

  I can tell by her tone she is embarrassed, almost apologetic, but I won’t hear any of it. “Babygirl, it’s okay. You needed to come. You can’t deny this magic between us.”

  “But I should,” she giggles, her hands braced on my shoulders. I can’t help but wonder why she wants to deny us. She is an intelligent, gorgeous, powerhouse of a woman and for the life of me I cannot understand why she doesn’t have a ring on that finger.

  “You want to go find some grub?”

  “My pussy isn’t the only thing starving.”

  While I understand she is referring to her belly, I cannot help but wonder if maybe her heart is, too.

  AMBER

  I USED TO be a slut.

  Used to be, I think as I watch Dale at the counter of the small diner next to the hotel. He’s ordering me extra bacon with my stack of waffles. Frankly, I am flattered. First, he fucks me like he owns me, and then he feeds me like he wants to keep me. A simple gesture and yet, it means so much – his taking care of me. It has been so long since I have let someone in, and I wonder if I can open my heart.

  I am not sure I have a choice.

  My plane leaves late this afternoon, and I am wanting to spend every second until then with the mysterious Dale Archer. He glances my direction and smiles. He is a good looking man in his Sunday best. I cinch my thighs together, thinking about what he would look like working at my ranch. Or in my bed. Or in my kitchen in pajama bottoms – no shirt of course – making me breakfast.

  Our lives are so different though I don’t know how to make this more than what it was. An easy one-night stand, though an unforgettable one. I almost squeal as he strides back to the table with a vanilla malt with whip cream, cherry, and two straws. He’s grinning at me as he sets it in front of me.

  I gush, “You are to sweet!”

  I take a sip and blush, wondering where this man has been my whole life. Without thinking, I touch his
fingertips. The act seems like an invasion of his space until I realize the ridiculousness of my thought. We had sex in a bathroom for heaven’s sake. I have his come dripping into my panties, but touching his hand seems like such an intimate act.

  “I am not sure how to say this,” he says as I push the glass closer to his side. “But I really enjoyed myself. And I’d like to see you again.”

  “You are more than welcome out at the ranch anytime,” I offer.

  He takes a generous sip and quizzes me, “Ranch?”

  “I have close to a thousand acres out near Big Bend. I have longhorns that graze the property. And a gorgeous little house.”

  “You’ve done well for yourself.”

  “I have worked my ass off. I was in the adult entertainment industry for years before I started writing.”

  “I know you were…” he replies with a smirk like he has seen one of the hundreds of movies I starred in. I don’t want to think about him being just another fan of Mae East. I was a different girl then, and I enjoy my quiet now. I am not the same naughty little minx I was once.

  “You know my work?” I ask, bridging the gap of the question I am not sure I want the answer to.

  “I do,” he mumbles nonchalantly. “Been a fan for years.”

  “So what do you do besides offer muscle to Raniero?”

  “I am a teacher.”

  My face scrunches up, almost in disbelief. This big handsome brute doesn’t look like a professor. “I teach martial arts training—hand-to-hand, mixed martial, some tae kwon do. One weekend a month I give firearms training.”

  “You have a studio?”

  “Yeah, but I rarely go there anymore. I do mostly on-site private lessons to security firms or in Sugargrove.”

  “You live there?”

  “Nah, I live up in Austin. I have a little condo with my daughter. She’s with her Grandma now.”

  I blink several times, stirring the whipped cream into the malt and focusing on the sinking cherry like my sinking heart. I clear my throat. “So… You are married?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Our food comes and as much as I wanted the mammoth stack of waffles, I can’t eat. He’s involved with baggage – girlfriend, ex-wife, mistress – it doesn’t matter. It’s a mess, and I want nothing to do with it.

  I go through the motions, smoothing the butter out and drizzling syrup all over the plate. He’s eating voraciously like he didn’t just drop a bomb in the middle of the table. We had an incredible spark followed by delicious sex, and he’s involved.

  “You’re upset…”

  “Nah,” I lie, putting on my best fake face. If I can fake my way through a million orgasms on film, certainly I can get through this. I eat a little bit of the decadent waffles and nibble on the bacon, but I can’t stomach much more as I feel the malt curdle on my belly.

  I had hopes we could find a way to make this work, but his commitments and responsibilities are too much for my heart to handle. I know I should be happy, and I am likely coming off as a bitch.

  Oh, you have a kid, sorry I don’t do runny noses and skidded knees.

  The whole thing hurts.

  He pays for the meal and walks me back to the hotel. It’s sprinkling, and he quickly drapes his leather jacket over my shoulders. I don’t want him to do it. I don’t want him to care. Or be a gentleman. Or fuck like a god with a golden dick. I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to think or feel because I know I am destined to either be hurt by him or hurt him myself.

  Play the role Amber.

  Play it like a champ.

  Play it like an award winning actress.

  “I feel like such a chump for asking this, but can I have your number? I mean I am certain I could find investigate and find it, but I would rather you give it to me,” he says, humble like a young boy on a first date and not at all like the man that just had his way with me in a dirty bathroom.

