Shaken, Not Stirred

by Sawyer Bennett

  Tenn moves his hands from my flesh to his own cock, takes it in hand, and lines it up to me with his eyes lowered to watch his progress. He rubs the enormous tip through my wetness, letting it sink in just a fraction of an inch, and my body starts to tighten with excitement.

  His eyes lift up, and I let mine rise right along until we are staring at each other in the mirror. He doesn't move... holds absolutely still while his gaze melds with mine.

  Then his hands grab onto my waist and he pulls back on my body as his own hips flex forward, causing his shaft to slide slowly into me. I stretch to capacity, feeling every nerve and fiber leaping in pleasure. When his pelvis presses tight against my ass, Tenn hisses through his teeth and his eyes squeeze shut.

  "Christ, Casey," he grits out, his voice raw with controlled lust. When he opens his eyes, he gives me a sheepish grin and a slight shake to his head. "That fucking feels good."

  I nod at him, my own ability to produce speech seemingly on hiatus.

  "I'm going to fuck you now," he promises, and it sounds so sexily threatening that I almost combust right there. "You're going to come for me again too."

  I shake my head, because that is not going to happen. I have absolutely nothing left in the tank to give him. I didn't even know that many orgasms so close together were physically possible.

  "You are," he tells me with smug cockiness, still holding himself absolutely still within me, although I can feel his dick jerking in anticipation.

  "I can't," I finally manage to say.

  Tenn slowly pulls out of me, causing the most beautiful feeling of friction I've ever had before.

  "Gonna prove you wrong, Goldie," he says as he sinks back into me slowly, and even though I can feel all of my internal muscles quivering with expectancy, I still shake my head in denial.

  Bending over me, he whispers assuredly once more. "Gonna prove you wrong."

  And fuck everything I thought I knew about men and their capacity for giving pleasure, but he does indeed prove me wrong.

  Chapter 6

  Tenn

  Four days since I've seen Casey.

  Six fucking orgasms--five for Casey and a massive one for me that nearly stroked me out--and she walked right out of my room without a backward glance four days ago.

  I'll admit it--only to myself--that I'm fucking pussy whipped after just that one encounter. Whipped for a woman I knew less than twenty-four hours before I fucked her, and yet I can't deny the way my entire being is itching to see her again.

  Yeah... she was a fan-fucking-tastic lay. Without a doubt the sexiest, most smokin' hot woman I've ever been with in my entire existence. Fuck, I could have feasted on her for hours and never gotten my fill. So, no doubt... my cock wants another crack at her.

  But the sex alone isn't what has me fully whipped.

  It's the intrigue.

  Casey Markham is the most puzzling person I think I've ever met. She's gorgeous beyond compare, but I didn't find her to have much of an ego. She's independent and self-assured, somewhat of a flirt but also an immensely private and controlled person. I've talked with her enough to get a peek at a razor-sharp mind and yet she tends bar for a living, making me wonder whether she has aspirations in the making or failed attempts to meet them.

  She's positively fascinating and while I want to fuck her again, I more than anything want to find out why she's the self-proclaimed queen of one-night stands. That shit does not jive in my book because women are notoriously stuck on romance and love, connecting with their minds and hearts. Men are all about the fucking, thinking with our dicks most of the time.

  It's true and I admit it.

  But Casey isn't typical. She's aloof in her feelings, and I'll never forget what she said to me before she left. While I disposed of the condom, Casey used the bathroom. When she came out, I attempted to pull her onto the bed so she'd lay with me a bit until I could recharge, but she skittered away from me with a stern shake of her head.

  "I have to get going," she said as she started getting dressed.

  "No fucking way, Goldie," I told her firmly. "I'm not done with you yet."

  "And yet, I'm done with you," she said with frost in her voice and determination in her eyes.

  I blinked at her in surprise, because what fucking woman talks like that, but then narrowed my gaze on her suspiciously. "You promised me a night. Remember Queen of the One-Night Stand?"

  "I said you could have me," she corrected with a chuckle. "I didn't promise an entire night. Besides, I don't do sleepovers."

