Once Upon a Real Good Time

by Lauren Blakely

  “Is it going to be a freaky weird answer, like you were locked in an attic with only trivia books for a year?”

  She taps her nose, then takes a drink.

  “Wait. That’s it?”

  “Not entirely. But close. When I was in grade school, my grandfather told me my brain would shrink if I didn’t exercise it every single day. And that didn’t mean math or science or reading. It had to be little facts and details.”

  “Fear is a great motivator.”

  “Isn’t it always? He gave me trivia books for Christmas, and I gobbled them all up. He’d quiz me on them and dole out rewards for correct answers. A quarter here and there, a cookie for ten in a row. For twenty or thirty, he’d take me out for ice cream. If I earned something like ninety out of one hundred in all sorts of categories, I’d go to a Broadway show.”

  “Damn, Grandpa didn’t mess around. And he wasn’t even trying to create one of those quiz-show kids?”

  She smacks her palm on the bar. “That’s the crazy thing. You’d think he was, but nope. It started as a lark, but I took to it, and that’s why he kept it up. He saw it worked for me, so he kept going.”

  Like me and a guitar. Like me and music. Like my voice and songs. I took to the violin when I was four, the piano at six, microphone when I was eight, the guitar when I was twelve. “My grandmother always said we all have different gifts. The key is to learn how to use yours.”

  She smiles softly, and it reaches her eyes. “Evidently, my gift is memorizing details in exchange for rewards.” She pauses then asks, “What about you? How do you know all the songs? I swear you sang a refrain from everything.”

  I laugh so I don’t have to answer right away. Do I want to tell her the truth? That my brothers and I used to put on shows all the time at home. We started with puppet shows, moved up to made-up plays, then parlayed that into commercials, musicals, and finally, a popular teen duo, then trio, singing in concerts and arenas.

  But “I launched my career as a child actor” is not necessarily what you want to say to a woman who has seen you on stage playing guitar.

  Guitar equals sexy.

  Child actor equals hot mess.

  I shrug happily. “I just like music.” There’s not a shred of a lie in that answer. “And I like that you enjoyed my music,” I add, my voice going a little low, a little raspy. I hope she gets my meaning.

  She does, her body language speaking for her as she moves closer and flips her hair off her shoulder. I detect a faint hint of nerves in her eyes, maybe a touch of awkwardness, like she’s not sure what to do or say next.

  But she seems to sort it out when she says, “How long have you been in the band?”

  “We started up earlier in the summer. My daughter told me I needed a hobby.”

  She unleashes a huge grin. “You have a kid?”

  I make the scout’s honor sign. “I do. No fooling.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Is having a kid a deal-breaker these days? “Does that mean you’re about to get a call from a friend saying you need to take off?”

  That might have come out more defensively than I expected.

  The word nope pops out of her mouth. “I have one of those—what do we call them?—kids too.”

  Ah, now that’s interesting. “Single mom?”

  She nods. “Single dad?”

  I nod, smiling, digging her answer. “As single as the day is long.”

  “My son is away at camp.” The words fall from her lips in a traffic pileup.

  But I know how to untangle them. “How fortuitous. My daughter is sleeping at a friend’s house.”

  She nibbles on the corner of her lips. “My friend Roxy thinks I should—”

  “—let yourself have a good time for one more night?”

  “How did you know?”

  “She seemed like a good wingwoman.” I reach for a strand of her hair, running my finger across the soft locks, cataloging her reaction. “Want to know what I’m thinking?”

  She nods.

  I flash her a wicked grin. “I’m wondering if you want to be kissed by someone who’s been wanting to kiss you all night long.”

  A flash of hesitation crosses her face, then she raises her eyes as if she’s thinking.

  “I do,” she whispers, and the few seconds of reticence make her answer even sweeter.

  I thread a hand through her hair. I’m going to take my time working up to a kiss, to make sure she wants it desperately. “I’ve been thinking about running my hands through this hair.”

  “You have nice fingers . . .”

  “Were you watching my hands when I was on stage?”