  “Sure,” I say with a smile, hoping and praying he never, ever calls so I don’t have to ignore him and pretend I don’t care. He hands me his phone and I notice under the name he has written – Sexy Amber Rosen. Maybe he classifies all his women like this so he can recollect the memory of who is who. Yeah, maybe he is a manwhore and not a real winner. Maybe I am not giving up on something truly spectacular—again. My hands shake as I hit the buttons and try not to cry.

  My heart wants to invite Dale into my room for another round of our seductive tango in the dark, but my mind knows better.

  He kisses me goodnight—a simple kiss and our last.

  I shut the door and completely fall apart.

  two

  ACT II

  DALE

  SHE’S INCREDIBLE, BUT as I walk away sensing her unease I can’t help but wonder if I will ever talk to her again. I head to my room, pack my shit, and go to check out.

  “Checking out so soon, Mr. Archer?” The young lady asks.

  I check my watch – 4:43 AM – and cannot believe I am walking away from Amber Rosen for the second time in my life. I swore if I ever had the chance with her again, I wouldn’t blow it, but I cannot help feeling the finality in her goodbye.

  I want to blame anyone and everyone. Maybe I was just a fuck. Maybe I was just hoping for too much from the woman I used to know as a girl. I wasn’t the same and neither was she.

  She still didn’t know.

  And now, I doubt she ever would.

  I walk out into the parking lot, it’s misting when I suddenly realize my jacket is still on the girl in her room. I ponder going up and asking for it back, and although I would love to see her again that also means another goodbye. I just don’t think my heart, or my cock could handle that pain again.

  I fire up the Indian and take off out of Houston and away from the only woman I have ever truly loved. By the time the sun is cracking over the horizon, I am more than half-way home. The rain has stopped, but left gray dismal clouds, hanging low.

  I cannot help but think about Amber. My mind flipping through the Rolo-dex of memories, contrasting snapshots of her years ago with the wild woman, riding me hard last night. I fight back the tears, but still the moments chase me, hunting me down with a vengeance.

  * * * *

  “Hey Cy! Meet Mae, she’s new to the business. Be kind,” Celeste, my assistant, cajoled. “In other words, don’t be yourself.”

  I was busy getting my boots off and did’t bother to look up. She was just another hot looking chic to fidget with my dick, so I could get in front of the cam. Paying her little attention, I stood up in the tiny dressing room, pulling off my shirt and dropping my jeans. Though they didn’t do much to conceal my eager beast as I wore tight athletic underwear, keeping everything in place for the ride to the office.

  After years in the industry, I always had the nicest room as raking in the coin insured my place. I was neither threatened nor concerned about this young woman, waiting patiently and shifting her weight between her Chucks.

  I glanced up and caught her staring at me. Jesus, she was young. I snarled, “You legal?”

  It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve accidentally pulled in a seventeen-going-on-twenty-five looking girl. The fake IDs got harder and harder to detect. Bossman – me – required a copy of everyone’s birth cert on file. I went even a step further by having Celeste vet three times over. We researched hardcore as underage was not a road I wanted to go down.

  “Yeah, turned eighteen a month ago,” she responded.

  She looked it, too. A lot of the time girls show up over made and under dressed, but little Mae was neither, dressed in blue jean shorts and white sweater. Her long, spiraled, bottle job blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, she wore little makeup, just a hint of gloss that would’ve looked gorgeous going up and down my rod.

  I snickered to myself and gave her a nod.

  Her primary job was to keep me entertained and hard.

  …For the next eight weeks.

  The longest two months ever.

  �
�So schoolgirl, what’s your story?” I asked, kicking back in my chair.

  “Don’t know my dad, mom is an addict, and my older sister is in prison for stabbing her boyfriend.”

  I sighed. Another girl from another broken home, I had seen so many. I made a silent vow when I had children to never let that shit mess happen to them. I hated it, and the best I could hope for is to keep these young girls employed and off the streets. I couldn’t save all of them, but damn if I didn’t try.

  “You know your job here?”

  “I do.”

  “Turn around and show me your ass,” I requested, testing her to see if she at least knew how to listen. She dropped her shorts and as much as I wanted to stop her, I couldn’t. Her tight, little ass completely visible in her barely-there pink lace thong.

  Long, long eight weeks.

  She didn’t look to have much up top, tucked under the sweater, but in this biz it was easily fixed with a good surgeon. Pulling her sweater over her head, she undid her hair and the blonde curls fell teasingly against her very full breasts covered in a matching pink lace bra.

  Dammit.

  I shifted in my chair slightly. She hadn’t even touched me yet, and I was as hard as cement. The problem wouldn’t be in her getting me up, but not jerking off all over her porcelain flesh before go time.

  Immediately, I contemplated firing her, but that guaranteed her a position on a street corner with an abusive pimp and heroin pumping in her veins. I cringed at the thought. I had to keep her. Thank god she wasn’t qualified to be an actress, or I would’ve been out of a job.

  My door cracked open, and Celeste peered her head in. “Ten minutes big guy!”

  She closed the door, and I looked at Mae. She knew what it meant as did I. I was fully prepared for her to sprint over and start yanking me, but she did the unexpected, dancing and swiveling her hips. Using the room as her prop, she bent in a perfect right angle, holding the back of the chair. She twirled around and fanned her legs over my dressing counter only to land in my lap.