  What the fuck? That's something I would normally think... using my inside voice, of course.

  I scrubbed my hand through my hair in frustration. Normally after a meaningless fuck, I was trying to figure a way to get the woman out the door without a fuss. Here I was trying to get her to stay, and I'm guessing it's because the fuck wasn't so meaningless to me.

  By that time, Casey was zipping up her shorts but her posture remained stiff and resolute. Sensing that this was not a woman who could be swayed, I gave a sigh of resignation as I turned toward the door. "Come on. I'll give you a lift back to your car."

  "No need," she chirped as she bent over to grab her purse off the floor. "I called a friend who lives close by. She's picking me up."

  Well, fuck. There went my chance to spend just a little more time with her while I drove her back to her car, maybe using said time to try to figure out a way to see her again.

  Casey then gave me a sweet smile as she stepped up to me. She rose up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against my cheek. "Goodbye, Tenn."

  When she stepped away, I searched her eyes for something... anything that would give me a clue as to what this woman was all about. I got nothing back but a vague and polite smile, effectively telling me the door had been closed tight against me.

  Casey started to turn to the door, but I found myself muttering out loud as I reached my hand out to grab a fistful of her hair at the back of her head, "Fuck that, Goldie."

  I reeled her in toward me, taking heart from the way her eyes flared and sparked with interest. Pulling her right back up on to her tiptoes, I leaned down just a bit, until her face was just inches from mine. "I don't buy it," I told her simply.

  "What's that?" Her words came out in a whisper as her hands rested against my chest.

  "This act you got going on," I murmured while my eyes roamed over her face for some glint of the real truth. I looked hard... I looked long, and for a moment, I thought she'd deny me.

  And that's when I saw it.

  I saw a small flash of sadness ripple through her blue irises, and it was so naked and in such contrast to the effervescent woman before me, that I dropped my hands away from her and took a step backward.

  Casey quickly schooled her features and then leveled me with another cool look. Her shoulders squared and her chin rose up a notch. "No act, Tenn. This is all there is to me."

  Fat fucking lie, Goldie. Fat fucking lie.

  But I didn't say that to her. I merely gave her a nod of my head and made a sweeping motion toward the door. "Then I guess you have a ride waiting for you."

  She stared at me a moment before turning on her heel and walking out of my room.

  Fascinating woman, that Casey Markham. She has some part of her locked away... something that she's protecting and thinks is untouchable. Whatever this is--this thing she's hiding--I'm like a kid in a candy store with grabby hands and I want to touch it.

  The knock on my hotel door spurs me off the bed where I had been lying on my back while I mused about Casey. I cross the small room and open it up, expecting Kyle to be standing there.

  "Ready to roll?" he asks.

  I grunt my ascension as I step out the door and pull it closed behind me. "Where we headed?"

  "Over to Manteo," he says as he follows me down the outside stairwell that leads to the parking lot. "That chick I was with the other night said there's a great bar over there that serves po' boys and cheap beer. She's going to be there.
"

  I grunt an acknowledgment, remembering the woman Kyle was with the other night. We had gone to some dive bar we stumbled across when we had been out cruising around and ended up getting so trashed, I had to cab it back to my hotel. I had found Kyle fucking said chick in the men's bathroom, right up against the wall. I turned my body around quickly to avert my eyes and said, "I'm heading out, man."

  Kyle just grunted at me while the sounds of slapping skin came at me faster. The woman started moaning, and Kyle managed to huff out, "Later, dude," while he plowed her against the water-stained wall. I hastily exited the bathroom and pulled the door closed behind me, but not before I wanted to pour acid in my ears when the woman cried out, "Give it to me you, you big stud."

  "Her name's Jenny," Kyle says conversationally as we make it to our bikes and mount up. "She sucks dick like a damn Hoover."

  I snicker as I put my helmet on. "You're a poet, man."

  "Well, it's true," he says as he nudges his kickstand up. "And this is the point that you reciprocate."

  Turning my head to look at him, I cock an eyebrow and say, "Not sucking your dick, dude."