  Her voice is soft and feathery, a quiet little confession. “Yes. I like the way you play.”

  “What did you like about it?” I curl my hand tighter around her head. I swear, heat is radiating off her body, and it’s so damn enticing. “Did it make you think of anything?”

  She nibbles on the corner of her lips. “Made me think about how you might play . . . me.”

  A groan works its way up my chest. She is an alluring mix of daring lioness and clumsy puppy. I yank her flush to me, bringing her mouth mere inches away from mine. “I’d like to play your body like a guitar. I’d like to make you sing, make you cry out in pleasure.” I run both hands through her soft hair, tugging her head back.

  She gasps, and that’s my cue to lick a path up her neck, where I nibble on her jaw till she’s squirming against me. “Did you think about how I might kiss you when you watched me play?”

  A sexy little sigh seems to escape her lips, followed by a yes.

  “I noticed you the other week. At your booth, doing your quiz. Couldn’t stop looking at you. You were so sexy and adorable, and now you’re so damn close to me all I want is to turn you on.”

  She parts her lips, and there’s no more need to tell her what I want to do. It’s time to show her.

  I slant my mouth to hers and capture her lips. I groan when we connect, and it sparks, that unmistakable match-to-kindling chemistry of an epic first kiss. Lust jolts down my body, and my bones start to hum. Our lips slide together, and we moan in unison. I kiss the corner of her lips then lick inside.

  She sighs and presses her body to mine, and we kiss for several deliciously dirty seconds that unspool into a minute, then more. I can’t keep my hands off her. Can’t stop kissing her. Touching her. Wanting her. Her lips taste like vodka tonic, and her tongue tastes like the woman I want to fuck tonight.

  But I’m keenly aware the things I want to do to her should occur in private, behind closed doors. I break the kiss, my breath coming fast and hard. Hers too. “What would you say about getting out of here?”

  She wiggles her eyebrows. “I live two blocks away.”

  That’s the sexiest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

  When we reach her house, she flicks on the kitchen lights and grabs my shirt collar. “I have to warn you about something.”

  I steel myself. Warnings before nudity are generally not good. But she smiles like she has a naughty secret. “It’s been a long time for me.”

  Now that’s the kind of warning I like. “Is that so?”

  She nods and brushes her lips along my neck. She’s fiery now that her nerves have packed up and hit the road. “And I think I might be kind of wound up.”

  “Want me to unwind you?”

  “I do, but don’t get annoyed if it takes me only a few seconds.”

  I laugh. “I assure you, there’s nothing annoying about that.”

  She nibbles on my earlobe. “Also, you smell really good.”

  “So do you.”

  Her soft mouth reaches my ear. “I kind of want to lick you all over.”

  Her words send a jolt through me. “That could be arranged.”

  “Right now?”

  I pull back and meet her gaze. Her brown eyes are blazing with desire. “Right now?” I repeat it because I want to be certain of what she’s saying.

&nb
sp; She runs the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip then palms my cock through my jeans, rubbing the heel of her hand against my erection.

  Yeah, certainty has been achieved. “You don’t want me to unwind you first?”

  She shakes her head. “Maybe I’m a dirty pervert, but ever since I first saw you on stage, I’ve thought about three things. Talking to you. Kissing you.” She pauses, and I keep my eyes on her, waiting for the final item. She brings her mouth near mine, whispering against my lips, “And how you’ll taste when my lips are wrapped around you.”

  I growl loudly and grip her hips hard. “Fuck, you’re dirty.”

  Her brown eyes widen. “Too dirty?”

  “Sunshine, there’s no such thing,” I say, cupping the back of her head. Her smile reminds me of a perfect summer day. “There’s never a thing like ‘too dirty’ when you’re talking about my dick sliding across your tongue.”

  She trembles. “Good. Because I want that right now.”

  Gone is the slightest trace of awkward. Out the door are the nerves she showed earlier. She’s a woman who knows her mind and her body, and I’m the lucky son of a bitch who gets to enjoy her certainty.

  I push her to the floor easily, where she unzips my jeans and tugs down my briefs, freeing my cock. I’m aching for her to get her hands and her tongue on me.

  On her knees, she takes my hard length in her hands, and I hiss when she makes contact.

  Lust and desire take hold of me as she strokes. We’re on a fast track for a decadent one-night stand, with this dizzying rush of going from flirting to nearly fucking in an hour. Desire thrums under my skin as Mackenzie fists me, bringing the head to her lips and opening wide. She draws me into her mouth. Her lips are pink and full, and they’re wrapped around one of my favorite organs.

  I groan loudly when she flicks her tongue along the underside as if she’s savoring every flavor, like she’s tasting a lollipop. This is the most fantastic view I’ve seen in ages—a gorgeous and smart woman treating my dick like candy.

  She moans, humming against my shaft.

  I’m toast. I’m roasted, grilled, and flambéed.

  But there’s one thing that would make this better. One minor detail.

  “It’s so fucking good, but I want you to suck me deep. Take me all the way.”

  As she draws me into her hot mouth, I think—no, I’m sure—this is the definition of a real good time.

  Chapter 5

  Mackenzie

  * * *

  Take that, Jamison.

  So there, Roxy.

  I’ve still got it.

  I mean, it’s not like I remember the last time I flaunted it.

  But tonight I’m flaunting . . . whatever it is that gets flaunted.

  Because Jamison was right.

  Sometimes you need to have fun, and this feels like nothing but fun—this dick in my mouth.

  But since I have a stranger’s yummy cock sliding past my lips, I suppose it’s best to let the thoughts of my son’s father and my bestie fall from my head like leaves from a tree.

  I draw him in deep and lick a delicious stripe up his hard length. I barely know this guy, but I am caught up in the thrill of being on my knees. It’s not that I’m submissive. At least, I don’t think I am—I honestly don’t know what I am when it comes to sex, because my experience in the last decade looks like a map through the Gobi Desert with a watering hole appearing every two to three years.

  But I have one active, well-oiled, frequently exercised imagination. It’s go time, and I’m putting my mind to practical use.

  He grunts and growls, the sexiest sighs of pleasure that spur me to suck harder, play more. Campbell possesses a spectacular dick, and I like the length of him, the taste of him.

  Most of all, I like that he’s so into me. It’s a wild thrill, a welcome respite from the routine of my daily life. And so, I give this blow job my all, since there’s no point in giving a half-baked blow job. Besides, I’ve watched enough Tumblr feeds—okay, countless—and I’ve picked up a few pointers.

  Open wide.

  Relax your throat.

  Turn your lips into a Hoover.

  And don’t leave the balls out of play.

  It’s not rocket science to give a man an earth-shattering blow job. All it takes is commitment, an iron-clad effort, and a willingness to go the distance.

  I’ve got that in spades, and I suck him with vigor, eliciting a carnal groan.

  “That’s so fucking hot.”

  I’m so fucking hot for him. The ache I feel drives me on as Campbell wraps his big hands tighter around my head, curling them through my hair. His voice is raspy. “Damn, look at you. I want to just keep fucking that hot, wet mouth of yours.”

  Lust zips down my spine from his filthy words. I’ve heard about men who are dirty talkers, but I’ve never come across one in my limited travels. I’ve never been with someone who’s said something so fantastically filthy to me in the heat of the moment.

  I reward him with an even stronger suck, my lips ziplocking his cock.

  He shudders. “Fuck me. I could come in your throat any second.”

  His hands drop to my shoulders, and in a heartbeat, he pries me off. Yes, it feels like prying, because I don’t want to let go. But I don’t want to force my mouth on him. Should probably avoid that. Forced sucking. Better look that up and make sure I don’t do that.

  Pulling me up from the floor, he stares at me with eyes that blaze with desire.

  “You’re driving me crazy.”

  Check—I drove a man crazy! You really can learn how to give good head from the internet. “If crazy is good, why did you stop?”

  “Because I’d like to take a rain check on the hottest blow job ever, since I don’t plan on coming in your mouth for the first time with you.”