  "Douche," Kyle grumbles and then leans back in his seat, planting both feet firmly on the ground to hold the bike steady. "I mean, this is where you share with me a little bit about Casey. You hooked up with her, right? Four damn days, man. You've been silent and it's killing me."

  Ordinarily, I'm all about swapping stories about great pussy. It's a man thing... bragging about the details and comparing the lengths of our dicks, which seem to get longer with every story. But for some reason, I'm not in the sharing mood when it comes to Goldie.

  "She's a nice girl," I say and then reach out to my ignition.

  Kyle reaches over and knocks my hand away. "Oh, fuck no, you don't. You do not get to lay 'she's a nice girl' on my doorstep and expect me to be satisfied with that. She's a fucking fifteen, dude."

  A million. Not a fifteen. A million on that ten-point scale.

  "You want details?" I ask him with a grin.

  "Fucking aye."

  I lean in toward him conspiratorially and murmur nice and low. "She was fantastic, man. In to all kinds of kink. Let me tie her up and whip her with a rubber hose, then she let me fuck her in every way imaginable. It was epic, man."

  "Are you serious?" he asks in jealous wonder.

  "No, I'm not fucking serious," I say in exasperation as I straighten back up and reach for my ignition again.

  "If you give me one true detail, I promise to tell you everything I learned about her from Andrea. And trust me, dude, I learned quite a bit."

  My head swivels slowly to Kyle, who smirks at me with fonts of untapped information just waiting to be poured out. I appraise him, trying to figure out if what he knows is worth giving him something in return.

  Fuck yeah, it is.

  "You'll spill it all for just one tiny detail?" I ask to confirm the rules.

  "All of it," he says as he leans closer to me, his eyes wide with anticipation.

  I shake my head as I look down at the pavement, a wry grin forming on my face. When I raise my eyes to look back at Kyle, I reach my hand back to my ignition. Just before I start my bike, I tell him, "Man... she tasted sweeter than anything I've ever had on my tongue before."

  Kyle's eyes go round and a Cheshire smile forms. "And just where did you have your tongue?"

  "That's all you get, dude," I tell him with a hard look. "And when we get to Manteo, I want all the details about her."

  I start my bike and rev the engine a bit just to drown out any more questions from Kyle.

  By the time Kyle got done telling me all about Casey Markham while we munched on po' boys, I had come to a clear and absolute resolution in my mind that I would be wasting my time trying to figure her out and reach that untouchable part of herself she's been holding back. And Kyle had discovered quite a bit while he and Andrea pounded beers the other night at her house while Wyatt was on duty.

  Apparently, Casey Markham is indeed a one-of-a-kind woman as I suspected. From what Kyle could gather, she's like the male version of... well, pretty much any single man that's prowling around these days. She truly is the Queen of One-Night Stands, which fine... that rubs me a tiny bit wrong even though I know that's hypocritical, but after having her once... I don't like the thought of her "one night-ing" it with anyone else.

  The real kicker, though, was when Kyle told me that Andrea was completely shocked that Casey showed any interest in me, because I'm apparently not the type of man she normally hunts. Yes, he said the word "hunts" like Casey is in it for the sport, but I don't know if that was his word or Andrea's.

  The way Kyle told the story--with a bit of relish, I might add--Casey is only interested in super wealthy men who can give her pretty baubles in exchange for some amazing fucking. While Kyle didn't come right out and say it, I was getting a clearer picture of a woman who uses rich men.

  She must have gone slumming when she decided to give this biker a try, I think wryly.

  Do I feel used?

  Fuck no. I had an amazing time with Casey and don't regret fucking her one bit.

  Am I looking at Casey in a new light and questioning everything about her that once intrigued me?

  Fuck yes. She's an enigma, and while I thought maybe she had some provocative backstory, which made her different from all other women, it turns out that she's just a commitment-phobe who eats rich men up and casts them aside.

  More power to you, baby, but that's not the type of game I'm interested in.

  And this was probably for the best, as I was leaving to head back to Raleigh in two days to spend time with Zoey. Bri had sent me a text assuring me that they would be back this coming Friday, and when I talked to Zoey last night on the phone, she told me the same.

  So I'm going to put Casey out of my mind, and I'm going to enjoy my last few nights here on the coast. Starting right about now as my gaze flicks to the headlights in my rearview mirror of the car that's traveling behind me, which I happen to know holds a beautiful woman that would be easy enough for me to fuck Casey right out of my memories.

  This evening is taking an interesting turn of events. After po' boys and a few beers, Kyle was lip-locked with Jenny and I was half expecting he'd drag her into the bathroom to fuck her again. He surprised me, however, when he suggested we head back to Nags Head because he wanted to meet up with Andrea at The Last Call for a few beers.

  This idea was fine by me. I had no clue if I'd see Casey there or not, but after what Kyle had told me, I wasn't all that keen to see her again but I could definitely ignore her if need be.

  Okay, that was a fat fucking lie too. I wanted to see her again. I wanted to fuck her again. I wanted to ask her why she was the way she was, and after she told me, I'm sure I'd want to fuck her again after that.

  However, that scenario is probably not going to happen, because as we were finishing up our last beer, a friend of Jenny's rolled into the bar. Her name is Mallory, and she's hot. Just hot enough that I can keep my mind preoccupied with something other than Goldie, and Mallory made no bones about being interested in me. This I knew from the way she sat next to me and rested her hand on my thigh. Or the way she giggled and twirled her hair while sucking on her bottom lip when I talked to her. Or, it could even be the way in which she point blank told me that she wanted to fuck me. Yeah, that made it kind of clear.

  The next thing I knew, Kyle and I were back on our bikes and Jenny and Mallory were following us to The Last Call in Jenny's car, where I may or may not run into Casey, who may or may not be a good thing or a bad thing, but who most definitely is someone I should stay away from.

  We pull into the gravel parking lot, and I can't help the way my eyes quickly scan the lot until they land on the exact thing I'm looking for.

  A teal-blue Jeep.

  After I park my bike and dismount, I take a quick peek at my watch and see it's closing in on six PM, which is exactly when Casey's shift ended the other nigh
t. Part of me considers leaving, staying away for a bit, and giving Casey a chance to leave the bar. Another part of me wants to see her immediately... like right now, to prove to myself that I can give her a glance and not need anything further from her.

  And the slightly vindictive part of me... that small part inside of me that actually might be filled with some measure of womanly estrogen, hell bent on making someone jealous, wants to head inside with Mallory on my arm and let Casey Markham know that she's as easily forgotten as I was the other night.

  I contemplate my options while Jenny and Mallory exit the car that's parked beside our bikes.

  Thirty seconds later, I'm walking through the bar with my arm around Mallory's waist.

  Chapter 7

  Casey

  I stare out at the crowd listlessly. It's pretty packed for a Wednesday night, but then again, the summer season is upon us and it will only continue to get busier while the months get hotter.

  "Can I get another beer, Casey?" Roy asks as he slides a five-dollar bill toward me.

  "Sure thing," I say absently and trudge over to the taps. Pouring the beer, I watch the foam head rise as the golden ale swirls below, round and round, stuck in the same place. I realize my life can be boiled down to this moment... to watching the futility of ale stagnating while foam rises.

  Turning the tap off, I slide the beer over to Roy. He gives me a toothless smile and says, "Why so sad, Casey? Had your heart broken?"

  I snort and shake my head at him. "Gotta have a heart to break, Roy. I don't think I have one of those."

  Before he can lay any pearls of wisdom at my feet, I turn away and meander over to the register. The clock on the digital display says I can get out of here in five more minutes and then I can go home, put on my rattiest of pajamas, and crawl into bed like I have every night for the past four nights, where I can stare out my window and reflect on how fucked up I'm feeling.

  Over Tenn.

  Over that amazingly gorgeous biker who smiles like a saint and fucks like the devil.

  For all I know, he's not even around anymore. And let's face it... I don't know much. I only know that I gave in to my base desires to have the man, and then he systematically managed to dismantle me in just a few hours' time.