  First time! Does that mean there’ll be a second and a third? A girl can dream big.

  “Where do you want to come for the first time with me?” I ask it ever-so-innocently.

  His eyes narrow into slits. “Do not say that to a man.” He kneads one of my breasts through my top. “I want to come everywhere on you. These tits.” His hand drops to my ass. “On your ass.” His fingers slide between my legs, cupping me through my jeans. “Right now, I think I’d really love to bury myself inside you and feel you on my cock. Think we can make that happen?”

  I nod as my world blurs into heat and desire and the need to get naked this second.

  We strip, his shirt flying off. My jeans hit the floor, and I push down my panties. I don’t even get my top off when his hand slides between my legs. He pushes me back against my kitchen counter and glides his fingers across all my slickness.

  “You’re not in me,” I point out as I moan.

  He smirks. “Is it a problem that your sweet pussy distracted me?”

  Not in the least.

  My mind is white-hot static as he fingers me, peppering kisses on my neck and jaw with each stroke. I grind down on his hand, my hips circling and lowering. It’s so rare that you can stop and enjoy a finger bang in the kitchen, rather than a cup of soup.

  He hooks his fingers, and my voice rises an octave or ten as I cry out. I was right—it hasn’t taken me long to reach O-zone. Here I am. Nice to see you, climax.

  This orgasm takes no prisoners. It spreads from my center to every cell in my body, demanding each molecule bathes in its deliciousness. I’m moaning and panting as he lifts me up and sets me on the counter. When I open my eyes, he’s grabbed his wallet and is tearing open a condom wrapper.

  “Now you’re even wetter, Sunshine. And I can’t wait to feel you grip my dick when I slide into you.”

  I yank off my top, unhook my bra, and look into his green eyes. “I want you,” I say, and I instantly want to smack myself for sounding like a newbie when it comes to dirty talk. I lower my gaze.

  He tucks a finger under my chin. “What’s wrong, Sunshine?”

  “Ugh. That was just so basic—I want you—comp
ared to all this delicious smut you weave with your tongue.”

  Before he removes the condom from the wrapper, he takes my hand and wraps it around his cock. He’s hard and pulsing.

  “Say it again,” he urges.

  I knit my brow. “I want you?”

  Nothing happens.

  He stares at me, his eyes hard and hungry. “Say it like you mean it.”

  I square my shoulders, look him in the eyes, and whisper, “I want you.”

  His dick twitches in my palm, thickening more. Holy smokes.

  “Feel that?”

  I nod.

  “Anything wrong with your word smut?”

  “I guess not.” I smile like a wicked vixen.

  “Now, tell me you want me to fuck you hard.”

  I raise my chin, and say in a husky voice, “I want you to fuck me so hard.”

  He throbs in my hand, growling curse words as he grabs the latex, throws the foil to the floor, uncurls my fingers, and rolls the protection down his shaft. He tugs me to the edge of the counter. Positioning me so I line up with him, he nudges the head of his cock against me. My knees widen, inviting him in.

  He pushes in.

  I see stars.

  With each inch, I die and go to heaven, over and over, until he’s buried to the hilt, and it’s like a heavenly host of dirty angels are singing a filthy “Hallelujah.”

  He brings his mouth down on my neck and bites. I shiver and shudder as he drives deep into me. “Did you want to fuck me the first night you watched me on stage?”

  Oh God, he’s doing it again. He’s melting me in seconds with his words. I wrap my arms around his neck and rock into him, moving as much as I can on the counter. “I came to you later that night.”

  “That’s so hot—you on your bed getting off to me.” He moans loudly as he slams into me.

  My brain pops and fireworks light up behind my eyes. Pleasure takes control of my body, my thoughts.

  His dick far in me.

  My wetness on him.

  Lips, teeth, skin.

  Grind, press, rasp.

  “I wanted to do this to you from the moment I saw you. Wanted to fuck you so hard.” His words come out staccato as he fucks. He screws like he owns me. Like he knows every inch of my body.